perzephone: (lunar phases)
I think I am slowly but surely becoming an atheist.

Not out of any sense of Science vs Religion, or the Big Bang vs Evolution, more along the lines of it just not holding any importance. Rob & I have pretty much stopped celebrating any holidays, I don't go out of my way to wish anyone a Happy Anything... I'm just not active in my faith.

Actually, I think I'm an Apatheist - I just don't care.

(Apparently, Apatheist is a real 'thing'. Huh.)

I've also been wondering why I have such a hard time making friends with people I'd like to be friends with, and only people that I dislike want to be my friend. What kind of person am I? I know I can be almost impossible to get to know, I talk less & less on a daily basis (so people tell me I'm a 'good listener'), I'm not forthcoming with info on myself (except here), and I don't hold any particular interest in the lives of anyone around me. But when I am interested, I ask all the right questions.

I know much of my mistrust for my fellow humans is based in abandonment. Does mistrust stand that much in the way of a fulfilling relationship with another person?
perzephone: (cunty day)
My fucking head hurt all night last night. Sinuses. All around my eyes & forehead. I couldn't look down because every time I did my head would start pounding. I feel like a complete drama queen about it, too. It's been so many years since I've had a migraine (thank the Gods for Beta blockers!) that I'm not used to serious head pain any more. I could barely function. Laying down didn't help, a hot shower didn't help, Benadryl & Sudafed didn't help, massaging myself didn't help, masturbation didn't help (actually, laying on my face made it worse)...

So I finally got up around 5 & put on some coffee, made myself some cereal & took a handful of Tylenol.

My headache went away. Whoda thunk? Food, caffeine & Tylenol for a sinus headache. I'm still congested & still have a lot of pressure in my face, but the pain is gone & since I've been sitting up, there's been drainage.

The mother-in-law is getting a new fridge & stove for her kitchen, so she's buying us a new stove & giving us her old fridge. I appreciate the fact that she thinks of us, and gives us her hand-me-down appliances, but it's a huge pain in the ass. Most of it is my fault because I am not the World's Best Housekeeper. I don't pull my stove or fridge out & clean under or behind them on a regular basis. In fact, I never do it unless something smells dead under there (and I'm relatively careful about food spillage/leakage so it's been 10 years since I've had to clean under the fridge or stove, and that was when we moved in). I used to have to clean everyone's houses when I was little, and honestly the #1 thing that is amazing about being a grown-up is only cleaning if I want to. Neither I nor Rob are hoarders, so it's not like we've got dead cats & feces piled everywhere, but yeah, our house is usually a mess. There's dust, and dog hair and cobwebs and books on every available surface. Our home decor is pretty close to Classic American White Trash. We've got hand-me-down or Wal-Mart furniture. Stuff is visible. Our carpet has random clean spots from cleaning up after Chelsie's sensitive stomach. We're debating on just ripping the carpet out & mopping the concrete slab because it's easier to clean the tumbleweeds of dog hair & dust bunnies. 

It's ok, though. It's our mess.
perzephone: madness takes its toll. please have exact change. (exact change)
I stopped going to the shrink, other than to get my Wellbutrin refills. I think the Wellbutrin is actually helping me, for what it's worth. I don't dwell on suicide as often, I have more energy, I feel more able to cope with everyday challenges. I'm sleeping better & having dreams more frequently. All that good shit.

I've been doing more research on avoidance/APD/avoidant personality, and dealing with personality issues and disorders in general. In a way, it's helped me accept myself a tad more. All this time I've just felt like there was something wrong with me. Not just that vague uneasiness that people get from time to time, but honestly terribly wrong in that 'potential serial killer' wrong way. There is this constant lack of emotional depth. I don't have empathetic or sympathetic feelings, nothing really touches me deep inside, I'm emotionally detached and even all my doctors' paperwork states I have a 'noticeable lack of affect' (I got to read all this while shuttling authorizations back & forth to the gyno & hospital before my surgery). In other words, I'm emotionally shallow and unavailable. Except anger. I'm good with anger. I can get frustrated, annoyed, irritated, ticked off, pissed off and angry with little or no effort. I can express the fuck out of anger, too.

Society is down on people who are anti-social and emotionally uninvolved. People are supposed to be communal creatures and foster a need to be around other people. The 'loner' stereotype isn't favorable. Other people are suspicious of those who prefer to be alone. There's an assumption that loners are shady or mentally ill. Everyone's supposed to be confident and easy-going in social situations, and if you aren't 'you need to get over it'. I've always operated under the automatic assumption that no one likes me. It doesn't matter if it's true or not, it's just what I've always believed. No one likes me, life is one eternal Pig Party - and I'm the pig. When I started seeking a therapist this time around, I was hoping to get some insight into overcoming this belief, maybe be more outgoing, make some friends - but the more I went to the therapists, the less inclined I was to want to actually try any of their suggestions - and attempts made me want to drink heavily. Along with the assumption that no one likes me, I have the automatic assumption that anything I try to do will fail. So I started focusing on my work ethic and building confidence to move forward, make goals and plans, and act on those goals and plans. But I still feel paralyzed to break out of my rut because I know I'll fail, and it will cost me money. Even the things that don't cost money cost something in other ways. Failure is expensive.

