Curiosity....

The human mind is full of unanswered questions. I want to find the answers. If I can find the answers, I can help, sometimes. Heal the mind, ease the heart.

To look into the mind is to look into the heart and soul, as well.

"Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased. Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow. Raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuff'd bosom of the perilous stuff which weighs upon the heart."

It's the curiosity.

And I want to find the antidote.

Here is a post. It is an update on all the goings on in my life. Currently, things are happening. I shall be disgruntled in this sentence. But, it's okay, because here's a sentence where I'm feeling a little more upbeat.

All in all, this is a collection of words that have been formed into sentences.

posted some honeymoon pictures on facebook, where i reside these days... check 'em out.

Step Three: Authentic Adult Action

In a child state of mind, we often feel passive and helpless. Our self talk includes either anxious statements like "I'll never be good enough," " I can't do it," "If only," or self critical ones "snap out of it," "grow up," or "stop making a mountain out of a molehill." Once we recognize that we're in a child state, and have compassion to our unique childhood experience, we need to actively assert our adult energies. Authentic adult actions are those which help us shift us out of a child state to a more expansive and adult sense of ourselves.

Simply put, authentic adult action involves greater self care. Sometimes this involves just accepting our current feelings as a reflection of earlier childhood experience. At other times, it includes actively taking better care of needs. Whether it be preparing a nice meal for ourselves or calling a friend, authentic adult action is, in essence, being like a "positive self parent."

Often, too, authentic adult action involves challenging our stream of negative self talk. This is much easier to do when we realize that we're in a child state of mind. For instance,whenever we're having catastrophic "what if" thoughts about the future, we can become more relaxed if we recognize that our thinking may be more that of a young child than a full adult. This can give us compassion -- and, often, a humorous perspective.

i dreamed of having twins and then forgetting their names and josh telling me not to breastfeed them because boobs are for sex.

then there were murderers and someone shooting me in the chest and i was alive but my arms didn't work, and heath ledger was sewing my mouth shut while some woman was telling her children that their grandfather was also their father. later, i told them that i figured out that their master plan was to start their own magazine line. i didn't know why yet, but i'm sure it was nefarious somehow.

i read a list somewhere about social faux pas and how one of them is telling other people your dreams because they really don't care. i'm screwed, because the only interesting things i seem to have to talk about come out of my head when i'm sleeping. when i'm awake, there's nothing interesting to talk about. huzzah.

I don't ever know what to say anymore.

I'm in love w/ my tomato plants. I have three of them, and they are giants. No maters yet, we'll see how long they stay alive.

Also, my husband is made of Shmexy. That's right, I said shmexy. S'what he is, what of it? Luckily for all of us, he didn't get fired from his job. Hurray!

My house is a wreck and so am I. Eventually I'll figure all of this shit out. I'm thinking about writing an awesome (but probably not) romance novel for forty-somethings and me to jill off to. I've got about a dozen stories cooking in my head, but none of them have ever made it to paper. Or word processor. Maybe I should stop kidding myself and just go get a fucking job waiting tables and be happy w/ what I already have in my life.

Wallowing never helped anyone.

Except for pigs. They love it, especially when there's mud involved.

I miss sushi and lumpia. I should find an awesome lumpia recipe and never rely on anyone to make it for me again. I'm a pretty decent cook. I think I could figure it the hell out w/out burning down my house.

Joshua was promised a birthday cake (on the 29th!!) and I still haven't made it for him yet. God, I'm a slacker. Maybe he'll take a kiss instead....

I think I should find clothes and get out of the trash-pit I call home. I would eventually like to have actual PEOPLE that I like here. It's big enough for a nice little party, I think. Dammit!

Effin A.

twitter.

facebook.

myspace.

lj.

auga.

hi! :)

So, I don't really know how to update people on my life. I suck at it.

I'm using twitter a lot more now because I'm not committed to writing more than 160 characters about what's going on. So, yeah.

mc chris was awesome last night. i'm hungry for a sammich.

who's w/ me?

Be on the lookout for The Adventures with Howard the Mallard! Coming to a local photo journal near us all!

I am an...

Indecisive

Intuitive

Unashamed

Hilarious

Comfortable

Eloquent

Loving

Turtley

Maladjusted

Incomplete

Hungry

Passionate

Nerdy

Needy

Tired

Worrier

Warrior

Dreamer

Warm

Informed

...woman.

Sister,

I just wanted to thank your crazy ass for coming and hanging out with me at work for so long. The managers were not mad at me, but my store manager is kind of a cooz and didn't want me 'hanging out' so she yelled at the other managers instead of saying something to me. blech.

So, yeah.

Thanks for making the night fly by. That is all.

♥

I love being able to come home for lunch. It's so much healthier and easier on the wallet, too. I can just come home and slap together a sandwich and drive back to work and be lots more relaxed that having to go through the mickey d's drive thru.


Plus, I can sit on the computer for a few minutes and listen to some music, or watch something on tv. I really do love it.


Good day today.

I need the drugs. It really upsets me that I do need them, because it's a battle I've been fighting with myself for quite some time, even before I saw a doctor.

I hate chemical dependency. I don't in any way begrudge anyone who has a chemical imbalance and requires them to function normally, but I just never wanted to be one of those people. I hate having to take drugs, I hate the feeling of being drugged up, I hate having to remember to take a pill and I hate not being able to be me without them.

