Life lesson

I believe people come into our lives for a reason. Either to show us something we need to know, or for us to teach them something they need to know, or sometimes both. Once we complete that mission, we drift away from that person and prepare for the next lesson.

Sometimes these lessons take longer than others, maybe a few weeks, maybe a few years, maybe a matter of seconds in a grocery line.

We question why something happens the way it does, but often we never find out, or it may take years for us to realize that was why so and so was in my life. That does not mean our feelings do not get hurt when someone drifts out of our lives.

We react like humans because we were made this way. Love and hurt are part of the same family. We would not know one without the other.

While we wonder or hurt when someone drifts away, we should realize we did not formulate the grand scheme of things and should try to look forward with anticipation instead of back with anger and hurt.

Tears

When I was a teen, I cried when my first and second boy friends broke my heart by breaking up with me.

 By the time I reached college I learned to hide my feelings and control the tears. During this time, both sets of grandparents died. I did not shed a tear.

A few years later, my daddy had a heart attack and died. I did not cry that night at the Canyon hospital, nor on the couch at Mom and Dad's house where I stayed with my Mom that night. I did not shed a tear when the relatives gathered at our house. I did not cry when we buried my Daddy in the Canyon cemetery among the rocks and dried grass.

I shed my first tears for my Daddy sitting alone in Connie's living room after the service. Justin, who must have been around 6, came running through on his way to somewhere important. He turned around, came to where I sat and told me he was sorry. Then he rushed off as only a youngster can do.

The next few years I remember no tears. I know I lost a few pets.

The next major waterworks came when I decided to join a religious cult and move to Florida. I tried to give my two cats away, but no one wanted them. I cried hard as I left the animal shelter knowing they would be euthanized but before that they would be scared and wondering why I abandoned them. The guilt was tremendous.

Through the years, my heart hardened. No more tears. The guilt hung around and I learned to castigate myself for all my shortcomings and sins.

After I lost my job through layoff, I met a person who became a caring friend online. We spent hours talking. Because of him, the thoughts of being worthless and used up were negligible. After several months, I knew his death was imminent. One of his friends confirmed his death for me after I insisted he check on my friend. I cried many tears for the loss. Then I got out the cement and built another wall of protection around my heart. No more, I said.

This year, I lost Connie, my friend of 53 years. I sat in the hospital room with her whole immediate family when the doctor said her organs were failing. The tears refused to breach the wall and release the pain in my heart. She always told me I was stronger than I knew. Was I strong or had my heart frozen over?

The wall finally crumbled for the most unlikely reason. A couple of my friends went on vacation. While they were in paradise one of their beloved pets died. At first the tears made tiny cracks in my hardened heart, but finally they washed away all the cement and all the pain that was hidden in my heart. I cried for Koda, I cried for Connie, I cried for Paul and Daddy.

I cried for me and all the guilt I have felt over the years. I cried for the what ifs. The pain remains, but I vow not to build another wall around my heart. Life is too short to skip even the pain.

The modern world

If you want to talk to a human at any big business, for instance AT&T, prepare yourself to search and search for a telephone number. Once you find a number, get ready to answer a bunch of questions put to you by an automated voice. Saying agent or representative does not help, the automaton just gets confused. Once the electronic voice realizes you are not going to go to at&t.com, it tells you the wait time compares to the Ice Age, hoping you will give up. If you continue to wait, eventually it connects you to someone in India, who knows English but sounds like Punjabi. Then the real test comes. The representative wonders what you mean when you say you got an email to sign up for auto pay and you say you already auto pay. You try to explain the cost of doing business with the company has caused you to drop the telephone of your bundle. You want to know if dropping part of a bundle means I need to re-sign  up for auto pay. After explaining myself twice, and failing to give him a secret phrase I established in 1986 when I signed up for service, he said he would have to call me back. After he called back, he gave me an answer -- no I do not have to re-sign up. Then I asked since I had dropped their phone service in the middle of the billing cycle, would I get credit for time I did not use, but automatically paid  out of my account this past bill. He tells me I need to call back when the next bill comes out and the company would credit my account. So it falls on my shoulders to make sure they do their job.

