Exhaustion and Bravery

"You wake up every morning to fight the same demons that left you so tired the night before, and that, my love, is bravery." ~ author unknown

My brain is still in a fog. Today I went out and did things, but my brain was scattered enough that, if I didn't stop to focus on what I was saying (and sometimes even if I did), I could lose my train of thought in the middle of a word.

This is a familiar place. I lived here for almost a year. Apparently I still visit every now and then. Not that I want to, but I do.

It's like those extended family members that you can't stand, but you still have to deal with them around holidays. You go to family functions because you like the rest of your family, and/or you don't want to offend anyone or be "that person", but you dread the entire event because they're going to be there and it's going to be terrible.

Continuing on in life, choosing to not kill oneself, is sometimes like having a dreaded family holiday except much more often. Sometimes daily. Sometimes as seldom as two or three times a year. It's exhausting, it wears your nerves down until you have no patience, and then, should you snap, you're "that person".

Approaching this actual holiday season, I'd like to encourage you to be patient. It can be a difficult and emotional time of year for a myriad of reasons. But if we put people first (ourselves, and the ones we care about, and humanity in general) and remember that people are not robots, and will have bad days and good days and days where they can't even tell if it's bad or good, then our expectations might lower to a more reasonable level.

My goal this year is to be mentally present for family get-togethers, both of my family and my partner's.

My secondary goal is to be helpful in such a way that it relieves stress from other people. Flexibility isn't always easy with OCD, but if I can remember that my goal is to be helpful and not to "save Christmas" then I think that's manageable.

My role in life tends to be that of a favourite blanket. Warm, genial, comfortable, and usually sleepy.

My advice to you is to find your role, play to your strengths, let others play to theirs, and remember to give yourself (and them) a break.

Remember When (aka A Lesser Known Struggle)

Through my entire time at public school (K-12) I found school typically easy. I enjoyed learning, paid attention in class, and could remember things easily on tests. I did start struggling a bit in high school with remembering everything, but a quick revision before exams was usually plenty.

In college, I struggled because half of the learning was not done in class (readings and projects, mostly), and I'd never had to do so much independent studying before. I'd complete the projects, but my eyes glazed over when reading and I retained nothing, so I soon stopped even trying that. By some miracle, I still scored well enough to pass all of my classes, but not by much.

I was a bookworm growing up. Reading wasn't something I'd struggled with. Even dry, technical writing. I'd been known to read programming manuals for the humour.

It wasn't the fact that I was reading that was the problem, but I didn't like doing homework so I didn't question it. Well, I was confused and mildly concerned, but not enough to do anything about it.

Now, I sometimes forget things that most people consider habit. Like listening to a conversation I'm in. Or what I'm supposed to do when the timer goes off. Or putting on shoes before leaving the house. (Sometimes, though, I can even remember socks!)

This morning I was doing a questionnaire. I enjoy doing them. Often just because they get me to think about things I otherwise wouldn't. This one was about prunes. Do I eat them? In what scenarios? (Occasionally, and as a tasty snack. I haven't had them in a while. If I buy some now, is that responding to advertisement?) I got to the end of the thing and it asked if I had any feedback to improve the quiz at all. I had the fleeting recollection that I'd had a thought about the final question (one page previous), but could remember absolutely nothing beyond that.

Today I'm in a fog. I have been for a couple of days now, but it really settled in yesterday.

It's not a dark place, not scary or sad.

It's empty.

There are dishes everywhere that need to be washed, laundry that needs to be done, and probably other stuff. Last night I made a list. I broke it down into tiny increments (gather dishes to kitchen sink, sort laundry) like I've been taught. I promised to reward myself for every tiny increment, likely with chocolate.

Actions and consequences have become arbitrary, and all the brainpower I have is going into sitting at the computer. I try to gather dishes, and I don't have enough hands to pick them all up at once. Or I go to do laundry and there's more in the basket than fits in the machine. I can't figure out what to do from there. I'm like a terribly programmed AI. More Artificial than Intelligence.

For those of you wondering how I can still write like this, it's simple. I put my hands on the keyboard and the words type themselves, like usual. I can't reread what I've written ever. If I need something proofread, I hand it to someone else. Otherwise I'll hate it. That's just how that works. I occasionally try to write a novel (same one every time) but I have to restart it every time I want to change one little thing. I've stalled out at 20k words at least five times now.

This is the side of depression that took me the longest to see. Everyone talks about the darkness. Very few talk about the grey fluff.

No motivation, because nothing matters.

No rewards, because they aren't that appealing anyways.

I can feel myself trying to get frustrated at it. I don't want to be here. But I don't feel anything.

Darkness spurs me into action. I get help, and I get better.

Grey fluff encourages indifference. Indifference is exactly what it sounds like: making no difference. Trying things is futile because I always end up back here. The darkness and light balance each other out, so what's the difference in staying the grey?

What I've been told to do in these circumstances is to get up and do the things I used to enjoy, my hobbies, or feel fulfillment from, my chores. Just do them. Yeah, it'll suck at first, but moving means changing, and changing means making a difference, and that's the opposite of indifference.

I miss being able to remember things. My memory has been terribly spotty for years now. I don't know if that'll ever come back. But it's not about coming back. You can't truly get back to who you were before mental illness, because you've been through hell. You are a different person. You are stronger, and have a rougher, survivalist side to you that wasn't there before.

But they never talk about how much of yourself you lose to become strong.

Breaktime

Hey guys!

I still have plenty of ideas of things to post about, but today it was just too much to actually sit down and write, so I took a break. Hopefully I'll be back tomorrow.

See you soon :)

Almost Missed It!

    "How do you keep doing this?" he said. "Keep going, when everything is so horrible?"
    Horrible. Was that what life was? I had never put a word to it. Pain had a way of breaking time down. I thought about the next minute, the next hour. There wasn't enough space in my mind to put all those pieces together, to find words to summarize the whole of it. But the "keep going" part, I knew the words for.
    "Find another reason to go on," I said. "It doesn't have to be a good one, or a noble one. It just has to be a reason."

~Carve the Mark (Veronica Roth) ...sorry, I forgot to note down the page number.

I had an appointment today out of town, which meant spending 4 hours on a 15min appointment, to account for bus times. I'd planned on sleeping as late as I could and then getting up and ready, leaving for the appointment, and coming home and doing things.

I woke up around 6:50am, unable to sleep again, and with a dehydration headache (the only downside to winter). So, I did what any sensible person would do. I got up, made breakfast (and drank plenty of water!) and then played video games until I had to get ready to leave.

Unfortunately, this meant that I was really tired by the time I got home, so I did a little bit of stuff and then had a nap, first setting an alarm to give me enough time to do things before I had people over tonight.

I slept right through that alarm, and for another 45min. No longer relaxing get-ready-whenever time, but I was running distinctly behind.

Fortunately, my friends were very understanding and allowed me to finish my baking while they sat and chatted and worked on their characters (D&D, I'm the DM).

The session went well, despite me feeling completely unprepared. I love storytelling (as you may have guessed), and I have a story I want people to go through, but I'm probably the least experienced roleplayer in the group, so game mechanics were a bit clunky.

People left, I wrote up notes to remind myself of what's happened, and now here I am. My first late night blog post! (Aside from the suicide one, but that one was a bonus weekend post. This is a regular weekday post.)



Basically, what I think I'm getting at here is that today was a day of nothing going quite according to plan, and me having to force myself to adapt and keep going. Had this happened two years ago, I'd've been a complete wreck, likely not even being able to handle being a DM, and not trusting myself with such a big responsibility again for a long time.

The changes were subtle, and painful, but I wasn't a wreck today. In fact, I enjoyed myself. I felt a bit flustered at times, and apologized to people around me, and they seemed to be genuinely okay with it, and I was therefore able to relax and reduce the pressure on myself, enough so that I could enjoy myself and my friends.

Change takes time, and work. It doesn't always seem likely, or even possible. But then, one day, you get to look back and see how far you've come. Even baby steps add up.

Change happens when you put in the effort. When you take whatever steps you can handle. When you keep pushing forward against all odds. You just need to find your reason to keep going.

Forgiving Without Forgetting

"Hatred is too strong an emotion to waste on someone that you don't like" ~ Clara Oswald, Mummy on the Orient Express (Doctor Who 2005 reboot, season 8 episode 8)


When my ex and I first discussed separating, I was fine. As it started to sink in, I was most definitely not. I had told him up front that if he wanted to split, he needed to do the paperwork and everything, but I wouldn't argue. Meanwhile, I did everything I could think of to convince him to reconsider.

