Bucket o' Blood

I went to the doctor today. He upped my dosage of Prozac. Yay me. I did that a week ago. I feel pretty good actually. Yesterday I bought my Christmas tree. Today I actually decorated it. Yes Mom, it has lights and balls and everything on it. I even have my angel on top of my tree.

The angle was my grandfather’s. I called him Bumpa. He was a great man. When I was little he was my favorite playmate. Seems like the old lady was always getting pissed at us and kicking us outside. We spent many a weekend together. Bumpa is my mother’s father. He was a huge man easily standing 6’4” and built like a skyscraper. He was a master carpenter. He worked construction his whole life. He built shopping malls, the Mass Turnpike and even Seabook Nuclear Plant. He was a hard worker. When he was young he was a hard drinker. Around about the time I came along he had mellowed a bit but that didn’t stop him from throwing a Massachusetts State Trooper through a plate glass window at the “Bucket o' Blood”.

Bumpa’s benders were epic. He would come home on a Friday night after being at work out of town all week and give my grandmother some of his paycheck and disappear with the rest. He would routinely lose his car. Inevitably, we would find it parked outside of some seedy joint. He hung with a rough crowd but he had a heart of gold. He had a habit of bringing home strays. I mean dogs and people. You never really knew who was going to show up for dinner whether it be a stray cat or some dude down on his luck. That was Lou’s (that was his God given name) way. He was always helping the down trodden.

He was one of the best playmates I’ve ever had. We didn’t play dolls and crap like that (although he would of). We played construction site. I used to take his chalk line and snap chalk all over my grandmother’s sidewalks. She would pitch such a fit. He loved it. My Bumpa taught me how to drive a nail into a 2 x 4 with one shot. I practiced that so many times until I finally mastered it. I was psyched and he was all hugs and smiles. I had impressed him.

Another thing we used to do is go get bread for Sunday dinner. Sunday dinner was a big affair where all family members showed up. It didn’t matter that my Nonnie couldn’t cook for shit. We were all always there on Sunday. I’m very fond of those memories. On Saturday afternoons the old lady would send me and Bumpa out for bread. Now mind you the bakery was only 2 minutes from the house but our outings lasted hours. We would stop at Harold’s Package Store and buy a 12 pack so that Bump had beer while we drove around. We would just take rides. We would get lost for hours. I had some of my best philosophical conversations of my life on those rides. Bumpa was a simple man with a very old soul. He taught me many invaluable lessons and left me with many of his witticisms that I still use today.

Girls' Night In

So, I decided to play doctor and adjust my meds myself. I went up 20 milligrams on my Prozac. I started that a few days ago in anticipation of my appointment on Monday where the doctor is going to do exactly what I did, up my dosage. I have to say I’m feeling a bit better. I know that it will take a couple of weeks for me to feel normal again. As it is, I actually feel like socializing again and that’s after only a few days.

It’s just me and Mike’s girls this weekend. We have girls’ nights planned for tonight and Sunday and tomorrow I’m going to the zoo with my mom. Dianna, my oldest daughter, and Jessica, my youngest daughter will be here tonight. I love both those girls. I guess we’ll just hang out and talk and maybe watch movies while Di and I sip wine. It will be a nice time. I love watching the interaction between the two sisters. They are awesome.

On Sunday night I’m going to have a girls’ night with Kat, my middle daughter. Kat has a seriously crazy busy life. She is raising a five year old on her own. Well, actually, we are all raising him. She finally has a night off on Sunday so she is going to come over and hang out. She has a lot of turmoil going on in her life so we are planning for a major bitch fest.

It’s funny having daughters now. Pete and I chose not to have kids. When I got Mike I got a whole slew of them. I love being a mom. I love being a friend to them. They are three very distinct personalities. They are all strong, independent women. I can’t wait to enjoy their company.

I forgot how I was going to end this blog.

I hear the kids in the school yard a couple of blocks over. I can picture them running with smiles on their faces and shrieking with laughter. I find no joy in it. Instead it is just noise to me. It should bring about feelings of bliss and contentment that at least on this block there is joy in the world. It makes me sad that I can't feel that. I'm perched on a fine line right now. I have two choices; keep hanging on to the light or just give in to this depression. It's tiring fighting it all the time. I just want to sleep until it is over.

