I guess I ran out of space during my last post so here I am tying up loose ends.
The Soul Sucker ditched Sophie and me because we were and continue to be rude, crude and socially unacceptable. Now Sophie is afraid of running into her and has no intentions of making up. Me, She wouldn't give me two seconds of thought but I think she'd like to make up with Sophie, which, plain and simple, ain't gonna happen.
As for the Rat Bastard cousin, he is dealing with his own Alzheimer's and is carted around from place to place by his, wait for it, Jewish-Scottish man servant. I believe there is some justice in that. I rarely speak to anyone on my mother's side of the family. Rat Bastard's kind will alway have their way but will also someday have their day. First Alzheimer's, then next I shall send a plague of locust to be followed by my favorite plague of all, frogs.
Just tying up some loose ends.
Monday, November 30, 2015
Wide awake in spite of the fact that I fell asleep like a trooper.
Or a grouper, but that sounds fishy.
Here I sit broken hearted, sighing as it were, with the wide awake soon to be Prozac'd cat Yankel mewling and voicing his discontent over the lack of treats that are available to him. Now he is snuffling like a porcine beastie looking for truffles. What a menagerie I have in just one cat.
I had awoken about 2:00 a.m. To find that Gonif cat had once again trapped himself inside the bathroom by closing the door with him inside the bathroom. He does this often and never signals that he is trapped or upset. He just patiently waits until someone, in this case me, opens the door for him. And as for Simcha Cat he is blissfully asleep in my bed, not once opening an eye to see what the 2:00 a.m. racket is all about. So that is the morning cat report.
I tried going back to bed, but that seemed a no go. I went back to bed only to have rushing thoughts. First it was about 2.0 and wanting to know when she will vacate my thoughts. I actually need to spend a few sessions of therapy on that. Next thought my great aunts, Martha Betty and Sally. Three of my great grandfather's daughters who never married and always lived together. I have lots of photos of them, mostly of the three of them on a cruise, dressed to the nines sitting at the captain's table. So I got up to look at these photos and thought how lovely they looked, how youthful, well in their nineties. They were three absolutely fabulous women in an era where women were expected to marry young and have children. In a sense I was one of their kids. Always pleading poverty that was far from the case, my mother would have the Aunties, for that is what we called them, would buy me my winter coat every Hanukkah. And after I outgrew the need for a new winter coat every year, they would still give me a small check, $10 a piece, that never found its way into my hands. Mind you when I as sixteen and basically had achieved my height of five foot, that was a nice bit of change I could have used. I was teaching guitar and had a purse with my stash in it and no matter where I kept it my mother would find it and I would be out $10-$20 at a time. So maybe it was good that my dad kept the monies from the checks and applied them to my education, although as it turned out I received a scholarship so the money went to books and Saturday nights out with friends after basketball games. But still to have your mother take money from you was a harsh wake up call to the bitterness of life. But, I digress.
The Aunties. Sally died in her ninetieth year, a victim of Alzheimer's. Next Betty passed away after her 105th birthday, and Martha, my dear, passed away at 105 as well. That seems like forever ago but this will be the third year I will light a Yahrzeit candle for her on the anniversary of her passing. I still have the electronic form of death notice in my inbox. Makes for jolly good reading. And after her death the family, such as it was, came apart at th seams. The rat bastard cousin, who had drawn up their will made sure that his children got the bulk of the estate (like hey really needed more money...look up Vesco Oil online sometime and you'll see what I mean). They were so cold hearted as to deny the children of a much beloved nephew who had passed away as much as a cent, which made their aunt furious, which resulted in an exchange of letters between all parties concerned and the ending of any contact with that rat bastard's family. I think they took advantage of a old woman and played her like a violin. I am grateful for what I received but they hid so many of her assets that it would have taken a boload of attorneys to straighten things out and that would only benefitted the lawyers.
