Sunday, July 15, 2018

Dare I say?

I might be happy...

You have to promise not to tell anyone.
It has been my observation in the past, that bragging about one's own happiness is a sure fire way to invite a karmic smack-down.
I can not emphasize this enough, people... I'm good with smack-downs for a bit. MKay?

It is rather amusing to me that I admit this grudgingly, but the recent tweak to my medication has worked wonders. I'm full on manic, but it is controlled... and manic, under control is like its own drug all together. How many years has it been since I had control? Four or five... how long has it been, really?

It's easy to confuse blame, but the truth is, I have not been functioning like my true self in the better part of a decade... or maybe even longer.

I thought it might be age. 

Each of which comes with its very own set of concerns, as to how to move forward in a productive way. Each of which could have been attributed to a 'situation'. Easily mistaken for a reaction, rather than a treatable medical condition.

I was calm-ish the summer of 2012. After leaving Narci. That's six years. I was compromised after that job. It took things away that I needed. I worked there for eight years. 

That makes fourteen.

Before that, I was a new mother and a relatively new wife. My focus was on growing the humans. My whole chemical make up was different in those years... just the lack of pot and alcohol, alone... never mind all the 'mommy' hormones... I don't know that anyone would have noticed 'manic' behavior in me, then. Myself, included.

Depression? Yes. I have always fought with depression. Just like I fought with my weight. 

Wait... have I ever been happy?
Surely, I have been happy.

How can I not know that?

I was ecstatic when I had my babies. I felt like I finally had some reason for being. That has to qualify. When I finally won my Hubs over. I was pretty happy for the next few years. Through buying and renovating our houses and raising our girls. We focused great amounts of time on them when they were little. They are seriously not little anymore. Getting them to do anything is less fun than dental surgery lately.

Speaking of, one of mine needs braces. I haven't found an orifice from which to squeeze 'braces money' to date, but if anyone knows the fairy that makes braces happen for kids who's parents 'kinda fucked the dog on their finances' , I'd really appreciate a reference.

In the meantime, it is Sunday evening.

I am out on my deck with what is now a very cold cup of tea, my water bottle, some great tunes playing on the stereo just inside the open patio door... and I am writing.

Life is good.

The weekend was productive.

I'm always happy when we get stuff done. My bathroom is getting closer. It's been a painfully slow process, changing that bathtub - but it's worth it to have the new one.  I've been using it for weeks, unfinished. Hub's put the facing underneath the front of it today - and he finished up the cutting/installing part of the gyproc yesterday. Just need to mud, sand and paint... and I guess the floor. I'd really love to do the floor.

I spent my day yesterday in the basement... and today in the kitchen.

My oldest has determined she needs more privacy in a bedroom, and wants to move to the basement.

There is a room finished down there, but you have to walk through a partially finished basement with two open doors - and the furnace room. It's creepy - I get that.

We have piles of storage crap down there. Christmas decorations, sentimental stuff, camping gear, crap we can't seem to part with, and old toys. I got the bright idea to move all of the bins into one spot to see how large of a storage room we would need - essentially building said room around the crap. It will also encompass the water softener closet and the furnace room door.

I spent the day culling more crap. Setting 'give away' stuff aside and throwing out all that old 'stuff' that we've been dragging all over hell's half acre. It feels incredibly cathartic. As my favoritest character of all time; Parry (played by Robin Williams - in my all time favoritest movie, The Fisher King) would say: (I may be paraphrasing slightly) 'you know when you are having a really satisfying bowel movement... and you strain and strain and in the relief of the moment, you look up... and all around are the cutest little fat people...'

Like that.

Little fat people, cathartic.

I'm good. I feel strong. In control of myself. My life...

I know full well of course, that entire thought is a fallacy - but it's nice to have a little cockiness back.

It's beyond amazing to go to work every day and be quite happy in doing so. That is so novel to me. I've never made it longer than six months in a job without unearthing a magnitude of things I detested about (what was usually) my boss. I've enjoyed most of my jobs as far as the actual work went.

