(i can't) enjoy the silence...

normally, i'm okay by myself.  i've lived alone for the majority of my adult life, but oddly enough, i've lived with at least one other person (other than phoenix and grayson) for the last year and a half.  now i don't.



well, phoenix and grayson are here...until grayson's attempt to assassinate phoenix edges closer to success, then it's buh-bye kitty.  not really, but if i don't threaten him, he doesn't have an excuse to try and shred the carpet, and then he loses his sense of purpose and life goals.

it's really quiet in here. i used to have to have music or the tv on all the time, but i got into the habit of having them off and not being uncomfortable because i didn't need the noise.  i felt good in my skin, doing my thing, without having a distraction that was clouding my thoughts. i could focus without *trying* not to hear what was in my head.

then, i got into the habit of being alone with someone else, in the quiet. i had never really done that before; there was always some form of distraction most times that we interacted.  i'm just now realizing that. however, in this new world, i could at least *feel* the presence of another person, and didn't crave the sound of a laugh track in the background that would force conversation.

now that person is gone...by my choice...and i know with every ounce of my being (what a cliche) that it's the right, and best, thing to do.  being with someone who's not only incredibly emotionally unhealthy, but also tears me down and resents my very existence because i've managed to do something with my life, and NOT exist solely as a drug addict, is NOT someone i want to be with.

imagine how that person would behave when i do something noteworthy, like work on my education, pay off my car, or love something someone else, like a dog, for instance.  how can anyone be jealous of phoenix? have you seen him? if he were any sweeter, he'd be lollipop, and i'm sorry, but someone who's been with me *every* minute of *every* day for almost nine years deserves not only an incredible amount of loyalty, belly rubs, and cookies, but a prize for "the longest-extended-stay-with-an-insane-person-without-succumbing-to-such-insanity" award.

nor do i deserve to be treated so badly by anyone, and why the hell would i want to be with someone like that in the first place?  anyway, that's an entire blog by itself.

"sometimes i guess there just aren't enough rocks..."

i can't stand the quiet right now.  it sounds strange, but it reinforces the fact that i'm alone...not alone, lonely.  there were a lot of times when i was with him and even lonelier than i am now, but i guess i could somehow, in my warped mind, figure out a way to spin it into something else, or have hope that it was just a moment, a phase, that there was *something* i could do that would make him realize that he has potential and goals, and that even if no one else in the entire world thinks he's worthwhile, i'm willing to love him as much as i can, if he'd just do three things: be nice, tell me the truth, and respect me.

i think those are pretty basic, required elements in any relationship.  was i asking for too much?

when i'm out, sometimes i just *want* to be home because it's comfortable, and i can eat cookie dough without people staring, and wear sweatpants 24/7, if i want to...but after awhile being home alone is starting to feel like solitary confinement to me. i'm trapped in a box with limited options, and because i am the way i am, i don't reach out, i don't speak, i withdraw, and i wither.

what's even worse is that i can't really listen to music right now, either. so much has been going on emotionally that the songs i like make me cry, and i mostly listen to songs with sad lyrics anyway, so i'm pretty much screwed.  i also associate songs with time periods, and i don't *want* to remember most of the right now. i don't want to ruin my music...so i have the tv on pretty much allll the time, even when i'm sleeping.   i've re-watched almost all five seasons of 'mad men' in less than a week.

it's netflix all night long...even if i wake up, and the tv show/movie i was watching is over, i pick another one.  i can't tell you how many charles manson documentaries i've watched...someone with some sense of sanity and desire to sleep would just close her eyes and drift off, or watch something that *isn't* about mass murderers.  not me.  i can't fall back asleep in the quiet...that's when the wheels start to spin.

in the last six or eight months, i started taking showers after always taking baths...my entire life...and now i'm back to baths because i have to be able to hear the tv.  i can't even handle twenty minutes of relaxing under a steaming stream of water without getting anxious.

hell, i drag my laptop into the bathroom and hook it up to the stereo so it's loud enough.  i don't think i want to hear what's going on in my head because i don't want to deal with it, most of which i already have, but somehow, i seem to need to masochistically process it yet again.

having someone who's intermittently in your life, in an unhealthy way almost always, who's on the brink of self-destruction and buried in self-hatred is horrible.  i've mourned this person's life, and anticipated his death, countless times.  it's exhausting, but i feel responsible in some way for keeping him from completely disintegrating.

i've felt like his lifeline too many times and for too long to just shut it off, especially when i know that that's the worst thing i could do...because he won't learn. there will never be a cliff too high to fall from.  there will never be a depth too low to sink to.  every one of his painful, humiliating, self-defeating behaviors will be blamed on my absence.

