"Oh, my talking bird"

This poster is on our mantle and its a lesson I'm trying to learn every day. To keep calm in the midst of feeling like my world is crashing around me, and to carry on in spite of my desire to stay in bed and hide.

Therapy was good and hard yesterday. I snuggled a pillow and cried for an hour. Cried about how exhausted I am emotionally and physically, cried about how hard it is to get through the days. We took a big step back and realized that I have to lower the standards I hold myself to. I need to accept that getting through the day is a success, even if I do nothing but sleep all day that way I won't be so disappointed when all my fabulous morning plans go to pot. This makes me sad and relieved at the same time. Sad because I want to do more, relieved because I can just rest and take care of myself. I need to remember that I am sick, I have an illness, its not just an emotional problem, its not a weakness--its depression.

I'm really in a low dark creepy crawly place this week but am holding on. My medication has been raised once again so I hope that will help soon. Now to rest and do simple easy tasks.

Things I might do today:

Go to the market
Bake cookies
Do a small art project
Read

Home team

Last night we went to a Giants game with Shannon and Kevin. It was a really exciting game and the giants ended up taking it down. I don't know much about baseball but Ron was sweet enough to explain everything to me. We had a lot of fun watching the game and the orange full moon rise across the bay.

Today I have therapy and am dreading it like hell. I'm not in a vulnerable or open mood today so that is going to make it hard as I will get pried open like a boiled lobster. Oh well.

"You can even keep the name, it never suited me"

I made some journals for our second cousin and her children. She just lost her husband and the kids their father so I thought I would try to do something. This was the only thing I could think of and I hope it helps them in some small way.

Today is a dog day. We are watching Winnie as Paul and Laura are on the houseboat. All three of them are sleeping beside me, very tired after so much play. They are very cute, silly and stinky.

Now to organize my craft room and then tonight we are going to a Giants came with Shannon and Kevin. Should be fun.

Americana

Last night we had a fourth of July barbecue with a few friends. It turned out nice and comfortable and yummy. We all sat outside in Paul and Laura's cute backyard and talked and ate, it was really relaxing. My camera's battery died at the start of the party so these are the only photographs I was able to take.

Later in the evening we lit some cigars. This wasn't my first cigar, but it was my first time smoking one by myself. It was yummy with my bourbon and ginger ale but not so good with frosted sugar cookies.

I ended up drinking way too much and getting drunk. I've never been drunk before so this was a first for me, unintentional mind you. I felt awful all night, wildly apologetic to everyone, nauseas with the damp earthy taste of cigar in my mouth. Now I have a headache. I hate drinking too much as I don't like feeling out of control. At least I learned that 1 beer and 4 bourbon and ginger ales is well above my limit.

Ron and Kevin ended the evening playing video games--Rock Band and Ghostbusters which looked terribly fun and scary to little old me.

Today we are just going to watch movies, play games and nurse me back to health. How was your fourth?

Thifterella

Yesterday I went thrifting with Shannon. It was so much fun to spend time with her after a few weeks apart. We started the day with some yummy Starbucks and found some great free books on the donation shelf (a good sign of what was to come). Here are some of the goodies I found.

Some gorgeous vintage fabric. I love the print and I got a yard and a half for $1.25! A gold necklace, and a vintage print of a rabbit, I love the chunky frame.

I found so many great books I've been wanting to buy at Barnes and Noble (five books in all) and this cute little silhouette in a silver frame.

A vintage sugar bowl that will match our kitchen perfectly and a bunch of tins from someones old tin collection.

An olive green salad bowl and a vintage gin decanter.

I am so excited about all my finds and now need to find a little place in the house for each.

Tonight we are having a little fourth of July barbecue with a few friends. Happy fourth of July!

Feelings

Ron is getting a physical from a male nurse at the house for life insurance. Its kind of awkward as first, his name is Carl, and second, he is a male nurse, and third, the dogs are in the garage barking incessantly. It reminds me something that would be in an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm.

Here is something I wrote about depression. Its quite graphic and I almost don't want to post it, but this is the most true description I've ever seen of how it feels and what its like. And this is one place where I feel I can be completely honest.

I go to this dark place. This cave where my demon lives, he is always with me, behind my eyelids, in my stomach he looms and yet he is out of me, in situations, in the cave beckoning me to come closer. My demon comes out of the cave with his chains, I sit on the ledge of the cliff, he grabs me drags me in, my fingernails rip apart the skin falls of my arms and hands as I grasp and hold onto the rocky ground. It doesn’t hurt, not as bad as being in the cave so I hold on, grasp and clench at anything that can save me from going back. From being chained up in the darkness. The murky stark darkness of ruin. My death sentence, another bout of depression.

Pills

I take thirty-five pills a week. Pills to help me feel present, in control, calm, safe from the monster of doom. Lately, I've doubted their ability to work and only seem to notice their ability to make me gain weight. They do help though, in little/big ways. I haven't gone to my dark place for a while, I am on the cusp of the cave, but not in it quite yet. It seems that I creep closer and closer to it as the days go by...but I'm still not in it so that counts for something.

Yesterday my therapist said the only thing that shows my personality is my tattoos. And that I look like a librarian, but have a murderous rage simmering right in my center. These things are hard to hear, especially when I know they are true. I'm so angry at so many things but don't know how to express it, so I get stuck in looking pleasant, acting pleasant and trying to keep all my loose ends tied up. If you think about it, its really a 1950s state of mind. No wonder I admire that era so much.

Good things:

Pills
Carnations
Ice cream
My art room
Sleep

Bad things:

Pills
Feeling like shit
A messy house
Amelia eating my shoes
Irritability