Then comes the matter of a gift card I ordered through Amazon for a nationwide business. I understand this time of year the burden of work for delivery companies exceeds the norm. Plus the ice storm we had also caused delays. However, the company tracker indicated the gift card would arrive by 8 p.m. Friday. It did not. Now the tracker says it should arrive today by 8 p.m. At noon today the delivery company left an Amazon purchase at the office. This purchase I made a couple of days later than the missing gift. Trying to contact the delivery company will be a repeat of the phone fiasco. The company website does not offer a phone number nor email address.

I do not have the umph to do two battles in one day, so I will wait until tomorrow. If the gift card has not arrived, I will have to play CIA agent to contact the dern company.

'Tis the season.

So there

I quit going to my counselor. After two sessions with a skipped session in between, I decided the counselor liked to talk about himself more than listen to me. I did not see any value spending an hour of my time every week listening to him talk about his childhood or his hip replacements. I'll admit I took the chicken shit way out and left a message on his voicemail that I would not be back and he could fill my time slot. Later that day, he called and asked me to call to explain. I let the phone ring, deleted the voicemail and do not plan to talk to him again.

I went to the psychiatrist yesterday. She added Wellbutrin to my other psych meds. She said it should help me with the motivation which I seemed to have lost along the way. I hope so. I am tired of sleeping all day (get it, tired, sleeping).

I finished my Christmas shopping, now the doubts creep in. Did I get enough for so and so? Do the gifts to everyone balance out? Connie used to fret over the same thing. Perhaps I have taken over for her. I do plan to deliver the gifts and stay home on Christmas Day.

I realize people get caught up in their own lives. I understand. What I do not understand are people who promise to do something and then let it slide. So, do not expect me to hold your hand when you need me. I will no longer allow my heart to be broken again. Do not ask me to do so and so for you and do not tell me you will do so and so for me. If there are no promises then there are no disappointments.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Dead

Another bird in the house today, only this one lay on its back with its feet in the air -- dead. Momo lost his outdoor privileges.

I need help.

This is living

My brother plans to move my mom in with him and his wife when they retire sometime in the spring. I don't drive to Canyon, so the move really does not affect me. My brother said I could move in with them too, but unless I get totally helpless, I will remain where I am.

Corey has not contacted me in a couple of weeks. I know he keeps busy at work and when he gets home he does not want to mess with an old woman.

Jami brought by some kitty things of her mother's. A cute fan, some kitty books and a cute wooden kitty I am going to put on my door. My vacuumer was here at the time, so Jami did not stay.

I went to Wal-Mart and bought a squeegee, mop, cat food and some new Swifter duster heads. Unfortunately, I have not done any cleaning, so the floor remains dirty and the cobwebs still handy in the corner.

A week later I bought groceries. I bought healthy foods that require preparation and cooking. I just do not have the motivation to cook. So I eat crackers and chips.

I feel like the Townes Van Zandt song.

Pity party

I am having a terribly hard time dealing with my friend's death. My first reaction was to shut myself away from everybody and have no contact with anyone. I quit Facebook and did nothing but sleep. The anxiety and depression made me want to quit this life so I would no longer hurt.

Now I find myself being mad at others. Apparently they do not care if I am hurting or lonely or need someone to talk to. I want others to reach out and ask if I want to talk or grab a bite of lunch. I am sure they mostly do not know how to react, so they do nothing.

One day blends into the next to the point I no longer know what day it is or even care. They are all the same. The big excitement for me is days when UPS delivers my medicine or Corey mows my lawn. Soon, the lawn will stop growing for the year. Then what?

Not a good day

Today I planned to go to lunch with one of my godson's wife. I woke up at 4 a.m. and by 7:40 I felt awful. I had a headache, my stomach felt upset and I felt like I had a fever. I felt so guilty cancelling on her.

I just want to avoid everyone. I do not feel like anyone cares for me. My feelings got hurt when my friends were asked to help with a project and I was not. No one thinks of me therefore I am not worthy.

Aarrrgg

A strange nightmare woke me sometime during the night. The dream involved psychedelic colors and lights moving in odd ways. I do not remember feeling particularly scared but I remember I kept saying I had to get the cat that was atop a bunch of boxes on top of a dryer. I kept saying I have to get the cat, I have to get the cat. I did not recognize the cat as one I knew.

I made plans with one of my godson's wives to go to lunch on Monday and now I am wishing I had not. I love this lady to death. She and I are alike in many ways and we both like food. She does not eat out often, so I told her she gets to pick the restaurant.

