“Every two minutes, ‘Who ate the top of my muffin?!'”

romantic road

I depleted my recent candy acquisition.  I see a mouth full of cadaver donations in my future.  I hope lots of people who avoided sweets all their lives choose to donate their teeth when they die.  (Thanks in advance.  😁)  More candy arrives tomorrow.  Heh.  I have to admit to a fascination with having dead peoples teeth in my mouth.  It’s a Stephen King novel waiting to happen, yo.  Imagine what Jordan Peele would do with it.  I may even take a stab at it.

I believe the above paragraph qualifies as a warning against reading further.  I’m having a cognitive kaleidoscope kind of day.  I would elaborate, but it’s presently beyond me.  It involves thought loops that spontaneously capture my attention.  After the first few rounds, I start playing with it.  It’s mental jazz or something.  I’m not really into it, but I can hang.  (This paragraph counts as an example.)

I know why this is happening; it’s a fragmented focus.  The Depression Monster has been low-level messing with me for a long time, and I’ve been ignoring it.  Sometimes it feels like walking across a minefield.  At any moment, I could buckle under a mountain of despair atop me out of nowhere.  An interruption to my ability to do more than exist while questioning why.  Thinking about it seems dangerous, so I don’t.

there are no rules

Instead, I double down on known counteractants.  Exercise and laughter are most potent in my experience.  Both are difficult to attempt when depressed.  They’re the last things you feel like doing.  But they help, so I usually manage.  It’s brutal because the necessary effort is always astonishing.  I can’t even bitch about it, because I know I’m more skilled at living with chronic depression than in the past.

I have a deep sadness about the state of humanity on my back, as well.  I feel horrible over the massacre in New Zealand because the atrocity was deliberately committed by a fellow human, resulting in the loss of fifty of us. We are less now.  I hate reminders of our collective insanity.  I don’t like thinking about impending self-destruction on a species level.  I’m too literal for this game.

I sighed when I read Aunt Becky was supposedly arrogant when appearing in court recently.  It would have been weird if she wasn’t.  We all know she knows she’s merely the one who got caught doing what we all know is so common it’s a freaking tradition among the privileged.  Character stopped counting in America at a point I’m unable to pinpoint.  Perhaps it never really mattered.  I still believe Mr. Rogers knew what he was talking about, though.  (Despite all the evidence supporting Dr. Ford’s theory of the human intellect being like peacock feathers on Westworld.)  And on that cheery note, I’m off to read.  ✌🏽💜

“You sprayed him in the eyes with Binaca?”

my workspace

Oofda.  So much has happened in my world recently.  I’ve been processing things internally, leaving me quiet and still much of the time.  I watched Leaving Neverland and the Oprah interview that followed over two evenings.  I had to take several breaks to walk around and think.  I slept the night horribly between viewings.  My spirit was unsettled, (and sleep is when we ignore our bodies and exist only in the spiritual plane.)

I’m not consciously aware of how but during that unrestful night, I worked out a significant understanding of how to cope with loving humans.  In many ways, the universe has been providing repeated opportunities to address this issue.  I’ve been shying away.  It’s incredibly complex and often uncomfortable.  Hearing Oprah share her wisdom in a repetitive, heavily stressed, and urgent manner finally got to me.  (I can be pretty thick.)  😑

I didn’t want to hear it.  I didn’t want to process, absorb, sit with, over-analyze, adapt, and finally grow from it.  It’s ugly.  It hurts.  It hurts in ways I can’t even articulate.  It’s hard work, too.  I have to train my brain to adapt, and it requires a fierce focus.  I hate intensely focusing on lessons that frighten, disturb, and drain me.  (Adulting sucks; this wasn’t in the brochure.)  I wanted loving humans to be black and white; not a gazillion shades of gray I didn’t know existed.

woman painting

I asked myself why.  It turns out; it’s because I fear trauma.  I’ve spent half my life healing from PTSD, thus avoiding it seemed an ideal strategy.  I was wrong.  Hiding from what I fear hasn’t worked out.  Ever.  (Wait.  Except for horror movies.)  I’m grateful for Oprah.  I love her; she’s one of my favorite teachers.  She taught me Michael Jackson was a human being all along.  Two people told their story and showed us how pedophilia slithers in and devastates.  I believe them.  The cracked facade displaying a man as a god shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Now I will gather those pieces and build them into the real man.  He looks, moves, and sounds the same.  (Many positive attributes remain intact.)  However, he also profoundly hurt some children.  He broke a taboo that creates ripples of suffering known to wreak havoc in the lives of many for generations.  He lied in our face.  It will take time for me to sort out my feelings.

Japanese candy

Loving people is hard because we’re each a universe of complexity and individuality.  All good or all bad are imaginary concepts, no matter how much we want to believe in them.  The child within us wants clear heroes; in whom we can invest our love and admiration without fear of pain.  Reality won’t play along because humans don’t work that way.  Loving is complicated and hurts like hell sometimes.  Forgiving is a choice and process involving growth, new perceptions, and scars.  It’s so gray, we all have to figure out for ourselves where to go from here.  So much of being an adult is recognizing how childlike we are and consciously compensating (when necessary.)  Thank goodness for candy.  💜✌🏽

“No! I don’t want to save seats. Don’t put me through that!”

astronaut art

Since the Fleetwood Mac concert, I’ve been quiet, calm, and surprisingly tranquil (considering the world is on fire.)  I’ve spent a lot of time thinking.  It’s funny how a rock ‘n’ roll concert, in all its heart-thumping glory, can trigger inner stillness and contemplation in the aftermath.  I wasn’t stapled to the floor as anticipated as a result, either.  I’ve merely slept more deeply and productively;  Bonus.