Eventually, I moved out of our apartment and in with some friends. Having that level of space from things allowed my brain the room it needed to process things. That became on of my most emotionally volatile times. I hated him, I loved him, I took all of the blame and none of it. It was very confusing for me.

This was also my first ever breakup.

I decided that, until our divorce was finalized, if he came back, I would agree to try to make things work. I'd said "for better or worse", and this was worse. Once it was final, however, he would be completely out of my life.

It has become final, and I've done my best to keep to what I said. However, we were in a relationship for over 20% of my life. It was my first romantic relationship. It's not as easy as deciding that someone's out of your life to get them out.

I've only run into him once in the past 3 years (not bad, considering we live in the same city). It sent me for a bit of a tailspin. It was just a few weeks ago. We happened to be at the same bus stop for maybe as long as five minutes. Everything I'd wanted to say to him over the past three years came to mind. Not a word was said.

I've had people tell me I'm strong, and that I've handled this whole mess really well. Honestly, I'm glad someone thinks so. I certainly don't. On the flip side, however, I've had other people come up to me and say that they hate him for what he did to me. I don't have the energy for that.

Looking back, that period of massive emotional volatility is what got me dealing with my depression first, and then my anxiety. Until then, I'd been in denial, thinking I could handle them without treatment.

Would I go through it all again?

I have no idea. Hopefully I'll never have to make that decision. What I gained from the experience has been incredibly valuable, but I traded a large portion of mental health and stability. I still get anxious in my current relationship because I'm scared that I'll do something wrong and be alone again. We've talked about it. He has assured me it won't happen. But so did my ex. On our honeymoon, when I was having trouble and freaking out, I asked if he would like an annulment, and he said "There's nothing you could do to make me stop loving you." Not the first or the last time he said that. Funny thing, now I have more trouble believing such things.

There are days that I can forgive my ex, focus on the positive learning and growing that came out of what happened, and be happy with where I'm at. There are also days that that is significantly more difficult. But I'll never forget.

Because I can't.

If I forget what happened, then I risk losing what I gained from it, and I don't want to go back to that.

So I remember. I remember the good and the bad. I remember the mistakes I've made and learn from them. I remember how I've been mistreated and strive to not do so to others. I remember what it looked like to be in an unhealthy relationship and do my best to make sure I never end up there again.

Forgiving takes strength.

Forgetting is a weakness.

I'm choosing to be strong.

Basic B*tch Muffins

This right here is the recipe that got me through college. There were times I'd realize that all I'd eaten recently was muffins. There were times I went to class hungry because I'd finished my muffins the night before and slept through breakfast.

They work in a toaster oven, but will likely have to bake a bit longer. Toaster ovens vary too much for me to know how much longer.

Basic Bitch Muffins

Ingredients:

• 1 1/2 cups flour*
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1/3 cup oil
• 1 egg
• ~1/3 cup milk (enough to make a total of 1 cup wet ingredients)

*Alternatively, 1 cup each flour & cocoa

Instructions:

1. Mix the wet ingredients.
2. Gently mix in the dry ingredients.
3. Make the muffins exciting!**
4. Bake at 400F for 20-25min.

** How to make muffins exciting (ideas) : 

• 1-2 cups fruit (the more you add, the less the muffins will hold together) 
• 1/2 cup oatmeal 
• 1 tbsp each of some spices you like
• 1 tsp each of some extracts you like
• citrus zest (grate the peel off of any citrus fruit, having already washed it thoroughly)
• 1 cup chocolate chips
• 1 tsp jam or other fruit preserve in the middle of each one
• mix up some cheesecake and put a dollop of that in each one (~1tbsp)
• sprinkle something on top (streusel topping, cookie crumbs, cinnamon sugar, etc.)
• Be creative!

How to be Helpful : A Step-by-Step Guide

Whether you see someone crying at the bus stop or struggling to carry some groceries, you might want to help. Whether you know the person or not, here is what I believe to be the best way to be helpful.

1. Ask if they would like help. If they say no, feel good about having offered and go on with your day. If they say no but seem to be distressed, it might be okay if you wait a bit and then ask if they're sure. Either way, no means no. Forcing someone to let you help them isn't actually helpful.
1. Caveat: If they're going to physically harm themself or someone(s) else, you may force help upon them
2. If they agree to your help, ask them how they would like you to help them. Would they like a hug? Would they like to talk? Would they like you to open the door for them, or carry something?
3. When they indicate that your helpfulness has run its course, be on your way. Again, politely offering to help further can be okay, but don't force yourself on the person.

Physical help: I don't know how many times I've been taking my time on some stairs with a heavy suitcase and someone has come along and grabbed it out of my hand with no explanation. I find it really frustrating. I understand (once they set it down and don't run away with my stuff) that they're only trying to help, however:

• What if I was taking my time because I knew there was something super fragile in there and was trying to be careful to not jostle it? You didn't stop to ask, you just grabbed my stuff and did what you saw fit.
• I like the sense of accomplishment I get from being self-sufficient. Even if a task would be easier with help, it isn't as rewarding. (This does, of course, depend on the task.)

As for mental/emotional help: There have been times that I've had a bit of a mind melt in which I get overwhelmed, usually by negative emotions. In those instances, I'm having enough trouble sorting out what's going on inside my own head without having to worry about what I'm saying to another person, and, trust me, if I can't explain it adequately, your advice is likely going to come off as an empty platitude. "It'll get better in time" is one of my least favourite phrases. It's so vanilla, common, generic, etc. that it's hard to tell if you were even listening.

PS. Advice isn't always what someone wants when they talk about a problem. Sometimes they just need to vent, releasing pressure so they can then tackle the problem on their own with a clear head. Sometimes they want validation, because they might feel like their emotions aren't logical (or they might have been told that). If you're going to listen, it's a good idea to ask what you're listening for.

If they want advice, tell them what you might do (but not what they need to do).

If they're venting, just listen quietly until the emotions have calmed.

If they seem unsure of themself, emulating their emotion back at them will feel good.

PPS. As usual, this tends to vary by person. I'd encourage asking them if what you're doing is appropriate, at least until you get a feel for what's needed.

TL;DR Don't assume people need help. Ask them if they want it, and how you can best help.

Assertiveness and Moldy Bread

Premarriage counselling tends to be a requirement for a couple who has grown up going to church and wants to be married in said church. Also, it's not a terrible idea to get advice from someone with marriage experience.

To start counselling, we each, separately, did a multiple choice exam (90+ questions I think), during which we were not allowed to communicate with the other person. It was done online, the site gave the data to our counsello r, so they'd know what to focus on.

It was very detailed. Like, 25 page report detailed. (If you're curious, we used Prepare Enrich.) One of the first things to discuss in the report is assertiveness, which is defined in the report as comfort level expressing thoughts and feelings and asking for what the person wants in the relationship (Report pg 6).

One could reasonably expect that the person struggling with multiple anxiety disorders and depression would have trouble with this area, and the person who shows no sign of such struggles would likely be fine, yes? Nope. He had done what he could to make me feel comfortable around him, and my family encouraged open and honest communication, so I had no trouble there. His family, however, was a bit more concerned with appearances and, as such, had a bit more trouble feeling comfortable being honest with each other.

Yes, I'm drawing a strong correlation there.

If you are concerned with everyone thinking that you know what you're doing and everything's going well, then you're not going to feel comfortable admitting to things that go against this, and honesty isn't just about not lying, it's about telling the whole truth.

If you can admit you've got a problem, then you can admit you might need help with it. Getting help works toward fixing the problem so it no longer exists, or at least is much more manageable. If, however, you can't admit that you have a problem, then not only are you not getting help, you're also more likely to be less dedicated to fixing it, preferring to ignore its existence altogether.

Consider a loaf of bread in a bag.

It's been sitting out for a week now, long enough that it might have grown a spot or two of mold. There are two options:

1. Assume nothing's wrong and eat it.
2. Admit that it might be moldy and allow yourself to check. If it's not moldy, eat it. If it is, throw it out.

Alternatively, option 3: assume it's bad and throw it out without checking. That doesn't really fit in my analogy though, so we're going to ignore option 3.