As I said, I love her, but I am in a hermit stage. I do not want to see anyone, talk to anyone or go anywhere. I know this behavior does not help me. I feel like no one likes me or cares about me. That most of all includes myself. How can I believe people who say they like me when I do not like myself?

Am I feeling sorry for myself? Yes. Do I know how to fix this problem? Yes. Get out and volunteer. Help someone worse off than I am. Do something. The idea sounds so easy and good, but I can not make myself do dishes on a regular basis, how can I get dressed every day and get out?

Let's try some platitudes: one step at a time, get dressed every day; wash the dishes as you use them; wake up each morning with a smile.

I know I sound like a friend who carries a negative attitude about one area of their life. No matter what I or others say, it will not work because this friend says they must be "broken" in some way. "That advice will not work because I am broken." I find my patience with this person wearing thin. I imagine the same could be said of me and my friends.

I do not like me.

Still here

Another day I spent sleeping. My day started off much as usual. I drank my coffee and took my pills and did my breathing meds. I tried to feed Pogo, but his routine has changed and he wants to wait an hour or so to eat. So I  walked back to bed and stepped in and slid in a pile of Pogo poop. So I had to get the carpet cleaning solution and paper towels to clean up the mess. I fear Pogo's health speeds downhill. His meowing for no reason continues.

I went to see my lung doc yesterday. He seems to think I am holding my own with my diseases. I got the pneumonia vaccine, so now I am covered for 46 varieties of pneumonia bacteria. I ask for a flu shot, too, but I have to wait a week between shots. So next week I will head over to my friendly drugstore and let the pharmacist stick me.

My anxiety meds left Kentucky yesterday, but the tracker for USPS does not offer much info. I guess they will show up eventually.

The worst of times

The only thing I seem to be able to do right now involves sleep. I do not have the concentration or motivation to read. Watching tv I find my mind wanders. For the past two days I have been stuck in the house waiting for a call from my psychiatrist's helper. I left word Friday with the staff about my problem. They would take care of it they said. They did not. On Monday I called and left word again. Still no response, but I got a call from the drug company that I have until the 16th for the helper to call or they would scrap the order. I called this morning at 9 a.m. when the office opened asking to have the helper call me. At 1 p.m. still no call, so I call again. I ask if the helper calls back at specific times. The receptionist said the helper would call me later this afternoon. This whole mess causes me major anxiety, the reason I see the psychiatrist in the first place. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

The fruit fly problem nears critical mass. I discovered larvae crawling on the floor. I now put all food scraps in plastic bags in the freezer until I can take them out to the garbage. Nothing goes in the plastic garbage bags except paper which has not touched food. I did try the vinegar, dish soap, sugar mix in a glass that sits on the kitchen cabinet. There are about 20 or so dead fruit flies at the bottom of the glass. A few more die hards buzz around the kitchen. Sooner or later they will go for the sugar water, too. I stand over Pogo while he eats and when he walks away I whisk away his dish to put into a plastic bag until he wants more. If he eats all of it, I wash the bowl immediately. The back door no longer stands open, in fact the boys are no longer allowed outside. I WILL win this battle. I have mopped the kitchen floor with bleach and stand by with bleach wipes in case Pogo spills or dribbles.

I got the first box of birthday steaks from my brother Friday but I am not hungry enough to thaw one out to cook. Nothing and I mean nothing sounds good. Maybe I will lose those 10 pounds I gained recently.

The fires in northern California near my friend Sylvia's house. Her son and husband had to evacuate to a Wal-Mart in a couple of towns away. I know she is in heaven worrying about her boys.

This sucks

Depression literally bores a hole into my chest. I can physically feel the sadness and anxiety taking a toll on my body. Thoughts rattle around in my brain but they seem incomplete and scattered. The tears lie behind my eyelids but refuse to let go, so the pressure continues to build.

Depression feels like a weight on my chest. Every breath takes tremendous effort. After 5 minutes I am worn out. After 10 minutes I want to quit.

Depression goes away when I lie down and sleep. But even in my dreams those sad, horribly negative thoughts persist. I awaken with a start and the nightmare thoughts come flooding back.

Addicted?

Another day and my anxiety gnaws at my gut. I checked the progress of the reorder of my meds on the company's website site. One med was there, the other was not. So I decided to reorder the second med myself. The med's prescription expires after each refill. Then my conscience started bothering me. What if the doc's helper thinks I am trying to get that med on the sly. So I called and cancelled the order. In the meantime, the helper emailed the prescription in. Now the drug company has put a hold on the med until they talk to the helper. Why couldn't I have left well enough alone? Now I am going to call the helper this morning and hope she believes me.

