Just Because I Owe You

I've been wanting to post something, ANYTHING, but my mind has been a complete blank. Well, a more specific blank than my usual blankness. The zombies would never find me, because I have blank eyes too. It's my survival tactic. (Shut up, The Delicious One! It will TOO work!)

I think we are coming back from the brink of death by pig flu. The Man is doing much better. We are still waiting to see if he turns into a pig at the full moon. How much fun would that be! I've always wanted a pet pig. They are supposed to be smarter than dogs. And pretty clean, too.

I actually did some chores around the house today. For a few minutes. I mostly played Lego Star Wars (woot!). I'm glad that we're feeling better though. You always dream of being able to stay home for a week straight because your sick or something, but damn, it's BORING!!!!! Don't be jealous. Really. The only places we've been for more than a week is the grocery store to pick up sickness stuff and frozen dinners, and that was last Sunday. Oh yeah, and Dell Taco on Friday and Hollywood Video last night. I swear, absolutely no where. And video games get really old really quick. See, when you're home because you're sick, you have no energy to do anything else, so you sit around and stare at things, until you manage to feel better enough to pick up a video game controller. I finally beat Lego Indiana Jones, because I had nothing better to do with my time. I didn't even have the energy to go to the library and get books (not that they would have wanted me there). Maybe tomorrow. If I don't go to work. Which I'm sure I will. They've missed me, I just know it. Someone has to the keep The Boss Man in line. I'm sure he's completely out of control.

So yeah,

I'm Back!!!!

Sappy Sappiness For Those Who Lurve Me

The Delicious One from work (you know who you are) told me today that when she reads my blog, she feels so sad for me, and sad that she can't do more to cheer me up. Well, let me tell you, The Delicious One and all the rest of The Work Friends (you will get labels later, when I'm not so tired and lazy), you do help. I never laugh so hard anywhere as I do at work. You guys get me out of my self-absorbed over analytical mess for a couple of hours when I'm there, and get me to enjoy a little bit of my day. Even though work stresses me out so very much right now because of lack of control over certain things that I want control over (Death to the freight manager! Mutiny! MUTINY!), I still enjoy 90% of it. I feel so special when so many people at least ACT like they are happy to see me. You don't try to fix my problems, you just hang around and talk to me, as if you actually LIKE me the way I am! Imagine that!

The hugs are good too. I like hugs. And the butt slapping. And all the things we do that could so be sexual harassment if you guys weren't so damned awesome. So, don't feel bad, don't feel like there's nothing you can do, because you already are, just by wanting to be my friend. By not caring how self absorbed I am, or if I'm a good little Mormon or not, or if I'm hypocritical, or selfish, or don't have kids yet, or whatever. Work is one place that I don't feel judged by anyone, ever. And work is one place that I know if someone did, I could sic all of you on the person doing it. Like I said, you're all damned awesome, and that's the best kind of awesome you can be.

If you feel you must do something, just hug me (The Delicious One, you don't have to. Just make some dirty joke, you hug Nazi). And don't get all weird if I start to cry (it happens often these days).

And if you tell anyone that I got sappy, I will make you work with the freight manager. And you know I'll do it. Love ya! Mwah!

Food, Food, I Hate Food

Warning: Bad language follows. I'm not one of those Mormons who believes that saying "darn" instead of "damn" gets the same feeling across. I think it sounds silly and weak to not say what I mean when I need a strong word. Those words just aren't strong enough. But, I know that not everyone agrees with me, so I'm warning you. And the "f-word" does come up. Just so you know.

Yes, I'm bitching and moaning about how miserable my life is right now. Poor little me. Apparently, I'm not supposed to ever, ever talk about how badly I feel on my blog. Just about how fan-fucking-tastic it all is.

But this is what is going on in my life, and my blog is about my life, not about what I wish it was. It's not some fake out that I post to make everyone either happy for me, or pity me. It's my vent. It's my place to post what I want.

It's hard to talk about the good days, when the bad days are so overwhelming. I've had some really, really good days. Days when I know that I will be fine. Days when I know that I'm worth beating this for. Days when I really love myself. When I don't struggle with eating, or getting out of bed, or going to work. Hell, I've even recently had a good WEEK. But I still have more days than not where I DON'T believe any of that. I may be complaining a lot about it, but I'm trying, really trying. It may not seem like it to anyone except The Man, but I am. And I'm making progress. Just ask him. See, apparently, I used to have bi- or tri-weekly breakdowns, blubbering about how miserable I was. Now, he says, it's pretty few and far between, and I always have a pretty good reason (other than that I am lonely and emotional). So, I HAVE gotten stronger. I HAVE gotten a better handle on my depression, though it may not seem like it lately. I think that's WHY so much shit is hitting the proverbial fan. Because I can finally take more of it. But man, have you ever noticed how much shit stinks?

Thankfully, I have The Man. He is awesome. He is strong. He is supportive. He gets mad and protective if someone hurts me (what girl doesn't like that?). He is H-O-T (you know you all want him). I know that with him, I don't really need anyone else. I really don't. If I can just remember to actually listen to what he has to say to me. And to follow it. Looking for additional help outside of him has backfired on me bigger than anything ever has. I trusted some one with secrets that no one else knows (except for The Man), and this person knows this, and this person ended up playing coward. I KNOW this person is better than this. I KNOW this person is not really like this. I KNOW that this person is kinder than they are letting themselves be. I also know that this person will never, ever see this, and will never ever know that while a big big part of me regrets ever asking for help with something I knew they could help with, they will also never, ever know that they did still help me, and I will remember and love them forever for it. And maybe someday, when things are different, we can be friends again.

But I'm not so sure I want that, without a guarantee that it won't happen again. Because a broken heart is so not helping my situation right now.

'Tis the Season to be SAD

I hate this time of year. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Despise it. Loathe it. Abhor it. Detest it. Did I mention that I hate it? Yeah, I think I did. Yes, hate is a very strong word, but trust me, it fits my feelings for fall and winter.

And yes, I am defensive about it if you ask me what my problem is. I don't get people who like the clouds, or rain, or snow. I'm fine with both rain and snow, after they have stopped falling. Well, actually, I generally don't like snow either, unless it's a) sunny and b) completely undisturbed. Then it's pretty.

And I'm sure that the people who revel in cloudy days don't get why I don't. At least, most who have expressed to me their joy in the clouds and rain are aghast (I do love that word) when I tell them that I feel otherwise. I would really love to move somewhere where it never snows, or rains, or if it did, the cloud cover was blessedly short, and the sun could come out again. But since I can't, I just try to remind myself that at least I'm not in The Home State, where apparently it has already started snowing. Blech.

And don't ever, ever tell me that I'm the one who chooses whether to be happy or not every time I get up in the morning. If you believe that, then you have never dealt with depression. Count your blessings, if that's true.

And don't tell me that when it's cloudy out, or I will murder you.