I sense some healing took place during the experience.  Yay.  I’m not very good at narrowing these things down.  (I probably can’t be bothered in my rush to celebrate.)  There are light and airy feelings I associate with healing recognition; like a gentle euphoria — a release of a burden whose loss keeps almost surprising you.  I love it when positivity is playful.

My body is depressed today.  It feels strange when my emotions don’t match my physical response.  I prefer body depression over mental depression.  I’ll take an annoyance over despair anytime.  It still takes a lot of pep talks to get anything done, though.  Gravity has suddenly increased in my dot of the universe.  Even sitting upright to type this is taxing.  (Still better than despair.)  Heh.

optical illusion photo

The hot flashes associated with menopause are over.  I didn’t know they were temporary!  I thought it was for life!  I’m so thrilled by this discovery.  Upon further consideration, menopause rocks, yo.  (I mean.  I don’t know what’s coming up that requires hair in weird places, but whatever.)  Love.  It.  It’s easier to get up earlier now, too.  I must have reached the oh-shit-it’s-morning-exasperation saturation point, and started wrapping things up sooner subconsciously.  So ninja.  😂

I just took a short break to catch my breath.  Body depression is ridiculous.  I’m not a chain smoker.  Typing at my desk should not render me breathless.  At least not without the agonizing soul ache that typically accompanies.  I feel like I put the world on backward today.  It fits better this way.  Heh. (Puts a star in the blessings column.)  What?  🙃

I failed on my first attempt at seeing my primary care physician.  It was too cold to risk.  (I think the windchill was -52 F.)  I stepped outside and did an immediate about-face.  Sadly, their’s no DIY option to reschedule online.  You have to call or go in person.  (I don’t speak on the phone.)  I plan to go there to order my glasses and reschedule on my way out.  I got two snail mail letters from the VA with a deadline of February 14th to reschedule.  (Sorry, not sorry about your agoraphobia, bitch?)  😶

Anyway, I can do it.  I’m aiming for a day with temperatures above 0 F.  Monday is looking hopeful.  It’s harder to combat agoraphobia during severe weather.  I forgive myself for choosing safety over victory.  The days of shrugging off weird weather are gone.   Journey before destination.  I’m off to test my new coat heater while I walk the dog.  💜✌🏾

“You’re eating too much dairy.”

I’m sick.  I likely caught The Worst Cold of My Life on a recent trip to Denver.  Since living on the edge of agoraphobia is my apparent lifestyle, it’s not surprising my immune system is traumatized by mingling in crowds.  Fortunately, I can tell the worst is over.  On Day Two, I switched to Puffs Plus Lotion with Vicks because the skin on my nose was peeling off.

puffs plus lotion with vicks

Today, I can breathe through my nose and look down without pain.  Yay.  (I’m also hopped up on DayQuil, which hopefully explains the time I just wasted wondering what is that green thing on the blanket in the photo above.)  I can tell I’m loopy.  Sometimes, being sensitive to medication rocks.  (And then I ruined it by wondering if it also makes me more vulnerable to addiction.  🤪)

I’m suspicious of the universe, right now.  I think she’s trying to teach me something, and I’m on the cusp of revealing the lesson.  I’m already reasoning with my ego to soften the inevitable blow.  I suspect there’s significance to my experiencing the sudden onset of utter physical devastation from a simple, temporary cause.  No question I’ll recover, but the severity is astonishing, nonetheless.

This cold minimized my abilities until I could only ponder, watch TV, or read.  (When you’re too miserable to sleep, time becomes abundant.)  I started binge watching, Blackish.  Love it.  (On so many levels.)  I finished reading The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens for the umpteenth time.  It’s hilarious; I read it a few times a year.  (The epitome of Brit humor, in my opinion.)

street art mcdonalds

I started reading Zero Sum Game by S. L. Huang.  She’s a rockstar author.  She’s hanging out with J. K. Rowling and Octavia E. Butler on my favorite author list before I’ve even finished the novel.  That shiny.  N. K. Jemisin, too.  Have you noticed how it seems like Amazon just figured out algorithms? Suddenly, my recommended books make sense.  Items are showing up in logical categories on the site now, too.  Bonus.

Perhaps this lesson-in-progress centers on learning to appreciate.  It’s as far as I’ve gotten in my DayQuil enhanced state, anyway.  If you’ve already experienced this lesson, please don’t hesitate to throw out some pointers in comments.  (I’m hoping I won’t need any remedial opportunities.)  I can’t remember ever being too sick to play video games.  (For some reason, that kind of blows my mind.)

Yep, I’m on to something with the appreciation thing.  The universe recognizes I’m pretty literal, as my life lessons tend to be right on the nose.  (At least the ones I notice.  Heh.)  It’s trippy to be emotionally joyful while physically miserable.  It ruins the effect of misery which I see is the point.  Yay.  I found the concept.  Now I merely have to spend some thought time on the process until it soaks in.  (Because that’s how I roll.)  I’m off to do that.  ✌🏾💜