Right now, it's not a problem. I can still function in my day-to-day life. I can get out of bed, stay clean, I go to work, I come home, I pay bills, I make meals, sometimes I even clean my house. I don't need emotional involvement to do any of those things. It wasn't until I stopped drinking often that this stuff started coming to the surface, anyway. Self-medication ftw. But now that I know what the true issue is, I'm torn between wondering if I should do more to 'fix' it or if I should just accept it as being who I am. I've asked Rob about my behavior and actions, and he says that I'm emotionally available enough for him and the dog, and I don't behave in a hurtful fashion. We can communicate, too.

My only worry about embracing my true nature or inclinations is that it will make things worse. I always hear stuff about the old loners - people who were so enmeshed in their mental illnesses that they locked themselves away and died and weren't found for weeks or months. That worries me - not dying, but the not being found in a timely fashion once I've died. I'm thankful that I don't really like cats, because cats eat dead people on a regular basis. That's not how I want to get to the Underworld...

The clincher that makes me lean towards acceptance is that being avoidant is so damned convenient. If I embrace my personality issue, I have a legitimate reason to back out of anything that requires emotional involvement. When a debate moves from logic into emotion, I can just stop & walk away. I don't have to stick to any political or idealogical agenda. I can avoid competition because honestly, I don't have that good ol' competitive spirit. I don't have to force myself to stick with anything or anyone. I could use it as an excuse when people try to push themselves on me, or if I get singled out for praise, which makes me very uncomfortable. Of course, using avoidance as an excuse is deplorable to me, except when it's useful.
perzephone: (stfu)
I hate kids.

I hate their blind optimism.

I hate their lack of experience.

I hate their sense of entitlement.

I hate their naivety.

I hate that I can't spell naivety.

I hate them right in their smug little fucking faces.

Dispirited

Oct. 30th, 2011 08:46 pm
perzephone: (halloween dragon)
I am just not feeling it this year.

I'm not putting up decorations (that I paid almost $20 for), and I'm not carving a pumpkin (which I bought). We're not turning on the porch light, and will probably have to clean eggs & tp off our windows... I was more excited about McDonald's bringing the McRib back than Samhain. Wtf is wrong with me?

I'm just blegh this year. I know part of it is because I fucked myself by scheduling my return to work for the week of Hallowe'en. Trying to get re-acclimated to the casino is proving remarkably tough. I've had a bad sinus headache since Wednesday night, and I've been popping Sudafed & Benadryl like Pez. So that has my stomach upset, along with the general malaise that descends upon me when I go to work.

Ah well. Walking Dead's on.
perzephone: (bored)
Let's see...

today after getting out of the doctor, I:

1) walked around Hallowe'en stores for about 4 hours

2) Had some kick-ass hot wings at a little hole-in-the-wall take out pizza joint that we've been driving by for years but never tried

3) Hung up some Hallowe'en decor, which involved opening the window blinds & blowing away 4 years of accumulated cobwebs that were Hallowe'en decorations in & of themselves

4) Went around picking up corners of the furniture, pushing stuff around, bending, stretching and all the other things I haven't done for the past month

5) Fucked Rob & proved to myself that this thing hadn't grown closed

6) Cooked Rob some BLTs

7) Took a long soak in the tub, complete w/super-slippery lavender bath beads that almost landed me on my ass

8) Wrestled w/the dog

9) Wasted the rest of the night on the Internet

I'm tired and sore. I will probably be feeling this much worse tomorrow.
perzephone: (eggs)
I'm back to writing and rewriting descriptions for my dragons. I am so pathetic.

I was going to crack down on that CompTIA exam prep guide, get flashcards of the various ports and plugs, memorize RAID definitions...

Yeeeeaaaaahhhh. That's really working out for me.

I think I'm going through a decompression of sorts. I haven't had an honest vacation since I started working for the County, and I've honestly been relaxing for the past few weeks. Yes, the money is getting tight, and I can't stay home forever, much as I'd like to, but I needed this. I actually read an entire fiction book, cover to cover, and I've started a new one. My house is clean, I've been cooking almost every night, eating regularly scheduled meals... my face has cleared up as much as it can, my stomach's healing.

