Shut up!

Shut Your Beak

I’m not her any more. I’m not.

I used to be her…

the one who blogged about being in a tar pit;
the one who wrote about how I was mad at God;
the one who got angry at my messy, sad excuse for a life;
the one who questioned if anyone was reading what I wrote,  let alone actually cared about it…or her;
the one who did a little of this and did a little of that and wrote when she felt like it;
the one who mostly ranted that she wasn’t getting her own way.

But I’m not her any more. I’m me. Oh, she is still in there somewhere, yammering from a mental trunk that  “This isn’t funny any more!” as she cries to be let back out.

But I’m driving the car now and I’m just going to keep her in there until she passes out from the lack of oxygen.

I’m not feeding her any more.
I’m not listening to her any more.
I’m not living with her any more.
I’m killing her off.


I’m not like that any more.

I’m no longer satisfied with the depressed life.
I’m no longer satisfied with the sad excuses, the lame, lackluster-ness.
I’m not letting her back out and she can’t make me. She can’t make me. She can’t make me.

I’m quitting that. All that.

That kind of melancholy.
That depression drama where a hangnail is enough to unhinge me.
That unrelenting gloom where even Wednesday Addams might be looking for the nearest exit.

I am unashamed of my past, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her run my present or my future.

So, sad lady in the trunk, whining that you’re feeling a bit faint from dehydration and begging me to please not drive so fast because you’re hitting your head and it hurts so bad.

Shut the fuck up.

I’ve had enough of you.

I’m going to be happy now.


Living a Lie

Living a LieLife is hard.

I know that. I’ve been there, done that. My God, how I have been there and done that.

But now, now I’m the happy one, the one for whom life is good, so good. And it’s easy to forget that some people are just faking it. Just faking that happy face. Going about their jobs, their home lives, their times with family; the dial set to the comfortable smile channel, the easy laughter station.

Inside, though, they’re just a nudge away from tears, from breaking down, from screaming ’til the throat burns raw and it hurts just to breathe.

And they, these capable-of-winning-an-Oscar performers, what are they thinking? Have they fallen for the lie that says, "No one wants to hear about it"? Are they turning away from intimacy, from self-revelation, because, "No one likes a complainer"? Do they, like I once did, succumb to the thought that, "No one cares"?

And have we let them?

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Birthday Wishes

Birthday cakeMy goodness! It’s only 7:35 a.m., and it’s already one of the best birthdays I’ve ever had. (No, silly reader, no one in bed with me! Naughty!)

Lithium is one of the best things that ever happened to me. I started about a month ago, and after a few days of queasy stomach, felt better than I have in years! I mean, I can hardly believe it, but it’s true. I’m as happy as a clam, with none of the narcissism and grandiosity of mania. There have been moments, but hey, I am a great person. As the old saying goes, “It ain’t braggin’ iffin it’s true!” And I’ve had some stresses and some disappointments, but nowhere near the depths I was experiencing for at least two weeks every month.

God is good.

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S is for Something

Plain brownies, 9 May 2010.

Plain brownies, 9 May 2010. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Excitement is often found in the most unexpected places. (Is that what makes it exciting?)

I baked brownies today. From a mix. This, gentle reader, is a major accomplishment for me.

Yes, if you know me well, you’ll know that at one time I was a professional baker, so using a mix (or admitting it) is akin to being the gastronomical equivalent of Milli Vanilli. But, you know, the depression.

Excuse me, but the milk I’ve poured is getting warm.


A to Z April Challenge 2013I’m participating in the Blogging from A-to-Z April Challenge! Read about it here.

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R is for Ridiculous

Vintage Corset PhotoJust. Hanging. On. Really, that’s what it’s coming down to.

I feel like I’m in some kind of weird limbo until I get better. Til I get meds. Til the meds kick in. I’m seeing everything through a lens that is labeled, “I’m too depressed.” Every person, every encounter, every opportunity is weighed against a suffocating tide of, “Too depressed.”

Run across a motivational quote. Think, “Clearly, that person has never been depressed.” Listen to a TED talk. Think, “I could do that, if I wasn’t so damn depressed.”

I’m not baking and barely cooking. I am washing my hair, though, so there’s a sense of accomplishment. (That is the kind of thing that becomes a real accomplishment when you’re depressed. Washing your hair and maintaining the vaguest grasp on personal hygiene. Can I get a gold star for that?)

It’s been, maybe, four days (really? that long?) since I’ve been overwhelmed by the “cutting my hands off” thoughts. I have no control over that. So, feeling thankful. I have gotten dressed and walked several blocks both yesterday and today. Gratitude. I’ve done laundry. Yes. Yes, I have. Two loads. (Thank you, I hear that applause.)

I’ve sort of kept up with the A-Z challenge. It’s been a struggle. I’ve mostly been on Twitter. Somehow, only having to work in 140 characters seems more attainable. Manageable. Just barely. We’ll see how it goes.


A to Z April Challenge 2013I’m participating in the Blogging from A-to-Z April Challenge! Read about it here.

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Q is for Quibbling Quotient

I think this the time when I usually throw in the towel, which is also known as quitting. But I don’t want to. I want to finish this challenge, even if I’m a couple of days behind. It’s really important to me now to be able to finish something.

Let’s hope for the best, shall we?


A to Z April Challenge 2013I’m participating in the Blogging from A-to-Z April Challenge! Read about it here.

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