I am anxious.
I am depressed.
I am bored.
I am lonely.
I am afraid.
I am frozen.
I am needy.
I am lacking.
I am useless.
I am ...
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
Monday, May 16, 2016
I feel the buildup
A couple of friends brought me some of their boxes from their cross state move. Being nice people, they carried them into the house for me. After they left, the anxiety started.
The last time I moved, I had my friend Connie, her youngest son and his friend to help. Actually Connie acted as the trail boss and the two teenagers did the leg work. If I remember, I threw stuff into boxes the night before the move, after all I was moving from upstairs to downstairs.
This move will require more precise packing. Just looking at the flat boxes my friends brought makes me question the move. Do I want to pack? It is not so much the packing as the energy required to do it. Sure, there are things I could pack now that I don't use. But after my last clean out, much of that stuff got put outside my front door with a sign on it that said, "Free. Take me."
The rest of the stuff, for instance dishes, I use daily.
I guess what I am saying is I don't want to and I am not sure I can. The very thought makes my stomach hurt and the shadow of dread comes creeping close by. I am not good with change and moving would be a big change.
My lease ends in 3.5 months. I hope I don't spend that time worrying and fretting. Imagine what it will be like if I get all anxious about a stack of empty boxes now.
The last time I moved, I had my friend Connie, her youngest son and his friend to help. Actually Connie acted as the trail boss and the two teenagers did the leg work. If I remember, I threw stuff into boxes the night before the move, after all I was moving from upstairs to downstairs.
This move will require more precise packing. Just looking at the flat boxes my friends brought makes me question the move. Do I want to pack? It is not so much the packing as the energy required to do it. Sure, there are things I could pack now that I don't use. But after my last clean out, much of that stuff got put outside my front door with a sign on it that said, "Free. Take me."
The rest of the stuff, for instance dishes, I use daily.
I guess what I am saying is I don't want to and I am not sure I can. The very thought makes my stomach hurt and the shadow of dread comes creeping close by. I am not good with change and moving would be a big change.
My lease ends in 3.5 months. I hope I don't spend that time worrying and fretting. Imagine what it will be like if I get all anxious about a stack of empty boxes now.
Friday, May 13, 2016
I don't want to adult today, either
Me: Pogo is looking and feeling poorly these days. After all, he is 16.
The other me: I know. I should probably take him to the vet and have him put to sleep.
Me: But what if he is not that bad. How will I know?
The other me: Don't you think the fact he is eating less and spends most of his time hidden under a blanket is an indication?
Me: I want to do the right thing for him. I do not want him to suffer. But how can I tell if he is suffering?
The other me: Don't you think that constant meowing he went through recently was an indication?
Me: Yes, that occurred to me. But he isn't doing that anymore. He still drinks water and I can find something he will eat, though it might take me three or four tries.
The other me: Why don't you call the vet and make appointment and ask her.
Me: But what if she says he is ready to leave? Can I make myself watch him die? Can I leave him there alone to die by himself?
The other me: What are you afraid of? That you would have to feel?
Me: As long as I know he isn't suffering or in pain, I could let him die naturally at home.
The other me: But do you know for sure he is not suffering or in pain?
Me: No, not for sure.
The other me: Isn't helping him die part of your job as a pet parent?
Me: But I don't want that job.
The other me: You signed on for that job when you adopted him. Just call the vet and let her tell you what she thinks. Then it will be a joint decision.
Me: But if he needs to be put to sleep, I will feel so guilty.
The other me: Guilty about what? That you prevented him from lingering in pain? Man up. At least call the vet and make an appointment.
Me: OK. But I will have to get dressed and leave the house.
The other me: Yes, you will. We all have to do things we don't want to.
Me: OK. I will because I love Pogo.
The other me: I know. I should probably take him to the vet and have him put to sleep.
Me: But what if he is not that bad. How will I know?
The other me: Don't you think the fact he is eating less and spends most of his time hidden under a blanket is an indication?
