“And I had won by so much, a myth began to grow about my speed.”

Weed Lounge Logo

I’m myself again.  Aside from insomnia and hot flashes, I don’t detect any more menopause symptoms at this time.  I’m so relieved to be feeling better, but I have wasted a lot of time worrying about how I’ll cope when The New and Improved Depression Monster returns.  I hate how surprised I am over surviving the last encounter.  I should be celebrating the victory and talking shit about how depression is too pathetic to kick my ass.

Instead, I’m still tripping out over how low it’s possible to become so quickly with no warning.  It’s how I’ve felt after getting my ass kicked literally.  Afterward, I’m shaky and stunned over how weak and vulnerable I am.  Everything within me is screaming to find the nearest rock and get the hell under it.  Well, almost everything.  There’s also a part of me that’s livid and wants a rematch because I’d like nothing better than to take The New and Improved Depression Monster out after a sound and satisfying beat down.

One of my chosen sisters reminded me we’d get through and survive.  Another recently faced down the GRE and laughed in its pitiful face while flexing their brilliance.  💪🏽  I have to admit; it makes the idea of hiding under a rock seem a bit sad and silly.  And then there’s the fact that Fleetwood Mac is coming to Sioux Falls in 54 days.  (!!!)  Anyone who knows me knows I’d rather eat worms than miss seeing them perform live.

Nettie from The Color Purple

Nothing but death can keep me from it!

Nettie- The Color Purple

I’m still studying the HBO series, A Game of Thrones.  I’m on season 4, and at the episode where I bailed last time:  The Mountain and the Viper.  I don’t think it’ll trigger me this time.  I’m getting good at reminding myself it’s FX, not real violence.  Finally.  Heh.  You wouldn’t believe how many movies I plan to watch now that I’ve acquired this skill.  (An 8-year-old taught me. 🤫)

M asked me to reconsider using weed last night.  He knows it would require us to move to a weed-legal state since South Dakota sucks ass considers it illegal (af.)  He made some excellent points and surprised me by how much he believes it will improve my quality of life.  He’s a surgeon, so I figure he knows.  It’s been a while since I experimented in Denver.  I did discover the tour I went on recently got busted by the police in a sting.  Everyone faced fines, the driver briefly arrested.

I would have been pissed if I paid $99 only to get fined and roughly handled by the police.  In hindsight, I shouldn’t have trusted strangers about what is and isn’t legal.  I was so stunned to have legal access to weed, I didn’t think it through.  For the record, it’s illegal to ride around on a party bus while getting high, no matter what random locals claim.  My tour was years ago, but the bust was recent, so I’m a bit shocked it took this long.  I suppose in bigger cities, this sort of thing isn’t necessarily a priority.

cannabis plant

I’m disappointed by the lack of imagination regarding weed tourism in Colorado.  Yes, you can go there and buy an ounce legally.  But here’s the kicker:  Unless you know someone who lives there, has private property where you can partake and allows it, there’s no point in buying it.  If I worshipped the almighty dollar, I would put forth earnest effort toward creating smoking lounges for tourists, along with sober transportation to and from hotels, and lots of wickedly overpriced junk food.  Stoned people would pay $9.99 for a rice-crispy treat, easily.  I just don’t get it.

I’m sure it would require lobbying and the like, but when you’ve got major cash from selling something as easy to grow as a weed, you’ve also got influential power.  You can buy anything, including the freaking presidency, much to my disgust.  So I have no idea why they’re half-assing in Colorado.  It doesn’t make me want to live there.  I’m also floored by the fact that established greedy bastards like banks aren’t capitalizing on it.  (It’s virtually a cash-only industry.)  But, whatever.  It’s not my problem.  I’m certainly considering using it to cope, though.  We’ll see.  I’m off to band practice.  ✌🏽

“Rain and sleet may not stop them, but lets see them get past these bricks.”

"Shall we play a game?"

The Depression Monster showed up a few days ago.  I haven’t bothered resisting this time.  Resistance is futile.  I’m not wasting any more energy fighting a battle that won’t end until I do.  Bring on the devastating sadness that makes me weep until I’m exhausted.  Go on and increase gravity until I can no longer hold up my head.  Staple me to the floor, like you always do.

Take my appetite, my laughter, my desire.  Tell me joy has fled for good.  Remind me of the atrocities occurring throughout the world today, yesterday, and tomorrow.  Prove to me I’m powerless to prevent suffering.  Trace my blame in all that’s wrong with the world.  Show me my overwhelming vulnerability.  Sing The Rains of Castamere.  Taunt me with logic, like you always do.

