Life thru the haze of cat hair.

Tag Archives: mean reds

I suck at this blogging thing. Truly.

What’s been going on now? You probably don’t care. And I wouldn’t blame you. But if you are still here? LOVE YOU!

I think I told you all about my suspicions that I am bi-polar? (I’m really too lazy to go back and look.) And maybe about my conversation with K2Kid about it, when her response to “I think I might be bi-polar” was “Duh! I thought you were already being treated for that.” It really was kind of funny.

Then there was a strange tingling and numbness in my right arm and a weird pain in my left side. I’m telling you – I’m falling apart.

I went to my doctor. He scheduled an x-ray for my spine/arm and an ultrasound for my side. He also referred me to a local psychiatric practice. We decided that it was unlikely that I a bi-polar, but he would leave it up to the specialist to decide.

The ultrasound for my side didn’t turn up anything so I also got an MRI. That stuff you have to drink? Which “isn’t a laxative”? Yeah. It’s gross and it does. Enough said.

The x-ray? I have arthritis in my spine and my C5-6 and C6-7 are wearing and I have bone spurs and growths and blah blah blah. I am trying physical therapy – which includes traction – first. If that doesn’t work, the next step could be surgery. Awesome.

The therapy? I’ve been twice. The first time? He was a little shocked that I said I wanted to live-tweet the session. It’s like he doesn’t know me. The last thing he said when I was leaving was “Yeah, we have some work to do.” Again, I thought that was really funny. Because, you know. Duh.

The second session was this week. He spent a lot of time talking to me about my lack of relationships with men. What I got out of it is he thinks I need to get laid. Hmmm. Okay. I don’t necessarily disagree, and yet I don’t think having a mate is the be all and end all to happiness. And really? Where do people meet these days? Ugh. This is a whole other post.

Anyhoo. This is what’s going on. I’ll get you caught up on my job search exploits, next time. It seems like I have been all kinds of busy, but really, I have just been wading through a bunch of crap.

Here’s hoping things will look up soon.



So, yeah.

You go to work everyday, dreading it.

While at work, you find yourself crying, at least once a week.

After 2 weeks vacation, you head back to work and the second day back, you wonder if you can call in sick without getting fired.

You know that continually bitching about the situation is not at all helpful, so you keep it all inside.

You have your resume out on the interwebs on every. single. job-related website you can find, but don’t have any bites yet.

You have applied for no less than 25 new positions, internally, and have heard ABSO-PHUCKING-LUTELY nothing on any of them. Yet they claim that they are Pro-Employee and help employees with career development. AND! If they treat actual employees this way, how do they treat potential employees?? (Go ahead and ponder. I’ll wait.)

You are well aware that the job market blows right now, so you should be thankful you even have a job.

You know that you are NOT what you do, but you are so desperately unhappy at your job that you don’t know which way to turn.

You know that changing jobs will not necessarily, nor magically, improve your happiness. But you want to try because staying here won’t help it either.

You know that you choose your happiness but you can’t find even that one thread to hang on to.

You aren’t suicidal, but your doctor thinks you might be.

Yeah. That.

We’ve all heard it. Heck, we’ve all said it:

“You choose your attitude.”

“What you put out comes back to you.”

“Thoughts become things.”

And on and on.

And d’you know what? MOST of the time, I really do believe that stuff. I really do.

Most of the time.

But how do you go back to that frame of reference when circumstances in life have left you feeling so tired, so beat up, so discouraged, so blue, that that frame of reference might just as well be on Pluto?

It’s no secret I have depression, controlled most days with happy yellow pills. I would love to not take them, or not have to take them, but for now, they are my best friends.

And because of my best friends, most days, I can be like Wonder Woman and her super-power wrist bands, fighting off anything yucky.

Lately, though, the batteries on my super-power wrist bands must be dead. I just can’t hear anything bad right now.