to him, i'm a traitor.
to me, i'm trying to thrive, instead of just surviving.

i know it's not my job, but i also know that there's no one left to care for him...not really.  too many bridges have been burned, and it's too late to salvage much of anything.  letting go of hope is one of the most difficult things to do, but i think that's what i'm trying to ignore...because i know it must be done, and i don't want to.  i don't know how let someone just suffocate under the weight of his own existence.

as cold as some people may think that i am, it couldn't be further from the truth.  it never seems to occur to people, even those who know me, that there are reasons i put up walls...there are reasons i don't let you in...there are reasons i run away...and it's not because i'm heartless or cruel.  it's self protection, plain and simple.  i'm more sensitive than almost anyone could realize, and letting down someone i love, being crushed, not doing my absolute best, sends my self-worth into a spiral, so sometimes it's safer just to hide.

people are going to believe what they want, so you might as well do what's good for you, anyway.

the voice in my head that tells me that this situation is completely unfixable, there's no hope, nothing left to lose, every reason to let go.  it's like living a small death - the death of hope and possibility - every time i think about the fact that he has no one, no money, no place to go, no real friends, no future because every time something good comes together, he tears it to shreds that much harder...i can't breathe.

you'd think that after this long, the voice would have become soundless white noise, but it's so loud i want to scream...so i turn on another sound...a sound of someone else's life that i can deal with, for now...it may not be mine, but it will let me avoid looking into the eyes of a death i cannot fathom or imagine...for just a little while longer...


"i'll never understand my heart..."

change (in the house of flies)

yep, another fucking blog with the word change in it. that's really not what's been going on today, but what a great song.

what's really going on is booooooooredom. holy hell, i can't take it. i think the biggest contributing factor is my medication. so, here's the deal: i take 400 mg of one of my meds a day. if i go down to 300 (there is no 350 option), i'm bordering on mopey. at 400, i'm bordering on manic. i can work out two hours a day if i want, i have to make myself eat, i end up taking three ativan instead of two to avoid anxiety issues (the prescription is written for three a day, but i haven't needed the third one till they upped this other stupid medication), i can't sleep, i've lost weight, and i have to sit on my hands so i don't rip off my cuticles.

i don't have a psychiatrist for the summer, so i'm kind of on my own here, *plus*, i got a 90 supply of all my medication for the summer, and my prescription is for 400 mg capsules (used to be a handful of 100 mg caps a day, so i had options), so unless i'm gonna open one up and pour part of it out, i'm screwed for the next 83 days.

another reason for boredom: NO money. i can't afford to do *anything*, nothing, i'm not exaggerating. paying the rent in july? that's going to be a miracle. i've never been this broke in my entire life. it's beyond frustrating and a long story.

and the pool is closed for repairs, and it's 95 degrees outside, i have the attention span of a fly right now (a ha! there's the fly reference!). FML.

anyway, back to bored...and restless. i can't sit still. i did an hour on the elliptical tonight, lifted weights, did crunches, and i still could've ridden my bike ten miles and been okay. i didn't because i would've died of heat exhaustion.

i'm not sure what to do because i can't *stand* being bored, and it's not like i can focus and read or study or do anything remotely intellectual or educationally productive (horrible phrase, work with me here) because the restlessness kicks that to the curb.

so what do i do? i exercise, pace, drink...mostly water, but sometimes rum, do push ups, clean out closets and drawers and cabinets, take deep breaths, chew on the inside of my mouth, keep grayson from killing phoenix. but mostly, i think about how bored i am, so bored that i can't even think of anything fun to do at home. i've been watching tv, which i haven't done much of in months, but i have to pause it and get up every seven minutes.

i have so much useless energy and nothing to do with it. i can only do the elliptical for so long before i, guess what? get bored! i don't know if my back can handle running, and walking sucks. i know that a lot of this contradictory, and that's exactly how it feels in my brain and my body: wires crossed everywhere.

i don't wanna to go down to 300 mg because i do *not* want to feel depressed, nothing even remotely in the same ballpark as that bitch. this other option isn't so fun, but with everything else that's going on, i'd rather be high as a kite than hiding razor blades.

other than all that, i'm trying not to do stupid things that get me in trouble, which is what i usually do when i'm bored because at least *then* it's exciting. i don't know if that's working out so well...

i texted someone tonight that i said i wouldn't. i didn't take a blood oath or anything, just told myself it would be a bad idea. oops. it took like three days of thinking about it before i did it, so i wasn't completely irrationally spontaneous. still, oops.