I’ll feel it all, and ache to the depths of my soul.  Like I always do;  until the chemical chaos ceases, and I finally fall into dreamless, exhausted sleep.  Then eventually awaken to pick up the pieces and begin again.  Until you return, like you always do.

capitalist's carrot and noose


“He’s even curtailed his auto-erotic activities.”

Woman reading the news and shouting, "That baby was mowing the damn lawn!"

I need to stop reading the news.  It’s killing me.  I don’t know how I slid back into my old habit of perusing and cross-checking multiple sources online a few times a day.  It doesn’t matter.  I need to refrain entirely for a while.  I looked at my face in the mirror today.  I’m not very visually oriented, probably because my vision sucks.  I usually glance without seeing, but today, I saw.

I look like I haven’t slept in a few days.  I’m dehydrated, nauseated, and depressed.  I’m also excited about upcoming concerts, hella resilient, and an expert at functioning despite discomfort and despair.  I sometimes wish I could find solace in sleep at these times, but it’s no friend of mine.  Instead, I must push myself to engage in specific activities until the issue resolves.  Fortunately, I’ve had lots of practice.

It used to frighten me whenever I felt this way.  I resent how long it took me to overcome the fear.  Now, it annoys me at most.  I’m usually reasonably good at training my brain to do what I want, but sometimes, I need lots of repetition before it clicks.  Fighting off depression is one of those times.  It took a long time to train myself never to presume humanity in others.  It was painful to learn, but not nearly as much as not knowing better.

I forced myself to practice my drums earlier.  I love to play, but when I’m depressed, it’s incredibly difficult to make myself do it.  I had fun, just as I knew I would.  There’s a new mix of Solo by Clean Bandit, ft. Demi Lovato.  I hated it the first time I heard it, but when I accidentally played it again, I discovered I love it.  I also enjoyed drumming to Ghost by Jaden Smith.  depression

I’m rehydrating so that I can hit the treadmill later.  Running in place is remarkably helpful when I’m so low.  I used to be able to throw a pity party and wallow a bit before I fought my way out from under a mountain of despair.  Eventually, I reached a point where I recognized feeling sorry for myself is also hysterically funny, which ruined it.  Heh.  (Pretending Wanda Sykes and Jerry Seinfeld were riffing off my negative thoughts did the trick.)

Now I work it out as quickly as possible and get back to my life.  I slept beneath my weighted blanket last night.  It felt like cold water and central air after crossing a desert.  M is out of town with his cousins, geeking out over the world cup.  They were astonished I can’t name a single team and wasn’t confident which sport.  I told them I enjoy watching sports exactly as much as they enjoy listening to me talk about AI.  I’m a wee bit embarrassed to report they grokked that immediately.  😂  (Noted.)

It was hot yesterday; my pink Puma’s melted.  I thought I stepped in some gum or something.  Then I realized the soles of my shoes were sticking to the concrete and melting off.  They were old enough the white treads were turning a bit yellow, but damn.  So I threw them away and ordered a new pair.  (I have a one out, one in policy with most things now.)  New shoes are almost as mighty against depression as viewing I’ma Be Me by Wanda Sykes.  🙃 💜


Puma sneakers

“Death is number two!”

garbage or junk food

A letter to future me:  Please read this whenever you think perhaps you can get away with it just this one time.  You cannot. You cannot get away with it.  You’ve forgotten the consequences because it’s been so long since you last attempted this foolishness.  Stop it right now.  Read the whine-fest below, and remember where it leads.  Dammit.

I’m a strong woman.  Sometimes I make poor decisions and regret them later.  Apparently, I’m also a bit of a sadist, because I’ve made this particular error repeatedly.  I know better.  I guess I forgot I’m autistic and have PTSD or something.  Oops.  Tut tut.  There are rules.  I can’t eat garbage without paying a hefty price. It’s due to consequences that usually take at least a week to resolve entirely, and sometimes far longer.

The universe is laughing at me.  (Not the fun kind you can join.)  I put the wrong fuel in my body, and now it’s acting up.  I need a priorities intervention, stat.  I get tempted by junk food every so often, and instead of analyzing why, I give in and indulge.  I need that data because the results are once again kicking my ass.  (Perhaps some mild public shaming will finally put an end to this folly.)