Of course, I would be reading Neal Stephenson. He fucks with my head. Anathem was anti-climactic and the ending puzzles me. It's like there's a missing chapter or something. I guess that's the risk you take when you start living in the polyverse. Your narratives all go to Hell in a handbasket. I started on Reamde as soon as I put Anathem down - I'm hoping it's a little more cyberpunk & a little less theoretical exercises.
perzephone: (userfail)
I've been out of work for 2 weeks now.

Not one phone call. Not one e-mail. No one has noticed that I'm not there.

I suppose in a way that means I've done my job of training and preparation correctly. It's a little depressing, though.

Actually, I take that back. Three separate managers called to make sure I went & got fingerprinted. At the front desk, we're now becoming more involved in the player's club program, so we're now required to have gaming sheriff cards. I've had both the gaming & non-gaming sheriff's cards in the past, the whole process is a pain in the ass, and it's expensive, too. At least the hotel's fronting the initial fee for the card, but any renewals are on us.

It's just weird to have almost absolutely nothing I have to do. Eat when I'm hungry, sleep when I'm tired, sit around & rub my poor mutilated stomach.

As a 'woman of size' (lol), one would think that stretch marks wouldn't bother me. I'm fat, I have them, and the ones I have aren't really that noticeable - being pale has that advantage. I've had 'em on my boobs since they first magically appeared overnight back when I was 11. But huge fucking stretch marks because of gas and bloating seems a little unfair. The gas & bloating will eventually fade, but stretch marks are around forever. They itch, too. My belly button seems to have stopped its Niagara Falls impression, which is a major relief. If I ever have to have laparoscopic surgery again, I'm going to request a no-belly-button approach. My belly-button hasn't ever done anything to me, and I don't think it deserved or appreciated this kind of treatment.

I've felt ok for the past 2 days, other than the huge stomach thing. My stomach, which hasn't ever been this big, has become an intrusive object in my life. It gets in the way of everything. It reaches out & touches everything. It makes it hard to get close to the sink for dish-washing, and trying to cut up peppers for dinner last night was ridiculous. I am constantly aware of my belly. I can't lay flat on my stomach right now, which is to be expected, and I'm not a back-sleeper, but trying to lay on my sides means having to physically move it around. The majority of actual physical pain is pretty much gone, but there's continual pressure in weird places that becomes physically painful. The pressure has my solar plexus over-stimulated, so I've been getting anxious for no real reason, so before I went to sleep last night I just laid there awhile & massaged my tummy and said soothing things to it.

It did feel satisfying to clean out the underwear drawer this morning, though :D

Rob's mom has been driving us nuts. She knows I'm not working right now, which she seems to feel has given her carte blanche to call like, five times a day, starting at about 9am. She was hollering into the answering machine about some yard sale this morning. I was already awake due to a self-induced charlie horse, and I was trying to fall back asleep. I didn't race to the phone or anything, but it ruined any plans I had of drifting into dreamlessland. After the surgery, I pretty much lost my voice, and it's finally starting to come back, and I'm not about to waste it on her. I get these pitch and volume changes that make me sound like a goose when I talk. Just random honking peppered through my conversations.

I visit Joey Comeau's (noted author & of asw fame) from time to time. He reviews horror movies & stuff. There's not much to it right now, but I love it. It's on blogspot, and at the top of the blogspot banner is an arrow for 'Next Blog'. Since I've got time on my hands, I've been exploring, and that Next Blog button is like candy for me. It seems to string blogs together based on a theme. Yesterday, it was a long string of Christian-based blogs. There was a parenting stream, a random photo blog stream, a bunch of horror movie reviewers, which at least kept up w/Joey Comeau's, and a fairly amusing collection of death metal fan blogs... today's selection was pretty random. All these blog streams usually take me into foreign territory - non-English blogs.

Now, I know the world is bigger than America. It's part of why I love the Internet so much. I can't afford to travel, and even if I could I probably wouldn't. I have this thing about safe, hot, running water and little or no inconvenience. Going to another country means encountering strange hygiene practices. There are places where people spit all the time. Other places where people poop in alleys and gutters. Not everywhere has abundant water for hand-washing, and just because they do have water doesn't necessarily mean they bathe with any regularity. Bedbugs and lice are somehow culturally acceptable in some places. Yes, we have dirty smelly unhygienic people in America, but we have the illusion that they don't touch anything clean people touch because for the most part, if you are offensive to the senses, you will be asked to leave. Yes, I know, all the antibacterial craze is basically like believing in Santa Claus & the Easter Bunny, and I avoid most anti-bacterial products unless a product I already use becomes anti-bacterial and I don't want to give that product up (it's kind of funny - Palmolive has a nice orange-scented dish soap that became anti-bacterial. Ajax had an anti-bacterial orange-scented dish soap that became un-anti-bacterial... I buy which ever one the grocery store has on the shelf because I love orange oil...), but just the thought that there is clean water and soap available in any public restroom here (unless you're at a gas station) (or the Double Down Saloon, in which case may the Gods have mercy on your soul) is reassuring to me.

