Friday, January 6, 2012

Unintentional Hiatus (what blog?)

Fuck yeah, internets! Been a while.

It's been a long chunk of months filled with depression, dating and death. Strangely enough, none of the 3 are related, which makes them all the more AWESOME!

So.

Depression. Like a genius, sometime around May 2011, I tried to work my way off of my medication and live a [prescription] substance-free life. I had left my terrible, demeaning, verbally abusive job (*cough* boss), had started a new, painless job with an office and a salary, and was in one of those "this is so perfect!" relationships. What did I have to lose?

My sanity, that's what. I can best equate it to PMS, around the clock. I was tired. I cried a lot. Over everything - broken nail, tear in my tights, screwed up my eye makeup, END OF THE WORLD. One day, I had to sit in the bathroom at work and compose myself because the paper cutter wouldn't cut straight. Spent weekends at Matt's, in bed, not fucking, but sleeping. And whining. No one likes that chick. He certainly didn't like that chick.

So, eff that. Back on the meds. Let's not try that again. Even the occasional feeling of numbness is better than the constant feeling of FUCK EVERYTHING.

Gradually, I have worked my way back into the real world. Working, adventuring, dating again.


Dating. Yeah, turns out, it was one of those"this wasn't so perfect because he didn't love me (as much as he loved me naked!)" relationships. And it's ok. We move on, like we do. And we try - sometimes we happen upon the worst dating decision we've ever made, and then sometimes, as we are losing hope, we happen upon sheer awesomeness in the form of something we never saw coming. And I'm going to stick around for this one.


So, Death. Fuck death. I lost 2 amazing people in 2011. My father passed away on Father's Day Morning (thanks, irony, that's really cute of you), and my uncle, who had been kicking cancer's ass for 3 years, passed away a little over one hour after my father's wake.

Before this turns all teary, I have to turn it around for a bit. My father was not good to himself. We all begged him for years to get his weight under control, for fear of, well, exactly what happened. We lost him 40 years before we should have because he just couldn't reverse years of damage. Moral of the story? Take care of your damn self. I assume I've got a good 55 or so years left in me. I would like to live those years. I don't want to leave my future family without a mother/sister/daughter/wife because I didn't take care of myself.

And don't get me wrong - I love to eat junk food, I'm terrible at pushing myself towards physical activities, and I have my fair share of bad habits that my doctor would not condone. But I try. In the end, I look at what happened to my family over the past few years, and I am able to say, "No Fucking Thanks."

My job is enough to keep me afloat, and I have amazing friends and family to keep me going.

Optimism is hard, but it is there.