If you've grown up eating moldy bread and pretending it's good bread, then you're not going to say anything when the bread goes bad (or maybe you've stopped eating bread altogether, but again, that doesn't fit here). If, however, you're used to throwing out bread when you see mold on it, then you will.

If both people in a relationship quietly eat moldy bread, someone's going to get sick, and nothing will change.

If both people check the bread, neither of them eats moldy bread and they're likely a bit more relaxed about the whole bread situation.

If one person checks the bread and the other just eats it, it is not going to end well, for many reasons.

• "Stop throwing out perfectly good bread!"
• "Your eating habits make me sick!" Seriously, moldy bread is gross. Don't eat it.
• One person is quietly suffering while the other isn't, which can build resentment.
• The one throwing out the bread is in control of how long the bread lasts. This can lead to an imbalance of power.

It's about more than just the bread. It started with the bread, yes, but once negative feelings start building they can breed faster than rabbits. What started as "they threw out my bread" can turn into "I do everything for them and they take me for granted," and nobody wants to feel like that.

Check the bread.

Talk about the bread.

If it's moldy, for goodness' sake, throw it out.

But, most importantly, listen to what the other person says about the bread. It'll give you insight on other things too.

Imposter Syndrome

There's a good chance you've seen this by now, if you're around the internet enough to have found my little blog. It is, however, a good story, and worth resharing.

Some years ago, I was lucky enough invited to a gathering of great and good people: artists and scientists, writers and discoverers of things. And I felt that at any moment they would realise that I didn’t qualify to be there, among these people who had really done things.

On my second or third night there, I was standing at the back of the hall, while a musical entertainment happened, and I started talking to a very nice, polite, elderly gentleman about several things, including our shared first name. And then he pointed to the hall of people, and said words to the effect of, “I just look at all these people, and I think, what the heck am I doing here? They’ve made amazing things. I just went where I was sent.”

And I said, “Yes. But you were the first man on the moon. I think that counts for something.”

And I felt a bit better. Because if Neil Armstrong felt like an imposter, maybe everyone did. Maybe there weren’t any grown-ups, only people who had worked hard and also got lucky and were slightly out of their depth, all of us doing the best job we could, which is all we can really hope for.

 Direct quote from Neil Gaiman's blog.

And now for my own experiences on the topic.

A couple of years ago (a few months after my ex left) I started this group therapy program for depression, run through a hospital. The purpose of the group was to inform us, give us good strategies, and be able to share with our peers how things were going. Also, they were collecting data on us. The data may have been the official purpose. The data itself actually helped me a lot.

I've mentioned before the BDI thing. I gave you links, but I don't believe I actually explained how the thing works. Basically, there are a bunch of multiple choice questions, each with four choices ranked 0-3. Each question is about a symptom or sign of depression (ie. sleeping and eating habits, enjoyment of hobbies, etc.). Each time you answer 0, you're saying you haven't struggled with that thing at all for the past two weeks. 1 means you've struggled a bit, 2 quite a bit, and 3 is pretty much nonstop. (I'm paraphrasing, but you get the idea). It's got 21 questions, so a minimum score of 0, and maximum 63. The scores are interpreted as follows:

0-9: minimal depression / not depressed
10-18: mild depression
19-29: moderate depression
30+ : severe depression

If you're remotely aware of what you're doing and how it works, it's easy to figure out your score without being told. Yes, it's also easy to skew the results, but who benefits from that? Certainly not you, as you're now getting treatment based off of lies.

I had never heard of it, and didn't know how it worked, so I filled it out with the other mountain of intake questionnaires and surveys and that was the end of that.

My first time walking in to the group, I noticed right away that I was a bit younger than anyone else in the room. I was mid twenties, and (I'm terrible at judging ages) I believe the next youngest person was at least 30. I immediately felt like people weren't going to take me seriously. Like "wait until you grow up and have some real problems."

I felt like I had no right to be receiving treatment.

There was a second phase to this program, which was shorter visits 1-on-1 with a staff member; no more group. In this phase, we did things like discuss survey scores. (I should probably mention, we took multiple surveys every week for about 4 months.) I found out what my scores were, and what they'd meant.

I'd been severely depressed, and thinking that didn't deserve help, because my life had been too easy.

True, my parents are still married, my family is very loving and supportive, and school was never much of a challenge. I am, in that sense, incredibly lucky.

However, depression and anxiety are in my family's medical history. I have a genetic predisposition towards them. My brain will take the worst case scenario and try to convince me that that is the only possible outcome. Back then, it was usually successful.

Mild aside: this right here is why I've said that I was raised Christian, but not that I am. I'm not anymore. It's complicated and personal, but the biggest thing I struggle with in that is the idea of a loving God creating someone with a genetic predisposition (read: not a fallout of free will) to truly believe that the world is better off without them. I won't mention it much like this, and I'm not trying to offend, just provide a bit of backstory and reasoning for where I'm at. Anyways....

Life situation can make depression more or less likely, but it is not fucking possible to look at someone and determine whether or not they have mental health problems. I've seen a number of analogies for this. My two favourite are:

• What do you mean you can't breathe? There's plenty of air in here! (to an asthmatic)
• There are people with more money, more friends, and overall better lives than you, so how on earth can you claim to be happy?

I think we can all agree that those are ridiculous.

So is saying (to yourself or someone else) "Your life is too good for you to be depressed."

I Don't Mean to Offend (aka. It's Time to Pull the Trigger)

This blog contains potentially offensive subject matter. It may offend you. It may trigger you. I am open to discussing anything that is written here, as long as we can both be level-headed about it.

Keep reading it.

"But it could trigger me." So could experiencing life. Read in small doses.

"But I disagree with you on..." As I said, I'm perfectly happy to discuss. Who knows, you might even change my mind. (Not likely, but possible. I've spent a lot of time considering the things I write about. It would take a drastically new presentation or perspective, but those do exist.)

"But you offend me." Well, in that case, feel free to leave.

What?

You heard me. (Well, you read what I wrote. Close enough.)

I am perfectly happy to discuss things. I am distinctly less willing to be yelled at, verbally or otherwise, for offending someone by expressing my opinions and experiences.

When people respond to things through a lens of offense, they're significantly less open to what the other person has to say. In fact, they're more likely, I've found, to write the person off entirely.

My goal with this blog is not, in fact, to offend anyone. It's to express my struggles in a way that some people may (hopefully) find relatable, and to then advise on what helped me through those struggles (also to share favourite recipes, because baking is one of my favourite hobbies). It might help other people, and it might not. I have no idea; everybody's different. And yes, I do mean everybody.

But guess what.

We've all got stuff in common too.

Remember, the person writing this is also able to be offended, but on different things.

I would love to read your reactions to what I write, whether you're agreeing with me or not. If, however, you start attacking me, we're going to have a problem.

Now, back to triggers. That's somewhat of a hot topic these days, I hear, and there tend to be two main reactions:

• Trigger warning everything so we don't risk accidentally setting someone off
• Ignore (or even mock) triggers and warnings and proceed as usual

For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, 

"A “trigger” is something that affects those who suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). It viscerally reminds them of a past traumatic experience, and provokes an extreme and maladaptive negative emotional response. The trigger itself is not harmful, but is something in a person’s environment that reminds that person of past trauma. The thinking behind issuing trigger warnings is that for people who have experienced trauma, distress will be reduced by warning them about possible ways in which they could be “triggered” by content that could remind them of their traumatic experience. The warning ostensibly allows them to mentally prepare for the challenge of confronting potentially triggering material, or to avoid the prospective trigger altogether."

(Psych Today)

The article goes on to say that "severe emotional reactions are not an indication that professors or others should warn students in advance that material could be triggering for those with PTSD, nor that potentially triggering material should be removed from the syllabi. Constantly warning people with PTSD about possible triggers could potentially even interfere with their recovery." So, leaning more to the second form of reaction. This is from a Harvard psychology professor and PTSD expert.

What I can say from experience is that life is full of triggers that come without warnings. We can only affix warnings to so much. If you struggle with something, you will likely be triggered at some point. Hiding from it will only make it hit that much harder. However, going out and brazenly doing things that you know will trigger you can put you in over your head and make matters worse.

I have a problem with knives. When I see one, my first, instinctive thought tends toward cutting myself. I haven't done so ever, but it's come close a number of times.