It's something I'll get used to eventually, I'm sure. But, for now I'm still fighting it internally.

God, I hate it.

It's that time again. You know, where I've gotten plenty of sleep, yet I'm so drugged up and tired that I feel like I can't even keep standing let alone stop yawning.

I hate this feeling. I also hate the feeling that the only thing keeping me happy is chemicals. It's almost like I'm a puppet and the master is a slow release capsule that happens to be a little over three bucks apiece.

On a more positive note, I'm ridiculously excited about the possibility of cooking in my brand new kitchen. As soon as I get everything unpacked and restocked and situated, that is. I can't even describe the amount of excitement that I have at the prospect. Seriously.

I've made a menu for Josh and myself for the week, and a grocery list to go with it. If only we could actually afford the food, haha.

It'll be markedly cheaper than getting take out five times a damn day, though.


Also, not excited about Christmas. I'm not feeling very nostalgic, just thinking about what a chore it's going to be to put up decorations just to take them down again in two weeks. I guess if they were already up and my house were already clean it would be different, but since we're LITERALLY living out of boxes right now, I think the main focus should be on actually making it livable first instead of festive.

Should I start tallying the amount of times I yawn? This should be fun.

I'm sorry to those of you I've been keeping in the dark. It was done intentionally out of shame and fear, and I've been avoiding doing the one thing that my therapist told me to do because of a constant worry of how others will perceive me. I can't do that anymore and get better, so here goes nothin'.

I have to start writing in my journal again about the way I'm feeling, about my fears, about when things are good and when they're bad. Seeing it written or typed out gives me perspective so that when I write things like, "I think my cat hates me," I can see how silly it is or how pointless it is to think it before convincing myself that it's true and spirals me into an even deeper depression.

I know what sparked this new bout, but it's not the reason it's still here. I've been in some form of depression or denial thereof since I was...lord, I don't even know. All my life I was told that I was just being a drama queen or trying to get attention, but it's just not true, dammit. If that were the case, I would have been touting my depression all about on a daily basis, and more likely a greater amount of people in my life would know about it. I don't know who I'm trying to convince. Probably just trying to reverse the brainwashing. Or take off the depression glasses as Rebecca would say.

It's hard for me because it's been a constant recording in my head for so many years, just replaying all the negative bull crap. I think given a little time I can change it. Dunno how long it will take.

Then there are the drugs. Under my current prescription drug plan, the lovely Cymbalta is still over $100 a bottle for ONE MONTH'S supply. It has been helping on an overall scale, but I still have bad days. The days where I physically can't get out of bed and create a feeling of illness that I can't shake for days that I'm certain is just a manifestation of the depression. Unfortunately right now my body is still trying to get used to the drug, and I've a constant feeling of being drugged up, being pepped up, being fatigued, being happy, being ridiculously sad. Just depends on the hour.

I hate the feeling of wishy washy, how'm I gonna be today? crap. But, it's not as bad as the feeling of forced happiness. Before Josh called the aware line because of one too many times I talked about my own death and before he found a counselor for me and before he made the appointment for me and drove me to it and held my hand in the waiting room and then drove me to the doctor to get the prescription for the meds and THEN took me to get the meds...
Before all that happened, lets say...6 months ago. There were times I was "happy." I would have a huge smile plastered on and crack jokes and people would want to be around me because I was the bubbly one. I was the fun one, the YAY girl. The faker, the actress. I was the one who had grown so used to my own depression I was learning to live with a mask of happy instead of ACTUAL happy and it was literally festering inside me until I wanted to DIE. I had convinced myself that this is the extent of the happiness that I can have. This is pretty much it. Just keep smiling, convince the masses, and everything will be okay.

Guess I was a smidge wrong, eh?

But, steps are being taken to fix what's broken. We're taking the dirty, old, dead and unattractive flowers out of the vase and we're replacing them with flowers that are bright and new and ALIVE. Maybe it'll take awhile to find the right ones, but I'm still shopping.

Again, I'm so sorry to anyone I may have hurt, and I apologize in advance to those I may still hurt in this transitional process. I'm still trying to figure myself out and I might not be as emotionally there for people as I used to be. I still don't know what all these drugs are going to do to me, so if you see me and I'm a zombie, please don't take it personally. If I sit and stare at nothing for a few minutes while everyone else is having a ball and being active, I swear I'm not being lazy.

I'm at work now and feeling okay. Not the best I've ever felt, but! I didn't feel like driving off the road this morning on the way here! So, there are good signs everywhere. ;)

It's moving day today and I'm not at either apartment. I'm at ashley's house sleeping in my sister's bed because I'm pukey. :(

I want to be there controlling everything! No fair!

But seriously, just the exertion of walking to the computer and typing has worn me out again. I fucking hate feeling powerless and ickly.

I think i might be grinding down, wearing down till the nub isn't even recognizable any more.


What happens to a dream deferred?



...does it explode?

I still can't hear. Fuck the haterz.


I'm seriously inexplicably angry right now and want to scream or vent somehow that's healthy instead of punching someone in the face. That's what I really want to do. But, I like not having a criminal record. So, I scream instead.

There's more to tell, but I don't know how to say it. If you know me, then you already know, so I'm not even going to fucking bother typing it.


I love my husband. He's my rock, my support AND my dialing finger.

I'm not ignoring you; just can't hear ya.