Marching to the beat of a different mandolin

I'm behind. I feel like I'm behind on everything lately.

I'm okay...mostly? I had a long conversation with my friend Eric tonight about how we're both doing. Personally, I'm okay. I think my future is pretty good. But I'm fucking terrified for the country and the world, and I can't really enjoy my own triumphs as much as I'd like. I think I'll still be here when we're done dealing with the clusterfuck that is our government...in one, four, or twenty years...and I think I'll be living well in that time, unless catastrophe befalls Beaverton directly, or our population in ways we can't see now. I do recognize this is a possibility. So, yeah, it's all qualified.

I lost a real estate client this week. That's a huge bummer, and if I had the energy, I would fight for it. The reason he's bailing is very much a misunderstanding on his part, but I feel like reeling him back in would lead to at best an awkward and uncomfortable continued relationship. I just...no. I do need to find something to energize me, though, because I need to have a better professional year than I did in 2016. I need to network more aggressively. I need to not get sick so much...I need to feel better about myself...I need...to cry for a little while.

I'm also thinking about moving my journal to another site. But that seems overwhelming. This is 15 years of me. :/

I'm at that point in the trip where almost everything is irritating me and I just want to be home. It's too hot to get comfortable, and every time I attempt to relax, someone is knocking on the door or barging into the room. My brother wanted to go to a restaurant in the next town over tonight. He's been here before and wanted to visit that place before we left. He invited me, but I declined, saying I wanted to go relax on my own for a while. He and Rachel both scoffed and laughed at me, saying "You need to relax after the long, taxing day you've had?" (I've been in my room resting almost all day.) YES, I DO.

This is how I am. Depression manifests in constant fatigue. I may have other health issues contributing to my fatigue. My shingles is flaring up again. I'm sleep deprived. My ankle still hurts. I miss my routine. I miss my cat. I miss my boyfriend. I miss my friends and the things we do together. I miss my city. I love my family but I need alone time.

I came back to my room and got online, started to read some articles, and chill. Frankie and my mom walked in about 10 minutes later. "Mom, I came back here to have some alone time."

"You've had it!"

"Mom, really. This is my room and I'd like to be alone in it. There's nowhere else I can go to be alone here."

She gave me this look like I was breaking her heart. Like I was committing some huge betrayal by suggesting I'd prefer to be alone when I only have a few hours left to be with my family.

"I'm serious, Mom. Please."

She took Frankie and went to her own room, finally. I have every intention of playing cards with them later when WT gets back from his little excursion. I just want this time to myself. (I'm sharing my room with Lucy, who is super respectful of my need for down time -- she seems to have similar needs -- so I haven't had true alone time all week.)

I'm so ready to be home. My flight isn't until 5pm tomorrow, so I have what I call a lame duck day. It's one of those days where you're going to travel/have to check out/are all packed so you can't really do anything, but it's still a full day so you've got to entertain yourself somehow. I don't get into PDX until almost 1am. So I'll get home to Beaverton around 2. I can't wait...then hopefully after a good sleep and a shower, I can go pick up Cleopatrick and he will still love me.

Having a self-pity party.

I was on a roll, and then...I got thrown off course. I know I'm not starting from ZERO, but it's still frustrating to have to retrace steps when my relapse wasn't actually due to laziness or anything I brought upon myself. Usually it is. This time, though, I got food poisoning, then shingles, and I've been unable to get out of bed most of the last 7 days. And I need to work, and make money, and pay bills. I haven't run in over a week. I don't know how much I will be able to run when I get back to the gym. Maybe tomorrow? Probably not until Friday at the earliest, though. My shingles rash still hurts a lot. Even though it's not on my legs, any physical activity aggravates it. It's slowly improving, though.

I'm currently taking 5 prescriptions, and 3 different doctor-recommended OTC drugs. 15 pills a day plus three ointment applications. I'm 33 years old and I take care of myself! Ugh. Thank heavens for my insurance, anyway.

The brightest spot in my day, though, was hanging out with Shanon, Mary, Sloane, and Gwen this morning. The little girls are 23 and 20 months old now, and both getting more outgoing. They're more comfortable with me playing with them and snuggling them. The five of us went to the park near Mary's house, and both girls wanted me to hold them and swing them and join in their games -- which were largely incredibly boring, but fulfilling at the same time because their giggles were the best. It was win-win for everyone, because the moms were happy to unload their toddlers on me for a while, and I'm happy to indulge the kids, too. But I was telling Mary and Shanon that it's so much easier for me to enjoy playing with kids when I don't have to do it all the time...because the shit they like is really boring. We spent several minutes with both girls putting playground bark dust in my hands and laughing with delight when I emptied my hands back onto the ground, saying "goodbye!" I mean, I'm glad they like me! But I'm super glad I don't have to do that all day every day, too.