Some days, I know I'm strong enough to handle a knife and slice and dice whatever I need. Other days I'm too tired or stressed or something and it is not a good idea. Whenever I'm entering such a scenario, I stop and check in with myself. "Can I handle this today, or is it too much?" (Mindfulness is a big deal!)

I went and saw the movie Logan in theatres with my dad and two best friends. I love Marvel movies and was excited for this one. There's a scene in the movie in which a girl (maybe 10 years old?) with claws like Wolverine's uses them to cut her wrists.

I sat through the rest of the movie. I'm not quite sure how. I think basically that I was holding in the panic attack because I wanted to see the movie. I made it to the end (barely). I was a bit of a wreck for the next couple of days. I've not watched the movie again since. I enjoyed the overall story, but I need to be having a really good day to be able to handle that, and I don't really want to risk ruining a really good day like that. Not for a movie I've already seen.

Basically, the way I see it, enough exposure to the stressful situation in ways that I can handle can make me more able to handle it when it pops up unexpectedly. And then, if I can't handle it, I temporarily remove myself from the situation until I can. Continued avoidance, however, will strengthen the fear and anxiety, which is the opposite of what I want.

One quick analogy.

Picture anxiety as a monster.

How you react either feeds it or starves it. Running is food. Facing it in a way you can handle is how you starve it. You put on your armor and it can't hurt you.

If you keep facing it, it keeps getting weaker and weaker. It's still a monster, still unpleasant, but it's weaker.

If it's weaker, then when it does jump out at you, it's easier to handle.

But if you decide to face it on a day that you don't have the energy to wear any armor, then you're going to have to run away. Then you've just put yourself in a scenario where you have to feed it, so it grows stronger.

Pay attention to yourself.

Be nice to yourself.

Be strong when you can and rest when you need.

Then the monster will shrink, and you can go on with your life.

Upside-Down Gingerbread Apple Cake

The heathen cake I mentioned last week actually turned out well! Well, "well for how little chocolate is in it".

I understand that there are people in the world who don't like chocolate. I don't understand how or why, but I am aware that they (/you) exist. You are free to have your opinion, as long as I'm free to call you a heathen.

Chocolate is life.

But that doesn't mean everything else is death. On a spectrum between life and death, this cake is purgatory. It may not be chocolate, but it could be a hell of a lot worse.

You'll need a springform pan. Preferably about a 10" one.

Ingredients

• 1/4 cup (1/8 lb) butter or margarine
• 1/4 cup brown sugar
• 3 apples, peeled (whatever variety you prefer)
  
• 1/2 cup (1/4 lb) butter or margarine
• 1/2 cup white sugar
• 2 eggs
• 1 cup molasses
  
• 2 1/2 cups cake & pastry flour (in this one you'd be allowed to use all purpose if you'd like)
• 1 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 2 tbsp cinnamon
• 2 tbsp ginger
• 1 tbsp cloves
• 1/2 tsp salt
  
• 1 cup hot water (I recommend boiling the water when you start mixing things. It'll cool down a bit but still be plenty warm by the time you need it.)

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven to 350F. (If you're following my advice, also boil water. If not, why are you reading my recipe?)
2. Melt 1/4 cup of butter.
3. Spread melted butter around the bottom of the springform pan.
4. Add brown sugar evenly to buttered springform pan.
5. Slice enough apple (as thinly as you can manage) to go around the inside of the springform. Make sure there's apple from the edge to the centre.
6. If you'd like to, grease the springform now. (I don't usually. I just use a knife to loosen it from the sides. Your choice.)
7. Cream the 1/2 cup butter and white sugar until light and fluffy. (Once again, stand mixers are a wonderful help with this step!)
8. Mix in the eggs and molasses.
9. Chop the remaining apple (if you have any) and add it to the mix.
10. Add the dry ingredients and mix.
11. Add the no-longer-boiling-but-still-hot water and mix. Thus completeth the batter.
12. Pour the batter into the springform (over the apple).
13. Bake at 350F for 45-50min, or, until you can poke the middle with a toothpick and have it come out clean.
14. Allow to cool before removing the springform. (Maybe wash some dishes?)
15. Flip, slice, and serve.

See, I wasn't bluffing. There's actually no chocolate in it at all! But it still tastes good (assuming you like gingerbread and apples. If you like gingerbread but not apples, try other fruit! I've heard canned pears work well, as long as you pat them dry first).

Also, if you're like me and forget to add the rest of the apples (step 9), you have a handy snack to eat while waiting for the cake to heat up and cool down.

Peace and Quiet in Stressful Times (aka Mindfulness 101)

"We cannot prevent birds from flying over our heads, but we can keep them from making nests on top of our heads. Similarly, bad thoughts sometimes appear in our mind, but we can choose whether we allow them to live there, to create a nest for themselves, and to breed evil deeds." ~ Leo Tolstoy

I said in my first post that I try to remember to be quiet sometimes, and I'd expand on that later. It's been two weeks. I think this is "later" enough.

So there's this thing called mindfulness that anyone with mental illness will likely hear referenced until their doctor's blue in the face. I've heard it from my GP, a few counsellors, a depression program, magazines, app ads, ...

What is it?

It took a few people explaining it for me to feel like I was finally starting to understand, and I still need reminders every so often, but here's what I've got for you. It is:

• distancing yourself from your thoughts. Taking them less personally, and not letting them overwhelm you.
• understanding that thoughts enter your head as they like, and it's up to you to respond to them appropriately. Another way I've heard it is that thoughts happen to us. When I have a flashback, that wasn't my choice, but then how I respond is important. It's considered wise to listen to the thought, understand where it's coming from, and then evaluate it. There's likely something useful in there. Find what's useful, discard the rest.
• taking a break from craziness to check in with yourself. "How is my mood? How is my body? Is my head foggy? Do I need a snack?" Things like food and drink can greatly affect your mood, so checking in periodically to make sure your body is taken care of can relieve pressure in your mind.
• keeping in touch. Practising mindfulness becomes a habit, so that, when things happen, your first response doesn't have to be freaking out.

I'm not going to claim that I'm good at this, and, at first, I had a lot of difficulty seeing the value in it. Now, a few years in, I'm sometimes able to remember to use it.

Example:

I'm bussing to the other side of town. The side of town, in fact, where I'm more likely to run into my ex. Anxiety is constantly building up as I'm getting ready, leaving my place, getting on the bus, and walking around down there. I notice this anxiety (it's kind of hard not to notice my throat restricting so I can barely breathe) and force myself to physically stop moving. Sit down, if there's a seat conveniently close. This prevents lightheadedness and fears of fainting, allowing more of the brain to focus on brain thoughts.

Think:

Do I see him now? No.

Am I certain I will see him? No.

What happened last time I saw him? We ignored each other.

Is there a reason that wouldn't happen again? No.

Will I enjoy it? Of course not.

Will I survive the encounter? Most likely. (I hate making certainty guesses about the future. Too many unknowns. But, given the information I do have, this could be a yes. It just isn't because there is still room for unknown variables.)

So yes, there is discomfort here, but it's not life-threatening. Now I have a plan to handle the situation, in case it does arise (ignore him), and that plan does not involve unhealthy behaviour.

I successfully left my place to run an errand, wandering around leisurely and calmly until I'd found everything I was after and taken the time to look at other things that caught my eye.

Finally, as I was done my errand and getting ready to come home, I did the most important step of this whole process: the reward.

I pushed myself. I did something that I felt was important for good reasons. I then give myself positive reinforcement, helping it to become a positive experience in my memory, which helps make it easier next time.

Coffee tastes best when it's earned.

Life's not Fair

"With my luck" is a common way of saying "worst case scenario" these days. Is everyone's luck really that abysmal? Is the world entirely fucked? Well, maybe.

Counterpoint: "Every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant." (Doctor Who s05e10 Vincent and the Doctor)

What if "luck" is just another word for "perspective". I mean outside of casinos. Circumstances in life are like fruit. Some are bigger deals than others. A watermelon is bigger than a grape. Some people like some fruits and not others. I can't stand bananas. Sometimes it takes the right framework to like a thing. I like banana chocolate chip muffins.

What if we're looking at all of the spots and bruises on the fruits and not stopping to remember that they do also taste good. Just eat around the gross part? Focus on the positive?

I've found that our culture has become fairly pessimistic and self deprecating. It's no wonder, then, that there's been an increase in mental illness. At least depression. If we're always expecting the worst and putting ourselves down, it's not going to end well for our self-esteem.

