(no subject)
Aiee. Tomorrow is Monday, meaning normal business hours, which means I can call my insurance to help me get a shrink appointment. I'm like one of those super bouncy balls you used to get out of the quarter machine at the grocery store while you were waiting for your mom to hurry up and finish paying for the good stuff you didn't want to eat and the junk food that you did. I never was really one for just dropping the ball and letting it bounce gracefully back up to my hand. I slammed it down as hard as I could, just to see it go flying over my head. Sometimes I would catch it, sometimes I had to go running after it as it bounced again and again down the sidewalk ahead of me, intent on its own course and not listening at all to my voice of reason.
Sometimes I bounce that quickly. I hit bottom, only to slam back upwards in a matter of a few hours. I decide I can relearn HTML and teach myself XHTML and XML and CSS in the matter of a couple of days while teaching myself how to type on a Dvorak keyboard and working out a storyline for my Sims and btw finishing that book I just got in the mail before I go to my Meetup on Tuesday and btw, shouldn't I get some laundry done? I work like crazy for a few hours, only to find myself almost in tears at the prospect of having to go to bed in preparation for going to work the next day.
The dropping down is never gradual. I will feel myself taking a turn that way, but it's never around long enough for me to prepare myself. One minute I'm up or just normal, the next I start feeling a little off, and the next there is a screaming howling child inside me trying to figure out why no one is paying her any attention. I'm angry, wanting to smash things throw things scream LISTEN TO ME! I HURT! and yet at the same time I'm despondent, knowing for certain that no one will care if I do and expending the energy isn't worth my effort. I'm reminded of those slow speed studies of objects hitting a solid surface, the way they flatten out just before bouncing. For me, sometimes the flattening period lasts an eternity.
Sometimes I convince myself that it's gone. Really, my life is going to be normal again. All the stories we read are meant to be so inspirational: look at this person who is CURED and now lives a NORMAL LIFE. Happy happy happy, joy joy joy. Realizing there is something a little different about my chemistry seems like a failure. Why can't we hear about people who have come to terms with whatever situation and have learned to live their lives just a little differently than people with perfect health?
I have no answers for this one tonight. Maybe there aren't any, and maybe that's ok. I'm not feeling any great stress over it right now. I think getting it off my chest was enough.
David Bloom of NBC has died while covering the war in Iraq. His wife is left with three young daughters. He was only 39. I don't mean to sound melodramatic, but that's how it feels to me -- what a young age to die. Comforting thoughts going out in their direction.
There's a Coldwell Banker commercial on tv now, showing various views of home life and playing a sound clip of a little girl saying "look at me Daddy!" Then the voice over says "It's only a House" and then shows a picture of a man in military camo, "Until you come Home." I'll take Commercials Calculated To Make Me Cry for $200, Alex. (It works, btw)
Sometimes I bounce that quickly. I hit bottom, only to slam back upwards in a matter of a few hours. I decide I can relearn HTML and teach myself XHTML and XML and CSS in the matter of a couple of days while teaching myself how to type on a Dvorak keyboard and working out a storyline for my Sims and btw finishing that book I just got in the mail before I go to my Meetup on Tuesday and btw, shouldn't I get some laundry done? I work like crazy for a few hours, only to find myself almost in tears at the prospect of having to go to bed in preparation for going to work the next day.
The dropping down is never gradual. I will feel myself taking a turn that way, but it's never around long enough for me to prepare myself. One minute I'm up or just normal, the next I start feeling a little off, and the next there is a screaming howling child inside me trying to figure out why no one is paying her any attention. I'm angry, wanting to smash things throw things scream LISTEN TO ME! I HURT! and yet at the same time I'm despondent, knowing for certain that no one will care if I do and expending the energy isn't worth my effort. I'm reminded of those slow speed studies of objects hitting a solid surface, the way they flatten out just before bouncing. For me, sometimes the flattening period lasts an eternity.
Sometimes I convince myself that it's gone. Really, my life is going to be normal again. All the stories we read are meant to be so inspirational: look at this person who is CURED and now lives a NORMAL LIFE. Happy happy happy, joy joy joy. Realizing there is something a little different about my chemistry seems like a failure. Why can't we hear about people who have come to terms with whatever situation and have learned to live their lives just a little differently than people with perfect health?
I have no answers for this one tonight. Maybe there aren't any, and maybe that's ok. I'm not feeling any great stress over it right now. I think getting it off my chest was enough.
David Bloom of NBC has died while covering the war in Iraq. His wife is left with three young daughters. He was only 39. I don't mean to sound melodramatic, but that's how it feels to me -- what a young age to die. Comforting thoughts going out in their direction.
There's a Coldwell Banker commercial on tv now, showing various views of home life and playing a sound clip of a little girl saying "look at me Daddy!" Then the voice over says "It's only a House" and then shows a picture of a man in military camo, "Until you come Home." I'll take Commercials Calculated To Make Me Cry for $200, Alex. (It works, btw)