Me: I want to do the right thing for him. I do not want him to suffer. But how can I tell if he is suffering?
The other me: Don't you think that constant meowing he went through recently was an indication?
Me: Yes, that occurred to me. But he isn't doing that anymore. He still drinks water and I can find something he will eat, though it might take me three or four tries.
The other me: Why don't you call the vet and make appointment and ask her.
Me: But what if she says he is ready to leave? Can I make myself watch him die? Can I leave him there alone to die by himself?
The other me: What are you afraid of? That you would have to feel?
Me: As long as I know he isn't suffering or in pain, I could let him die naturally at home.
The other me: But do you know for sure he is not suffering or in pain?
Me: No, not for sure.
The other me: Isn't helping him die part of your job as a pet parent?
Me: But I don't want that job.
The other me: You signed on for that job when you adopted him. Just call the vet and let her tell you what she thinks. Then it will be a joint decision.
Me: But if he needs to be put to sleep, I will feel so guilty.
The other me: Guilty about what? That you prevented him from lingering in pain? Man up. At least call the vet and make an appointment.
Me: OK. But I will have to get dressed and leave the house.
The other me: Yes, you will. We all have to do things we don't want to.
Me: OK. I will because I love Pogo.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
I can't adult today
I got up at my usual 3 and got quite a bit done. Well, I gathered the trash, washed a week's worth of dishes and swept and mopped the kitchen floor. After having stepped onto several wet spots, I discovered one of my cats has diarrhea. So I cleaned up the spots all the while Pogo meowed at me to come back to bed. Going back to bed has become a part of our routine. Pogo doesn't sleep with me, however. He gets under the covers and then slides down beside the couch into a tent made from the quilt which is much too big for the couch.
I lay there for a few minutes, then slowly got up so I wouldn't disturb Pogo. I discovered a few days ago that Momo has been marking a spot near my medicine cart. Today I finally decided to do something about cleaning it up. I looked on the web and followed the directions that included blotting up the pee, spraying the spot with a vinegar/water solution, blotting that up, then spraying with a hydrogen peroxide and dish soap solution and then sprinkling baking soda over the area. I am supposed to let it dry, then vacuum. I just hope Momo doesn't decide to mark the spot before it is dry. Once it is dry, I will spray lemon juice on the wall and carpet. That is supposed to repel cats.
Pogo is not doing well. He has lost weight and doesn't feel good. He hisses at Momo. I need to take him to the vet so he can cross the Rainbow Bridge, but I can't make myself do the right thing. No matter which direction I take, I will feel guilty.
My insides, mainly my head, feel like an electrical storm. Thoughts don't seem to connect. I can't seem to eat more than one meal a day without feeling bloated and uncomfortable. I have heartburn a lot because I tend to lie down after I eat so I can breathe.
I read an article by a writer who suffered from depression. I agree with his description. Every sentence I was thinking, yes! Then he wrote one day he just returned to his old self. He offered no clue how or why. It just happened. Well...I am waiting.
I find it harder and harder to fill my waking hours. For awhile, I read. I have Amazon Prime and get a free book every month. Then I discovered a book by a woman named Nadia something or other, who is a Lutheran pastor in Denver. Her church parishioners are the throw aways, the scorned, the people nobody wants. She once was a throw away herself. Her message stirred something inside me. After a few months, my old depressed self returned.
Then I watched lots of television. Mainly what I call the blood and guts network (the ID channel). All sorts of murders, some solved, some not. Lt. Joe Kenda of Colorado Springs became my hero.
But after several hundred hours of blood and guts, I no longer watch tv. Since I have Direct TV and they were bought by AT&T, I no longer have sports channels. The big phone company raised rates the second they took over. I know, I should get Netflix or Hulu, but really, tv no longer interests me.
Which leads to the problem I have now. Nothing captures my imagination. No hobbies, no interest in volunteering, which requires a commitment, nothing involving people. That is not to say I don't get lonely, because I do. Lonely down to the core of me.
Maybe I need a stint in the local nut hut.
