happy birthday to me

it’s here. happy birthday to me, I suppose. I survived another year of living with myself, of beating myself up and despising who I am and what I haven’t accomplished.

a friend has to postpone birthday hangouts last night. instead, a different friend came over last night and gave me a few gifts. I skipped the gym this morning. I have had a few wishes her at work; I’ve received a few texts from my Louisiana folk too. then there’s an unrelated work hangout this afternoon. in the evening, I’m going to Noodles and Company with a third friend; he will probably pay, knowing him. then tonight I’ll cry myself to sleep. Saturday, Brian will take me to dinner and to see Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat. at some point, I know I’ll get a gift from another friend who always sends something.

 

I wanted to cry when I woke up this morning. I really hoped that my gift from The-Powers-That-Be would be my not waking up finally. alas.

my sleeping issues have returned. I’m not sure what’s up with that. I mentioned to Brian about going back to a sleep specialist, and he agreed that it was a good idea.

my depression is worse, too; but that typically happens around my birthday.

I haven’t been to therapy in several months. she had a health issue that kept her out of work. she wants to meet Sep 2. I liked what work we were doing when we were actually doing it. but her constantly cancelling and rescheduling appointments was a real pain, and I had decided that I wouldn’t go back. but now, with the state I’m in, maybe I should. for now, at least. …man, I dunno.

I got a UTI last week. haven’t been back to my kickboxing since then. I know that’s not helping my mood any. I also ran out of my fibro and my axiety meds two weeks ago. so that’s taking a toll.

 

overall things should be great for me. but I’m crazy, and things are not good in my Mind.

so yeah. happy birthday to me.

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just another day

yeah.  it’s a Tuesday.  at least it’s not Monday.  ugh, yesterday was rough.

though Tuesdays are my long days.  11-hours from start to finish; 7:30 am to 6:30pm.  blah.

 

I went by SpayNation today (that animal shelter for which I volunteer from time-to-time).  I hadn’t really given them any time for several months now.  too busy, too depressed.  but I talked to the manager about getting a new set of keys to the place so I can come by after work and on the weekends.  they’re only open when I’m at work, so that doesn’t work out well.

she’s game for that.  she wants to create a schedule.  maybe Tuesday nights after work I’ll swing by, and I’ll could take over her Saturday duties maybe every other weekend or something.  we’ll see.

Brian and I agree — I need to get more involved in volunteering.  it gave my life purpose — something I’m lacking right now.  :/

the last few months when I’d come by with old newspapers to donate, the manager always asked how I’m doing.  I hesitate, then give her minimal information.  today, she said she’s worried about me.  she said every time I come in, I’m getting worse.

my boss met with me yesterday.  she’s worried too, she said.

apparently that game Pretend — I’m not very good at it anymore.  the janitor at work has noticed I’m doing poorly.  I think my two office mates have noticed too, but are just being polite and aren’t saying anything.  the guy who works the bookstore has commented.  et cetera.  it’s seemingly apparent that I’m falling apart.

the manager at SpayNation suggested seeing a counselor or therapist.  I see my psychiatrist this Thursday.  I’ll ask him about it.  I just don’t think it’ll do me any good.  I already know most of the “tips’n’tricks” they’ll tell me about managing depression, anxiety, et cetera.  I’ve done all this before.  “write about it”; “talk about it”; “draw”; “take a nap”; “take a bath”; “deep breathes”; “read a book”; “draw on yourself instead of cutting”; “baby steps”; “use your support network”; “avoid triggering situations”; et cetera.  I heard it all.  I’ve been through all this before.

I can’t see me paying someone to talk about the things I write about here.  at least this way, it’s free.  moreover, maybe it’ll even help others who read it.  maybe they won’t feel alone, ya know?

tangentially, cutting.  I cut Monday morning.  just the typical light “FAIL” on my thigh.  I’m not gonna lie — it was kinda nice having that sharp pain every time my clothes rubbed against the open wound.  but I don’t want to over-romanticize it.  I can’t pick that habit back up again…..