Sleep comes in clumps of hours. I keep waking up from nightmares. My nerves are raw and tattered from not sleeping peacefully the last few nights. I hate when the dreams occur. They are weird. They are like watching a sitcom about everyday life and it is staring me and Pete. The problem with this is that he looks like he did the day I found him hanging. He's pasty and blue and his lips are black and his eyes are always closed and bulging. It really fucks me up. That's the PTSD kicking in because I'm depressed. Oh joy; not. So I need to do something to knock myself completely out. Fortunately I know how to do that. I'll max out my sleep meds again and I won't dream or remember anything.

I have to send myself text messages so that I remember to do things. I send myself grocery lists, names of books I want to read and names of movies I want to see. I have to because I don't seem to have much in the way of short term memory. My memory sucks. I need to start doing luminosity or some such shit because apparently reading constantly is not cutting it in the exercise your brain department.

I forgot how I was going to end this blog. There was something else I was going to tell you, but I can't remember what it was. Oh, well. Time for another glass of soothing herbal tea.

One down. One to go.

I survived Turkey Day. I don’t really remember much of it not because I was drinking but because I was anxious. Anxiety wrecks everything. I don’t know why I was having a bout of social anxiety. I knew everyone there very well. They were all family. I still had to try pretty hard to be marginally social. I think I did ok. I don’t remember. That’s one of a myriad of problems I have. When I am depressed or anxious I don’t remember things. Entire days pass and I don’t remember them. I have to text myself reminders because it seems like I live a day, fall asleep and wake up and don’t remember anything. I’ve cut down on sleep meds so I don’t think they are the culprit. I think it is just the way I am wired. So, I guess you could say I loved Thanksgiving Day because nobody knows any different. Next up is Christmas. I dread Christmas.

I don’t know why I hate Christmas so much. I always have. Again I think it is a crowd thing except now you have to do gifts which is even more stressful. I hate performance stress. What am I going to get them? Are they going to like it? Is it enough? For many years that part or the holiday was missing from my life. It felt good. For years, when my husband was alive, we had stress free Christmas Days. It was nice. Our gift to our friends was food and hospitality. We used to host the Misfits Christmas at our hours. I would roast a prime rib and put together all the fixings and all our friends that didn’t have anywhere to go came to my house and we had a giant party. It was great; lots of laughs and lots of booze. Now I have a family again.

Mike has a slew of kids. Three of his daughters live in the immediate area and we have my Mom and Dad down here at this time of the year now so we do the family thing. I’ll probably try to cook a rib roast (Mike takes over. I should be grateful that he loves to cook.) And we’ll do presents. That’s where the stress comes in. Ugh! That pressure to perform. I should really not give two shits what they think. They should be happy with anything that I can afford to purchase them. I could really fuck them up and make homemade gifts this year; bath salts and body lotion for everyone, maybe some candles. They might really like that. I don’t know. I think a small gift to open and a gift card will suffice. I wouldn’t be so freaked out by this if my mood were better.

The new/old antidepressant is starting to work, but the dosage isn’t high enough. I go back to Dr. V on the 9^th for an adjustment. He just has to bring me up to 40 mg. I seriously need it and I don’t want to end up in the hospital on New Years again like last year. That was a trip. Dr. V was on vacation and the blow hard that was my doctor threatened to get a court order to lock me up. I had no choice but to voluntarily stay and make the best of it. I was there for six days. I read 7 books. I was in with the really mental people. I was on suicide watch which means they check on you every 10 minutes. That means that every 10 minutes all night long someone opens your door and shines a light in your face. Tell me that won’t make you fucking nuts. I finally started leaving my door open so that there was nothing to creak or worse yet, slam. Nothing like being suicidally depressed and sleep deprived. It makes for some fun group therapy conversations. What they did do was immediately max out my meds and within a couple of days I felt fine. They still wouldn’t let me out. They would not let me out until I was seen by my own doctor. He came in on his day off to discharge me. It was as simple as that but it scared me. I don’t want to ever go back there again. So, I won’t. This year I’ll keep it together somehow. I’ll talk about it before it gets critical and I will try to lighten up on myself about Christmas. After all, I can only give it my best.

The Academy Award for Best Actress Goes To...

Depression sucks! It's dark, it's lonely and it hurts. I'm tired and both my soul and body ache. I feel like I'm coming down with a cold but I know I'm not. I know it is just the chemical imbalance rocking my brain. Irregular circuitry that misfires and sends the wrong signals. I hate feeling like shit. I hate that I get really bitchy. I hate that I am angry. I hate that I hate anything. I hate the holidays. This depression couldn't have happened at a worse time. I'm supposed to be loving and thankful and all I want to do is pull the covers over my head and let the day pass. Unfortunately, I don't have that luxury. The party is at my house.
 