I have been there now for seven months.

Don't get me wrong - there are irritants, but I still look forward to going every day. I'm not feeling any apprehension about the weekend ending. Of course that could have something to do with the fact that my hubby has already gone to work for the week. Perhaps I would have a slightly different perspective if I got a second chance at what should have been my night last night.

Seriously, though. I am looking forward to the Monday morning chat and then diving back into my current project. I'm tackling the data base. It will be like tiny orgasms, every time I delete superfluous information, or amalgamate the many duplicates into one file, or organizing recently purchased companies under their proper parent companies... with the up to date contact information.

...pardon me for a moment whilst I compose myself. I'm just a little lightheaded.

*Acts out lighting a cig*

Okay then. We'll save that thread for pulling another day.
For now, I need to... how does Bixby say it again? Oh yeah...



Thursday, July 12, 2018

Dreamin' Away the Afternoon...

This is what I envision for a cabin.
I sketched it out on a note pad.

It is remarkably similar to a camp I have loved before... why mess with perfection? 
I want this so bad it makes my teeth hurt. I think about this when I am going to sleep at night, when I drive, when I am in the shower... I guess it is a better obsession than some.

We have been looking for a piece of land on a body of fresh, swim-able water. We would look up to $15K. We already have a wood stove and may well have the fireplace shortly. The furniture would be second hand. The cabin would be built by us. The wood cook stove, we could get for around $150. Chimney would be under a grand for both. I think we would do particle board walls with the skins off logs attached to the outside. It would look like logs that way and they are fairly cheap. I think I would want to do interior walls - so I could lay insulation in between, but we'd just do tongue & groove pine on the inside. I'd likely pickle that white. The roof would be vaulted, but treated to the same double, insulated pine-clad idea as the walls. That way we could wait out a storm should it be required,

I would install solar lights all around the outside. One in each corner. Then I would lay out solar garden lights all through the trees in the summer months. I'd likely pack them up in winter to attempt to protect them. Crappy Tire carries solar panels that are attached to solar panels that you can lay on the roof of trailers, etc. They would work great.

I want a composting toilet - they are about $2200 plus tax, new - and a propane fridge... I'm thinking $500-$1000 - I need a fridge. Where the composting toilet is housed, I would have a small room with a tub of sorts in it. That could be any tub, really. it simply needs me to dig a drain. We would have to fill it with buckets and pots of hot water. Behind that, there would be storage - like a shed. I'm not sure about a root cellar, but I am leaning toward putting one under the shed... or the kitchen. 


I'm off tomorrow.
We were supposed to go camping this weekend, but I threw my back out yesterday and it is supposed to rain all day Saturday. I cancelled the spot.
I decided today that I would take tomorrow off anyway. Not that I need time away from work. I just thought I would enjoy a long weekend. I will go and get groceries in the morning and run a few errands in the afternoon. Then come home and do a little prep for the evening. My house work is pretty well all done. Bathrooms clean, laundry up to date and floors are relatively clean.

I stopped and bought myself a bottle of wine on the way home.
Seemed like the thing to do. I came home and bbq'd chicken and baked potatoes. 

My latest addiction, is going to bear fruit finally after tomorrow. I am placing an order. I can scarcely contain my enthusiasm!

Today, my boss asked me to do her the favour of opening a wish account for our association. How many ways can I say I seriously love this woman? I don't think she has any idea how much I adore her. My job is the best!

Anyhoo... I know I am super boring, but it is important that I write when I feel like writing and this is the best I can do tonight.

My general energy is about done for today. I'm such a trooper... it is almost 10pm.

Goodnight all.

D - out.

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Runnin' On Empty

Man am I tired.

I spent the entire day yesterday thinking I may be having a heart attack. Dude, I'm starting to sound like Fred Fox. ( the way, if you don't get that reference, you likely shouldn't be reading my crap.)

Seriously, though... I was concerned enough about whether or not I'd wake up again, I wrote a letter last night before I went to bed - just in case. I ripped it up this morning and took it to work with me... where I then put it through the shredder. know, I killed my death bed letter. 