In addition to making the end of a this time also brought to an end a relationship that Sophie and I had with the person now known as the Soul Sucker. I had asked her for a ride to the funeral of Aunt Martha in December and she refused telling me she wouldn't take her new car down to the Ferndale area. I was furious but my friend Phyllis (Pre-Percy) who at the time was enduring a case of Sam and Ella food poisoning, took me, God bless her. This lead to me avoiding the Soul Sucker for the seven days of shiva, which she kept pestering Sophie about, and when I finally got over my anger at th new car remark, I ate lunch with her and Sophie again, she left the lunch table in a huff, which is her new car, and proceeded to write Sophie and me off forever. Now I wasn't too unhappy with this turn of events but Sophie was dazed and confused. The Soul Sucker then made out like we were the worse people in the world and about two weeks after this she abruptly retired. No need to go into more details.
Here I sit broken hearted, sighing as it were, with the wide awake soon to be Prozac'd cat Yankel mewling and voicing his discontent over the lack of treats that are available to him. Now he is snuffling like a porcine beastie looking for truffles. What a menagerie I have in just one cat.
I had awoken about 2:00 a.m. To find that Gonif cat had once again trapped himself inside the bathroom by closing the door with him inside the bathroom. He does this often and never signals that he is trapped or upset. He just patiently waits until someone, in this case me, opens the door for him. And as for Simcha Cat he is blissfully asleep in my bed, not once opening an eye to see what the 2:00 a.m. racket is all about. So that is the morning cat report.
I tried going back to bed, but that seemed a no go. I went back to bed only to have rushing thoughts. First it was about 2.0 and wanting to know when she will vacate my thoughts. I actually need to spend a few sessions of therapy on that. Next thought my great aunts, Martha Betty and Sally. Three of my great grandfather's daughters who never married and always lived together. I have lots of photos of them, mostly of the three of them on a cruise, dressed to the nines sitting at the captain's table. So I got up to look at these photos and thought how lovely they looked, how youthful, well in their nineties. They were three absolutely fabulous women in an era where women were expected to marry young and have children. In a sense I was one of their kids. Always pleading poverty that was far from the case, my mother would have the Aunties, for that is what we called them, would buy me my winter coat every Hanukkah. And after I outgrew the need for a new winter coat every year, they would still give me a small check, $10 a piece, that never found its way into my hands. Mind you when I as sixteen and basically had achieved my height of five foot, that was a nice bit of change I could have used. I was teaching guitar and had a purse with my stash in it and no matter where I kept it my mother would find it and I would be out $10-$20 at a time. So maybe it was good that my dad kept the monies from the checks and applied them to my education, although as it turned out I received a scholarship so the money went to books and Saturday nights out with friends after basketball games. But still to have your mother take money from you was a harsh wake up call to the bitterness of life. But, I digress.
The Aunties. Sally died in her ninetieth year, a victim of Alzheimer's. Next Betty passed away after her 105th birthday, and Martha, my dear, passed away at 105 as well. That seems like forever ago but this will be the third year I will light a Yahrzeit candle for her on the anniversary of her passing. I still have the electronic form of death notice in my inbox. Makes for jolly good reading. And after her death the family, such as it was, came apart at th seams. The rat bastard cousin, who had drawn up their will made sure that his children got the bulk of the estate (like hey really needed more money...look up Vesco Oil online sometime and you'll see what I mean). They were so cold hearted as to deny the children of a much beloved nephew who had passed away as much as a cent, which made their aunt furious, which resulted in an exchange of letters between all parties concerned and the ending of any contact with that rat bastard's family. I think they took advantage of a old woman and played her like a violin. I am grateful for what I received but they hid so many of her assets that it would have taken a boload of attorneys to straighten things out and that would only benefitted the lawyers.
