July 22, 2009
I have a half-finished blog detailing my most recent adventures, but tonight I am too tired, and too depressed to try and finish it.
Instead, I’m just posting a link to Jon Armstrong’s blog about living with someone with chronic depression.
I’m too emotionally spent right now to even try to explain why I’m posting this, but I will say that I think that if all the pragmatic, calm, “normal” people in life could just step outside themselves enough to recognise that sometimes they’re part of the problem too, maybe we could find a solution.
I’m going to stop there, because I have nothing remotely kind or funny left to say.
June 13, 2009
1,745 - Number of miles put on my car within the past three months.
86 - Number of days I’ve been unemployed.
83 - Number of days since I moved from Boise.
160 - Estimated number of cigarettes smoked since moving.
150 - Estimated number of hours spent volunteering in my Aunt’s classroom.
7 - Number of pounds LOST in the first two weeks after I moved.
12 - Number of pounds GAINED subsequently.
41 - Number of applications/resumés turned into prospective employers.
3 - Number of interviews attended.
1 - Number of jobs I currently have.
That’s right! I found out this morning that I was hired as a barista at an awesome little local coffee shop. I start training on Tuesday, and I’m extremely excited!
May 12, 2009
Joy:
Eight hours of driving through rain-soaked, springtime countryside.
Hugs from old and new friends.
The most beautiful, perfect, wedding imaginable.
A new sister, and the abundant blessing of two families joined.
Epiphany:
I have never been more thrilled to be wrong about anything.
Failure does not define me.
Righteous anger may be justifiable, but it is ugly nonetheless.
I was happy to come, but I did not expect to not want to leave.
I am always alone, but sometimes I am distracted.
Grace:
Friends who hold my hand while I fall apart.
Compassion that transcends justice.
Love, not only in spite of, but inclusive of, human failing.
The courage to press on, while emptiness swells to consume.
April 30, 2009
This is a quick recap of the last few days:
Tuesday morning: sick.
Tuesday evening: crying because I was sick.
Wednesday morning/afternoon: god-awful headache from all the crying.
Wednesday evening: crying because of the awful headache from the crying.
Tonight, my aunt and uncle asked me where I’d been the past few days, and I very briefly explained my illness, and made a passing reference to my depression, noting that while I love my cat dearly, human interaction is definitely a necessity. My uncle, a doctor, concurred, and remarked that he has coined a phrase to describe the “Cat Lady” syndrome: Polyfelinophilia.
I’m a little concerned that I’m on my way to becoming a Polyfelinophile, but thankfully I have this handy new medical term to diagnose my crazy.
April 29, 2009
I had an interview this morning. My first since moving here. I believe it went well, despite the irony of my skirt-and-high-heels clad self insisting that I don’t mind doing things like taking out the trash because “I’m not a girly-girl,” and my repeated invocation of the stumbling interjection “um”.
I don’t know if I interview well, but the interviewers seemed at least charmed by my effort. For my part, I hope I get the job, not least of all because of the much-needed paycheck, but also because the people seem kind and the company (an organic grocery store) is one I would be proud to work for.
Another reason why I need a job: something to keep me from brooding. I’ve mentioned in previous blogs that moving has cleared my mind of other distractions, allowing me to spend copious amounts of time thinking. This is not as great as it might seem. In Boise, during the worst times in the past few years, I lived in a haze of smoke and alcohol: going to bed sober was the exception, not the rule (and oh, it worked gloriously, while the buzz lasted); here I have only my thoughts running wild over those fragile little wisps of optimism and opportunity that I string together and call hope.
I try not to tell myself that this is my last chance, but sometimes that’s how I feel.
I’m on the verge of all good things. I have to try.