I accidentally left something at Mary's house, so I had to go back at dinnertime to grab it. Gwen came running to me, and was all hugs and smiles while I was there. I'm really pleased that she's starting to recognize me and bond with me. I really love that kid.

Taking a moment to vent and then relive the happy parts of the day has me feeling a bit better. I think I'm actually going to do some chores tonight -- it won't improve my bank balance or fitness, but I'll feel a little accomplished, anyway.

It's been a hellish few weeks. I've had bright spots and good times mixed in, but things have been really hard lately. My birthday last week was really great -- a lot of good friends came out to celebrate and we had a lovely time doing escape rooms and drinking fancy whiskey at the Multnomah Whiskey Library. Then Saturday was DASH, which was also a blast. We finished well but did not repeat as world champions this time around. Next year.

On Friday night, my computer died. It held on just long enough for me to see the end of the Blazers game six vs the Clippers where they won and secured their advance to the second round of the playoffs. I could hear several of my neighbors cheering when that game ended. It was awesome. But shortly after the game ended, my computer informed me that it was done with life, and swiftly crossed to the other side. I was thinking of getting a new computer soon, but the timing was not ideal as I was starting to build some momentum with work, and also was still in a big debt problem. So I ended up replacing it with the cheapest ChromeBook I could find, instead of a full laptop. So far I'm loving it, actually. I haven't missed having a "real" laptop at all. But if it turns out that I will need one, Toby has an old Macbook that I can have.

I had made a promise to my therapist to take my first Uber drive -- I've been licensed to drive for them for several weeks now, but just hadn't ever done it. So yesterday morning, I watched a few training videos, then logged in and gave it a shot. I picked up two riders in the span of about 15 minutes, and made $17 in a half hour of driving around Beaverton in the middle of the day. I feel really good about my prospects if I can do that in a really not-at-all-peak time. But it was getting really hot and I realized my A/C wasn't working, so instead of continuing to drive, I took the car in to my shop to have them check out the A/C. Turns out it's not a simple fix. The compressor is blown, and because it's a hybrid, the quote to fix it was $4000. So much for the $17 I made. I called around for a bunch of second opinions, and everyone quoted me even more. My car only cost me $7000 and it's going to need a new battery pretty soon, too, which is another $5000, and no. I can't do that. So after a lot of crying about money and freaking out over what to do, I took it to a few dealerships to get quotes for trade-in value. Toby came with me so I wouldn't get the single woman treatment, and I found some cars that are pretty good options. All the dealers were willing to give me pretty decent trade-in value, and I found a used Prius that would be a really ideal trade. But there's still the matter of coming up with the money to pay the difference. And I'm NOT applying for a loan because I have this ridiculous credit card debt (a result of depression-fueled carelessness over the course of 2015).

I called my parents and explained the whole situation to them -- how I'm feeling healthier now and I'm doing the best I can, but I'm in this hole and I need help. My dad wouldn't let me through without some stern lecturing about responsibility, but my mom reminded him that his own depression has led to some bad choices, too. In the end they were both incredibly sympathetic, and agreed to loan me the money I need to both get the new car and pay off my credit card debt. They are tacking it onto the mortgage I have with them already, but not raising the payment, just making it a longer loan. I am so incredibly relieved. It's a huge weight off...but I also hate that I'm 33 and have to get my parents to bail me out. I hate that I can't trust myself to control my life. I'm doing better now and of course there's a lesson learned, but all the lessons and good judgment in the world are shit up against mental illness. I just can't guarantee myself or anyone else that I won't be back in that state some day. I was crying about this with Toby last night -- both before and after my parents agreed to come to my rescue. And he held me and told me he would always be there for me. When I said I was afraid I'd get sick again and lose control and fail at life, he just squeezed me and said "No you won't. I'm looking out for you." And I just sobbed big ugly sobs when he said that. It's one thing for my friends to say they're always there for me (and I know they are! and I'm grateful!), but the problem with depression and its effects is that it's easy to disguise. My friends can watch out for me and I trust that they'll speak up if they're concerned, but only someone who is in my life every day can really catch it. And it's a lot to ask someone to commit to a partnership so potentially volatile. I've warned Toby a million ways about how I've been in the past and what I'm afraid the future could hold. And he's here. He's not going anywhere. I feel really secure in his commitment to me. I feel really secure in my commitment to him, too. As a young person with two divorces under my belt, I just can't let myself completely believe in forever, or even plan for it -- it's important to me to take care of my own debt rather than turn to Toby and his tech salary to help me. He would if I asked him but I'm not asking him.

