Tuesday, August 28, 2012


I've started and deleted a new post here multiple times since my last one.  I'm still too scattered to put anything down concrete, so instead, bullet points.

* I find it hilarious that the most frequent referral to this blog is from a Russian p0rn site.  Apparently a lot of foot fetishes floating around over there. 

* I have become a boot buying maniac.  Well, shoes.  Well, accessories.  In the past month I've bought a new bag for work, a cross-body bag for lighter traveling, ordered two pairs of boots online, another pair from Target, and two pairs of shoes from DSW.  And I'm not even going to go into my addiction to Charming Charlies. 

* I also ordered enough new pairs of panties that I can completely throw out every old pair I own.  Which I apologize for the TMI there, but I truly can't remember the last time I bought new underwear.  My bras are still in horrible shape, but I'm having a hard time replacing them. 

* I guess what I'm doing is slowly rebuilding a wardrobe.  One that closer matches my age and personality.  But I'm still incredibly frustrated by a lack of clothing options out there.  Finding new jeans that fit will be the death of me.  The other day Matt offered to pay for a custom pair of Levi's just to shut me up. 

* I'm working on the depression.  Kind of.  Sort of.  I've told myself that I have until this weekend to shape up my act.  That once fall begins (in my head, Labor Day is the end of summer) I have to be back on this.  Dedicated.  Optimistic.  Working for the best. 

* I sat down yesterday and plotted out weekends for the fall.  I need to force myself to get out, to do things, to be social.  To see people.  To stop wallowing.  

*  I'm looking into joining a gym.  I can't believe I just typed that.  But it's true. 

*  I'm also trying to clean some other things up.  Broader things.  Slimmed down the people I follow on Twitter, finally did a bunch of filters and weeding on Facebook.  Cleaned a lot of the house last weekend, deep cleaned.  A bit more to do there, but I've made a promise to myself, and to my ever patient husband, that September will bring good things. It has to. 

Friday, August 17, 2012


I had planned on writing something tonight about clothes and shopping, seeing as I wore an "old lady sweater" to work today.  I'll explain that later.  But something else is bothering me more.  

Earlier in the week, I came across the quote below.  (I'm going to paste it in here, in case the image disappears: "You wouldn't worry so much about what others think of you if you realized how seldom they do." - Eleanor Roosevelt.) 

This is something I need to repeat to myself regularly, until it sinks into my brain.  Because right now, at the peak of depression (can depression have peaks?) I'm perceiving slights and offenses and taking them more personally than perhaps I should.  Or perhaps not.  I don't know.

See, there are a few (oh two specific) people who I'm fairly certain I should consider frienemies.  People who I'm connected to on various social medias, and that they maintain those connections purely for the outward image it portrays to our mutual friends.  In one case, yes, we have some issues to work out if we were to ever truly be friends again.  But in the other, I have no idea what I've done to make her not like me.  We may live very different lives, but I often lend kind words and support.  I tell myself again and again to stop it, since it's very clearly not appreciated, not welcomed, but there was a time in my life that this person was truly supportive, and I valued that.  There's a part of me that wants to think, "it's them, not me."  That where they are in their life, and the changes they've undergone, are the issues.  Not that I'm such a horrible and repellant person that they'd be visiting my town, no, my neighborhood, and not bother to say anything.  But I suspect that's not the case.  That right now, it IS me.  That they don't really want to be friends. 

So the quote.  I'm trying to take it to heart.  It's ok that these people don't like me.  Truly.  I'm an adult, I know you can't be friends with everyone.  I should just hide them on Facebook and quit following their blogs so that I'm not tempted to reach out.  And that even if it IS me, that it bothers me a lot more than it bothers either of them.  And I don't want them to have that power over me.  I've already invested more time into this, just by this blog post alone, than either of them have probably ever spent thinking about me.  Eleanor is wise.  It's time to clean house, for my own well being. 

Monday, August 13, 2012

Observations from a husband

This weekend, while we were out of town for a wedding, we had a lot of time to kill Sunday morning while waiting for our brunch plans to materialize.  We spent the morning walking near our hotel, through a shopping district, mostly people watching while we waited for the stores to open.

Matt made two comments about my personality that I want to record.  The first was him thanking me, for my tone of voice.  That I "know how to talk so that the only people who hear me are the ones I'm actually talking to."  Both that Sunday morning, and the Friday before at the baseball game, we were surrounded by people who talked incredibly loudly, obnoxiously, perhaps not intentionally.  They clearly thought they were so fascinating that everyone wanted to hear about what kind of beer they liked, how their future children would wear their hair, where they were when Bin Laden was shot, that they didn't know where peanuts came from.  People like that tend to force me to revert into a deeper shell, to the point that at the baseball game I had to leave our seats for awhile to avoid an anxiety attack.  (That one of the jerks was tossing peanut shells down my back certainly helped with that though.) 

So it's true.  I don't really have a loud voice on a regular basis.  My throat hurts after we've been to a restaurant with loud music.  It's part of the reason I am loathe to hang out at bars.  Part of it is that I'm really a snarky bitch, and a lot of what I mumble under my breath would probably get me punched, but part of it is that my regular daily conversation is meant for those I'm with.  Those I trust.  Those I care about.  I'm not a public person.  I've told a total of 10 people about this blog - the people I care about the most, that will help me the most on this journey, that inspire me.  I only recently unlocked my Twitter account, and I'll probably lock it again at some point.  I get hives every time I have to speak, even at work, even though I've known and taught those people for over a decade.  So yeah, some of it is snark.  But some of it is that I just don't believe that I have anything to say that anyone would be interested in hearing.  Tied to that, is that I really don't want to draw attention to myself.  I don't go to bars, because I take up too much space.  Same thing goes for things like concerts, or ballgames.  Why didn't I tell the jerk behind me to shove his peanut shells down his big mouth?  Because I didn't want to be called a fat bitch.  Again.  (And I didn't want Matt to kill someone.  He had no idea about this, and when I confessed it on the way home, well, I'm glad I didn't tell him then.) 