and even worse: he misses me, he's thinking about me, he's thinking about things we used to do together, he wants to see me, blah blah blah.

yeah, back to the gym and hide the phone...

alone

deleted due to judgment (that i don't need) from people i don't know.

low light

so, blog title is a pearl jam song. i could link the lyrics, but i'm really just writing to do it and i'm too tired to make the effort. *sorry* just to sum up this week:

trapped in the house since last friday night due to stomach virus, then apocalyptic ice conditions.

due to said ice, i have needed (and can't do) the following:

- RETURN MY OVERDUE F-ING LIBRARY BOOKS
- bathe my disgustingly filthy child (poor thing)
- wear anything other than flannel or sweat/yoga pants. i feel like i should be at an indigo girls concert or a bikram)
- move out of a 100 feet radius
- buy supplies for my valentine's card
- buy stamps
- go to the doctor at the pain management clinic who is supposed to verify that pain isn't making me suicidal
- get my super cheap laser hair removal done (groupon deal)
- go to guitar class
- go to the chiropractor's
- get my dissertation proposal done
- get grayson's vaccine
- take out the trash (yeah, it's on the patio; classy)
- not risk my life everytime i take phoenix outside due to a potential slip and fall
- have a 5 minute break from my children

i need a vacation, a dose of eddie, something!!
i have been able to listen to a lot of music, though; very nice.

and my second injection is tomorrow; wish me luck and a pain-free IV.

that's all i can think of for now, but viva la YIELD!! happy 13th birthday to one of my favorite albums (i'm old, they're albums, not CDs).

2/3/98

"don't you think you ought to rest?
don't you think you ought to lay your head down?
don't you think you wanna sleep?
don't you think you ought to lay your head down tonight?
don't you think you've got enough?
don't you think you've got enough, well maybe?
don't you think it's time to stop?
there's time enough for you to lay your head down tonight."

changes

yes, a song title once again...

this may sound stupid, but i think i'm addicted to tv. i looooooove watching tv. it's in my genes. my parents watch a *lot* of tv; my dad not so much as when i was a kid, but still, i've had a set in my room since i was nine years old. i can't even fall asleep without it on because it drowns out all the shit in my head.

i watch entirely too much tv, it's too quiet when it's off, my apartment lacks animation and life that phoenix and grayson can't replace, and i absolutely can't miss an episode of any show that i watch, so i DVR everything.

i don't understand why i get so attached to fictional characters. granted, i realize that i'm not the only one who does this, but i was thinking about it last night. there are several tv shows that were i used to watch and were canceled or ended, and i was really disappointed every time.

maybe it's the consistency and schedule of knowing that i have something that i'm guaranteed to like, and will never let me down...unless there's a state of the union speech, or it's gonna snow, or some moron sent a bomb to a building downtown...*then* it gets interrupted, but the networks have finally realized that they need to plan for things like presidential events in advance. and they *do* show severe weather updates during commercials now, not during the show...

in the grand scheme of things, who cares about fictitious people and plots? they're not real, i'm not losing a friend, it's just a story made up by someone who's being paid to make up stories. although, every time i watch 'titanic', i'm like, "why does he have to DIE?!?" sad. just sad.

anyway, i've been trying to maintain some semblance of a schedule since the fall. because i'm done with coursework, and only have independent study classes, i was afraid that i wouldn't do anything; that my depression would suck me back in, and i'd spend six months on the couch, watching (what else?) the freaking tv.

actually, i've had a lot of things going on, and i feel very fulfilled and busy in my life. and my life is getting in the way of school. i went to a seminar/class on productive writing today, in preparation for starting my dissertation in a few months.

that is probably the most daunting thing i've written today. holy hell.

*deep breaths*

although i'm only reading and taking notes, collecting research here and there, i'm not writing yet, but the class was really helpful. i also found out that all the techniques i use to procrastinate (doing dishes, laundry, organizing, multitasking) are very common, so i don't feel like a complete slacker. and hey, my apartment is always clean. not that it was ever dirty before, but moving on...

i'm going to set up some new guidelines and structures around watching tv, reading, taking notes, and running errands. school is my primary job, and i need to treat it as such. if i don't feel good, and need to take the day off, then i better make up for it on the weekend or in the evening.

when i had classes with real life professors, i studied ALL the time. i busted my ass for school, and i need to get back to that. well, not completely, because i did nothing but study and work, but i need a focused mindset.