Some people don't have this problem. I envy them. Of course, then I need to remind myself that they likely have other problems, like not being able to relate to people. (/sarcasm.) I mean, I was taught to not be prideful, and always be humble. It took me a very long time to understand the difference between humility and humiliation, and humility as a virtue.

Humiliate (v.): to make (someone) feel ashamed and foolish by injuring their dignity and pride.
Humility (n.): the quality of having a modest or low view of one's importance.
(Oxford Dictionary)
Humility (virtue): not denying your strengths but accepting your weaknesses. Humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less. Humility is thinking more of others. (Rick Warren)

Humiliation is involuntary. It's something other people do to you. Humility is something you bring on yourself. Whether or not it's "virtuous" depends on your motivation.

It's become very easy to self-victimize, to assume that the world is out to get us. That's still thinking me-centric. If you really want to be humble, don't talk down about yourself, just don't talk about yourself.

But that's not exactly easy. We are naturally self-centred. I am only aware of my own experiences unless I make an effort to try to make myself aware of others', and even then, it's only through the lens of my experiences that I can understand theirs.

Sorry, that was hard to follow. At least, I had trouble following it. Let me try again.

Jane killed someone (Hilda) and went to jail. Her child, Max, grew up without a mother. So did Hilda's child, Rosie. Rosie grows up, knowing none of the story except Jane killed Hilda. Rosie wants revenge. Rosie kills Jane. That's fair, right? An eye for an eye? But Max had nothing to do with either murder, yet suffered for both. Also, why did Jane kill Hilda? Was it a complete accident, carelessness, or premeditated? Was it revenge? Would Rosie just be continuing the cycle.

What's right for one person isn't always right for everyone. Sometimes there isn't an option that's right for everyone. With everyone having their own set of perspectives and morals, it's impossible for life to balance out equally for everyone. The best we can do is try to keep other peoples' perspectives and morals in mind and try not to harm them.



Wow, I've really meandered all over the place on this post.

Okay, so basically, to sum it all up:

• Luck is a matter of perspective.
• Humiliation is bad.
• Humility can be a good thing, as long as you're still nice to yourself. Likewise, pride can be okay, as long as you're still nice to other people.
• Life isn't fair. It's up to us to be nice to each other.

Honest, that's what I think I said above. Apologies that it came out so mangled. Congratulations on getting through it!

Narcoleptic Insomniac, and a few other oxymorons that describe me

Do you ever feel like there's something about you that just doesn't make sense? Welcome to the human race. Everywhere I look, people these days like going out of their way to prove how weird, strange, or downright crazy they are. The weird thing to me is, most of them seem perfectly normal.

Being weird no longer makes you an outcast. It's what makes you noticeable, and therefore popular. Sure, there's good weird and bad weird, but either one will get you noticed. Either will get you attention. It's up to you to project the right type of weird to get the desired attention.

Some people, however, still feel the need to act normal. Do they not like attention? Do they like being ignored? Or is their Weird a little too strange for other people, or garnering an uncomfortable type of attention?

Aldous Huxley's Brave New World is described as dystopian. Post-WWIII, the world united into a peaceful World State. People are hatched in factories, predestined for a certain caste, which will determine their job and social group. As for society, "Mond explains that social stability has required the sacrifice of art, science, and religion. John protests that, without these things, human life is not worth living." (sparknotes)

When I first read Brave New World, I saw it as a sort of paradise. Ignoring the sexual side of their civilization, everyone knew exactly where they stood in life and could easily relate with and to others in their social group.

Everyone's brain works somewhat differently. That's part of being human, being unique. Between nature and nurture, everyone's experience, though relatable, is exclusively their own. When I say my brain works differently than that of people around me, I don't mean like this. I mean that I have difficulties communicating with people, almost daily, because I don't know how to get my point across. What makes sense to me is strange and completely unheard of to other people. When I was young, my dad and I would argue (like, really going at it) until my mom or sister came in and pointed out that we were, in fact, saying the same thing. They just needed to reword both of our arguments until we realized it. As such, I've become adept to explaining myself (usually). There are, however, still often times in which I need someone to explain themselves multiple different ways before I'll know for certain that I'm understanding what they're trying to say.

In Brave New World, I wouldn't have that problem.

Having written this, I'm nervous that the takeaway is that I'm trying to say I'm more unique than you. That's actually not the case. I think what I'm trying to say is more along the lines of "feel free to ask for clarification on anything I write, because there's a decent chance that I didn't say what I meant to." Also, that it's difficult for me to find people for whom I'm not constantly rephrasing what I say so that we both understand what I'm saying. I sometimes get tired of constantly repeating myself. This combination of facts makes for a great deal of loneliness.

Embrace your weird. It's what makes you You. But also embrace your normal. That's what makes you relatable.

As promised in the title, here are some lovely oxymorons that describe me. Feel free to comment with your own!

• Divorced virgin (explained previously)
• Narcoleptic insomniac (I can fall asleep basically anywhere except in bed. I've fallen asleep on a roller coaster before, and at a rock concert, but in bed at night it takes me a few hours to finally drift off, if I ever do)
• Shy extrovert (I need people around, but they have to be the right people. Mostly, introverts. Extroverts tend to scare me as they're often loud and unpredictable)
• Hopeful pessimist (I have a firm and unyielding belief that Murphy's law is more accurate than that of gravity. I still, however, often have the viewpoint of "what's the worst that can happen?" and/or "there's no harm in trying". These two do not often mix well.)
• Non-reading bibliophile (I don't have the attention span to sit down and read things often. The number of books I've gotten halfway through and then just forgotten to finish is rather depressing. But I love having books around, and I'll buy it if it looks interesting enough.)
• Cheap shopaholic (I hate spending money, but at the same time I really enjoy thrift shopping, grocery shopping, and browsing stores online to find new and exciting things.)

Suicide: The Heaviest of Topics

Yes, I'm likely going to offend you. I'm sorry (not really). If you can't handle other peoples' opinions on serious matters, please, for the love of [insert what you love here], stop reading this blog. Or at least this post. Please.

If you struggle with thoughts of suicide, this post is quite likely to trigger you. I recommend you also stop reading here.

To the one person still reading, here we go.

I'm not currently, but I have been suicidal in my life. (Big surprise, right?) I've also been told that such actions are incredibly selfish. Some people even go so far as to say it's the most selfish thing you can do. Those people need to never talk to me. Ever. I have no words for you.

The fact that you would see someone so hopeless in life, and try to push guilt on them... just wow.

"I'm not trying to-" Bullshit. Calling someone selfish is not a compliment.

If you're trying to get someone to change their mind, great. But don't take a desperate person and give them more negativity. That's literally the last thing they could ever need.

I'm an atychiphobe. I also have arsonphobia (fire), gephyrophobia (bridges), mild arachnophobia (spiders). But I am an atychiphobe.

Did you notice the different wordings I used? Three of them, yes I deal with. One of them defines me. I don't like it, and I try not to let it, but it is utterly crippling. I absolutely cannot handle the thought of possibly letting anyone down. Atychiphobia: Fear of failure. So yes, if you come up to me, an atychiphobe, and tell me that killing myself will disappoint everyone around me, that will cause me to pause. However, the only reason I was considering it in the first place is that I was utterly exhausted from trying to keep everyone else happy. I live my life trying to make the lives of others easier. Could they not allow me this one? Adding guilt to the exhaustion was only making me more desperate to find a way out.

"It's a permanent solution to a temporary problem." I'd been severely depressed for a few years. My husband had just left me. I had no job. I had moved back into my parents' basement. That's a lot of problems, each of which take a lot of effort to weather. It doesn't exactly feel 'temporary' in the middle of it.

And yet, here I am today. Not a scar on my wrist, no actual attempts of suicide in my past. How?

Simple. Believe it or not, not everyone in this world is a jackass.

Some people took the time to listen to what was going on, hugged me when I needed it, and helped me celebrate the small victories. Yes, it felt stupid sometimes, to reward myself with a chocolate bar for getting off of the couch. However, positive reinforcement was what I needed to remind myself of why I do things.

Was it easy for them? Hell no. I woke up a couple of times with my mother curled up at the foot of my couch, because she'd been unable to relax without being able to keep an eye on me and make sure I was safe. I had friends dropping what they were doing and coming to pick me up when I was walking down the street and decided that I wanted to step out into traffic.

But they never let me feel like a burden.

