Nemesis

Dating is impossible. All options to meet new men suck; Tinder, Match, OKC, FL, CL. They are all sleazy breeding grounds for narcissistic, pushy, cheating, lying creeps who prey on the insecurities of women. Yes, I am well aware that this goes both ways but I am only talking about my experience so hush to my male readers.

Doesn't matter what I say in my profile, the exact opposite will hit me up. I say I like tall men because I am an Amazon, they tell me they are 5'6" and always wanted to climb a woman like a tree. Ummm, no. I say I am a smoker, they lecture me on bad habits and ask if I am quitting. Nope. I state that I am not into heavy partying, they ask if coke counts. Yes, yes it does. 

I have been told I am not pretty enough to look for what I want. I am too old to be picky. I am too fat to be choosy. I have been told I am a "total stuck-up cunt" for not lowering my standards. Anyone who knows me knows I am only a mildly stuck-up cunt, jeez. 

I feel physically drained from my interactions with online dating. I want to delete all my accounts and plan my life as a spinster. Fuck boyfriends, lovers or husbands. I have live music and my friends, family and the Criminals to keep me smiling. Unless you know of an attractive, tall, smart, funny, successful, bearded, tattooed, motorcycle riding, smoking, wine drinking, single guy you want to set me up with? Between 40 and 50 will do. 

Damn, I am demanding.

xoks

Cumbersome

I love my (NINE) readers. They are always so thoughtful and pretty consistent about reading my whacky posts. Thank you for that.

I want to also acknowledge that some of what I write can sound a little kooky and, at times, maybe scary for those close to me. I get it. Reading about someone who you care about fighting a battle with depression isn't easy. Learning that your family member or friend has sat on the suicidal fence is fucked up. I want to remind all (9) of you that I blog because my silence was killing me. I write here because I want to be open and honest about my mental health issues and how I am working every day to get better. 

There are days that I don't want to fight anymore; that I am sick of feelings and having to take my meds. Of waking up to the chatter in my head. Dreading the phone because I don't always know how to respond to "How are you?" I want to be able to say I am fucking fantastic. I am happy and healthy and ready to take on the world. But that isn't my truth. There are days that are wonderful and there are days that are a struggle. That is my reality. 

It has gotten better. The KIT has made a difference. EMDR is helping. My therapist is wonderful and supportive and gets me. My friends and family all show amazing understanding and support. I am grateful beyond words.

If you are reading this and are worried about me, please try not to be. This is my place to get my thoughts out, even the more disturbing ones. It's another form of therapy for me. A safe place for me to just let it all go. 

This is my fight for my life. I pack a pretty serious fucking punch.

xoks

The Last Song

It is hard for me to describe the ebb and flow of depression. I know it is always there, hanging around. I can't see it, taste it, touch it, smell it, but I sure as fuck can hear it. It's my 5th and 6th sense. It screams to me as I am trying to fall asleep; not good enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough, not funny enough, not skinny enough, NOT ENOUGH. I will never be enough for it.

It wakes me at 4 AM after I do something to trigger it earlier in the day. And this week has been chock full of triggers. I had the ability to stop the collision. I chose not to. I allowed a sneaky, persistent ache to poke me over and over again with a stick. So afraid to say no. So afraid of more loss. At this point though, I don't think there is anything more to lose with this one. It's all said and done and yet it still feels like a thorn in my paw.  Every time I try to dig it out, it just goes in a little deeper.

As I am reducing my daily medication, I have to remind myself that it is all about balance. The KIT has been so grounding and helpful so I decided to boost this weekend. It will help with the shift in my brain. It's all chemicals mixed with my actions and I have resigned myself to the fact that I am still not very good at managing healthy boundaries (yet) so I have to keep my head right. 

I still can't wrap my head around how many people suffer from some sort of mental health issue. How I wake up every day hoping it won't be with me only to hear it chattering in the background on good days and screaming bloody murder on the bad ones. Is it like that for others? Do they pray every night as they are falling asleep that tomorrow it's just chatter? That's as quiet as it has ever been for me...

xoks

Mess Is Mine

Been a very long couple of weeks. Between traveling, getting sick, and a few struggles scattered in there, I haven't been up to writing. Fatigue is the main culprit. Could not get enough sleep to save my soul last week. My fucking body keeps betraying me.

After Bottlerock I was very worn down physically. Even though I was on my best behavior (only had a few cocktails over three days, got to bed at reasonable hours, didn't make out with any strangers) I still got my ass handed to me via a superbug. I blame it on the hippy crowd at Tom Petty.

Instead of continuing on my path of being a good kid, on a Saturday morning, I hopped on a plane to NOLA for a week of...NOLA. I arrived sick and exhausted. Not my usual self. I did what I could to push through but by Tuesday it was clear that I needed to be home. Closer to my doctor and in my own bed. This is the first time I have ever had to bail on a vacation and the last time I ever want to leave my home away from home of New Orleans as I only get so much time there every year. I was so sad getting on the plane, doped up on cold medicine so my fellow passengers wouldn't throw me off mid-flight, that I actually cried a little as the plane took off. My happy place was slowly fading away from my view and I was simply too sick to do anything else but go home. I am grateful for every minute I get to spend there and spoiled that I get to go at all. I am just doing a bit of whining...

In terms of my mental health, things have been going relatively well. My last booster was about 6 or 7 weeks ago and I am still feeling level. I have reduced my medication by half (I have been on anti-depressants for 22 years) and am not sliding backward. My goal is to live my life off of meds, but I will take it one day at a time.

When Chris Cornell passed away, I was very shaken and confused. It hit me so hard (and still does) that some people actually teased me for crying over a person I had never met. I can handle the teasing. The thing some people don't get is that Chris was my guy. My favorite vocalist, my musician crush, my hero. Losing him to suicide made me feel lost and scared. My heart is not healing. 

I have spoken about the spiral many times here and how easy it is to wake up on the bottom and not know how you got there. Afraid to tell your people you are down again because they are so afraid you won't get back up. It is so much to manage all the time. But I am blessed with the people in my life, the community I found online, and the fact that I know there is relief and joy out there. 

As a reminder, to my readers (all eight of you) please read about, talk about, and support KIT. It saved my life and gave me a path to living rather than just surviving.

xoks