depression, emotions, Song Lyrics

Unfriended

I am not a great friend to most people. I am A LOT. And I know that. I frequently cancel plans at the last minute. I struggle with committing to plans. I don’t reach out enough and I am not good at consoling or pampering others. I get it. Yet again, I’m unfriended.

It hurts when people unfriend me, but in a way similar to my knees hurting. I am so used to it, that it just feels normal.

I don’t want people to unfriend me, but I don’t expect them to put up with me either. I have great energy and limitless kindness, but I really am a lot. My depression takes me through dark tunnels and sunny days while rain comes up from the ground.

If you need constant attention, do not look to me. Well, unless you are a hot man that wants to be worshipped. :O

And just like that I am off on the sexual comments. See? A LOT.

As the great Cyndi Lauper crooned (obviously out of context):

Don’t call me in the middle of the night no more
I don’t want to be your friend
Don’t think that it will be the way it was before
I don’t want to be your friend…
Don’t expect me to be there
‘Cuz I don’t wanna be your friend

Cyndi Lauper – I don’t want to be your friend

depression, emotions, Song Lyrics

Flowers

Depression lies. That’s the truth.

I have a song stuck in my head. The song is Flowers by Miley Cyrus. I am not a huge fan of Miley Cyrus, but she puts out some hits that I love. This song is one of her best, and definitely one of her first “adult” hits. Her voice, her image… she has transformed like a butterfly. Hannah who?

People with depression go through periods where the don’t feel wanted or needed. They feel like they can’t love or be loved. This song shows us how to love ourselves again. The song shows us that we don’t need other people. We only need ourselves.

Flowers by Miley Cyrus:

I can buy myself flowers
Write my name in the sand
Talk to myself for hours
Say things you don’t understand
I can take myself dancing
And I can hold my own hand
Yeah, I can love me better than you can

Can love me better
I can love me better, baby
Can love me better
I can love me better, baby

Paint my nails, cherry red
Match the roses that you left
No remorse, no regret
I forgive every word you said

So buy yourself flowers and hold your own hand. Dance like the world isn’t watching and laugh at the ridiculous. You’ve got this. I have this.

depression, Song Lyrics

#Nine

It’s time for a flashback song.

I’ll kiss you!

The gypsy told me that the first thing
That would happen you get dizzy
Second thing you better make sure
That your boyfriend isn’t busy
Cause you won’t wanna eat
And you won’t wanna drink
You won’t wanna talk
And you won’t wanna think
My mother used to tell me not to
Kiss on this first date
This time when I see you, you
Know I ain’t gonna wait!
I’ll Kiss you
Gonna corner you and not let you go
I’ll Kiss you

depression

Depressionist

Depression is a dark and scary place. If you read my posts, you know that. Or you should. I often hear the phrase “if you need help, reach out”. I don’t want to laugh, but, well, here we are.

People that don’t have major depressive disorder just don’t understand it. They don’t understand the daily grind of my mind. Just like I don’t fully understand being diabetic or having fibromyalgia. It really is hard to understand things that are so far outside of “normal”.

Suicide is not a stranger for me. My first bout was in high school. People didn’t like me. I overhead my two best friends talking about how annoying I was and exhausting.

Later in life, it was drunken mistakes that left me humiliated. Did I really do that? Why would I do that/ I lost a close friend to that before I was even legally able to drink.

How do you tell someone that you are having suicidal thoughts? Like, yo, dude, my brain says we shouldn’t be here anymore. What are your thoughts on that? Or, yo, dudette, can you believe that I did that? My brain is ready to check out..

If I call you and say, I am struggling with suicidal thoughts… that permanently changes everything. Whether you want it to or not. So are you really there for anything?

When your depression is strong, you burn through friends quickly. They want to be there for you, but it is not easy. It’s not easy at all.

anxiety, depression, emotions, Sleep

Dreams

Dreams are very strange things. Most nights I do not remember anything. Sometimes I will have a vague recollection that fades over the first couple of morning hours. Lately, though, I have been having very vivid dreams two to three times a week that feel like memories. In some, I vividly remember sensations like flying or running or screaming. Almost like my body is remembering it. In others, the dream is a full on memory lodged in my head.

There are days that I think I would willing go into the Matrix if it meant I could control the dream and the reality. Like having sex with Jensen Ackles or Chris Evans on the monthly. Being able to travel the world and experience new things without my anxiety tripping me up. Having normal mental energy and extra spoons (see the spoon theory).

Outside of the Matrix scenario, I do feel like sleeping more. It’s harder to make myself get out of bed in the morning. I have started sleeping past 10am again. I have slept through my alarm a couple of times. I don’t know if it’s my depression creeping up on my rearview or if my mind just likes the dream world better. Because let me tell you, some of those vivid dreams that are locked in like memories are spicier than Chris Evans doing a screen record live on Instagram.

And with that, let’s get some music going.

“Sweet dreams are made of these…”

anxiety, depression

AvP

I really enjoyed the Alien vs Predator movies. I really enjoyed the new Predator movie “Prey” even more. But that is not what this is about. This is about me, obviously. Just in case you forgot.

Anxiety attacks and panic attacks are almost the same thing but they are very different. They have similar symptoms, but you shouldn’t confuse the two afflictions. I could describe the differences between the two, but then I would have to kill you.

(Do I need to add a sarcasm note here?)