Am I ever going to be comfortable in the public eye?  Probably not.  It's just not in my nature.  It's genetic.  But I need to start to value my own words. 

As a counterpoint, the other thing Matt pointed out to me was that I always give people more information than they might need.  I think some of this comes from being a librarian, someone who values information, someone who fills a service role.  Some of it comes from having worked retail.  I make a concerted effort to treat everyone in a retail or service role as a human being, not someone to serve me, but as an equal with a job to be respected.  Eye contact.  A kind word.  A smile.  It's really the least I can do. 

So yesterday we poked our heads into a Trader Joe's in Ohio, looked around the booze section, and walked back out.  It was too early to legally buy anything, but we were curious.  On our way out, the manager approached us and wanted to know if we had found everything we were looking for, since we were clearly leaving empty handed.  Matt just kept walking with a brisk nod.  But I babbled "Oh no, we're from Pennsylvania, so we were just looking at all of the alcohol.  We'll be back later when we can purchase something."  That's when Matt pointed it out to me.  I'm not quite the queen of TMI, but I do tell people more than they probably expect.  I don't want that manager to think that there's something wrong with his store.  I've been there.  If I can offer a compliment, or an explanation, I generally will. 

A lot of that was how I was raised.  Our family communicates.  Ad nauseam.  We're talkers, but we also touch base regularly, even now, as a habit from when Dad was deployed.  So if a few words can ease the way for someone else, I'll do it.  A text message to Mom that we're safe in Ohio, and home again.  Things like that. 

So I've got a different post brewing in my brain over being Type A or not, and I really think that what it comes to is that I see it as being nurturing.  Not motherly, since lord knows I'm not interested in going there, but I want to help people, care for them, and have them care back.  And I think truly that a lot of my stress over the past few months has been not as much a lack of control, as a lack of communication.  If I can do something to ease a strain, lessen a stress, offer some compassion, I will.  But I've got to know that you (royal you, none of you who are reading this) need that.  I'm not asking for people to share like I do, because man, I obviously know how to over-share.  But I think I'm asking for simple courtesies.  Like if I'm expecting to see someone somewhere, it would be nice to know that they weren't coming.  Or if I invite someone somewhere, it's fine, truly, that they don't want to go.  Just tell me.  Don't not answer an email or a text because you think it will hurt my feelings.  Being ignored hurts more. 

That ties into the self esteem thing again.  If you're late for something, and don't tell me you're late, it feels like you don't value my time as much as your own.  I'm going to automatically go to the worst case scenario.  Not that you've got a lot going on in your own life, because I really don't know that, especially if you don't tell me, but that it's me.  I really just naturally assume that people would rather not spend time with me, and as I dip further into the depression, it's easier and easier to believe.  

I really don't know what to do about that though.  I think truly, that until I feel like I'm in a better place emotionally, that I'll just need to barrier myself from people who hurt me.  Because that's easier, in my head, than telling them "hey, the fact that you do X really is a pain in the ass."  Perhaps not in the long run, and it's not fair for me to not share information with them (perhaps not over-sharing for once?), but for now, I need to do what I need to do to preserve my own sense of self.  Because this struggle is too painful on it's own to add in other people in the mix.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Being an It Girl

I took a vacation day today.  Last night when I came home from work I had every intention of being productive, but then fell asleep on the couch.  I slept horribly overnight, my mind running constantly, teetering on the edge of an anxiety attack, and when my alarm went off this morning I figured that the best thing for me was a day at home.

I think it's time to admit to myself that I'm probably at my lowest depressive point that I've ever been, outside of any time there's snow on the ground.

Last week I was in North Carolina for work, a whirlwind two day trip, and I know that part of the problem there was a frustration that the trip wasn't mine to control.  And tied with that, I was in a state where a friend lives, and couldn't see her, again, due to lack of control.

I have control issues.  This isn't news to anyone reading this. 

I spent today sleeping, texting with my mother about family issues, talking to my father in law about family issues, and doing almost everything on my personal to do list.  Not exactly a relaxing day off.

I have a friend who had a recent revelation in her own therapy.  That the notion of a "Has It Together Girl" is a myth.  It's something that we as women hold up as our ideal.  And I have to say, hearing it from this person, who if you'd asked me totally has it together, was a big deal for me.  As women, we all compare ourselves to each other, each trying to be perfect, each trying to be the girl who is in control of their own perfect life.  And if that's a myth, I need to work on my own definition of who I'm trying to be.

I know a lot of my problems right now are the control issues.  This weekend we have a wedding out of town, and what that is making me face is that there are two more weddings I'd really like to attend this year but can't.  It's a weekend with people who are a lot more lose and fancy free with both time and food issues than I tend to be.  So this is my last major stressor in the near future.

So my vacation day was spent cleaning, and paying bills, and basically getting ready for a stressful weekend.  Doing things that no one really expected, or needed me to do, except that they were things I needed to do for myself.  For me to feel in control.  For me to feel like I have it together.

I really don't know what to do about this.  I'm not sure that after this many years on the planet, I'm going to learn to change.  Other than to say that I'm getting through.  After this weekend, I'll have survived most of my major stresses for the year.  That this summer has been brutal, and then I can come back and dedicate myself to doing what I need to do to feel healthy.  Because right now I'm in a spiral of comforting myself to the point of feeling sick, and then comforting myself again.  It's a cycle I need to break, and I need to give myself that break.  Soon.