Yes,  I must be addicted to react this way. I just know I worry and fret. But if the med helps me cope, I think so what.

My day zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I visited my head doctor's assistant this morning. We discussed how the doctor makes his diagnoses and I asked if I should worry about addiction if I add one or two more pills when I feel really anxious. She emphasized that should I need or want to quit the meds, I should do a step down process. Otherwise, if I feel I need them to take them.

I then hit the grocery store (poor Pogo had to eat bacon for breakfast) and stocked up on cat food and got some things for me, too. I like to roam the aisles checking for something new to try. I am tired of most of my usual meals, but did not find anything to get excited about, either.

My brother called and we had a nice chat about sports, cleaning out gutters (we decided if it was misting/raining he should stay off ladders) and best of all he told me to watch for a birthday package that should arrive Friday. He sent the same gift as last year: meat. Steaks and roast. I welcome that gift especially since the cost of beef ranks up there with some precious metals.

My sister-in-law plans to give me a subscription to ancestry.com. That sounds like fun.

All this shopping, doctor visiting means no nap today. Tomorrow and tomorrow.

What's bugging me

Nature loves to play her tricks on us. This summer she had fun with all sorts of bugs.

I notice the grasshoppers because Momo, the fierce hunter, brings me one or two a day that he gently carries into the house in his mouth. Once inside, he promptly drops them. The springy creatures immediately hop for the nearest inaccessible spot, where they remain just out of reach. Sometime during the night they must venture out because I find their legless bodies scattered on the living room carpet.

Sugar ants regularly marched in formation across my kitchen cabinets and onto the stove looking for the tiniest glob of mayo my poor eyesight missed. I am sure they would carry the knife back to their nest if they had enough numbers to do so. I finally solved that problem by liberally sprinkling Borax along their entrance. Every now and then a real trooper makes it past the poison only to meet their demise under my killer thumb.

Mosquitoes buzz about looking for their next blood donation but lack of standing water in the yard keeps the population low.

Houseflies find easy entrance through the open sliding glass door that I leave open for my boys to enjoy some outdoor time. The flies and boys come and go as they please. I keep my house cold enough that the flies tend to hang around the window where the outside heat warms the pane. Once or twice a day that window becomes a killing field. I am the Babe Ruth of flyswatters.

I saw a couple of crickets and a moth or two, but the boys earn their keep with these varmints. Maybe they taste better than the others, who knows.

Fruitflies drive me batty. For some reason, this year their population exploded in my kitchen. I cleaned with vinegar, bleach, 409 and any other potion I read about or could think of to try. I made a trap with a pan and plastic wrap and baited it with canned cat food, diet DP and sugar. Not a one fell for the ruse.

I hate spiders and ordinarily I dispatch them with promptness. However, this year, spiders that hang out near the window can stay. I have noticed lots and lots of webs and entangled in these silken masterpieces: fruitflies, lots and lots of fruitflies.

I never thought I would say this, but spiders are my friends.

Here right now

One of these days life will be better. Until then I try to cope with the pain. I know some people do care, those who sent me an email just to say they think of me, those who called with messages of hope, those whom I do not know praying for me, those who know my pain firsthand offered encouraging words.

We all handle pain and loss in different ways. Last time I looked, books on how to cope abound. Grief does not come in a one size fits all package. And mixing grief with anxiety and depression makes the process more challenging. When you lie in the hole, daylight fails to penetrate the gloom.

Though I appreciate the concern and suggestions, this journey belongs to me. I wish what worked for you would work for me. Then I could do so and so, and poof I am better. The pain will gradually ease with time I know,  but now the hurt burns white hot to the exclusion of all other feelings.

Frivolous comments cheapen my pain and throw obstacles in the way to healing. If you want to help, listen. Do not ignore my pain, recognize it as a burden I carry right now. Someday, I will be better.

All alone

I feel alone and abandoned. I suffer more anxiety and then worry that taking that third pill might lead to a fourth and an addiction. At my age does addiction matter that much? Thank goodness I see my psychiatrist helper on Tuesday. I hope she can reassure me.