"Attitude is the difference between ordeal and adventure." I don't know who said that but it couldn't have come at a better time. I have a choice to make tomorrow. I can be anxious and depressed or I can put on an Oscar worthy performance and be dazzling. I choose to shine and I will so after shot gunning a couple of beers. That's right, I beginning the celebration early. I should wake up around 10:30 and start drinking. If it's the only way to get through it then self-medicate me baby! I don't mean that I'm going to get fucked up. I'm totally not stable enough for that. I'll just maintain a slight buzz; just enough to take the edge off and make for a good time.

Kindles and shopping and bunnies, oh my!

I feel like Eyeore today, “Oh, bother”. I got up this morning before the alarm went off. I grabbed my Kindle Fire and promptly dropped it. It landed face down on the tile and the screen broke. It is a spider web of cracks. I was so sad. Then I found out that I can fix it myself. I just need like twenty eight bucks for a new screen and I should be able to fix it with a little help from eHow. Whew! Thank dog it can be fixed. I couldn’t live without it. As it is I can still read on it which makes me happy because I read all night while I’m working.

I haven’t really felt like working lately. I haven’t felt like doing much of anything. I do however think that the new old meds are starting to work. I have a little more energy and enthusiasm. Ok, not really but I’m trying to convince myself otherwise. I’m trying to pull off that whole, “fake it till you make it”. It’s not really working for me. Still, I try. I did leave the house a few times this weekend and last Wednesday I went shopping with my mom.

I lost a lot of weight so all my clothes were hanging off of me. I really needed some new things and Momma Bear needed retail therapy so she brought me out to the mall. Now normally I would just duck into JC Penney really quick, grab a couple of things and then leave. We did go to Penney’s and then the shoe store and then we walked to the other end of the mall to Macy’s. I did really well. I didn’t get panicky at all. I think having my mom there with me helped immensely. She understands what I go through. Anyway, we had a lot of fun and a wonderful lunch afterwards. I really enjoyed myself. I hadn’t been out with my mom in a long time. I love her.

You know I don’t get out much. Part of it is because my car is broken. Blown heads. Major bummer. Mike was able to find remanufactured heads that were relatively inexpensive. They should arrive today. Hopefully this weekend Mike will have time to fix my car. I have been without it since May. I miss being able to just go. I don’t really know where I will go. I guess I just miss my independence; which is kind of funny when you think about the fact that I suffer from social and generalized anxiety. I don’t really want to interact with other people on a mass scale. I would rather have friends over to visit. I guess it will just be nice to have the option of going for a ride or whatever.

We have a new addition to our household. We have a baby rabbit that my step daughter found in the rose bushes. It is only a couple of weeks old and needs to be fed with an eyedropper. Of course we had to run out and pick up a cage and some hay and some baby blankets to keep it warm. We also had to pick up some cat milk replacement formula to feed the cute little baby. He sleeps a lot and was a hungry little devil when I fed him this morning. He sucked down four droppers full in no time. He or she for that matter is so cute and so soft. It is so small that at first I thought it was a huge mouse. So, I have another project; trying to keep the bunny alive. I shall do my best.

“I said I was smart. I never said I had my shit together.” ~ Unknown

This is so me lately. I am having the hardest time keeping my shit together. I really just want to stay in bed. I want to crawl under the blankets and curl up with my Kindle. I know I have to be patient and let science do its thing, but I don’t have to like it. Or, rather I do. I have to keep my shit together. I am just lost lately; lost inside of myself. I pace the halls of my brain, seeking sunshine and glitter and hearts and flowers. It is pretty dark in here lately; much like looking at a black and white photo. Everything is in gray tones. I need the color back. I need the sunshine.

Tomorrow I’m going to try some retail therapy with my Mom. I need some new things. Most of my clothes are too big. I’ve begun cleaning out my drawers. I really need to get to the closet. I need to make a clothing donation soon.

I think shopping with my Mom will be good. She makes me laugh and she has anxiety like me so she’s cool with bailing on a store at a moments notice. Sometimes there is just too much chaos or a creepy vibe and I just need to get out of there. It doesn’t happen frequently but when it does I need to flee. Mom understands this. She’s totally cool. I can’t wait to spend some quality girl time with her. It’s been so long. I’ve missed her.