Sunday, November 15, 2015

Another Sunday

I slept literally almost 24 hours yesterday. I did not feel good emotionally. I did not like myself and felt that I needed to shut myself away from everyone. Danny came by to bring me some homemade treats and I talked with him for a bit. A new neighbor from upstairs rang my bell. She said she was my new neighborhood from above me. I told her a guy with the silver truck was above me. She told me Miss Pat was in the hospital. I had no idea who she was talking about. I told her she was above my next door neighbor and she knocked on that door then. She also asked which car was mine. Strange.

I washed the dishes, swept the kitchen, swept the bathroom, cleaned the litter box and cleaned out the refrigerator and gathered garbage. I am now watching some tv so that I will have something to record in my Nielsen diary.

I called Consumer Cellular and found out how easy changing companies will be. They do all the work. So my phone part of my phone-internet-tv will become tv-internet on Nov. 21. My phone will run $20 a month for 750 minutes. Now I need to work on internet and tv.

I am amazed about the connection of your mind and body. When I am having a hard time mentally, my body seems to fall apart, too. 

Thursday, November 12, 2015

Another day in Cindyland

Well looks like I am going to fill out one of those Nielsen diaries again. The company called me about a dozen times during the month and I ignored its calls. So they sent me five crisp dollar bills (the company only sent one last time), a diary and instructions. So I guess I will add my voice to the television rats and do what they ask. I will represent the over 65 demographic although my age group does not fall into the one advertisers most want to know about. Or maybe I do since the young folks seem to watch Netflix and modes of entertainment other than television.

I am addicted to pistachios. Of all the nuts I could love, pistachios rank as one of the worst environmentally because they use so much water. And for that reason, among others, they cost more than most nuts. I can go through a bag in a couple of days, I have no restraint. Breakfast? Grab the bag of nuts. No cooking or waiting required. Feeling a little bit hungry, grab the bag. I guess healthwise they rank pretty well.

Pogo clings to me like Velcro lately. I am not sure what brought on this bout of insecurity other than his age. Maybe he knows his time on this earth nears an end. Maybe he does not feel well and hopes I can translate this neediness into comfort. His old bones must hurt because he seeks out new soft places to sleep. After a day or two he moves on to another spot. He neglects his grooming, especially on his haunches I imagine because it hurts to contort his body to reach those spots. I bought a grooming brush and after a few days of lightly going over his body with it, he looks better and has no more mats.

I tried to nap some yesterday but my vacuumer came, so an extended sleep did not happen. Perhaps today.

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Death to the tweeters

Momo came in from the dark this morning with another bird in his mouth. The poor creature was dead I think. I made Momo drop it, I wrapped a towel around it and threw it out the back door. Then Momo fussed at me because I took his prize from him. I really hate that my backyard has become a killing field. Nature at its worst and I am guilty because I let Momo go outside.

I met with my new counselor yesterday. I am hoping the first session does not indicate what will follow. The counselor seemed nice and we are about the same age and have some things in common. Out of the hour I spent there, we discussed me and my problems about five minutes. The rest of the time reminded me of the many interviews I did  in my life as a reporter. My next appointment should indicate what direction these sessions will take. I will give it until after Christmas before deciding if a change should happen.

The maintenance man came again yesterday to try to determine why water keeps leaking from above my shower. Yesterday he tore the ceiling apart again. This time he thinks the upstairs overflow plate has rusted to the point it leaks instead of channeling the water into the drain. So he used Dap to fix the rusted spot. I hate to say so, but I doubt Dap will be a permanent fix. And wanna bet how long it takes him to get around to fixing the hole above my tub? These apartments show their age and lack up upkeep. The three maintenance men constantly go from one major problem to another without completing any of them. Why don't I move? Because I like to eat and my medicines keep me alive. Money only goes so far.

But I am thankful I have what I do.

Thursday, November 5, 2015

This and that

Learning not to get upset about things which I have no control, that should be a goal of mine.

The rain woke me briefly last night. I was lying on my side. Pogo was huddled as close to my chest as possible. I wonder if he sought comfort or was offering comfort.

