Another beginning

Yes, I would love to go ____with you, I say a week before the planned event. The first day after making plans, I think I can do this. By the day before the date, I am thinking of excuses to offer why I cannot go. Each day seems to get darker until nothing can pry me out of my apartment. I feel guilty, but even the guilt and imagined shame fail to get me to go.

Then here comes the guilt of offering to do something for someone and failing to keep my word. How can I expect friends to forgive me? How can I expect them to ever believe me or even continue to be my friend? What is in me that I cannot see that keeps them calling or talking to me? Some do give up; how can I blame them?

Tears pool just beyond my eyes. The dam of determination holds the liquid pain in check. I know if the dam bursts, the flood will drown me.

I once received a letter from someone who had walked the path I am walking. I put the letter away. A time came that I believed I needed to rid my life of the negative. The letter was among the material things I tossed. For a year or so, I believed what I had done was right and necessary. Now I would give up most anything to have that letter back.

Should you push yourself to endure the pain? Does facing it help you find relief or does it wear you down to the point of giving up?

Where are you, Dude?

What's on my mind

I spent the greater part of my life looking for love. Friends tell me I am loved. I do not believe them.

How do I really know I am depressed? What if I am pretending so I can get sympathy?

I miss you, Dude. 

When you're strange

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sq9oR9x171w

Photo via Weird Tales Magazine

You may be watching television or staring out the window. Without warning, a tsunami of guilt washes over you. You feel bad that you did not live up to expectations -- your's and others'. 

Your home offers familiarity, which comforts you. At home, you do not have to ... anything. If you do not go out, you do not have to face others and their judgmental eyes. You do not have to pretend you feel great and love your life.

Feelings of hopelessness pervade every minute of every day. To banish these thoughts, you sleep and sleep and sleep. You have no energy, not even to cook. Crackers, nuts and ice cream bars are mainstays of your diet. 

Everyone else has lives; you are worthless. 

Just one person can make a difference. Could it be you?

Just another day in paradise

Sometimes chocolate makes me cry

Just add some joy

Thousands of people live with mental illness all day, every day.

Remember Monk, the OCD former detective and private eye, who made that particular mental illness funny and almost glamorous? Viewers loved to laugh at him because of his obsessive ways, which, by the way, also helped him solve some cases.

Listen to random conversations and chances are bipolar disorder will come up. The condition seems to be more common lately. Not sure if more doctors diagnose this disorder or more people have it.

Those with bipolar disease are hard to live with. One minute they seem fine, the next minute something snaps and they are having a hissy fit throwing furniture and punches. Medication helps, but many patients say they do not like the way the drugs make them feel.

People often misunderstand depression. Though sadness and depression differ, many people do not know the distinction. A well-meaning friend once told me to go find some joy. If only the solution were that easy. 

Depression lurks behind the curtains and inside closets. Turn your back and it catches you, closes its arms around you, and you find yourself unable to breathe. 

Then doubt and guilt crawl out of their hiding places to torment you incessantly. Doubt will demand you question your every move. Once you believe what doubt puts in front of you, guilt takes over. Everything you do, you doubt, then castigate yourself for your actions or inaction. 

Sleep becomes the retreat for the overwhelming weight of sadness, guilt and doubt. Asleep, the volume of accusations falls to barely a whisper, and relief comes. 

Depressed people can be great actors. Meet them on the street and they exude joy and happiness. Inside, they want to run. 

So how do you help a depressed person? Be a friend. Offer understanding if the depressed person cannot go to the movies as planned. Don't say you know how the depressed person feels, because you do not. Call or Facebook every now and then to let them know you care.

I know being a friend to someone who has depression sucks. If you want to run the other way, that is OK. 

I miss you so much, Dude.

Cookin'

I am sitting here with my third cup of coffee, already considering a nap. I am sleepy. I have medicines scheduled in a couple of hours, yet I wonder if I could put them off fot a few hours.

In all my 65 years I have never eaten corned beef and cabbage. So Ms. Cook here, who has not had many successful forays into the kitchen lately, will put the beef, onions, potatoes, and spices into a large pan and simmer. Then Cindy O'Leary will celebrate the holiday in style.

I used to know my way around the kitchen pretty well. Not Top Chef well, but good enough for the journalists I worked with. Sometime in the past 10 years or so, my cooking skills tanked. Scrambling eggs can be hit or miss. The whole cooking thing would be easier if I knew what I wanted to eat. I buy items at the store thinking I will make so and so. Or, I have not had such and such for such a long time, I will get that. Once the ingredients are at home in the cabinets, I forget the reason I bought them or I and mentally kick myself. How could I possibly think I would make beef bourguignon?

I will admit cooking this way has one advantage. I have lost about 10 pounds the past year. Apples and peanut butter are stables in my diet. Doc should be happy.

Off for the nap.

Laters, Dude.