so bye bye shows that i really don't care about. bye bye to finding new shows just so i never run out of things to watch. bye bye stupid gossip "news" and repetitive celebrity crap. bye bye to washing clothes, cleaning cabinets, touching up the paint on my walls, and sweeping all at the same time.

qualifying exam preparation, i surrender to you. i am now at your mercy for the next ten weeks. omg, that is not *nearly* enough time...

oh, the pain

too tired (and feeling like shit) to write, so video blog. oh, and a pic i took of grayson last night while he was watching dexter (extreme close up):

OMG, this sucks

first, i've been feeling really good the past few days. last thursday was hellllllllllll. luckily, i have people who are willing to deal with the petulant, permanent monkey on my back. i wouldn't behave so badly, but depression? that bitch has a whole set of issues she'd like to keep stapled to my soul, and will drag everyone down with her.

i had a lot of fun after my meltdown, saw good friends, baked, went to the movies, and felt hopeful, and not so chicken little-ish. i fought my negative instincts to hibernate, and forced myself to do what was good for me. ah, monkey bitch slap!

okay, so the suckage...i know i said (just last week!) that i was going to be boy-less for another, oh, seven months (buddha help me), but i really don't know how that's going to be possible. i mean, i can keep from being in situations where there are guys to be met, that's pretty easy for me as i socialize with my friends at my home, their home, restaurants, or...that's pretty much it.

i don't have any ex-boyfriends that live in the area that i can call when i'm bored. i only have one that lives in dallas, but the rest are out of state. wait, one in el paso, but that's a ten hour drive, so no easy access. i think my "love addiction", if you want to call it that is going to prevent me from being alone. i don't think i necessarily have a lot of those characteristics anymore, but i *need* male attention. i think every woman does. well, heterosexual women, not sure about the rest.

i mean, to have minimal contact with half the species is pretty isolating and depressing in itself, and who wants that torture? right now, my male attention isn't even human, and while i dearly love grayson and phoenix, someone with two legs and a vocabulary i can understand would be nice.

i think a big part of this void is that i'm used to having a guy to at least talk to, flirt with, and now i don't, hence "OMG, this sucks". while i tell myself that i can be productive, not have any distractions, focus on school without a boy around, i need a freaking distraction before i get addicted to reality tv. i'm trying to refrain from calling the one ex i *could* talk to, because that situation plays into my black/white, all/nothing routine i've had since birth. no thanks.

i would like to make healthy relationship choices, but it takes two.
are there even any healthy guys out there?

*crickets*

life: 1 april: 0

sooo, i was going to try and write something upbeat, something happy to offset yesterday's postings, but i just...can't. i didn't sleep well, the cat decided to try and linebacker his way out of the laundry room all night, and i had weird dreams, which are part and parcel for me dredging up all this shit buried in my psyche.


despite having both coffee and chatting with a good friend, and then dinner with another friend, i still sit here crying, and i'm not sure why. which really concerns me.


is this because my old meds are out of my system and the new ones haven't fully kicked in? are the new meds not going to work? am i just having a bad day? is this normal?

i don't even know what that means. i also threw my body for a loop when i stopped taking my birth control pills about three weeks ago because 1. who needs them? (not me, that's who) and 2. i feel like a cesspool for chemicals. i'm gonna need a liver transplant before i'm 60 with all the shit, albeit 99% of it legal, that i've put in my body. so is this a response to the fact that i'm having hormone withdrawal? who the hell knows?!? that's a big part of the problem.

can i not just feel okay? i don't want this blog to turn into my day-to-day dealings with depression. if you want, i can give you 25 interesting facts about me; i started that blog last week. unfortunately, this *is* my day-to-day right now. feel free to stop reading.

compound all this with the fact that my memory is awful, i seriously don't know what day of the week it is, i need to read 100 books in the next 5 months, and my coordination is for shit. i can barely type. oh, and my eyes keep doing this weird thing where it feels like they're shifting from side to side super fast, so fast that i can't focus. sounds bizarre; it is, and that's the best explanation i can give. on the upside, i've lost 6 lbs. in 12 days.

i think part of the issue is that i'm lonely. i mean really, intensely, painfully lonely. i know that not everyone has someone, but i've been pretty much single for almost 5 years, that's 70% of this decade of my life. they say that things happens when you're not looking, and i haven't been...and nothing. i feel surrounded and supported by great friends, and i'm always busy, there aren't enough hours in the day, but someone to share all this with?

my dog. at least he listens when i talk to him.
usually.

that last part was actually more difficult to post than anything i've written on here. i've come to terms with having depression, but i can't come to terms with this.

