Tag Archives: mood

Random Thought Thursday

In order to distract me from the emotional hissy fit my brain is throwing because of my impending psych appointment, here’s a little feature I like to call Random Thought Thursday where, for your entertainment, I just throw down the weird shit about myself that bounces around in my head.

  1. When I go running, I always seem to hug the far right side of the road or sidewalk, to the point where I oftentimes fall off.  Also when I run, I spit left (yes, I’m a spitter…).  Conclusion?  You probably don’t want to run with me unless you don’t mind a little extraneous “hydration” coming your way and you carry a cell phone so you can call for help when I eventually wreck my ankle.
  2. This is the first election year where I feel utterly invested in the results and have found my niche as a committed Democrat.  I’ve spent most of my life blissfully ignorant of politics (here’s a funny:  way back in college, I gave my utterly conservative, totally staunch Republican boyfriend an Al Franken book because I figured that he’d like it because it was funny and about politics.  Heh.  Who knew?),  but now?  I actually get defensive when friends and family are very pro-Republican because that party marginalizes me both as a woman and as a lesbian.  “Want to get married?  Oh no, not you!  Want control over your own body?  Oh no, you have no idea what’s best for you.”
  3. I’ve bowled a perfect 300 game.  Really! And no, I didn’t immediately quit my job to jump into the glamorous life of a professional bowler. Short tennis-like skirts with nylons and bad shoes were never the fashion statement I wanted to make.
  4. I really like hanging out at the library (actually, it’s where I am right now!). I used to work at a library back in the day and there’s something about all these books and the quiet and the air of studiousness that gets me every time.  Of course, it also harkens back to a time where I regularly hid from my boss and read books in the stacks rather than work.  Nowadays, it’s where I come when I need to concentrate while I’m writing instead of trying to multi-task watching reruns of Friends while also attempting to pen the next great American novel.
  5. My least favorite holiday is Halloween.  Even as a kid, while I absolutely loved the candy part, I hated getting into costume. Neither me or my Mom were ever creative enough to come up with anything totally bad-ass for me to be, and that pitiful lack of skill has followed me all through my life. The wedding of a good friend that I was invited to was a Halloween-themed wedding (she, obviously, was a HUGE fan of the holiday) and costumes were required.  I bought a nice dress and wore it:  “I’m dressing up like a girly girl.  You’ve never seen me like this, have you?”  True story.
  6. I like both my licorice and my marshmallows stale.  Yup.  Learned that one from my Mom… open the package, let ’em sit a few days… adds a nice touch of chewiness to each.
  7. I own 6 bikes.  Yea, I know.  It’s a problem of mine.
  8. I have a new-found lust for flavored vodkas.  The sweet ones:  caramel, chocolate chip cookie dough, cake, marshmallow fluff, whipped cream… it’s all good.  Put them over ice with just a touch of water and it’s like candy in yummy liquid form.
  9. I can’t stand to walk past any microwave and see that someone took stuff out of it and left time on the clock.  Why not just press CANCEL??  Is it THAT hard??  Drives me nuts.
  10. It’s only just the first of November and I’m already longing for Spring. Can’t we just skip the winter, skip the holidays, skip the darkness and the cold and the chill? I’m ready for April, if you could make that happen.

Disappearing act

Seems I fell into a bit of a rabbit hole.

The name of that rabbit hole?  Depression.

It’s something that I don’t really like to talk about, but it feels safe here, only because I have some amount of anonymity.  I don’t know why I can’t tell my friends and family that I’m suffering, but I can’t.  To them, I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.

I guess I don’t want them to feel sorry for me, that’s certainly part of it.  Or worry, even. But a lot of it is that admitting to depression feels like giving up to me; essentially saying that I’m unable to control my own moods.  I base my life on being accountable and responsible for my actions and being able to blame a mood disorder for my erratic behavior screams “COP-OUT!!”.

Of course, my logical mind screams back the undeniable fact that depression is a medical issue that needs to be fixed, just like a broken arm or bad vision.  But it’s hard when the symptoms are hidden and difficult to differentiate from someone who’s just having a bad day.  Because it’s something that can’t be tested for and indisputably diagnosed, it seems like an excuse instead of a disease.

All that said, I have taken some steps:  I’ve started seeing a therapist.  And she, in turn, has recommended that I see a psychiatrist regarding the possibility of going on medication.  The psych appointment won’t happen for another month, but in the meantime, I talk and cry and whine to someone with letters after her name once a week, for whatever that’s worth.

What I do know:  I’m tired of being emotionally fragile all the time.  I cry too much, wallow too much, feel sorry for myself beyond what’s reasonable.  The idea of taking mood stabilizing drugs scares the crap out of me.  But it’s like the old axiom goes:  do the same things, get the same results.  What I had been trying was obviously not working, it’s time to change directions and pray for the best.