I guess I can't really put in writing just how he made me feel when he held me last night, but I just know that he meant everything he said. I just know he's got me. And I hope the ways I'm able to be there for him are as meaningful to him...but he is a lot more stable than I am. He says I make him very happy, though, and even through deep, dark clouds of depression, he makes me very happy, too. I never thought I'd find a better match for myself than McKenzie. But Toby and I share so much more than I ever did with Z...and he's KIND to me all the time. I will always love and miss McKenzie, but this relationship that I'm in now? It's so much better. I didn't think that could exist. 

By almost anything measurable, my life is better than it was in my 20's. Every individual factor has improved. So why do I feel so fucking sad all the time? I know I had depression then, too, but I don't remember being this SAD.

It's been a week + since I dialed my Prozac way back. I'm not experiencing withdrawal symptoms, but I am experiencing pretty heavy depression symptoms. I don't know how I lived without meds before. This suuuuuuucks. I'm getting through, though, because I know I get to start a new program in few days. But seriously. I hate this so much. I didn't get out of bed until noon today, and my to-do list includes three separate items of "write angry complaint to [entity]." I'm so fucking grouchy without my meds. I at least recognize that I'm grouchy because of the lack of meds and not because anyone has really wronged me. But it would be really fabulous if things could just go really perfectly smoothly for the next few days. Even small hitches are huge rage triggers for me right now. So far I haven't directed any of that rage at anything with feelings, though, so I think I'm handling it reasonably well. Still. It's fucked up that I can be aware that my reactions are outside of the realm of reality, but I can't not feel the rage/sad/fear/whatever. Ugh.

DEPRESSION SUCKS, YOU GUYS.

Next week, I'm beginning participation in a clinical trial for a new depression treatment. As part of the trial, I will be required to switch anti-depressants. This scares me because things were awful in ways I wasn't even aware before I started taking Prozac, and I'm afraid that I may not notice problems if I switch meds. So I'm putting my friends on alert. One of the biggest challenges to facing my depression before Prozac was that I never really recognized when I was out of my mind. I was always able to articulate and function, but I'd have reactions to things that just didn't make sense. Missing a turn on the road would cause a sobbing meltdown. Getting the wrong topping on my pizza would ruin my day and I'd be pissed at everyone involved in it. I was a volatile asshole. And I couldn't tell the difference between when my outrage was righteous (these were the Bush years, after all) or not.

So, friends, please look out for me. I won't find it patronizing. I need this from you for my own good. If I seem unpleasantly different, call me out. I might be a dick about it in real time, but if you help me recognize that I need to get out of the trial and back on my old meds, or make any other necessary changes, I will be grateful later. I hope that I don't get shitty. I don't think it's a high possibility. But because the possibility exists, I want to be extra clear to everyone that I may need help.

I'm sorry to burden anyone with the task of babysitting my brain, but I trust my friends to come through if I need it. This is my written permission to be forceful with me if I'm being unreasonable. Okay? Okay.

I had a doctor's appointment today to follow up on some of the things I've been working on and to check in. Have I mentioned how much I love having good insurance? I see my doctor every month just to check in like this. It's an amazing level of support.

Anyway, one of the things we did was rate how I feel about various areas of my life/health on a 1-10 scale. I had high scores in a couple of areas, but mostly I've been feeling like a completely useless failure, and that's affecting everything...most of the scores I gave myself were in the 2-4 range. I mentioned to my doctor that I'm feeling overwhelmed with so much I need to work on, improve, etc. But I did give myself credit for the work I've been doing around my house. I've been working hard, getting rid of a ton of clutter, and I'm proud of myself for that. She gave me lots of encouragement here, as well as an analogy that helped me step back from a lot of the negative self-talk I've been doing.

You know how when you clean a big mess, you have to spread things out and it looks even messier before it can be clean? She said that's where my health is right now. I'm doing the right things (giving up soda, changing some dietary habits, working out hard/frequently, continuing therapy), but my body is in the early stages of a major overhaul, and it feels like a train wreck right now. But that's one of the phases I have to go through to get to where I want to be. Okay then. Onward.