I am so weird.

During my trip down hypochondria lane, I decided I would exploit an old relationship and ask for free medical advice. He is in emergency medicine. 

My text was ignored. I assumed it was because he is still thinking I was being a hose bag about his recent separation. 

Not that it is a shock, but I was wrong.

He called me today. We chatted for quite a long time.

He told me about his kids and their different personalities. We reminisced about old times... gosh, it was really nice. Like reconnecting with an old friend.

I guess he is. An old friend, that is. What does that famous speech never given say again? The older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

The older I get, the more I believe that.

The point that I seem to have issue reaching here, is that I really enjoyed how natural the conversation was. No silliness. No flirtation. No sexual undercurrent. 

I can't tell you the relief and peace I get from that. Plus, I thought he was mad at me and I can't stand knowing someone is displeased with me.

I'm going to meet him for a coffee some time in August. I need to inform my husband of this meeting. I'm sincere in my desire to be a better person. I just don't want to worry him. I don't want him to doubt me.

I think that is what happened to us. We let doubt in.

This is a thread to follow another day.

For now, my bed is calling me. 


Thursday, July 5, 2018

I'm Melllltttingggg

This is ed-zachary how I feel right now.

See the source image


I'm not complaining, per se... merely making an observation...

of my skin bubbling off my bones.

The A/C at work has been operating on the stingy side this week. Normally, I'm thrilled to get into my steam box of a vehicle after working in the freezer all day, but today is not one of those days.

I have been alone in the office this week due to my boss being on vacation. I remember when I used to count the minutes until my bosses left for vacation. I'm thrilled to report, I am missing my current one. This morning, in anticipation of the mega heat (over 40 degrees Celsius in the Humidex), I wore a strapless sun dress. 

Now, I came into work with foundation garments on. For those of you who are unfamiliar with such a thing, they push up stuff that sags, suck in stuff that pops out, and smooth overly bumpy areas.

Sadly, I have a number of each.

Add the afternoon heat of this day and I was forced to subtract said garments.

I am currently more commando than I think I have ever been in a work environment... and I am STILL hot!

It is time for me to head out. My house will be several thousand times hotter than in here. I suspect I will be taking my hormonal monsters for a swim this evening.

Until next time... another song that's bumping around my mind today. No reason, except that it's a little hateful - like me. 

Kisses, D

Wednesday, July 4, 2018

Songs On My Mind Today....

I could keep going for days, but I should really go back to work. My mind is so fertile...

Tuesday, July 3, 2018

The Gate Keeper

***edited to state this was originally written mid-June

I had to appeal to the Gate Keeper at my doctor's office today. Don't get me wrong, she is a lovely woman, but she has a job to do, and that is to keep the doc as close to her schedule as possible. She can't buy into every sob story, or nobody would ever get an appointment. 
I get it. 
I have been the Gate Keeper. 
Really, my entire function in life IS Gate Keeper. 

I needed to get relief from the festering cesspool of latent anger surging to the surface of my skin every time I was provoked in the slightest.

Thank Godtopus there isn't anything about my work environment that provokes me! 

Mind you, I have incredibly high tolerance for a work place. 

Seriously, though - the few irritations associated with this job are absolutely nothing. I couldn't have created my own position and had it better suited to me. Right down to the fact that I have very little direction. As frustrating as that can be... it keeps the position highly interesting. I always want to go to work. I'm always solving problems and finding clues and data. Plus I plan parties all the time. I mean really, people - how cool is that? The only sad part is at some point (hopefully this coming April, actually), when we are discharged, I will have to look for something with more money. For now... I'm blissfully happy with work.

But when I am anywhere else, look out, world! The grocery store, pharmacy, my child's graduation (though that was tears, not anger)... and the road. Oh the road. 