They made it clear to me that what they were doing to help was entirely their choice, and they made that choice because they wanted to continue to have me in their life.

Now I have a wonderful significant other who reminds me every day how much we mean to each other. If I leave, not only am I letting them down, but also myself.

I'm no longer at risk, but I know people who are. To them I've always said: my phone is almost always on (sometimes I do go to movies, and sometimes I forget to charge it, but I try to be available). If you need to talk, call me. If you feel bad waking me up, text me.

One of my favourite quotes that helped me through this: Life is tough but so are you.
I'd been through a fair bit. But my survival rate thus far was 100%, and that's pretty damn good.

And two songs that I'd listen to on repeat for hours on end when the night was darkest:
Memphis May Fire: Divinity (Christian Screamo)
Icon For Hire: Invincible (Electronic Pop meets Alternative Rock?)

Lifeline (an American suicide prevention organization with a toll-free number and online help)
1-800-273-8255

Canadian Mental Health Association (CMHA) has a list of local crisis lines, and a toll-free number
1-888-353-2273

You're not alone.

Chocolate Cake!

The highlight of my life is chocolate cake. It's cheap and easy, and it doesn't leave me feeling dirty or violated! (Yes, that was a sex joke. Probably not the last one, either. If it offends you, you're reading the wrong blog.)

Today is my sister's birthday, and my nephew's birthday party is tomorrow, so I'm making all kinds of cake today. My sister was a bit of a heathen and requested something besides chocolate, but I'm still using this recipe for the nephew!

Dark Chocolate Cake

Ingredients:

• 1 cup boiling water
• 1/2 cup cocoa
• 1 1/4 cups cake and pastry flour (yes, it really makes a difference!)
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1/4 tsp baking powder
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 1/2 cup butter or margarine, softened (also known as a 1/4 lb)
• 1 cup white sugar
• 3 eggs
• 1 tsp vanilla

Instructions:

1. Thoroughly mix the boiling water and cocoa. Set them aside to cool. (I have a milk frother, which does a wonderful job of mixing cocoa into things like this, or coffee. It's a cheap, small, battery-operated utensil that I find quite useful and highly recommend. I got mine at Ikea for less than $10. I've also seen them at some grocery stores.)
2. Cream together the butter and sugar until fluffy. (If you have a KitchenAid stand mixer or equivalent, use it for this stuff. Keep the thing going until everything is in this bowl.)
3. Add the eggs and vanilla to the butter and sugar, mixing constantly.
4. Separately, mix together the dry ingredients. (Also known as all of the remaining ingredients.)
5. To the butter mixture, alternatively add the dry ingredients and the cocoa mixture. (If using the aforementioned stand mixer, make sure you scrape the sides down at some point, or you'll likely have some butter-sugar that didn't mix well with the rest.)
6. Pour the batter into a greased 11-inch cake pan. (Alternatively, a collection of smaller cake pans, or even a muffin pan for cupcakes! You'll want to reduce the baking time then)
7. Bake at 350F for 25-30min (check at 20min if you're making smaller ones.)
8. Let cool before frosting. Alternatively, lightly dust with icing sugar. Or just eat it plain.

*Note* This recipe makes 4 cups of cake batter. I used a mold that required 6 cups, so I whipped up some cheesecake to put in the middle. Had I known exactly how much it had made earlier, I would have made a double batch. Letting you know so you don't get stuck like I did.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to figure out something with gingerbread and apples for my heathen of a sister.... (grumble grumble) .... depending on how it turns out, I'll have another recipe for you soon! Don't blame me that it doesn't involve chocolate.

Virgin Mary 2.0?

I don't know about you, but I was brought up to consider it rude to ask someone if they're pregnant. It's a thing that people joke about sometimes, but I'm pretty sure it's something you're not supposed to do.

I once worked in a mostly female environment (I think about 80% if I'm remembering correctly). I was full time, as was nearly everyone I worked with. My regular shift was 7am-3pm.

I am not a morning person.

I tried to be one for the job. I'd go to bed early, and then proceed to lie there for hours until I was able to sleep, wake up at 5:30, and feel nauseous. It probably didn't help that I had an untreated anxiety disorder, and didn't particularly like my job. Most days I was able to just get over it. Every other week or so, however, I was actually throwing up and had to call in sick. My boss told me that if, later in the shift, I was feeling better, then I was to come in. Pretty much every time I was fine by around 10 or 11, once I'd gone back to sleep and woken up more naturally.

I am very aware of how this looks. In fact, it gets worse. This was going on in the year in which I was married. So, newly wed, reliably sick in mornings, fine later in the day. Of course people thought I was pregnant. They didn't know that I hadn't yet been able to have sex. It didn't matter how much I insisted I wasn't. The response I got? "You're newly married and don't know you're own body. You're pregnant."

It's been four years.

I've had no children (or miscarriages).

I am not, in fact, the second coming of Mary. I just really, absolutely, undeniably, am NOT a morning person.

The End of an Era

I said earlier that I don't regret my marriage ending.
Some of you may already be up in arms about that. It's okay. I can explain. I think.

Basically, it was not a healthy relationship and it's better that it ended.
I do have regrets relating to it, but I'm no longer sad that it ended.

Regret #1: Neither of us knew about mental health

I was first diagnosed with depression in January 2010. Knowing what I know now, I'd had it at least two and a half years already. But neither I nor my family knew that at the time. Well, they might have thought so, but I had no idea. I knew I sometimes was in a really bad mood and nothing could cheer me up. That became all I knew of depression.

A lot of people like to draw a parallel between mental health and diabetes. It's ongoing, needs to be managed properly to avoid catastrophe, and sometimes (but not always) requires medication. Ironically, my ex is diabetic. He hated that about himself. He rebelled against it. He was diagnosed with that just over a month before we started dating. We learned together.

Neither of us bothered to learn about depression. Or anxiety, which was kind of lumped in to my diagnosis. Again, with what I know now, I'd had general anxiety at least five years, OCD at least eight. But they were all in my head. I just needed to be strong and control myself. That's what I told myself, and therefore what some people around me repeated.

It's easy to fall into those lies. But lies they are.

Regret #2: Our relationship lasted longer than it should have

Our interests had developed, as those of young adults do, and they had diverged. I don't know about him, but I know I made the conscious decision that "this can work as long as we're both willing to work for it," without stopping to evaluate whether or not it was actually a good idea. I like patterns, sometimes to keep to them rigidly (OCD, remember) and sometimes to purposely break out of them to see what happens and what sort of reactions I get. This was a pattern I kept.

Keeping him meant doing things he liked. I did things we used to enjoy together, and he considered that "humouring me." The things I'd always liked and he never had were things that I let slip, usually, for the sake of being with him. I didn't really notice this happening for the most part, until I looked back and wondered what had happened to my hobbies.

I'm making this sound like a one-sided relationship. That's not my intent. We both felt we were making sacrifices for the other. I, however, can only write my side.

A little over halfway through our marriage, however, it did become one-sided. He has since told me this. He decided he wanted out, but hated making waves. So he started doing little things, and then bigger things, trying to get me to be the one to leave him. Unfortunately for him, I'm one of the most stubborn people I know. I was miserable, but my misery was familiar, so I kept it. As one of my favourite songs goes, "depression's like a big fur coat, it's made of dead things but it keeps me warm. (Icon For Hire - Iodine)

Regret #3: The ungraceful ending

I lied to people I loved, saying that everything was fine when it wasn't.
Then I went back and said it wasn't fine, but I didn't say how not-fine it was.
By the time we asked for help, he was done and just going along with it to placate me.
I was desperately grabbing for anything I could, like Mufasa just before he died (spoiler alert?).
I forgot what the truth was. I said what first came to mind. There are some relationships I had that haven't been the same since.

People sometimes ask me if I miss him. That's a very weird question. It sounds like a simple binary question, but "yes" sounds defeated and hopeless, while "no" feels cold and callous.
I miss what we had.
I miss how we felt.
I miss being able to trust people when they say they'll never leave.
But I don't miss the mind games.
I don't miss being blamed for my depression.
I don't miss feeling like I was the reason his life was difficult, and if I disappeared, everything would be okay.

Do I miss him?
No, because I know who he turned into, and I cannot be healthy in that atmosphere.

Do I regret marrying him?
Yes, because I was already working hard to make it work before then, and wasn't ready for bigger problems ahead.
No, because that level of pain and heartbreak was necessary to push me to finally get the help I'd needed for over five years.