I know I need to find a therapist that I can talk to. My old friend procrastination steps in regularly. Maybe I do not want happiness. Maybe I do not think I deserve it. Maybe I am beyond help.

After her family and I buried my best friend, I shut the world off. I quit FB. I began to take longer naps. I began to eat lots of sweets, after all I deserved something to salve my pain. I gained more than 10 pounds. Nothing I eat satisfies me. The pain continues.

I grow tired of doing my breathing treatments but if I wait too long, I cannot breathe.

I am weary of the telephone ringing with offers of insurance and fall monitors and hearing aids. Robocalls make my life miserable. I tried the robocall blocker and still the calls come. Thank heaven for caller ID and voicemail. I would eliminate a phone altogether if I would feel safe.

A chicken in every pot

I cooked a whole chicken in the crockpot today and put a whole unveiled potato on top of the chicken. After a nice long nap, I had chicken, a potato and peas for dinner. The chicken fell off the bone. I put the leftover chicken in a plastic container and Pogo and I will have chicken for a few meals.

I feel much better headwise today, thank goodness. Depression sucks. Other friends carry their own burdens and I should learn from them how to handle myself under extreme duress.

Missing you.

How it

I wish I could explain what depression does to me. How it takes over my life. How it keeps me glued to my chair or bed for hours on end. How I want to cry but cannot muster the energy to do so. How it constantly breaths over my shoulder and whispers in my ear about how unloved and useless I am. How it makes me question my sanity. How it makes me fear that I can never be happy. How it causes me to wonder if anyone really cares or if they pretend to so I will not cling to them for answers. How it eats into my thoughts like a worm eats rotten flesh. How it makes the sunniest day dark and threatening. How it suffocates relationships. How it rides along with me when I go out, buried just beneath the surface, ready to ooze into the conversation. How it chastises me for allowing it to gain such a foothold in my life. How it raises feelings of guilt when I cancel outings time and time again. How it picks me apart until I am a pile of quivering shame. How it permeates me with pain that will not cease.

Here we go again

The humidity causes me to gasp for air today. The wind blows hot like a forest fire, making breathing even harder. Old Dumbo sits on my chest as well. A vice-like pain encircles my head just above my eyes. Ah Spring.

My patience runs thin with people who whine and gripe all the time. I catch myself doing the same. I need to reform myself.

Someone told me today I control my thoughts. So why do I hate myself so much?

A slow death

I deactivated my Facebook account today. I also canceled a lunch date with my best friend, which angered her. She did not say much except goodbye. I wish everyone understood. I never know when the darkness comes or how long I may sit in the abyss. Making plans knowing I may or may not go hurts me and most of all hurts the ones I love. I am punishing myself by making others mad at me.

More dark clouds

Another day in depression land. I spent most of the day sleeping. I made plans with a friend to go to the store, but when I called her around noon, she had only enough time to make a quick run. So, I said I needed quite a few things, I would go on my own. I spent another hour convincing myself to get dressed and go. The boys ate all their food and turned their noses up at other options, so not going would mean their starvation.

Busy, sometimes angry, people packed the store. I bought everything on my list and then some, avoiding little Indy 500 drivers and their miniature shopping carts.

The gusty winds brought all kinds of crap with them making breathing extra hard as I carried the groceries into the house.

If I liked myself more, maybe the lack of inquiries about where I have been on FB would not hurt so much. One person noticed and sent me a private message. Three others sent PMs when I reached out to them.

Lacking self-esteem, I do not know how to take this lack of concern about me by others. I act as if I am a young teenager. I need help. I need to take the necessary steps to learn to like myself before I die.

Life

I am angry. I am hurt. I feel no one cares. I do not care.

Tears of pain

I napped today. The kitties joined me and before long I woke up because I was burning up. Two kitties and a quilt will do that.

I talked to my mom. The dentist pulled one of her molars because it broke in two. The wait to see the dentist, who was a neighborhood childhood friend of mine, grew long and she said she started moaning so the nurse would come. The dentist came shortly after and after hammering and tugging, got the tooth out. Mother said the health nurse at her assisted living home told her she had lost too much weight and needed to gain some. So she ate cookies at snacktime.

The black cloud of a depression episode lingers nearby. I feel like a great weight presses me and a boiling mass of tears threatens to spill. Though my heart tells me differently, my head says I am worthless. I feel unwanted and unloved.

Miss you dude.