The Internet allows me to take vicarious tours of other countries. Ran across a beautiful photo blog of Sri Lanka. Looks absolutely gorgeous, lush tropical plants, rustic farms, nice architecture, the works. That particular one was in English. Most of the time, I run across blogs & sites in other languages. Suddenly I am disconnected from that person's world. What are those buildings? What are those people doing? Where is that? Some times the actions or places are obvious. A building full of books is probably a library, but it might be a book store. Can't ever really be sure unless the photo shows more detail. People in robes might indicate a religious ceremony - or a play... or it could be how those folks dress 'over there', wherever 'there' is. I can read & comprehend a little Spanish, so I do ok w/Mexican or South American blogs. Usually, if it's a European blog, I can make out what or where it is, but if it's Asian, forget it. Especially when the writing looks like a series of spirals, loops & hooks. Africa definitely challenges the perceptions I have about myself, because, well, if it's not South Africa or Benin... it all looks alike to me. And I don't even connect Morocco or Egypt to the rest of Africa. On the world map in my head, all major African landmarks, cities, wildlife refuges, and everything else that is not Egypt, Morocco, South Africa or Benin - is in Kenya. The Congo? In Kenya. Ivory Coast? In Kenya. Somalia? In Kenya. Victoria Falls? In Kenya. Every single Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom featuring Africa was filmed in Kenya. Benin used to be in Kenya, too, but then I started studying the African Diaspora, so Benin took on its own borders.

The thing about language, though... when a baby is born, it has the potential to speak any language. We can speak multiple languages if we try hard enough. Many countries teach other languages side-by-side with native ones. Here in the US, it's almost the opposite, forcing English on everyone and obliterating others. Other languages are electives in high school & college. Some people definitely have the knack for picking up new languages - my dad spoke about 7 fluently, and understood even more. When I was little, I could speak Spanish, but didn't use it for so long that it faded away. Now that I'm older, I can't relearn it beyond hotel-speak. Of all the different sci-fi technologies out there, the one I've always wanted the most has been things like babel fish and translator microbes. I don't think the entire planet should speak English. So much is lost when a language dies or is destroyed... but it would be a much different planet if growing up with a singular language didn't make it so hard to absorb new ones.
perzephone: Wednesday Addams as played by Christina Ricci (be afraid)
In about 36 hours, it's go-time for my hysterectomy.

I'm not concerned about the surgery. I do not want to have to stay overnight in the hospital, and I'm going to do whatever is necessary to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible. I am, however, not looking forward to all the pre-op hullabaloo. I think doctors enjoy humiliating people before surgeries.

I went to the hospital Monday to pre-reg, and have been stuck wearing a flippin' ankle bracelet for the past day to show that I had lab work done while I was there. I have a wrist band, too, but I was able to slip my hand out of that & I can put it back on when I go in on Thursday. I'm just glad my ankles don't swell, because the band is already on its last hole and if my ankle swelled, I'd have to cut it off. I wanted to take a long bath, too, since I won't be able to do so while I'm healing, but the ankle band kind of kiboshed that. I can take a shower, but I can't soak it for an hour or two.

flarglebargle.

Noives

Sep. 10th, 2011 06:18 pm
perzephone: (Default)
I'm getting a tad nervous now. I mean, my surgery is only 12 days away. I should have given myself a slightly larger buffer before-hand, but with the way FMLA works, I can't take time off before the procedure, and I only have a week of vacation. I can tell I'm slightly stressed because my blood pressure keeps spiking erratically. Either that, or Bohun Upas causes blood pressure spikes. It's not unheard of, but lex parsimoniae indicates it's stress more than a smidge of some oil in a perfume. I need to stop worrying about the money most of all, because it's becoming cyclical, which means it could become a habit, and I broke that habit last year.

I just don't feel like I have enough time to get anything done that I want to get done, which includes cleaning some of the larger portions of the house and getting my hair dyed purple. I'm debating about bleaching it tomorrow & going to work as a bleach blonde.

I've been working on patterns for my next embroidery project, which is adding some sugar skulls to a white linen shirt. I had bought a bunch of designs from urbanthreads, but when I started doing the tracing with the transfer pencil, I realized that I didn't want to use the designs the skulls came with, so I started doodling on them. Then I decided I didn't want just a bunch of medium-to-small skulls floating around on the shirt, I wanted at least one big one. So I'm working on that tonight during my lunch break. The pattern's in three pieces because my tracing paper isn't big enough :P

Yummy

Aug. 30th, 2011 01:01 pm
perzephone: (21 grams)
I think I need more Port-Au-Prince. I've been sitting in a hospital all morning, just got home, and all I could think about while I was sitting there was how much I wished I had brought the PaP sample with me. I missed it.