I have been suffering from anxiety attacks all week. I don’t know why, so don’t ask what’s wrong. Nothing is wrong other than these stupid anxiety attacks. I used to think the difference between the two was external stimuli versus internal stimuli. Then I thought the difference was the intensity of the symptoms. Now… I have no idea.

So, here is where this non-doctor is going. For me, Panic attacks are short and bitter sweet, typically caused by an incident and soon forgotten. Anxiety attacks are my brain fucking with me from all angles on a slight and subtle level over hours.

I keep trying to figure out what is causing the anxiety attacks because everyone keeps asking me. Like, dude, what happened? (Don’t get me started on the people that confuse being anxious about something and having anxiety).

I don’t know what’s causing my anxiety. Maybe I need new meds. Maybe I need talk therapy again. Maybe I need another shot. Maybe I need to leave this apartment. Maybe I need to have sex with Paul Rudd. Who knows? Do you?

emotions, Motivation

Fantastical

One of the most amazing things about my husband is that he gets caught up and rides the wave of my fantastical thoughts and dreams. I don’t think he believes them any more than I do, but he doesn’t question them. I talk about my newest fantastical dream and he goes along. Like, it could happen.

I talk about moving to a small town to be in the Gilmore Girls world. I talk about moving to Spain to be among the beautiful men. I talk about buying property in Oakland. I talk about so many things. And the love of my life… he just goes along with it. We both know these won’t happen, but he never bursts my bubble. He encourages this.

My newest and most fabulous one? I am going to buy a house in Guerneville while finding a fully 100% telecommuting position. I can be there five to six days a week. We can swap between our apartment and there. I can walk down main street holding his hand without fear. I can be. I can live. So much life with so little outside interference.

I love me more and more as the days go on. My dreams get bigger and better. But one day, these won’t be dreams anymore. They will be. We will be.

depression, emotions

Pride2022

June is Pride month. I am doing my best this year, but I don’t have a lot of pride this year. Let’s be honest here. The last two years I have gotten older. I have gained weight. I have been spending most of my time at a desk for work or for school. Apparently I have outdated ideas for how to celebrate Pride.

I have not seen the extent of the ageism in the LGBTQIA+ community until recently. I was not a pioneer of the Pride movement, and there was an entire generation before me. I have, however, pushed and screamed to get equality. I dreamed of having a wedding where I walked down the aisle in an outfit with the top half being a tuxedo and the bottom half being a sprawling wedding gown. Black of course.

The time was not right, though. I did not have a lot of openly gay idols. I typically stuck with my divas like Madonna, Tina Turner, and, of course, my idol, Cyndi Lauper. I remember in high school when I waited until after first period, which was wood shop, to run to the bathroom and use temporary dye to put orange and yellow streaks in my hair. I remember having the checkerboard shaved into the side of my head. But, and here is where my origin story music would start, I was bullied. I was knocked down. I was tossed against the locker. I was fucking weird.

I left home at 17 to get out and find the world. I spent the summer with my oldest brother to visit and get advice on school. I enrolled at a university but at the last minute, I dropped out. What if life at that university was the same as my high school? I would be all alone in a city of millions of people and no one to turn to. No one to go home to.

I made some friends in the town that I was in. Obviously I moved out of my brother’s place. But I stayed there. My friends loved me and we had fun, but I wasn’t honest with them yet. That was to come. That is another story for October.

I finally came out by accident. That’s a story for an afternoon at the bar. So many mimosas needed for those stories.

I joined the Navy. I was going to be a Nuclear Submarine Engineer, but Clinton signed the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell law. That is yet another story for another time, but I got booted.

As I look over my life and my experiences, the bullying, the gay bashing, the beatings, the drive-by beer bottle tosses, I can’t help but think that I deserve my place in the community. As I look for ways to celebrate and show our Pride, I keep getting the “that’s for old people” or “we don’t really do that anymore” or “how old are you?”.

And now, as we are approaching SF Pride, and as we are wrapping up the Pride month, I am tired again. This time, though, it’s not the same people pushing me down. This time, it’s different and I just don’t have the energy to fight today.

So, Happy Pride. Celebrate. Be yourself. Love yourself. Call me if you are feeling low or down or bad. You don’t have to be alone, but I am not going out to be there in the moments of Pride.

anxiety, depression, Motivation

Healthy

Sometimes I hate people that don’t suffer from depression or anxiety. These illnesses cause so many issues, but those issues are invisible.

Do you actually think that I want to lay around all day? Well, I don’t. I want to get up and do the laundry, the dishes, the cleaning. I want to get up and make my home look beautiful. But that’s not in the cards for me.

I want to build my bath and body products. Even if I only give them as gifts. I want to go out for walks or go bicycling. Most days, though, that’s not in the cards.

So that makes me lazy, uninvolved, or sloppy. I get it. Sorry for the rant but my brain has been yelling at me about this for a bit and I need to get it out.

depression, Motivation, Sleep

DST

Daylight Saving Time is here yet again. The week of the time change is hard on me mentally. My depression loves the two weeks that we do this.

I am not sure if it’s the lack of sleep on the one night or just the change in general. I struggle to get out of bed. I struggle to make it through my days. I struggle.

Every year, I reach out to my Senators in the Spring and Autumn about this. Every year I am ignored. Until this year. We actually have a chance to stop the time changes. The Senate, which is deeply divided on everything, passed the resolution to switch to DST next Spring and then stay there.

There is hope in every situation. Sometimes it’s hard to see after so many failures, but keep looking.