Not "music" to my ears

In my old age, I found naps do a body good. Because my vacuumer came yesterday about 1, I missed my nap. I kept telling myself the time for sleep had passed and if I should give in to the urge, I would be up half the night.

Somehow I managed to stay awake until 7, when I quit fighting the inevitable and went down for the night. I left extra kitty food down so that Momo would not poke me in the middle of the night.

Some Chicano rap startled me out of a sound sleep at 1:20 a.m. Actually, I awoke to loud talking , which was soon drowned out by the "music." I am not a big fan of rap, especially when it disturbs me in the middle of the night.

As I lay there pondering what I should do about the situation, my mind wondered about why my overhead neighbors had never played "music" before, not even in the daytime. I could hear the boards creaking as a couple of people with heavy footfall walked back and forth across the room. The "music" ceased abruptly after about 10 minutes or so as did the walking. Apparently my upstairs neighbor and his company left.

I fell back to sleep after a bit more pondering about what my neighbor was up to in the middle of the night with company, playing loud "music" on a Tuesday night. I came up with several ideas, one of which that the neighbor sells drugs. That seems the most likely, although he could have been home on his lunch hour and brought a friend.

One of my friends and former colleagues received the golden apple teacher of the year award from President Obama in a ceremony today at the White House. Obama was relaxed and cracked a couple of jokes. The Secretary of education also stood there, but said nothing. The nominees from the other 49 states and the District of Columbia attended and served as a backdrop.

When Shanna's turn to talk came, she wowed everyone. Her contagious smile and smart, sincere speech made all who know her proud.

I think a nap lures me soon.

Miss you, dude.

A good Monday

Mother Nature decided to deliver some much needed rain today. Though the rain fell during the night and all day today, the area still could use more moisture. I am glad I had no plans and can sit in my chair and watch the steady, slightly wind blown raindrops come down.

One of my friends from the old newspaper days who did a PACE program one summer and switched to teaching, first at the middle school level, then on to high school, today earned the title of national teacher of the year. Shanna Peeples deserves the honor and I am so happy she has garnered the attention she so deserves. She has raised two beautiful daughters in the process.

The Panhandle Press Association inducted another of my newspaper friends into its Hall of Fame this past weekend. David Stevens studied at WT, where he was a student of my dad's. He worked at the Globe-News during part of the time I did and then went on to become editor of the newspaper in Clovis, N.M. He deserves all the praise he has gotten.

I have found myself eating everything in sight again. Compensation eating, if you call a spade a spade. I am not hungry and if I consumed healthier fare, eating would not be so bad. When I go to the store, I grab cookies, candy, ice cream and pistachios. Then I get lazy and rather than prepare the chicken and veggies, I eat the fattening stuff. The candy compensates for lack of anything I perceive I do not have.

After I was quitted from work,  I lost about 70 pounds. The main reason for the loss was I also quit eating out so often. I need to gain control of my eating now or I will be back in the same boat. When you weigh more than you should, breathing, or for that matter doing anything is harder.

Miss you, dude. Laters.

Failed overture

Today I sent a message to someone who thus far refused my efforts at apologizing for something that I must have done. I tried one more time and got no reply. I have known this person for a long time. This rebuff of my efforts to apologize and become Facebook friends sent me spiraling into a pit of self-pity.

I've tried my best to redeem myself, now I must consider the issue a failure and move on. I cannot allow one person to affect my quality of life anymore. I am 66, and have two major lung diseases. Whatever time I have remaining on this earth should be spent with those who appreciate me, warts and all.

See, I talk a good talk, but sometimes my carry through fails.

For now, I blocked that person. I will take another anti-anxiety pill, and try to focus on those people who do care about me.

I wish you were still here, dude. You could talk me out of a blue funk in no time.

The art of framing

I journeyed to the framers to pick up four pieces I had taken to get framed.When I left them at the shop, the framer told me to come back in a week. He apparently works hard since none of my pieces had been done when I got there. While the framer worked to finish up, I took some photos of his shop. I worked with this young man's father at the newspaper many years ago. He looks like his dad though his personality shines more.

A customer interrupted him and I watched as she went through picking out matting and frames. A couple of the pieces were photos and the young man suggested putting them in the same frame. This woman teaches art and knows what she likes and what she does not like. I did find it interesting that on one of the pieces, she wanted the artist's name covered up. Not because she did not like the work, but because she did not like the signature itself. I hope the artist does not see the work and notice the name missing. 