My doctor's Gate Keeper is so super sweet, that most people have no idea just how ghetto she really is. I was under no such misconception, and realizing I had to pull some magic sentences out of my keester, I told her the following story:

"I was driving home from work last night and this dumb-ass was turning right, into a parking lot. I slowed down to give her time to finish the turn, cursing the fact that she was holding me up an extra 30 seconds. Bet then, she stops! Half way in, half way out... thus making necessary, a highly abrupt stop on my part.

I didn't even hit her... or get hit... and she wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to me - or anyone else, for that matter ... but I lost it like she insulted my mama! 

I reacted like that crazy asshole that punched my truck that time. Minus getting out of the car and actually punching her vehicle... but you smell what I'm steppin' in here, right?

Then two days before that, I flipped some dumb twit off while in the parking lot of a Super Store. Her infraction? She turned left at the light on a yellow so stale it was red before she entered it. child was in the car with me. I was so ashamed of myself."

I told the Gate Keeper that I had previously contacted the shrink, from whom I had been discharged recently, (yes, I said it just like that) to ask him his thoughts on the matter and he told me to call my GP and have her start a new prescription. Right away. 

I didn't do that right away - because I wanted to try to ride it out - for some unimaginable reason. We'd determined it is my 'new' manic. Meaning that three times a year, my skin will peel off and my internal organs will be laid bare for the world to flick at will. I guess I just needed to get my head around the right perspective. Why wouldn't I fix it if I could?

My kill shot came when I pointed out the fact that the road rage and uncontrolled temper are not only interfering with my life, but they are dangerous. I'm going to kill someone on the road. 
I'm not even kidding. 
My anger bubbles up like a violent magma eruption. 
It scares the hell out of me - and anyone that witnesses it. 
It's like I lose control. I can't wait two or three weeks to get in. If she can just read the notes and write the script...

Then I was on hold.

When she came back, she asked me if I could be there within the hour - I could. She gave me a brief lecture about how the doctor had to stay on schedule because of blah blah blah... but she had to physically see me before writing that type of prescription. Great, see you in 45 minutes. Thank you so much!

It's been two weeks of the new addition. I've actually lost 6lbs - likely because I stopped eating everything in my path at night. I had been in high consumption mode - not just food, either. 

My husband and I aren't acting like live wires snapping up against each other anymore.

That is a very VERY good thing. I was starting to feel like we weren't going to make the home stretch. An overreaction, for sure... but I have not been in my proper mind for somewhere around seven weeks or so. I was spinning out into the wild west in there. Imagining all manner of ways we were going to separate. 

Like I stated, I was not in my proper mind.

These past few days have had me feeling like my 'normal' manic happy self. I'm pretty energetic. Not stuffing my gob all the time... there isn't a drop of booze in the house right now and I'm not even sucking back the pure vanilla!

Progress, sez I.

I'm also pretty randy, too. Pretty easy to rile in the physical, rather than temperamental way that was so prevalent last month. 

It would be great if we finally had it just right. It was one year ago, this very month that I was in withdrawal so bad, I basically went underground. I spoke to NO ONE for like five or six weeks. I was living in absolute Hell.

From there however, I've been slowly coming back to myself. Rising from the depths. I realized that the feeling I have been experiencing in my chest was hope. I've been wistfully thinking about the future and the things we are going to do. Incidentally, we are going to take a bike license course. Not likely for another year, but that is a thing we are planning. That's pretty cool... though a little pricey.

We've also started talking about finding a piece of land for cheap somewhere not too crazy far away. Preferably on a little lake. Somewhere undeveloped. My one luxury, a composting toilet. Oh, and a propane fridge... and a wood stove I can cook on. Other than that, the structure could be a tar paper shack. Though I feel pretty confident Hubs and I could build something a little better than that. I've already started drawing out rough sketches.

We work very well together... we just need to be able to pull this off before we are too old to do the work associated with both building and maintaining the camp. 

The headline here is not what the dream is, it's the fact that I'm dreaming it. 

I'm dreaming again.

I've spent the better part of the past six years living in such constant fear and humiliation that I haven't dared think about anything past the next time I have to feed people.

This is amazing.
I'm light.
I sing.