In addition to making the end of a this time also brought to an end a relationship that Sophie and I had with the person now known as the Soul Sucker. I had asked her for a ride to the funeral of Aunt Martha in December and she refused telling me she wouldn't take her new car down to the Ferndale area. I was furious but my friend Phyllis (Pre-Percy) who at the time was enduring a case of Sam and Ella food poisoning, took me, God bless her. This lead to me avoiding the Soul Sucker for the seven days of shiva, which she kept pestering Sophie about, and when I finally got over my anger at th new car remark, I ate lunch with her and Sophie again, she left the lunch table in a huff, which is her new car, and proceeded to write Sophie and me off forever. Now I wasn't too unhappy with this turn of events but Sophie was dazed and confused. The Soul Sucker then made out like we were the worse people in the world and about two weeks after this she abruptly retired. No need to go into more details.
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
New therapist and the S.O.S.
TB, the new therapist, is good. We had a nice get to know you session and I go back in two weeks. That said, I am in a major funk as of this morning. Yes, Jamming Jews went really well, thanks to my able pseudo Jewish support tag team of Sophie as well as Percy and Phyllis with Percy getting into a rather animated discussion during the break with the Rabbi. It went fine, it really did, and I was finally able to relax Sunday. Now it is Tuesday and the funk has returned. Woke up with a panic attack and couldn't get back to sleep. Then read a missive from my union that involved the MPT and that set off the funk. Nothing I hate more than someone getting a free ride. Now I just feel out of control and wanting to just have the winter fly by. I thought that since the house is new at least the first year of watching the seasons change would make winter a little less dreary. Nope. One snow and I have had it. I am afraid of falling and with that comes the depression. I have hand surgery set for January 15th and that should take care of the problem of the trigger finger. The last injection enabled me to get through the performance. But right now I just feel a heaviness of heart, a burden of life upon me. I don't know how else to explain it.
Depression is insidious. Churchill, Winston that is, or rather was, described depression as a black dog, not that he had anything against dogs, that was just his naming of the feeling. To the French is bête noire, or the black beast. The French are better at ennui. Back to Camus, a Existential plot to kill him, I believe, existed as he was about to renounce and admit that we must think of Sisyphus as happy. Why, I do not know. Here I sit with that black dog nipping at my heels. Some of the depression is due to the holidays, and who wouldn't be depressed. I've had a hell of a life. Death and destruction abound and I an orphan of the storm. It wouldn't be a holiday without a Yahrzeit for my dear Grandmother Dorothy. I feel that fast approaching and I just want the snow and cold gone and for life to renew itself in spring, when I have the dual Yahrzeits of my parents. Ah, hope springs eternal. Dueling Yahrzeits.
Anyway, far be it for me to say I have put and keep myself here. I dislike being here, in a funk that is. I can't cheer up, buck up, or any of the other ups. For me depression is a slow chemical burn in my brain that works its way down to my toes.
Here in the US, every year at Thanksgiving, we are supposed to pause, and be thankful for all we have been offered, given, have, achieved, etc., in the past year. It is a wonderful holiday, a time to spend with friends and family, to break bread, celebrate, tell stories, and of course, watch American football, and doze on the sofa.
But what about for those of us for whom being thankful this year, or another year, or any year, it’s just damn hard to feel thankful?
And I just don’t feel all that thankful right now. In fact, I feel a little bit resentful. I feel angry about it, actually. It can be hard to be thankful when bipolar, depression, and life’s difficulties are constantly challenging one’s ability to hold on
Depression is insidious. Churchill, Winston that is, or rather was, described depression as a black dog, not that he had anything against dogs, that was just his naming of the feeling. To the French is bête noire, or the black beast. The French are better at ennui. Back to Camus, a Existential plot to kill him, I believe, existed as he was about to renounce and admit that we must think of Sisyphus as happy. Why, I do not know. Here I sit with that black dog nipping at my heels. Some of the depression is due to the holidays, and who wouldn't be depressed. I've had a hell of a life. Death and destruction abound and I an orphan of the storm. It wouldn't be a holiday without a Yahrzeit for my dear Grandmother Dorothy. I feel that fast approaching and I just want the snow and cold gone and for life to renew itself in spring, when I have the dual Yahrzeits of my parents. Ah, hope springs eternal. Dueling Yahrzeits.