It hit me just before 7 AM.  I awoke later than usual with no desire to get out of bed.  Just the idea of rising made me whimper inside; a red flag because I’m not big on sleep.  Unless I’m unwell, I’m ready to get up when I wake up.  Then, The Depression Monster showed up.  That bastard went straight to a commentary about politics designed to raise my blood pressure.

My mood did a backflip over the cliff, while simultaneously flipping both birds at half mast.  It happened so quickly I was stunned.  It probably worked in my favor by causing me to question what the hell just happened.  I realized The Depression Monster was involved and slammed on the brakes.  Then I figured out why and launched directly into beating myself about the head and neck for doing this to myself again.  Sigh.


I didn’t manage to shower and dress until 4 PM.  I didn’t spend that time in bed, though.  I spent it pacing around my apartment while debating with myself silently.  Some of that time was spent experiencing awe over how long I’d been doing it.  I tried so hard to stop.  I even wrote out the one step I was trying to take on my whiteboard, (then passed it over and over without it registering for a long, long time.)  It said, Get in the shower.

These are hours of my life I can never get back, (and this is day one.)  All because I had to eat some freaking garbage.  It’s not worth it.  Memorize this, Alison.  You’re in training for menopause, and it could start anytime in the next decade.  Get your shit together, or it’ll end you.  Dammit.

“Oh yeah, the nipple. But besides that, how did you feel about Kramer’s work?”


I finished building my workstation computer last night.  I had to remove the enormous Cooler Master MA610P RGB CPU Air Cooler, and it’s going back to Amazon, along with the non-working cable extenders, and the extra Cryorig H7 ordered accidentally, (a $10 return shipping fee.)  I think it’s the last PC tower I’ll be building, even though I probably said this last time.  Heh.

It’s incredibly fast, so I’m pleased with the outcome.  I’m most impressed with the G.SKILL TridentZ RGB Series RAM.  It looks fabulous with its cycling rainbow LED lights.  I wish motherboard producers would stop putting their drivers on a DVD, though.  It’s time to use stick drives as Microsoft does with Windows, (at least the LAN driver.)  I haven’t built a tower with a DVD drive in ages.  Software distribution by downloading is nearly universal.  I can’t think of an exception.

inside new build

I’m heading out of town soon.  The Depression Monster still has me in a headlock.  I don’t want to do anything.  Everything takes so much effort and makes me want to cry.  I guess it’s a good thing I forget about this shit once I’m feeling better.  The downside is how surprised I am each time I experience an episode.  I hate having to give myself a pep talk just to get up and go to the bathroom.  Fortunately, Amelia Bedelia is a sweetheart, and she follows me everywhere as if she’s lending me some strength.

My appetite has fled.  I forced myself to practice my drums yesterday.  I’m also almost finished rereading Oathbringer by Brandon Sanderson.  I’m awed by its depth of understanding regarding PTSD.  It’s helping me in a manner I thought could be achieved through therapy, but unfortunately, I’ve never had a therapist who could see beyond my skin.  I regret how long it’s taken me to recognize it’s a dead end.  (I’ve met a few who saw me as human, but they weren’t available to treat me.)  Thank goodness for the incredible novels I’ve found, (Harry Potter series and the Cosmere stories.)

I listened to the latest episode of Gettin’ Grown with Jade and Keia on Tuesday.  They talked about how women of color are at a higher risk of certain diseases and conditions, and the necessity of maintaining checkups and preventative care.  They both admitted to neglecting to keep up their appointments and committed to scheduling them before the next episode.  I thought about doing the same, but then I recalled my predicament.  Subjecting myself to the treatment I’ve received at the Sioux Falls VA is sadistic.

I still liked listening to the podcast, though.  It’s something I look forward to each week.  I’m more interested in enjoying however much time I have left than potentially prolonging my life by enduring hateful people.  As much as I’d like to forget my experiences there, I’m grateful I remember because it prevents me from going back.  I could do without the nightmares, though.  The CBD oil has allowed me to sleep for at least four hours a night since I started taking it.  I only take a few drops before laying down (because it tastes horrible.)

I’m going back to Azeroth (World of Warcraft) to force The Depression Monster back into hiding.  Flying around and looking at the scenery while listening to my healing sisters (Stevie Nicks, Agnetha Fältskog, Lorde, Amy Lee, Beyoncé, and Sheryl Crow on my ultimate playlist) will help me shake free of this lingering melancholy.  Then I’ll follow it up with some comedians on Netflix and a lavender bath bomb before finishing my novel.  I’m feeling better just from typing this out.  Yay.