But I came home & put Bohun Upas on, just because I wanted to give it another chance instead of dismissing it out of the bottle. Now that I'm wearing Bohun Upas... it's got a very Opium-like quality, and isn't too masculine on me at all. I know I've said this before, but my own scent is kind of like that creamy smell that high-quality paper has when it burns. Opium is one of the few true perfumes I can stand to wear, and it smells like pure unbridled lust when combined w/my own body chemistry. Bohun Upas has that same aura, with something sharp and absolutely delicious underneath it. It's a familiar scent, too, but I can't quite place it. Tuberose, maybe? Not milky enough to be orris. Vetiver? Hrmmm... It almost, but not quite, smells like good Nag Champa incense. Oh Gods, what is that smell? I want to say clove, but it's sweeter. Maybe it is vetiver. Whatever it is, it smells the same as Kashmir by Led Zeppelin sounds. Yes, I think I could wear Bohun Upas regularly.

I got some good news - since I'm taking FMLA leave, my employer pays into my insurance for up to 90 days, so I don't have to pay an outrageous COBRA to keep my benefits. Which is awesome, and saved me $880. Fuck, we need some socialized insurance in this country, because if that's the cost of keeping me & my husband covered for one month - without my job & the Union we would not have health insurance. Especially not at almost $900 a month. Can you imagine, $10k a year for health insurance? Holy crap.

Ah, no, bergamot! Or is it palmarosa? Fuck!

edited for content

The Bohun Upas settled down to a very nice, lasting, sandalwood scent.

I couldn't figure out the backnote of Bohun Upas, but its success out of the bottle prompted me to put some Cthulhu on once I got out of my shower. On me, in a cloud around my head... it's eye-watering and nose-burning. It's very clean, very sharp and ammoniac. Smells absolutely caustic. I may need another shower unless this shit settles down really quick.


some time passes...
Ok, now it's just green & soapy. Not quite green & soapy enough to be Irish Spring anymore, not quite as eye-watering... but still yucky.

Alas, the Elder God does not smell good on me :P
perzephone: (fridaynight)
Fuck I'm bored. I have nothing to do, or at least nothing interesting to do. Rob's ill from the colonoscopy prep, so he & the dog are napping on the couch. I napped earlier, so now I'm wide awake & shit. Rob's not having a good time w/the cleansing, so he may end up having to reschedule his procedure for a later date, just have to see. I offered to fast with him - fasting makes Rob miserable, but it doesn't bother me much. One great advantage of having severe depression is that it does actually have physical effects, too - like a dulling of the nerves & senses. I can tolerate our summer heat (I admit, I have trouble with cold. I can outwardly appear as though I don't mind it, but I really fucking hate it. I freeze to death all summer because Rob can't take the heat & has the a/c cranked down to 72ยบ. If you ever hear of someone getting hypothermia in August in Las Vegas, that'll be me), I can tolerate fasting, full bladder, itches, aches, burns, you name it. Of course, all the meditation I did helped that along, too, but mostly it's the depression that keeps me numb. The Wellbutrin hasn't affected that, or my appetite. I've noticed that the antidepressants I've tried have all acted like appetite stimulants - I'm eating more often, but not gaining weight, which is weird.

Got to take a taxi way out to a hospital in Pooksdehootie (aka the other end of the valley) because that's where Rob's doc has surgery privileges. Lovely. It's times like these that I wish I could drive or that I had the type of friends who would come & pick you up at the airport. Never mind friends who would help me hide dead bodies - airport friends are hard to find.

I've got a new hobby - I clean out dragon hatcheries & post other people's scroll when they've got the accepting aid flag. It's somewhat gratifying to find an ER egg with a day or so on it, post it around & watch it hatch. I've somehow amassed over 500 dragons. No life, but it's cheaper than WoW & I don't get called An000bis as much >.<

Speaking of WoW, I uninstalled it yesterday. Not a single fuck was given, either.
perzephone: (bad ducky)
Ugh, I don't want to go to therapy this morning.

I think I'm going to take a bath & then go to bed.

That chronic fatigue shit makes more sense to me on days like today. I had my cardiac stress test on Monday, slept the rest of the day, felt like crap yesterday... and all I did last night was some embroidery & fiddled with the internet, and I still feel wiped.

All because of like, 10 minutes on a treadmill.