Anyway, far be it for me to say I have put and keep myself here. I dislike being here, in a funk that is. I can't cheer up, buck up, or any of the other ups. For me depression is a slow chemical burn in my brain that works its way down to my toes.
Here in the US, every year at Thanksgiving, we are supposed to pause, and be thankful for all we have been offered, given, have, achieved, etc., in the past year. It is a wonderful holiday, a time to spend with friends and family, to break bread, celebrate, tell stories, and of course, watch American football, and doze on the sofa.
But what about for those of us for whom being thankful this year, or another year, or any year, it’s just damn hard to feel thankful?
And I just don’t feel all that thankful right now. In fact, I feel a little bit resentful. I feel angry about it, actually. It can be hard to be thankful when bipolar, depression, and life’s difficulties are constantly challenging one’s ability to hold on
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
First sighting of the day
Yes, I just had my first virtual 2.0 sighting of the day. Doom and gloom are in the air. Make me depressed that I left things so incomplete. Must make a memo to move on. But until then I am having a virtual meltdown and like yesterday and the day before have taken massive amounts of Valium, ok, two...in an effort to move on. I am very stress about the Jamming Jews and making a torte for the fancy dessert part of the evening. My fault entirely for blowing off so much practice time. My heart is just not into music right now. I hate practicing and playing. I have, in truth, cancelled all lessons until I feel more like playing. If ever. Maybe spring will help...but no, I must garden and putter and there is so much to do. Maybe summer when I putter less. Putter, ponder or play. That is the question. Is it nobler in the mind to ponder the slings and arrows of practice or to merely putter like the amateur I am.
Excelsior.
Excelsior.
Ah, for the love of 2.0
Yes, I have been a bit weepy and sad over the loss of 2.0. To the point that if I see the name or see a city in Australia I immediately think of the therapist I would have liked to work with forever and what set me off into this pit of depression. Doing somewhat better and the new therapist and I start this coming Monday. Feeling a bit off, sad, and a bit off, sick...as in very lightheaded and what I like to refer to as urgy. I had some surgery a few years back that makes it impossible for me to puke. And I have felt nauseous and sick to my tummy for a couple of days where a good puke would have been welcome. But not so much. Thanks to the Polar Vortex and her approval of major surgery over laparoscopy made it so.
I am anxious today as we have a rehearsal for Jamming Jews and I have to sing and play this week. I thought I was out of the singing business but not so much. All the songs I thought Dr. Stan was going to sing are now relegated to me. I had to change some keys as my voice isn't what it used to be. I did practice this morning and get some more complete sheet music. I am all a-twitter and anxious about tonight. I need to eat a nice lunch as I will have no time to graze before I leave for rehearsal. My feed has been off of late. That's the urgy talking.
And my hand...a trigger finger on my left hand which will require surgery in two months, was injected with cortisone on Monday and truly it still aches today and is still triggering. In addition I have a nice bright bruise where in injection was made. OUCH!!!
But more to the point I have been super busy, super manic about some things and very depressed about others. Been on a virtual spending spree. That demonstration we went to, a Taste of Parma, bankrupted my taste buds so now I require, yes, require, the finest balsamic vinegar, the finest DOP prosciutto and parmesan. Oh, my good friends coming for Thanksgiving, what a treat you will be in for. I ordered lovely cheese from my cheese monger which I can pick up Sunday from 11:15-11;30 a short distance from my house. Hopefully by next week, after Jamming Jews, after the new therapist, I can slow down for a bit and enjoy a few days of rest. That is what I need the most of, a little less mania, a little less spending, a little less depressed moments over insignificant things like Sydney and Canberra. MUST MOVE ON. And do so graciously and not take anyone down with me.
So that is what I have been up to. My new glasses, cyberglasses, will be in after Thanksgiving. I must get fasting blood work done next week. Doctors, doctors, and more doctors. Dang!!!
