drinking water to stay thin...

or is it to purify... ~msp

Depression helps you disconnect from a previous lifestyle or behaviour so that you can create a new one. Why didn't anyone teach me this definition earlier in life? or make it clearer to me when I was first diagnosed with PTSD? Maybe it would make the reality of being labeled with Major Depression far less scary...

When I came across the above definition while reading "Listening to Depression," it clicked for me. When the wreck took away everything I identified and defined myself as, I was lost. I hid for a long time, years. As I started to reimerse myself into life, I felt like a wallflower. I had never been a wallflower. I started pushing my own personal limits just to be noticed. I lost sight of me.

Being labeled as someone with depression didn't have to feel like someone was beating me down. I wish I would have been educated better on depression in my youth, which is odd since I went to an all girl's high school that was constantly preaching suicide prevention. How can we prevent something if the leading cause is never defined more than as someone being sad.

Depression. Depression. 12 months ago, I couldn't even say the word depression without bursting into tears. If I had only looked at it as my brain's realization that it was in need of a reset, a change of direction...

What your name says about you

With a last name like mine, this little silly thing isn't going to tell me much...

S : Easy to fall in love with!
H : You have a very good personality, looks, and a very good kisser
E : Great in bed!
I : Great in bed.
L : Unbelievably great in bed.
A: You like to drink.

E : Great in bed!
F : You are dead sexy
F : You are dead sexy
A: You like to drink.
N: You like to drink A LOT.

Hmmm, go figure...who am I to dispute the above. Too bad, I quit drinking, because I did like it A LOT.

To Translate your own...
A: You like to drink.
B : You like people.
C : You are really silly.
D : one in a million.
E : Great in bed!
F : You are dead sexy
G : You never let people tell you what to do.
H : You have a very good personality ,looks and a very good kisser
I : Great in bed.
J : People Adore you
K : You're wild and crazy.
L : Unbelievably great in bed.
M : best kisser ever.
N: You like to drink A LOT.
O: awesome kisser.
P : You are popular with all types of people.
Q : You are a hypocrite.
R : Fuckin Crazy.(in a fun way)
S : Easy to fall in love with!
T : You're loyal to those you love
U : You are really silly.
V : You are not judgemental.
W : You are very broad minded.
X : You never let people tell you what to do.
Y : best boy/girl friend any one can ask for.
Z : Always ready.......

It is 4am; do you know where your bank is?

It is 4am on, yet, another Sunday morning where I am not sleeping. I should be, but my mind has other plans...like online banking and bill paying.

I go to log on to my credit cards first, all unavailable. Peachy! Next, I go to login to my bank...also, unavailable. Ducky! Maintenance, maintenance, maintenance. What are they afraid of??? Saturday night drunkards trying to pay bills?? (Damn the drunks; if they were smart enough to login drunk and pay their bills.) I vote that financial institutions do maintenance in the middle of the week, because I'm more likely to be asleep at 4am on weekday mornings.

I want to bank at 4am on Sunday...why don't they just let me.

I blame the bank if my bills don't autopay on time because I am locked out at the only time I'm miserable enough to look at my bills.

Too full of himself

I'm just really sick of Archbishop Burke and his political ways. He has ruffled my feathers and many of my generation one too many times since his move to St. Louis. He is a perfect example of someone using guilt and shame in a religion he is supposed to be growing and promoting to push a stupid political agenda that hurts noone but the innocent. He is stuck in his head and as long as he is still in St. Louis, I will not be stepping into a Catholic church in St. Louis. He is definitely the demise of the St. Louis Catholic.

This isn't Rome. Go Home BURKE!

PS. For those who are curious, I am Catholic. I was baptised Catholic. I went to a Catholic grade school and high school, even started off at a Jesuit university. I married in the church, also, by a priest who is no longer allowed to minister (but that is another long scandelous story). I know I am divorced, but the annullment process is something I've been studying and preparing for (if Burke's tenor ever ends).

Smiles...left with a tear

I slept 12 hrs, at least, last night and woke up this morning without worry. The downpour of rain washed away the bad feeling (for now). Alex texted too and let me know he made it over the great blue Atlantic safely. I wish I could be there, but he is probably glad I'm here and unable to call him. He contacted me though *smile*. I wonder if he realizes how much that meant.