Do I wish things had gone differently?
Some days. Really, though, the only path I know the ending to is the one I'm on. Changing something way back then could mean I'm still sitting around feeling guilty for feeling lazy because of my depression. The road has, by no means, been easy, but that doesn't mean I'd change it.

Am I happy with where I'm at now?
Yes.
It's not perfect, but life isn't. My family understands, my significant other understands, and I understand that sometimes I just need a hug and some chocolate, but not all problems are that simple. If I need to talk, I talk. If I don't, then I don't. I'm quite lucky to have such wonderful people in my life.

Couch Gravity

In yesterday's post, I detailed the decisions that keep me in bed, or on the couch, or somesuch comfortable location. Today, I give it all a term. I've been using the term for about three years now, since I came up with it.

Couch gravity (n): A state of being in which one cannot muster the required forces (strength, energy, etc.) necessary to get off of one's ass and actually do something. Not exclusive to couches, this can also apply to beds, armchairs, particularly comfortable floors, and other such locations on which one can flop down and stay put for a seemingly infinite amount of time.

When I first moved back in to my parents' house after my divorce, I resumed sleeping in the basement, where my bedroom was. I was trying to continue life as usual and pretend nothing was wrong. I was also trying to face life head on and deal with it.

I still didn't know what depression actually was.

My sister called one day and asked if I'd like to sign up for a program she'd heard of through a hospital that works with her place of employment. The program was for treating depression. I had nothing to lose but time and bus fare, and my parents offered to pay the bus fare, so I went. The first thing I learned was just how pervasive depression actually is. I learned this by doing one quick questionnaire, designed to assess how depressed I was. It's called Beck's Depression Inventory, or BDI-II (second edition). For those who don't know what it is:

"The Beck Depression Inventory (BDI) is a 21-item, self-rated scale that evaluates key symptoms of depression including mood, pessimism, sense of failure, self-dissatisfaction, guilt, punishment, self-dislike, self-accusation, suicidal ideas, crying, irritability, social withdrawal, indecisiveness, body image change, work difficulty, insomnia, fatigability, loss of appetite, weight loss, somatic preoccupation, and loss of libido" (Beck & Steer, 1993; Beck, Steer & Garbing, 1988).

I'd only heard of the mood part and suicidal ideas. Did you notice that last little thing, tucked in neatly at the end of the list, "loss of libido"? Suddenly, every problem my ex had had with me was because of my depression, and/or how little either of us knew about it. This is not to say I was blameless. I am human. He is human. We made mistakes. Some bigger than others, yes. Some that have scarred me to this day, yes. But that's not my point.

I had been diagnosed with depression almost six years previous, and yet managed to know little enough about it that it consumed my life and pooped out my marriage.

Not looking to assign blame, but I should have done my research. I like doing research. Unfortunately, there's this stigma around mental health. I wanted to pretend it didn't exist. I wanted to be a perfectly adequate human, not needing counselling or medication or anything. If I'd had a problem with any other organ, vital or otherwise, the chances of random people I didn't know telling me that I didn't need treatment and just needed to "be strong" would be significantly lower. Who does that? Well, let's see...

One time I was on call for a store in my chain, but not my usual store. They needed me. I went in. I forgot my meds. Called my parents, they dropped them off, fine.
Coworker: "If you don't mind me asking, what are you medicated for?" (Some people can't believe how rude this is, other's can't understand why it's considered rude. It happened. I didn't care. Moving on.)
Me: (Not offended) "Depression and anxiety"
Coworker (who I've known for all of an hour at this point, during most of which we've been serving customers and not talking) proceeds to go on a rant about how difficult her life has been and she doesn't need antidepressants so why in the world am I taking them, what right do I have to claim that I need them, and why would I just accept that and not try to be strong enough to not need them.
I was no longer "not offended".

As previously stated, my family is Christian. That's how I grew up. One of the things taught earlier on in sunday school is what's called the Fruit of the Spirit. The idea is that when you accept that you need Jesus, he gives you the Holy Spirit. The Fruits of the Spirit are the signs that the spirit is working in you, making you a better person. I can still recite them. The second one is joy. (The full list is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, and self-control. Found somewhere in Galatians.) How am I supposed to have joy if I'm depressed? Should the Holy Spirit not fix that part of my brain? Do I believe in faith-healing? This was a giant can of worms that I struggled with for many years before finally leaving the church, but not before hearing one Christmastime sermon (either the Sunday directly before or after Christmas) in which a pastor actually said "If you are a Christian, you have no right to not feel hope."

...so yes, people are, in fact, difficult to deal with when it comes to mental health. I'm trying to change that. Feel free to help me; I could use all the help I can get. Some ideas:

• Don't judge people for (anything, really, but mostly) being lazy or cancelling plans frequently. It's hard. I know. And not everyone who does this has mental health problems, but some of us do and just hide it well as a survival instinct. Feel free to challenge people to try to get better, but be gentle.
• Be willing to listen to people and what they're struggling with. Ask if they'd like advice before you give it. Sometimes the easiest solution for you is completely overwhelming for me. Sometimes I know what I need to do, I just need to vent about it and let the pressure out so that when I do act, I can do so level-headedly.
• Remember that different people can handle different things. Just because someone's life seems easy doesn't mean it is.
• Encourage people to take care of themselves. All illnesses require treatments. Sometimes that's self-care, like sleeping through a headache. Sometimes it's medication, like taking antibiotics for strep throat. Sometimes it's seeking professional help, like going to physiotherapy after breaking a bone.

Everybody's different. That's what makes life exciting. There's not a formula for helping people. That's what makes life difficult. There are two sides to every coin. It's up to us to flip it.

Decisions, Decisions

I've never met someone who likes making decisions. Like, avidly seeks them out, saying things like "I wonder what kind of choices I'll get to make today." So, it should come to no surprise to anybody that I don't like them, because you probably don't either.

Well, I figured something out this morning, while lying in bed awake for a few hours.

Hours?

Yes, hours. You see, there was this choice I had to make: is it worthwhile to get out of bed?

What kind of choice is that? It's the kind of choice I'm faced with multiple times a day. Not because I find myself in bed that often, but because my brain breaks things down so minutely that any little action takes a large number of decisions.

Do I want to get out of bed?
Should I shower? Do I have time to shower?
If yes, should I wash my hair?
A washing-hair-shower takes more energy than a non-washing-hair-shower. Do I have that much energy? What about time?
What should I wear?
How hungry am I?
Do I need to eat before the shower or can it wait until after?
What do I feel like eating?
Do I have the time/energy/necessary foodstuffs to eat that?

Most people, from what I understand, have a fairly routine morning. Most of these decisions are already made, and they can go through them in an almost zombie-like state. I will admit, I'm jealous of these people. Even when I worked a full-time, regular schedule job, these decisions were problematic.

Do I have time to press snooze?
I can either press snooze or shower. Do I really need that shower?
I pressed snooze the last three days. I feel gross. But bed is comfy.
I can either press snooze or make coffee. There's coffee at work, but I still need to get there first.
I can either press snooze or eat breakfast. I need to eat. My stomach's already growling. But that means getting out of bed. Bed is comfy.
I can either press snooze or be on time for work. Shit. I went too far again.

The frequency with which I found myself getting out of bed and out the door within 10min is actually kind of embarrassing. Also kind of prideful. It's strange. Like, it feels like a superpower that I don't want, and knowing it's there makes the decisions even harder tomorrow.

The decisions, unfortunately, don't stop when I finally find myself out of bed and ready to go.

Let's say I have social plans, like, say, coffee with a friend.
Do I keep them? I want to see my friend. I like coffee.
Do I cancel? It means not having to go out. I can save my energy for other things. I'm sure they'll understand.
Typically, I try to arrange to have people met me at my place. Then they can come in or we can go out, but the initial "ugh, I have to leave my house" is avoided, and plans are therefore more likely to be followed through. However, then I feel the need to look at my place and evaluate how clean it is, compared to how clean I'd like it to be for my friend.
Do I spend my time cleaning? Do I bake something? Baking makes more of a mess, but tastes good.

As you can see, there is an utterly paralyzing number of decisions to make every single day.

But why?
Why am I like this?
Are you like this?
Am I just being over-dramatic and blowing things out of proportion? Maybe, but I don't think so.

Also, going back to the very beginning of this, what did I figure out this morning?