I am anxious today as we have a rehearsal for Jamming Jews and I have to sing and play this week. I thought I was out of the singing business but not so much. All the songs I thought Dr. Stan was going to sing are now relegated to me. I had to change some keys as my voice isn't what it used to be. I did practice this morning and get some more complete sheet music. I am all a-twitter and anxious about tonight. I need to eat a nice lunch as I will have no time to graze before I leave for rehearsal. My feed has been off of late. That's the urgy talking.
And my hand...a trigger finger on my left hand which will require surgery in two months, was injected with cortisone on Monday and truly it still aches today and is still triggering. In addition I have a nice bright bruise where in injection was made. OUCH!!!
But more to the point I have been super busy, super manic about some things and very depressed about others. Been on a virtual spending spree. That demonstration we went to, a Taste of Parma, bankrupted my taste buds so now I require, yes, require, the finest balsamic vinegar, the finest DOP prosciutto and parmesan. Oh, my good friends coming for Thanksgiving, what a treat you will be in for. I ordered lovely cheese from my cheese monger which I can pick up Sunday from 11:15-11;30 a short distance from my house. Hopefully by next week, after Jamming Jews, after the new therapist, I can slow down for a bit and enjoy a few days of rest. That is what I need the most of, a little less mania, a little less spending, a little less depressed moments over insignificant things like Sydney and Canberra. MUST MOVE ON. And do so graciously and not take anyone down with me.
So that is what I have been up to. My new glasses, cyberglasses, will be in after Thanksgiving. I must get fasting blood work done next week. Doctors, doctors, and more doctors. Dang!!!
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Long week
Well, first the good news. I actually got some sleep last night. Took double the dose of Deseryl but I think I got about six hours of sleep. Thank God for the weekend when I could afford to double,up and down. I am not focusing with one eye closed. Actually using both eyes. I decided to get computer glasses as the screens keep looking smaller every day. So that will be more money out but for the good. Put together two end tables tonight that match the coffee table so it is like having a new house all over again. Tomorrow Shutterbug and I will go to brunch and he will put together the sound bar for the tv in the bedroom.
New thought. I hate that it gets so dark so early. I really don't have time for a walk after I get home.
Jamming Jews is really taken shape and we have rehearsals the next two Wednesdays. Monday, accordingly, I will have to work my musical ass off to get ready for the concert. One of the jamming Jews is trying to roll over most of the parts originally given to me. I am ambivalent about why he is better at singing and playing Turn, Turn, Turn. Not quite a pissing match yet but as another woman and myself did all the leg work while he was traveling the world seems somewhat petty.
The therapy situation has hopefully resolved itself. I have a new therapist a mere nine minute walk from the library. Unfortunately I don't meet with her until the 23rd, after Jamming Jews, when things should have settle down and I really can focus on all I have neglected. Like sleep. Lately I have looked and felt like hell, and in the process developed a sinus infection on Tuesday and missed work on Wednesday. The rest helped but I was still exhausted. Today not so much.
It's pitch black out and it isn't even 6:00. A beautiful day followed by cold darkness. MSU plays Nebraska tonight at 7:00.and I have on my lucky shirt and my green porch lights. Thankfully I don't have to watch the game as I am going to the symphony tonight. Watching the games makes me too anxious so it is better to have a ideal plan like the symphony to keep my mind off the game
And finally the sad news. My unsenkable Molly Brown lost her beloved cat Teddy today due to congestive heart failure. As my vet has said it is the hardest decision you make to make but a,so the most humane, I will think of you tonight, my friend, and hope you keep yourself together and navigate through this period.
JB is taking me to the symphony as Sophie has developed a cold/sinus infection and is better off home. The thing about whatever I have been going through is that I just keep going. My appetite sucks and have been navigating on soups and juice, maybe a cup of Greek yogurt in the afternoon. My sinus infection didn't help matter. I actually had a nice fever and was verily delirious Tuesday night. Just loopy. Better the next day.
So really nothing earth shattering about the going ons just too exhausted to write. Calvin's Mom blew me off and I was literally cast adrift. That is now resolved. When I go see the new therapist I will have an agenda. I will make a list of what I need and should talk about. I might even do that in this forum. Who knows.