Peace Mutha Fukkas!


Dust Bunnies

I've decided that I need an attitude adjustment where dust bunnies are concerned.

I mean, they're kinda cute... I guess.
If you omit the part where they're a mixture of the combined DNA of the household - inclusive of pets - and random dust bits, dirt and food.

They don't require actual feeding - yet somehow, they grow.

They don't poop, have no vet bills. Really, as pets go, they're pretty 'low main'.

Yes, I accept that premise.

I will now consider my fluffy housemates... my pets. My companions. 

I've started naming them.

I have noted their personalities are tough to discern.

At least my fur and fin babies give me something to go on.

Not so much with these little guys. 

I have to assign colloquial traits based on their location in the house.

To give you a 'for instance'...

Dust bunnies from the bathroom tend to be a little snobbish. Having prime waterfront, and all.
The ones from the hallway tend toward wanderlust and wanton instability.
Where those that occupy the living, dining and rec rooms are the suburbanites.
Any from the upper floor are (of course) 'from away'and received as such by the rest of the house.

The kitchen dust bunnies however, are the 'down-townies'. 
They are chic.
They have grit. 

That's how I name them and how I give them voice.

Honestly, if you think about it, they really are the perfect pet.

...and even if you inadvertently suck the odd, errant one up in a vacuuming frenzy, there will be two more that spring to life inside the week.

Image result for dust bunny images

For now, allow me to introduce you to Clive. Clive is 'from the hall'. That's really everything you need to know about him.

Though, I wonder...

Could the same principal be applied to emotional baggage?

Do you think?

Could I simply accept the bumps and bruises of my past, as... travelling companions?


I have grudgingly pulled each and every one of them along behind me all these years... why not give them the attention they're due?

Maybe even name them?

Like we'd have:

Trigger Treachery
Fanny Fuckery
Mother Mayhem
Wayward Spouse
Alcoholic Free-fall
Fatty Fatty Two by Four
Cerebral Hemorrhage
Stretch - the Destroyer (or Destructo, for short)
...and who could ever forget Narci?
Or more recently, Little-Big-Nutz?

Sure, sure... some names carry a particularly negative connotation. May be tough to make any sort of friendly motions in their general direction...

Am I a strong enough heart to truly forgive and be done with it all?

Yeah... fuck that!

I'm gonna bet my money on meds.

I have to say, I am feeling so much better since my doctor added something to my 'drug cocktail'.

Like So. Much. Better.

I find it so incredibly amusing how much I resent this fact. Like I wanted the drug to fail because... I wanted to have to struggle through this bullshit three times a year?
What am I, a masochist?

JeZus! My Christmas mania was hard enough, and it only lasts for two months, tops! The Summer stint starts in late April and though there is a dip and climb in late August/September before November hits, I have about 4 - 4.5 months of manic behavior that, thanks to my new anti-depressants, turns my protective layer of skin inside out - exposing my nerve endings to any and every irritant in the universe that feels like taking a poke.

This newly added gem takes all of that away! Apparently it doesn't mess with weight gain until you hit dosing up around 15mgs. I'm currently responding very nicely to 2mgs. That makes me happy. I can also add and subtract this one as the year progresses, so the drug ingestion can be kept to the bare minimum. This is important to me. I hate taking drugs!

All these damned prescriptions are interfering with my weed consumption! GAWD!!

So sweet Summer has begun. My chidlers are finished school for a couple of months and the lazy hazy, camping filled weekends ahead are looking more and more palatable as the days pass.

Colour me relieved!

So much of my little world draws its energy from me... if I am black and sticky inside, it translates. I have 13 and 15 year old daughters... they are good and sticky black all by themselves with zero help from me. Plus Hubs seems to have lost his tolerance for my swings. In recent years, he's been much more likely to react. I firmly believe the secret to our successful pairing is his ability to remain unaffected by my emotion laden roller-coasting.

For now, I am back on the tracks and rolling along smoothly.

Gosh but I do have a way of amusing myself... even when nobody else gets it.