There's a strong correlation between depression and laziness. Strong enough, in fact, that a lot of people can't tell which label fits them.
But depression isn't laziness. At least, that's what my doctors and counsellors tell me.

What do I think? Depression is your brain playing devil's advocate on every decision I make. That's why they feel so big.
"If you wear that shirt today, you won't be able to wear it to [thing] later this week. We both know you won't be doing laundry before then."
"If you have chocolate cake for breakfast, you're not getting proper nourishment. But Cheerios don't taste as good. You haven't made muffins, so those will take forever." It's frequently easier to just not eat.
"If you stay in bed, you'll be warm and cozy, but feel guilty for all of those things you had time for and didn't accomplish."

I already know that depression means my brain is sick. It's literally called a "mental illness". That means it's not working right, which could be said either as "it's not working" or "it's working wrong". Therefore, rather than streamlining the decision-making process to make it as quick and painless as possible, it does the opposite. It balloons every decision until the thought of getting out of bed in the morning is overwhelming, so I don't. But then I feel guilty, because I wanted to do things and didn't. So I get mad at myself. So the depression gets stronger.
And the cycle continues.
And worsens.
Strengthening.
Repeating.
Until someone makes a decision for me. And suddenly the whole thing stops dead, awaiting my brains response. Accept or explode?
But that's just a yes or no.
A binary choice.
Monosyllabic.
And that is something I can handle.

Beauty Rant

I posted this to facebook a few months ago. It's still relevant, so I'm putting it up here, with some slight editing.

Caution: rant ahead. If you don't want to read the full unaltered rage of a 20-something white girl, stop here and read no further.
You have been warned.
And yes, there will be swearing.
Not excessive, but strongly used with no holds barred.

TL;DR - Yes, I'm cute. Yes, I'm friendly. No, I won't fuck you. Get over it. Or don't, and let me call the cops on your ass. Your choice :)

So I've been told that I'm physically attractive. Depending on who says it and how, I have mixed reactions, between:
-thank you
-flat out denial
-apologizing
-....worse (we'll get to that momentarily)

No, I'm not ranting about grammar or inflection.

I'm upset with the societal hangup over fucking appearances, and judging people by different standards personality-wise because of how they look.

People get mad at me for forgetting to eat. That's fair (sort of). For my body to continue to function, it needs fuel. People want me to keep existing. The fact that I'm not intentionally "not eating" but actually honestly forgetting means that you don't need to be super concerned. As much as I appreciate your concern, I also appreciate my adult freedom to make my own mistakes, and have never eaten little enough to have severe negative anything. Sometimes my anxiety will straight-up prevent me from being able to choke anything down. I will balance it out.

People also get mad at me for being super skinny, especially if they see me eating a lot. This was more common before depression stole my appetite, but still happens.

Yes, I can eat an entire pizza in one sitting.
Or a loaf of bread as french toast.
Or a huge stack of pancakes.

I have a high metabolism. I come by that naturally (just ask anyone related to me). I don't know how that works with my forgetting to eat, but it's not a choice I make, it's how my body happens to work right now.

I'm sorry that that may not be your case. As far as I'm concerned, people are too focused on their weight these days. You will NEVER catch me even thinking somebody should lay off of the chocolate cake for the sake of (anything, it's chocolate, but especially) their figure.

If you want to be skinny, whether you work for it or not, that is your desire. If not, I’m ok with that. Like, actually ok.

Not to sound callous, but I really just don't fucking care.

People get mad at me for not putting enough (or the proper) effort into my hair/makeup/wardrobe/etc.

Yes, I like bold colours of lipstick. And yes, that's pretty much the entirety of my makeup collection (except nail polish, but that has a bunch of uses besides just nails).

Most days I don't even bother brushing my hair. I usually sleep with it tied back, wake up, and let it down just to put it back up properly.

Holy flying fuck, people. I need sleep. I have trouble dragging my sorry ass out of bed at all some days, let alone with enough time to spend 2 hours blow-drying my hair (there's a lot of it), another half hour brushing it, and then doing makeup and whatnot on top of that. Ten seconds on the bus applying lipstick is all I have to put into it. Beyond that, it's not going to happen, plain and simple. Once we all get that through our heads, I'll be quite happy.

As for my fashion choices (clothing, glasses, jewelry, etc.), my money means my choice.

I will not pay $300 for glasses frames that I don't like just because "they suit my face better" (actual quote from the guy trying to sell me glasses). I will buy the ones that first attracted my attention because they better match my sense of style, and therefore most of my clothing.

I don't usually wear much jewelry because [see makeup above], but my piercings (all fake, btw) are for fun and because I like how they look. Someday I may try getting pierced again, and I keep the fakes around to play around with different ideas before I commit. It's not likely to happen though, so don't worry.

As far as clothing goes, I firmly believe in function over form. If I can't be myself in it, there is no way in hell I'm actually wearing it anywhere. This applies to my disdain for skirts (I fall down a lot and would really rather not accidentally flash people), my preference for heels (they actually boost my self-confidence and literally help me not feel depressed every fucking day, plus I'm more focused on walking in them, so they don't actually make me fall down any more), and ripped jeans. (I'm not throwing out a perfectly good pair of pants just because they now have ventilation. Otherwise a pair of jeans would last me about (if I'm generous) 10 wears, maximum.)

Last, but most certainly not least...

I am fucking sick of having to decide between:

-being my bubbly friendly self, knowing somebody is going to misunderstand and think I'm flirting and I'm going to be oblivious and, trust me, this never ends well. especially ESPECIALLY when they come back and blame me for leading them on when I'm just here thinking "I'm literally just this friendly to everyone. please get your head out of your fucking ass and let me be a fucking ray of sunshine"

and

-being so fucking overparanoid that I'm seen as a reserved shy/snobbish prick, or as a pushover who you should definitely flirt with because even if I say no I can't possibly mean it, and even if I did, I'm skinny and not because I actually work out, so you could easily just do whatever the hell you wanted and leave my broken shell behind.

For those of you still with us:
1) I'm going to continue as normal, because I am a strong-ass woman who has had multiple people force themselves on me (verbally, physically, etc) and is never going to let someone else win and break me again. once was more than enough. you try to break me and |oh. em. queso.| are you ever going to regret that.
2) If you actually legitimately want to flirt with me, understand that "no" is a valid response. Or, at least know that my significant other (yes, I'm taken) knows how to fight and has a knife collection. No means no.
3) Fuck Valentine's Day. And the 3 months after (for personal reasons). But mostly Valentine's Day. Romance should have more spontaneity rather than arbitrary obligation.

/end rant

Basic B*tch Cookies

I love baking. In college, I specialized in muffins (so I'd always have something to grab if when I overslept and was late for class). Now, I tend to focus more on cookies. I make my basic cookie dough, and then look around the kitchen for what type of cookies I'm going to be making. I've been asked for my recipe a number of times, so I'm going to put it here. Now, when people ask, not only do I not need to spend the time to write it out, but I can also smoothly tell them to check out my blog! I'm so sneaky.

Basic B*tch Cookies

Ingredients:
1/2 cup butter or margarine (also known as 1/4 lb)
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1 egg
dash vanilla
either one of:
-- 1 1/4 cups self-rising flour
-- 1 1/4 cups flour, 1 tsp baking powder, 1/4 tsp salt

Instructions:
Cream together butter & sugars.
Add egg & vanilla. Mix.
Add dry ingredient(s). Mix.
Make them exciting.**
Bake at 350F for about 8-12min.

Excitement can include (but is certainly not limited to) :
1/2 cup peanut butter (with either 1/2 cup flour or 1 cup cocoa)
1/2 cup oatmeal
Up to 2 cups total of:
-Raisins (/other dried fruit)
-Chocolate chips (/m&m's/etc.)
-Nuts
-Coconut
1 tbsp each of some favourite spices (I recommend ginger, cinnamon, not garlic)

Be creative! For me, that's the fun part of baking. It's not about precise measurements. It's a creative art. I know how my cookie dough is supposed to feel. It's supposed to hold together enough to roll into a ball, but still be fairly moist. If it's too dry, add a bit of milk. If it's too wet, add some flour. These cookies are pretty forgiving.

I tend to make at least a double batch at a time. Sometimes, if I'm feeling fancy, I'll get out a small bowl and put in some coconut or crushed nuts or something and roll the cookie dough in that before baking.