It was really helpful to have so many of my struggles validated. I really feel like this doctor understands and cares. She also checks in by email every couple of weeks. I've mentioned I love this insurance plan, right? The difference between this (silver level) and the plan I had last year (bronze) is night and day. Last year I paid $173/month to cover mostly nothing, really. This year I'm paying $273/month and I have NO copays, and I've already had like 12 (seriously) doctor visits this year. I can go to these doctors for ANYTHING I need, and it's covered. There are always same-day appointments available (ZoomCare only lets you book day-of for basic services). They have every kind of specialist I've ever heard of, and I can get on-demand appointments with any of them. $273/month is not a small chunk of change, but considering all the care I'm getting in all arenas of my health, it's a fucking bargain. But I'm privileged enough that I can afford this -- I don't feel like I should have to pay this much -- no one should. I think this is what healthcare SHOULD be at all levels. But we've got some shit to clean up before that's a reality. Soon, I hope.

For no particular reason, today has felt kind of crappy. I was going to let myself stay home and be lazy all day, but I got bored of even that, so I went to the gym for a cardio workout and also made dinner plans with Ben. But I'm still just feeling kind of bleh. I've been feeling this way a lot lately, and I decided a good antidote to the bleh would be to get another foster dog. I'm picking up at least one and possibly two dachshunds tomorrow afternoon. I don't know if I can handle more than one, but maybe two will entertain each other a little? Or they'll just be twice as demanding of my attention? Anyway I will have at least one new snugglebuddy tomorrow, and I predict this will lift my spirits.

I don't give any fucks about Valentine's Day, but this is the anniversary of the last time McKenzie and I were together. We split up for good on like the 15th. The following week was the Portland Regional, and I spent some time with him at the hotel there, but it was understood that this was not reunion time. And we haven't been together since. And I feel so conflicted and sad, and I don't know if the fact that it's Valentine's weekend is adding to those feelings at all, but it doesn't make it any easier.

As I dragged myself out the door to go to the gym, I got a text message from Toby. "You are awesome and I love you!" I don't know if he sensed I needed a pick-me-up, but his timing couldn't have been better. I'm really crazy about that dude. And I'm lucky to have him, and grateful that he understands what I'm going through with regards to my divorce blues. He's confident in us and knows I love him even when I'm crying about McKenzie, and he's supportive in everything. He never knew me pre-Prozac, and even though I've told him honestly about how I used to be, he says he only has evidence that I'm wonderful now. I guess I've done a good job turning my life around, even if the depression itself still rears its ugly head all too often. I mean, I think I've always been a good, kind-hearted person. I just wasn't very easy to be around in the past. I'm not totally shitting on my former self. Anyway. I do think Toby's right. I'm awesome! I'm fun and funny and helpful and kind and I give a lot of myself to those I love. And I surround myself with people who have these same qualities, and I'm so happy to have so many great people around me.

But all the great people and all the great love in the world do not fill the void where McKenzie is not. I miss him so much.

I stayed over at Toby's last night, but didn't sleep very well. My plan was to come home and get straight into bed. But I remembered that tomorrow is trash day, so first I pulled out my cans. Then I realized I had dishes that needed to be done, so I handled that. Then I opened the fridge to think about grabbing a beverage before coming to bed, saw the fresh eggs I'd bought yesterday, and decided to fry myself some breakfast. Then I washed the pan and came upstairs to get in bed...but noticed I had laundry that could use washing, so I started that. All in the 30 minutes since I got home. I don't even recognize this girl.

Yesterday was a similar story -- I was up early to drive Toby to the MAX, but my plan was to come back home immediately after and snooze some more. But I put on gym clothes for some reason, and after dropping Toby off, I stopped at my gym. I got on a treadmill to do a one-mile warmup jog and went for 3 miles. Then lifted weights and did a little more cardio, just because I felt like it. Then I ran errands and came home and took care of my health insurance for next year. I also made some phone calls to local music shops on Toby's behalf to research his next banjo purchase. Then Dave came over and we had lunch, played games, and I helped him edit the bridge club website. I was busy all afternoon, and the bar that I went to for dinner and to watch the Blazers/Cavs game just happened to have trivia, so Toby met me there and we stayed to play, and we won. We got back to his place around 11, did a NYT Sunday crossword, and finally dozed off a little before 1. No nap, and I was super fucking productive all day. I am not used to having this kind of energy or motivation. It's awesome.

I'm still going to take a nap now, though.