Maybe next time I'll opt for the chemical version instead.

edited for the fuck of it: I've gotten into this habit of going onto facebook, updating my status & before I actually post it, I delete it. I'm finding that it's just as satisfying as actually posting something. In some ways, it's more satisfying, because I can say crap about people with no accountability whatsoever. One of my sisters is in the hospital with some kind of throat infection. There is pus involved. She is still updating her statuses, so she's obviously not dying. Why tell me about pus when you're not dying from it?

I've decided to take a shrink hiatus til after my hysterectomy. I'm kind of stuck with this stupid mental health clinic because of my insurance. Both therapists I've had just sort of sit there & listen to me, they don't offer any suggestions, advice, solutions or input into the things I'm having trouble with. Yes, I've found out - if a situation or occurrence makes me feel anything strongly, I stop doing it. But how can I stop stopping?

I've been trying to find reasons to cancel my hysterectomy. Not because of the potential risks, early menopause, having to take hormone therapy, the cost, the recovery time or time off work, but because I'm deeply pleased about the fact that I'm finally able to get it done. One could possibly say that I'm happy about it. That bothers me. Not the thought of canceling a surgery over emotions, but that I am bordering on happy. I feel bad about being happy. I haven't talked to anyone about what surgery I'm getting, and most people assume it's kidney stones, which is fine. They are all just amazed how calm I am to be undergoing major surgery of any kind. I'm not embarrassed about getting a hysterectomy, but the thought of showing anyone how relieved I am, or how borderline happy I am, that it's getting done mortifies me.

Finding out about the avoidance issue has helped me continue to make plans towards having it done, in spite of impending happiness. I keep reminding myself that it's ok to have emotional responses, that it's not really me it's the avoidance talking. Even in Stoicism, it's ok to feel things, and unnatural to not feel things. I returned to Selene and lunar worship to help me reconnect with my emotions (which is ironic, considering I'm having the main lunar organ removed from my body, but whatever, the moon has a crone aspect as well).

I dunno, there's just a lot of weirdness going on in my head. That's probably an indication that I should see the shrink, but it's nothing I want to express verbally, and nothing I can express digitally, either.

PEBKAC

Jul. 13th, 2011 03:04 am
perzephone: (userfail)
I started cleaning out my computer a little bit. I went through a shelf in my desk & had all these clip-art programs, some dating back to Win95. Some had proprietary image formats which required the proprietary software to open them, and said software is incompatible w/Win7, and I haven't been messing w/my Linux dual-boot much. I can't be assed to try and find workarounds for that shit, even though I'm sure there are some out there. Into the garbage with those.

Boring Disk Partitioning rambling )

Sometimes I look at stuff I've bought or done over the years and wonder, "wtf was I thinking when I started this project?" Why did I feel the need to have a collection of 850,000 pieces of clip-art? Wtf was I thinking when I bought that? I'm not given to buying things just because they're in a bargain bin at a computer store. I must have had some purpose in mind when I did it... was it for creating nifty stationery? Did I just want pretty pictures to look at as screen-savers? Was I considering desktop publications full of stock photography?

I also have amassed an incredible library of books on medicinal herbology, and have my own notes & what-not, collected for the past 27 years. I think, at some point, I was considering writing a book on herbalism. An encyclopedia, of sorts. But considering all the encyclopedic volumes on plants and their common usages, with much overlapping... does the world really need another one? Of course, if I told Rob I was going to start getting rid of them, he'd screech, holler, rant & rave about it. I have invested a huge chunk of money over the years into these books, packing & unpacking them, lugging them around from house to house. Do I want to hang onto them all just so I can win arguments on internet forums? In the US, in most states, being an 'licensed medical herbalist' basically means you're a quack. I never had the intention of practicing herbalism in a medical setting, so why the heck am I hanging onto these things? I don't even use what I know on myself, because honestly, herbal blood pressure remedies don't work as specifically and as efficiently as Lotrel & Toprol, and I'm not keen on having an actual hemorrhagic stroke. Plus, since I'm stuck buying my supplies from outside sources, I can't be absolutely, positively, 100% sure that what they send me is indeed what I ordered, especially when it comes to more exotic, lesser-known (and therefore more expensive) herbs & plants.

Same goes for Tarot books. There are so many Tarot books out there - and I have gotten rid of a lot of Tarot books. I'm not a 'beginner' anymore, and much like Wicca, the majority of books on the market aim at beginning Tarot readers. Does the world need my own perspective of the Tarot put into print? At least I can find practical value in keeping those notes because I do refer back to them from time to time.

I just feel so surrounded by stuff.

edited for idea addition: Maybe Rob would go along w/me just boxing them up & stuffing them in my closet. Then, if I haven't used them for a year or two, I can show him, "yeah, see, I'm done w/these, let me get rid of them".
perzephone: (cookin it up)
These all came out of a 'stained-glass' mandala coloring book by MindWare. The cool & warm tones were done with gel-ink highlighters, lol.