I lay there for a few minutes, then slowly got up so I wouldn't disturb Pogo. I discovered a few days ago that Momo has been marking a spot near my medicine cart. Today I finally decided to do something about cleaning it up. I looked on the web and followed the directions that included blotting up the pee, spraying the spot with a vinegar/water solution, blotting that up, then spraying with a hydrogen peroxide and dish soap solution and then sprinkling baking soda over the area. I am supposed to let it dry, then vacuum. I just hope Momo doesn't decide to mark the spot before it is dry. Once it is dry, I will spray lemon juice on the wall and carpet. That is supposed to repel cats.
Pogo is not doing well. He has lost weight and doesn't feel good. He hisses at Momo. I need to take him to the vet so he can cross the Rainbow Bridge, but I can't make myself do the right thing. No matter which direction I take, I will feel guilty.
My insides, mainly my head, feel like an electrical storm. Thoughts don't seem to connect. I can't seem to eat more than one meal a day without feeling bloated and uncomfortable. I have heartburn a lot because I tend to lie down after I eat so I can breathe.
I read an article by a writer who suffered from depression. I agree with his description. Every sentence I was thinking, yes! Then he wrote one day he just returned to his old self. He offered no clue how or why. It just happened. Well...I am waiting.
I find it harder and harder to fill my waking hours. For awhile, I read. I have Amazon Prime and get a free book every month. Then I discovered a book by a woman named Nadia something or other, who is a Lutheran pastor in Denver. Her church parishioners are the throw aways, the scorned, the people nobody wants. She once was a throw away herself. Her message stirred something inside me. After a few months, my old depressed self returned.
Then I watched lots of television. Mainly what I call the blood and guts network (the ID channel). All sorts of murders, some solved, some not. Lt. Joe Kenda of Colorado Springs became my hero.
But after several hundred hours of blood and guts, I no longer watch tv. Since I have Direct TV and they were bought by AT&T, I no longer have sports channels. The big phone company raised rates the second they took over. I know, I should get Netflix or Hulu, but really, tv no longer interests me.
Which leads to the problem I have now. Nothing captures my imagination. No hobbies, no interest in volunteering, which requires a commitment, nothing involving people. That is not to say I don't get lonely, because I do. Lonely down to the core of me.
Maybe I need a stint in the local nut hut.
Friday, April 29, 2016
Trapped in the blues
I seem to have more and more bad days. I don't want to do anything, I don't want to go anywhere and I don't want to talk to anyone. Yet I am terribly lonesome. I find myself taking an extra Klonopin and sleeping most of the day.
I know I need help, but the times I have reached out have done no good. I have a friend who has pulled her anxiety filled self up by her bootstraps and is activally trying to help herself. I don't have the desire? the drive? the self-esteem to do that for myself.
Everyone is getting tired of Cindy has the blues again today. Even my sweet brother and his wife are tired of me calling them to talk.
I am not sure how much little longer I can do this.
I know I need help, but the times I have reached out have done no good. I have a friend who has pulled her anxiety filled self up by her bootstraps and is activally trying to help herself. I don't have the desire? the drive? the self-esteem to do that for myself.
Everyone is getting tired of Cindy has the blues again today. Even my sweet brother and his wife are tired of me calling them to talk.
I am not sure how much little longer I can do this.
Friday, January 1, 2016
Back again
I made it through Christmas without the waves of depression smothering me. The doc prescribed another med to go go along with the two I take and the combo seemed to work. I went whole days without the gloom. Though I fretted about garbage and groceries, those thoughts did not ruin my whole day. A friend came to visit and another called and took care of the garbage and groceries.
Then suddenly today, the clouds rolled in. I needed to pick up the phone and call my best friend, but I can't. My doctor told me to find a new friend, but some friends can't be replaced. I am so tired of the sadness.
Then suddenly today, the clouds rolled in. I needed to pick up the phone and call my best friend, but I can't. My doctor told me to find a new friend, but some friends can't be replaced. I am so tired of the sadness.
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