not yet.

bobcat or housecat? you decide...

i've never really been a cat person. i love dogs, and have had them for most of my life. i tend to treat my dogs as children. take phoenix for instance. i buy him birthday and christmas presents, and i insist that he's in another room when i wrap them so he won't ruin the surprise. okay, it's kinda weird, but i don't have human children, and ya work with what ya got.

despite gift giving, i'm not one of those annoying people that takes their dogs everywhere in a purse, dyes their hair funky colors, or dresses them in a different outfit every week.

fine, phoenix has been known to wear a sweater on occasion. for example:





doesn't he look *thrilled*?














but in my defense, his life usually looks a little something like this:




that's my bed. yep, rough life.














so, in order to keep my child occupied (because he's obviously not getting enough love or attention from me), i decided to get a cat: less maintenance than a dog, keeps to himself, poops in a box, acts like he's doing you a favor by petting him. you know, all the reasons why you'd want a cat.

two days after i decided to get one, a litter magically appeared in my mom's yard. it's kismet! to be clear, i did not pick my kitten. he picked me. so i took him home because that's what where i was going, and he was going with me. but really, how could you not love this face?



















i will tell you. he's obviously on a mission of some sort...a calling, if you will. i'm not sure who his puppet master is, or what agency he's working for, but that mission is obviously to drive me to the brink of insanity. yes, i suffer from depression, but i'm not crazy...yet. it's only been 5 months.

i haven't had a kitten since i was 16, and that cat, cassandra, was not your average bear. she was feisty but sweet, somewhat lazy, and affectionate. in a word: perfect. now i know that most kittens (and puppies) are playful. holy hell. playful does not even begin to describe grayson.

a sidebar about his name. when we found the litter, we gave each kitten a nickname so that we could identify them, instead of pointing and saying, "that one, with the hair!" while we looked for homes for them. grayson acquired his name because he looked like he was wearing gray socks. cheesy, but it worked.

i brought him home after going to see pearl jam on the east coast (yes people, there they are again) and i could *not* think of a name for him. after two days, i had yelled "grayson" so many times that it pretty much stuck. i had no say so in the matter, which seems to have solidified the nature of our relationship.

back to playfulness...grayon isn't playful, he is maniacal. i swear he didn't sleep the first two weeks i had him. i know. i was home. wall to wall insanity. he ate plants, shredded the couch cover, chewed on power cords, ate paper...pretty much anything that would get him killed, either by me or jolt of electricity. maybe it's a death wish, not a mission...

i got a water gun to "train" him, that's what "they" tell you to do. it's as easy as herding cats. he'd do something he *knew* he wasn't supposed to because i had just yelled at him about it 17 seconds ago. i'd pull out the water gun, and he'd squint and wait to see if it would work. let me add that this water gun was a piece of shit from walmart that worked sporadically. he'd wait and if it did spray water, he'd run...and then return to chewing on my earphone cords or trying to shred the chair ties, playing hockey with dog food, or terrorizing phoenix.

remind me again, why i got a cat?

granted, he pretty much has a dog's personality; he comes when i call him, loves to be petted, and acts like he's part of the pack (of me and phoenix, that is).

and i feel bad. i don't *want* to yell at him, because no one likes to be yelled at. i don't like to yell, i rarely do it (anymore), i grew up in a house *full* of yelling. and he really is sweet and affectionate, except when he's sleeping on my face.


i know, he does it out of love. uh huh.
















the yelling is starting to affect my psyche. about two months ago, i had a dream that i killed a rabbit by shaking it to death until it was a bloody bag of flesh. talk about disturbing. i'm convinced it's because i had yelled at grayson before bed and i felt guilty. then a few nights ago, i dreamed that i pulled one of his front legs out of the socket when he pissed me off and i grabbed him, and i had to put it back in. WTF? (needed caps there)

slow down. before you call the spca, you must know that i don't abuse either of my kids. granted, i yell at grayson, but when your cat is standing in the middle of your dining room table, with a mouthful of the pile of 60 exams you just graded and your lap is full of dog and knitting, you'd yell too.

phoenix is another story, for another blog. in short, i never yell at him because he never does anything wrong, really. he's a super mellow dog who seems to have inherited some of my anxiety. they say that pets mirror their owners, but if that's the case, i must have a split personality. keep your comments to yourself, please.

here's what he did last night:















i'm hoping that once i get grayson neutered, he'll slap on 15 lbs. of laziness and calm down. if not, i'm faced with the prospect of a 20 lb. monster who is a dog batterer and lays on my face.

awesome.