But, and here’s the thing, I HATE asking for help. Hate it. Hate. It. And I HATE venting/dumping/unburdening whatever it is I’m going through on people I love or who love me. I don’t want to burden them, or make my problems, their problems. Or worse, have them tell me their problems so that I know they know what I’m talking about? And then I’ll take on their problems too!! (My back just tensed even typing that!)

Okay, you’re thinking. Go talk to a stranger. Go to therapy. See a counsellor. I get that. I’ve done that. And I liked it. But actually finding a therapist with whom I am comfortable? Not so easy. The last one I went to made me feel I was in a principal’s office. Hard, straight-back chair, no pillows, no arm-rests, no tissues. She sat behind her desk and looked at me (in my mind) disapprovingly. And when I would curse? Oh, dear goat. You would think I just kicked her ferret.

Not good. So now I’m a little gun-shy, so to speak.  

I REALLY want to get back to believing those happy statements.

So, I’m dumping my woe into the interwebs, so that I can let it go. Sorry to be a debby-downer.

Oh, hello! Vinho verde is this evening’s choice. Would you like some?

Dr. Wayne Dyer has a wonderful book out called Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life. In it, he discusses he analysis of the Tao. I’ve read some of his other books and watched his lectures on PBS. He is an eloquent speaker, and is clearly passionate about his beliefs and research, and I respect him for that.


I know, think positive and positive things will happen. Um, yeah, that works for about 37 seconds when you feel like I do right now, and then all the suck comes flooding back in. Positive, sucking, positive, sucking, positively sucking. It’s exhausting.

I am SICK TO DEATH of feeling worried and stressed and blue and unsettled and like it’s all hanging by a thread.  And I don’t know how to stop it.

Oh, hello! Come in. Can I get you some water? With lemon?

Do you ever have days where you just feel alone? It’s similar to lonely but…. no, I guess lonely is a good way to describe it. But at the same time it’s also a feeling that no one “gets” you. Today is one of those days for me.

I’ve been lonely a lot lately. But it’s not the kind of lonely that getting out of the house will fix. It’s the kind that no matter how many people are around, they just don’t get your thoughts or wit or snark or kindness. It doesn’t feel judge-y either; more like they just don’t care. They are so wrapped up in their own lives and loves and work and troubles that they listen but they just don’t hear. And they may attempt to interact, but you know, looking into their eyes that they are a million miles away and everything you just said is gone. Then they get up, and go back to their bubble, and you don’t feel any better.

I know, deep inside, that I have people who care, and who love me, and would listen. And this is where the conundrum comes in. I really don’t like dumping my sh!t onto other people. They have enough to deal with without having my baggage. And so begins the viscious circle. Who do I trust enough to vent to, and yet care about less than the people I love, to not worry about leaving my cr@p there with them.

Before you say it, I know that the people who love me would listen to my b!tching. I know that. So do I dump my stuff on them, and risk alienating them if I do it too often?

And the people with whom I work, at the Gas ‘n Sip, they think nothing of it. They stop by my counter and just vent and go off and unburden themselves and think nothing of it. Maybe I’m a good listener, who knows? ::note to self: add “good listener” to my list of fabulous traits:: But then my counter is just awash in their negative chi and I have to sit there and marinate in it. I can’t smudge my area because the dang smoke alarms will go off!

The only one I can really do that with is the K2Kid and she is so busy, uh… working, that I don’t like to do that to her. I can’t talk to the Leg Jiggler because he is one of the most negative people, EVER! And somehow, he manages to turn every conversation around to himself. (Seriously, even in my annual review, he was going over things about himself that he needs to work on! Hello!?!? Can this one hour be just about me? Please??)

Holly Golightly (aka Audrey Hepburn, whom I adore!!) called this feeling “a case of the mean reds”, where it’s more than the blues, and you aren’t quite sure what’s wrong, but you just feel down.  I think I need to grab my lute and go sit on my fire escape, and sing “Moon River”. Oh, that’s right, I don’t have either of those things. *sigh*

I just can’t win… where are the twins? Maybe they’ll snuggle with me if I give them treats…