Of course, now that I've scanned them, I can see all the spots I missed. I even suck at coloring, but it passes the time.

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

I also have a pretty good idea of why Wellbutrin & alcohol don't mix. I'm getting that weird empty-head feeling that I've gotten from the other antidepressants I've tried, and topped it off with a Mike's Hard Margarita with dinner, which made me feel like I was moving forward in the space-time continuum and then everything would catch up to me.
perzephone: (bad ducky)
I called in today because I am too depressed to go to work.

Seriously. I'm so annoyed with my coworkers that the thought of spending two more days with them was just overwhelming, so I called in. I get annoyed with people who cannot use the minimum amount of technology required to do their job.

"I couldn't scan the sign-offs because the printer/scanner/faxer/copier machine is out of toner".

What. the. Fuck?!!

Unfortunately, I cannot call in sick from home. Rob's fixing my toilet. He asks me to look up how long the silicone sealant needs to set. I went in the bathroom, picked up the packaging, flipped it over & read on the back, "apply silicone sealant...blah blah blah... Step 5: Wait 15 minutes..." /facepalm

I went & saw the actual psychiatrist on Monday. He gave me Wellbutrin to try out. Today is day 2 of taking it. It's supposed to go to work faster than most SSRIs. Other than waking up headachey, I'm not getting any of the light/sound sensitivity, which is a good thing.

I managed to come to a decision, too. I'm going to end up w/6 weeks of recovery time before my doctor will release me back to work after my hysterectomy. I've bought updated CompTIA guides, and I'm going to spend that 6 weeks cramming for the A+ certs and then go take at least one of the tests. It's a gamble for me, and I hate gambling, especially when it's almost $200 non-refundable US dollars at stake. But unless I do it I'll never know, yanno?
perzephone: (bored)
What I want right now, more than anything else in the world, is to dye my hair pink & purple, paint my tattoos with glow-in-the-dark body paint and glitter, find something cool and wispy to wear, and blow my paycheck on a weekend pass to Electric Daisy Carnival. I would like to take x and dance all night and well past the morning glory for three days.

Of course, what I will do is get up at an ungodly hour, take a shower, put on a stuffy wool uniform, & go to work & receive training on the new hotel system, doing something that isn't even in my job description, for four hours and then work my shift. Just like I have for the past two nights and will continue doing for the next two weeks.

Yes, indeed, my life is amazing.

Onus

May. 13th, 2011 08:42 am
perzephone: (pic#835466)
I don't know if you could call it a breakthrough - I don't think I've been in therapy long enough to have those. Maybe it was just a realization. I have no sense of self-worth, no intrinsic value, unless I am doing something to validate my existence. To me, just working isn't nearly enough to prove that worthiness.

I think part of my self-worth issues come from the fact that everyone I had as a care-giver, my parents, my sisters, my cousin, & my aunt & uncle, made it perfectly clear that I was a burden and the only reason they provided me with a place to live & food to eat, was because of some sense of family obligation.

No one actually wanted me when I was a child or a teen-ager. I was just this person for whom they had to provide a minimum level of care.

When I was very little, I was always under the impression that school was my value. I had to provide top grades in order to validate my existence to my parents. I learned to read & write before I entered kindergarten because, even at 3 or 4, I knew I was an unwanted burden. Of course, trying to please my parents with my book-smarts & intelligence at an early age was fruitless. No matter how smart I was, I still had no value. With my cousin, she didn't really care how smart I was - I had to be good at sports. I failed at that, so I had to clean the house. No matter how clean that fucking apartment was, it didn't matter. With Jody and Terry it was the same shit. I became babysitter, housekeeper, cook & confidante... to no avail. Going back to my dad, by the time I went back to my dad, even trying to get involved in extracurricular activities wasn't enough to make me worth anything. In fact, my trying to excel in school became more of a burden and a pain in the ass to keep up.

With friends, there were different types of obligations instead of burdens. I always provided the transportation or entertainment or spending money. I was the gift-giver, the one who always came to the rescue, the secret-keeper. When I stopped being able to do things, or got tired of being used, the 'friends' drifted away.

I realized last night that one of the reasons I'm with Rob is because he has never given me a sense that I am a burden to him, nor does he make me feel like I'm obligated to do anything at all. I don't have to clean the house, provide child care (being child-free helps enormously) - he cleans the snake tanks & gives them fresh water, he spends the majority of the time w/Chelsie, if I didn't want to cook we could eat out every day, I don't even have to fuck him... just me being around & being a decent person to him is enough. His love for me isn't necessarily unconditional - if it was, I could be mean to him, but I don't feel like he's just taking care of me because he has to. I asked him last night, mainly because learned behavioral patterns tend to perpetuate, if I've made him feel like he's a burden or an obligation & so far I haven't. Rob also lets me know all the time that he appreciates what I do for him.