Unfortunately, the one artwork I need to start hanging the pieces I have could not be done. The framer told me that Dallas, where he gets some of his parts, was out of the particular model, so he had to order it from Chicago. The pieces had not arrived today. He hopes they will come tomorrow, since a week has gone by since he ordered them. Sigh. I am disappointed, but nothing can be done.

The skies promise moisture but I fear they will not. Instead they will exhibit gloom and doom and deliver nothing. 

The last time I visited the grocery, a Manwich display blocked my way to the fruits and veggies, so I grabbed a can. I cannot remember the last time I had a Manwich. I prepared the concoction last night as directed. Although I had no buns, I served the red savory stuff over bread. Now I remember why I have not had Manwich in years. The stuff reminded me of eating meat and ketchup. I will not fall for sale items like that again.

I talked with a new friend online last night. We share a couple of mutual friends, so the conversation flowed pretty steadily. I will enjoy talking every now and then and possibly meet her when she comes this way again.

I got a surprise card in the mail today from a PHriend. We have known each other for awhile and I appreciated the thoughtfulness. Thanks Jen, you made my day.

I guess I have prattled on enough for one day. I am trying to write something each day to get back into the habit. Blame that on Evan. 

Miss you, dude. Laters.

News of the day

I am glad this day nears an end.

The o2 man delivered. He came 30 minutes late. The vacuumer worked today. She moseyed in 30 minutes late. I got a call from my mother. She appreciated my gift but said I really should save my money. (Last week she got the first gift and gushed.) A friend told me some distressing news and I tried my best to say the right thing but feel like I fell short. Another friend's life seems headed in the right direction and I felt her joy and exuberance. The phone rang with the same number on caller ID every 20 minutes for two hours. Just as I changed into my nightgown for the evening, the doorbell rang. The mail carrier delivered some meds that do not fit into my mailbox. I finally clean the kitchen and then I am hungry. The old man needed extra attention today but finally gave up after I got up one time too many. I counted my pills this morning, as I do every morning, to make sure the count was 10. Today, only nine pills. I looked and looked, could not figure out what was missing, and downed nine pills. C'est la vive. Many, many people suffer more than I, which brings on the guilt. Pointless, sure, but nonetheless true.

The end.

Meany me

 Yesterday I did something that I am ashamed I did. I unfriended and blocked two people that I had had a good relationship with up until I did the deed.

The situation first began with someone posting a disturbing video of a woman beating her toddler because the child would not quit crying. You could see another child who looked about 5 or so, standing next to the wall watching his mother beat the toddler. I did some checking. The incident on the video happened at least three years ago. I made a comment about sharing a video that old. I got what I considered a wise ass remark back. The remark and the defense of that remark by another person made me mad enough to unfriend both of those people.

I will admit my reaction was childish and immature. No excuses.

I have felt lately that too much time on Facebook causes my attitude to reflect the posts in general. Yes, some posts ring with happiness and sincerity, but many  others seem full of hate and bitterness. I need to limit my time on Facebook but I allow the goings on to take up a good portion of my day.

I should apologize, but I am not going to. If everyone wants to judge or take sides and unfriend me, fine. I am who I am.

Li-li-li-life goes on.

OK, Evan. Here it is.

I may die soon. That thought crossed my mind about six months ago. When thoughts come out of the blue like that, they almost always end up being the truth.

Not to seem morbid, but I find breathing harder and harder. Lack of exercise contributes a large part to the breathing problems. I find my days run together with lots of sleep and some eating. I feed my boys and spend an enormous amount of time on Facebook. The social media replaces face to face interactions with people. Since Facebook serves as my socializing, I do not dress or much of anything else.

Add to that mix major depressive disorder, and I hurt. The meds prescribed for me in January worked at first. Now not so much. I have sent emails to the doc and my next appointment falls at the end of May. Until then, I hold on as best as I can. I cannot predict when that gloomy cloud will roll over me nor even how long the spell will last.

The Accredo pharmacist turned me in to my lung doc because I cannot seem to work in the third sildenfil  tablet. I no longer have a cell phone nor do I have an alarm clock. So I take two pills instead of three. That means I have two full bottles of pills when I should have close to none.

I do not wear my o2 half the time when I am sitting because the cannula bothers my nose.

I will save politics for another day.

I miss you dude, still. Guess I always will.