My day went to hell though. I let work get under my skin and fester the rest of the afternoon. I hate when I allow people to frustrate me to that point. I no longer have a job or a paycheck that justifies the aggravation I felt inside. Don't get me wrong, I love my job and the people, but, Grrrrrrrrr, my career is going the wrong direction sometimes, or maybe just my pay scale. Life was without worry before. I did everything I wanted; bought everything I wanted; travelled everywhere I wanted. Now I am trapped. Trapped by the costs of therapy...trapped by huge pay cuts, so when people/work get under my skin like today, instead of being able to shake it off, I fester. The balance of before is no longer here. No incentive to shake off the frustration, because someone else just added to the dogpile.

GELATO! Thank goodness someone else has a love of ice cream. The long walk for gelato gave me some time to blow off steam. The yummy goodness of the gelato put me on the bouncy sugar high I needed...and then the lil bit of creative mayhem, my partner in crime and I created made me almost forget that I was ever pissed to begin with. Bubbly laughter, giggling at ourselves, and calling in colleagues to participate that is what I call a good day at work.

Knowing someone else understands my life is priceless. I hate discussing the realities of life sometimes because I hate to see others pain. Tonight, I could see the tear of understanding, not how I wanted to end the night, but it showed a bond. Not all friendships are brought together by the happiest aspects of life; they are just held together that way. *hugs to you*

false sense of accomplishment

Our last night hurt. I wish I could erase the majority of it. After a rollercoaster couple weeks, I thought things were coming together again. I was wrong...try as I might, I failed again. The eruption? not my fault, just a link to the past. The words that followed though pierced like a sharp knife stabbing over and over again in the chest. . . Stabbing to kill everything I've been working and praying for

and death become us?

Hair today. Hair tomorrow?

I have too much to write and not enough energy to write it all. I guess this is what happens when I let 2 weeks of blogging build up in my head. Grrrrrrr.

Speaking of head, my head, I have lots of hair, thick hair...I keep seeing events for the St. Baldricks foundation. The foundation's way of attracting attention to raise money for cancer awareness and research intrigues me. Basically, you post a photo of you with hair on their website, send the link to all your friends soliciting their sponsorship to shave your head. Yes, me, with long, thick locks, shaved off...just like that. Brave. Am I brave enough to shave my head? I am ready to go shave every hair off right now, but I am a little scared my hair growing out. Will I be ugly without hair? with short hair? Will it change who I am? Hmmm.

A few years ago, right after my divorce and while my 9 day old nephew was deathly ill in the PICU, I donated 10 inches of hair to Locks of Love. My mom and sister each donated hair with me. We grew out our hair together, before life turned to hell in a hand-basket, with the purpose of donating our goldie locks to an organization like Locks of Love that makes wigs for children with cancer.

The day we had our long pony tails cut off was me bargaining with God for my nephew's life. I was scared. I remember doing everything and anything good, waiting for positive news and little Gabriel to bounce back. God heard my begging and my prayers. The little guy is healthy as can be now. He just had some valves that didn't develop right away in tiny body before he popped out into the real world. Like the rest of us, he wasn't ready for this hell on the outside, but he fought and his little body caught up to the needs of the outside world. I wish I could catch up.

I was really excited about how thin the short hair made my face look. In time, though, I grew paranoid. Long hair is something to hide behind. Short hair left me feeling totally exposed. I didn't have the confidence when I walked into a room that long hair gave me. It is sad hair defines us so much. I think that is why I want to challenge myself with St. Baldrick's. I don't want my hair or clothes or shoes or make-up to affect my personality. I want to find a me that isn't dependent on the superficial and/or material. I would accept a me where the material accentuates my personality, but I can't have it define me. Shave my head? Accept the world and the strange looks I will receive? Toss out today's standards for beauty and trust that I am confident enough to stand alone, BALD?

Sunny mornings

Sunny mornings make me happy. I wake up on my couch, looking straight outside into the sun. I'm blinded. The cold air on my skin; the bright rays warming me ever so slightly. I stretch. I don't want to get up and face the world. I want to stay here all day. There is nothing better than this.