New thought. I hate that it gets so dark so early. I really don't have time for a walk after I get home.
Jamming Jews is really taken shape and we have rehearsals the next two Wednesdays. Monday, accordingly, I will have to work my musical ass off to get ready for the concert. One of the jamming Jews is trying to roll over most of the parts originally given to me. I am ambivalent about why he is better at singing and playing Turn, Turn, Turn. Not quite a pissing match yet but as another woman and myself did all the leg work while he was traveling the world seems somewhat petty.
The therapy situation has hopefully resolved itself. I have a new therapist a mere nine minute walk from the library. Unfortunately I don't meet with her until the 23rd, after Jamming Jews, when things should have settle down and I really can focus on all I have neglected. Like sleep. Lately I have looked and felt like hell, and in the process developed a sinus infection on Tuesday and missed work on Wednesday. The rest helped but I was still exhausted. Today not so much.
It's pitch black out and it isn't even 6:00. A beautiful day followed by cold darkness. MSU plays Nebraska tonight at 7:00.and I have on my lucky shirt and my green porch lights. Thankfully I don't have to watch the game as I am going to the symphony tonight. Watching the games makes me too anxious so it is better to have a ideal plan like the symphony to keep my mind off the game
And finally the sad news. My unsenkable Molly Brown lost her beloved cat Teddy today due to congestive heart failure. As my vet has said it is the hardest decision you make to make but a,so the most humane, I will think of you tonight, my friend, and hope you keep yourself together and navigate through this period.
JB is taking me to the symphony as Sophie has developed a cold/sinus infection and is better off home. The thing about whatever I have been going through is that I just keep going. My appetite sucks and have been navigating on soups and juice, maybe a cup of Greek yogurt in the afternoon. My sinus infection didn't help matter. I actually had a nice fever and was verily delirious Tuesday night. Just loopy. Better the next day.
So really nothing earth shattering about the going ons just too exhausted to write. Calvin's Mom blew me off and I was literally cast adrift. That is now resolved. When I go see the new therapist I will have an agenda. I will make a list of what I need and should talk about. I might even do that in this forum. Who knows.
Sunday, November 1, 2015
The confidentiality agreement
With 2.0 precludes me from revealing the exchange of letter between us. She did want me to come for one more session to achieve closure. Fux closure. I am angry and hurt and hoping Calvin's Mom will consider taking me back. I just need some continuity in treatment. The three letters she sent were gentle and apologetic, although she did hint I may have over-reacted a tad. Maybe that is true. I shall ponder that. But suggesting in a PollyAnna fashion that I had a good life so why the depression was naïve. There's an old joke about twin boys. One is an absolute pessimist the other the eternal optimist. Their birthday approach. To the pessimist they give a roomful of every conceivable toy. The kid looks in his room and says "is that all there is to life". To the optimist they give a roomful,of shit. Well, soon they hear a whoop and holler coming from the optimist's room. They enter only to find the boy digging through the shit. The parents are in a quandary. They say to the boy. "Your brother was so sadden by a roomful of toys, yet you are happy with a roomful of shit" "Well" yes the boy says "but I figured with all this shit there must be a pony".
Well, I am the first child. Moody and depressed. The house has made me happy but today with the time change it was dark so early. Is that all there is to life? It there a meaning to life? We all will die, not knowing how or when, but it will happen room full of shit isn't going to produce a pony. Life may or may not suck. And does one really have to imagine Sisyphus happy. Rolling that damned Boulder up the hill only to see if roll to the bottom and lather rinse and repeat. Ah, well, this too shall pass.
Well, I am the first child. Moody and depressed. The house has made me happy but today with the time change it was dark so early. Is that all there is to life? It there a meaning to life? We all will die, not knowing how or when, but it will happen room full of shit isn't going to produce a pony. Life may or may not suck. And does one really have to imagine Sisyphus happy. Rolling that damned Boulder up the hill only to see if roll to the bottom and lather rinse and repeat. Ah, well, this too shall pass.
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