I’m depressed. And as such, I am going to blog like a blithering idiot. This one is going to be all train of thought, baby, so get on the train or you’ll just have to take the bus and no one likes having to take the bus.
I’ve got this crazy new job that’s supposed to be “easy,” yet it’s so fucking detail-oriented – obnoxiously so – that I’m wavering between throwing in the towel or finally being the brave “yes I can” girl. And the boss who “trained” me is being quite dickish in his critiques of my work. But the “yes I can” part of me is winning, so, in the immortal words of Scarlett O’Hara, “tomorrow is another day.” But I’m hungry and it’s too late to eat, so I have a feeling I will go hungry. And will go hungry again. As God is my witness.
This is one of those rare moments when not even my Snuggie can make me feel better.
I’m really battling this thing. This sadness that could turn into full-blown depression that could last for days and really affect my work. I mean REALLY affect my work. When I’m depressed, I can’t function. I can go through the motions, but when my heart isn’t in it, I’m useless.
On the bright side, the fact that I’m able to consciously fight this little fucker called depression means my oxy … er … antidepressants, et al. are working! Next step – see the therapist.
I’ve gone through a lot of changes recently and even when said changes are positive ones, I still struggle to adapt. So with my great new house and what could (SHOULD) become a great new job, I’m miserable and kind of freaking out. Again, here’s the bright side – I haven’t had a panic attack in TWO WHOLE DAYS!
AND I’m practicing the “one space after a period” rule, which is a tough one to get used to. All this bullshit and I’m worried about fucking punctuation!! There’s no such thing as too many exclamation points, though. Okay. There is. Five is the max. Otherwise, you’re just being a teenager and you might as well start saying “totes” for “totally,” and making sure words that end in consonants do so with a redundant repetition of that last letter. You do this, you will be a wannabe teenager foreverrrrr.
And I’ve proven my point. Fuck. I’m a wannabe teenager.
By the way, “redundant repetition” is not a redundant phrase. There is repetition that is NOT redundant. Like when you’re practicing piano or something. So get off my back, Department of Redundancy Department!
I’ve been tensing up my shoulders and clenching my jaw for weeks now. It’s exhausting being stressed out just sitting on the couch in my non-comforting Snuggie and being all tense and shit. What I wouldn’t give for a massage right now! Only it would probably be painful and therefore would add to the stress I carry in my neck, shoulders, and back.
Some might say my train of thought is still boarding at the station after reading this diatribe. They’d probably be right. The only other train I know I have a ticket for is the Express Train to Hell. I’m already making Sandusky jokes. Too soon? Hardly!
My sweet pup-pup Kona is lying on the couch beside me snoring like a flippin’ chainsaw and as tired as I am, the thought of going to bed right now just doesn’t appeal to me. Thus the blogging about nothing except depressing shit. This is the second depressing blog in a row. Time to bring back the funny! But I haven’t been inspired lately. Maybe because no one has abandoned a baby doll in the driveway of my new home.
Okay – deep, cleansing breaths. And … I’ve gone and annoyed myself. I hate it when people pull that deep breathing shit on me when I’m in a snit. FUCK YOU DEEP BREATHERS! Fuck you! Oh, and I appreciate the obviousness of that stupid “deep breaths” statement. I know! You’re supposed to breathe! It keeps you alive and shit.
Now I’m trying to determine whether or not to make this blog public. I’ve been so miserable in my writing lately, I feel a little sorry for my three blog subscribers (hi Mom!).
Maybe I’ll curl up on the couch tonight. Change of pace.