My head is telling me I should get up and start my day. Go to work. Still, I lay here. I think I rather lay here all day and watch the trees wave recklessly in the wind. The occasional squirrels playing games of cat and mouse, jumping tree to tree chasing each other is better than anything the TV could provide me right now. Although, work is often more entertaining than my squirrels. I dread the thought of leaving the couch and the primping necessary to take this PJ queen to publicly acceptable. Moving downtown, closer to work, will not cure this daily recurring dread. Even though I would like to think right now that moving downtown will be a cure all.

I have been laying here for hours now, enjoying the moments.

I think I am going to be late into the office, again. Sorry, Bossman.

More than a key...

Drinking - water to stay thin or is it to purify...
Vomiting. Rocks of scar tissue. Scars on my stomach. Scars in my mind. Scars, scars, scars. Pills I take every day. Toxic support? Chemical sanity? Help. Assistance. Annoying. Pills labeling me, reminding me I'm not ok. Something is wrong with me. I am doing everything I can to fix me, but I didn't choose this. I didn't break me. I just want to be me again (whoever that is).

But theres no - no real truce with my fury you don't have to believe me...
I hurt. I get upset. I lash back. I am just protecting my heart.

You have - broken through my armour and I don't have an answer...
You constantly ask me questions. I want to answer you. I just can't verbalize everything that is in my head and in my heart. I wish you could understand and just feel what you've always felt. There are a lot of things I could follow this with, but I'm so confused I don't know which way to go: i guess nothing will ever be the same or all good things in time. Forward progress is mandatory in my life right now. I am just clueless as to where I'm progressing to.

I paint - the things I want to see but it don't come easy...
I am constantly trying to put aside the things that are stabbing at my heart and my sanity. I hold on to the smallest, happiest moments to remind myself how much you care and how much you did love me. Every tear wiped from my cheek, hair brushed from my face, hug where you pulled me in tighter and held me longer, reminisce about our good times...our time.

Think I'm - lost amongst the undergrowth so much so I woke up...
I open my eyes. I want to see you. Some things are clearer now. I am not perfect. I never will be. I know I have things to work on, but my heart still wants you.

But you stole the the sun from my heart...
What little was left of me, you placed in a bag in my car while I sleeping upstairs. I think someone crushed my chest when I opened my car door. Nothing was fixed that night, but the tears eventually turned to laughter and smiles, and I found my friend.

I have - Ive got to stop smiling it gives the wrong impression...
I tried to leave and not look at the remote on the counter. I tried to hug you goodbye without tearing up over the keyring in my hand, one key shy from when I entered. The last little things letting me know I still had a place in your heart...gone.

Lyrics: "You stole the sun from my heart" by the Manic Street Preachers aka MSP

Ciaran, thank you for sharing your song, even though I kinda stole it for this use. I bet your surprised I still listen. Please don't ever pull a Richey. I need all the friends I can get. ~shel~

Noise

Silence...I don't believe there is ever such a thing. There is always noise: the white noise of the furnace, the chirping birds, the constant thoughts running through my head, the clock on the end table ticking away each second of my life, my heart beating...SILENCE, it just does not exist.

My ears hurt.

Demons for Sale

Demons for sale....I thought it would be easy to type these all out as they float nonstop through my head. hmmm, guess I was wrong, because my mind has suddenly gone blank. I could blame it on the fact it is 6:15 am or the toxic smell of the 8 week old trash I finally remembered to push out to the curb for trash pick-up (things I often forget). Why does the trash guy feel the need to show up at 6:30 am to pick up the trash so that I never have the chance to remember to get mine out on time? I guess I will have to keep my demons off the market another day, damnit. So, all you demon collecting fools, please check back soon.

Scars are souvenirs?

Scars are souvenirs you never lose
The past is never far
Did you lose yourself somewhere out there
Did you get to be a star
And don't it make you sad to know that life
Is more than who we are

If these scars are souvenirs, what are the vomit and the tears? the-vomit-and-the-tears. Sexy, huh? Right now, I think they are the pain the scars will constantly remind me of. I hurt. I cry. I make myself hurt to the point I am sick. Why? because I have already lost myself somewhere out there. The sad thing is I am mainly only lost in my own mind. Most that know me already think of me of a star. Ok, now you are thinking I am being corny, but trust me on the fact that I don't exactly blend in. I am a stand out whether I try or not. I think that is why the verse above always strikes me when I hear it.

Lyrics from 'Name' by the Goo Goo Dolls