I go see the eye doctor Friday. He will examine my eyes for a reduced price of $5.

I received a letter from Caring Voice. My co-pay for Tracleer covered another year.

What if the counselor does not think I am depressed?

I finished "Salvation on the Small Screen?" The author, a Lutheran minister, watched a Christian broadcast network for 24 hours to write a book about the shows and tv preachers.  She had various friends, among them ministers and regular people, come and go during the 24 hours to watch with her. Though the e-book about drove me crazy with its word and sentence breaks and spacing, I agreed with the conclusion. If you have not figured out the consensus, send me a PM on Facebook and I will be glad to reveal the conclusions reached by her and me.

I seldom hear my new upstairs neighbor. He (I say he though I have never seen the person) apparently works. He leaves early and gets home about 6. No radio, no stereo, just footsteps as he walks. He owns a big silver pickup that barely fits into the allotted parking slot. No company, no loud noises. A perfect neighbor so far.

Tis the season for junk mail. Buy this insurance, buy this life insurance, buy this funeral insurance. The catalogs for cookies, candy and gift baskets fill the mailbox, too. How many trees died to bring me these messages that end up in the landfill? And the poor shredder runs almost every day. Notice how many of the buy this insurance have your name and address printed on each page? A crook's dream. As if the crooks do not have enough fodder to use to prey on older people and people with no brains.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

A step in the right direction

Yesterday I went to a local agency that offers counseling services for various needs. I filled out an abundance of paperwork and met with an intake person to go over the paperwork. He also asked about insurance and made copies of the insurance cards.

He then gave me a card with a counselor's name and phone number and told me I should call for an appointment when I got home. The intake guy told me to leave a message, that the counselor was busy and it was likely I would not reach a human when I called. He was right. I left my name, phone number and that I would prefer morning appointments.

The counselor did not call back until mid-morning today, which was not surprising to me since I have been told that there are far fewer mental health professionals in town than there are patients. The counselor told me only a late afternoon time slot was open and that was a week away. I said I understood and I would take that one.

So I will start my therapy a week from today in the late afternoon. It will be dark when we will be done and I don't drive well in the dark, but maybe something will open up earlier in the daytime before long.

Well, the counselor just called and asked if I could come at 1 p.m. on Tuesday. Thank you, God.

Monday, November 2, 2015

Bring in the man with the white hat

I decided today that I need some help. I have known for some time that I can no longer live my life the way I have. The ups and downs wear me out. I took the step of getting some medicine to help, and to some extend it has. But I believe I need some professional guidance. So today I called FSS and asked to see a counselor. Tomorrow I go for intake and then in a week or two I will start regular appointments.

I go hoping I can learn why I am having such a rough time and learn ways to cope. I don't expect miracles. I expect to learn how to find times or even whole days that I can experience joy. I hope to gain whatever I lost that keeps me in my apartment all the time.

Most of all I hope to learn who I am. I don't really know anymore.

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Come walk with me

My emotions yo-yo. I never know what to expect. If I could figure out what causes the horrible I-hate-myself lows, I surely would try to change or at least arrive at a point of balance. Instead, I wake up with a cloud over my body that grows as the day goes on. I try to avoid the literal mental and physical pain by sleeping. More often than not, when I wake up the cloud hangs just above my bed waiting for me. It continues to hold me in its mental grip.

A few of my friends get it. A few want to get it and try hard to support me with kind words and concern. The rest don't mean to hurt my feelings, they just don't know how to react to someone who feels great one day, or even one moment, and falls apart the next. Unless you live in my brain, you have no idea. Granted, some people have similar afflictions. Some manage to learn the key to living with their burdens. I have great admiration for them. By sheer willpower, they live the lives they want and handicaps be damned.

I did pretty well living with my bug-a-boos until my best friend died. Since she had hauled me through life for so long, she knew when I was about to fall apart and would apply the necessary cement to keep me together and going. Now I am walking alone and losing chunks of myself without any awareness until I wake up in a thousand pieces and no one has the instructions for putting me back together.

Mental health issues cause people to feel uncomfortable. If you are one of those people, I offer no apologies, but Facebook has an unfriend button, feel free to use it.