I think it all ties into why I'm a slightly recovering workaholic, too. Since I have no intrinsic value or worth, and I'm too tired to keep up political activism and rampant volunteerism, I get my sense of self-worth from work. I've always got to go above & beyond my job expectations in order to feel valuable to a company. It's never mattered if I received acknowledgement or even thanks for it. It's nice when it happens (and I have to admit, the peeps at the Excalibur have never failed to let me know they appreciate my sense of responsibility or going above & beyond - it's nice to work with people who take notice, even if you don't like your job), but I'd do it because I have to do it for my peace of mind. Part of what was so hard about the DA's office was because I felt useless. Absolutely, positively useless. It wasn't entirely my fault - the job expectations weren't made clear to me when they hired me, bad things happened when the case management project failed, and my boss had her own issues to work out.

Thinking these things yesterday explained to me why, more than anything else, I feel miserable when I have nothing to do. If I go to an event, I want to be part of the clean-up or set-up crew, I'd rather work in the kitchen than sit & eat, I arrive early & leave late to make sure things go smoothly. I can't stand it when the work break room is messy, & I pick up trash from the casino floor, even though I'm actually transgressing against Union policies by performing someone else's job. I log into the guest services phones & help answer calls. I'll go work on the desk & do the audit at the same time if they're short-staffed.

It also explains why I've stopped doing things, even things I enjoy. They give me no worth, they don't up my value as a human doing... they didn't make me feel better when I was doing them and even though I feel worse now that I've stopped doing so much I'm resistant to starting anything up again. Making new friends means dealing with obligations. Trying to do things with my family means being reminded of how cumbersome and how much of a burden I am just to be around.

Worth

May. 12th, 2011 07:02 pm
perzephone: (il dottore)
I've been trying to work on my actual depression this past week or so. It's not easy. I've also been trying to blog this for the past week or two, but for some reason the blank computer screen has been intimidating, and the thought of a paper journal is too permanent, and too easy for Rob to find and read. It's not that I really have anything to hide - I told him I've been having suicidal thoughts - but I just don't want to deal w/him freaking out any more than he already is. His doctor is sending him for prostate cancer screening, so it's been difficult around here.

A fairly large part of me isn't willing to acknowledge depression as an actual illness. Other people have it, it's an actual illness for them, but not for me. For me... I'm just lazy and self-absorbed. I think that if I could just break out of my introspection and take some kind of interest in the outside world I would probably feel better somehow. I think about calling various people - my sisters, Lisa, Ann, my cousin - and then I think about the conversations. Which would be a couple of hours of me listening to them bitch about money and how unfair the world is and their kids, and I just feel like I'm already tired of it. I don't even talk, I just listen, anyway, which is why I don't call anyone anymore. I have nothing of value to contribute.

I used to volunteer for various charity organizations and events. I've always tried to break out of that mold of 'Pagans don't do charity'. Christians are great at community service & charitable activities - Pagans, not so much. A lot of people think it's because needy people and organizations won't accept Pagan money, or that there would be some type of community backlash if Pagans came out in public to hold fund-raising events, but when it comes down to it, money and time are money and time. I've even volunteered in non-religious settings. But nothing ever feels satisfying. I've worked in politics - I used to be a militant outspoken bisexual Pagan teenager. I petitioned against censorship in music during the good ol' PMRC days. I had Nelson Mandela's prisoner number shaved into the side of my head, or wore it on an armband. I know I'm helping other people, raising awareness, being an active presence in my community, what-have-you, but I never feel like what I contribute matters at all.

It extends past me trying to be a good concerned citizen. That's how I feel about myself - I do not matter. I am not a worthy contributor. I'm a tax-paying warm body and that's about it. I've discovered something else though - I don't know exactly what makes a worthwhile human being. I just know that whatever it is - usefulness, art, innovation, humanitarianism, philanthropy - I'm not.

Sleeeeeeeep

May. 9th, 2011 07:24 am
perzephone: (dreams)
My riveting schedule for the past 36 hours or so:

Saturday, 5/7, 11pm - at work
Sunday, 5/8, 7:30am - at home
Sunday, 5/8, 9am - in bed, asleep
Sunday, 5/8, 12noonish - called work to see if I could still have my extra day off. Which I could
Sunday, 5/8, 12:15pm or so - back in bed, asleep
Sunday, 5/8, 4pm - Rob visiting dog, woke me up
Sunday, 5/8, 4:15pm or so - Rob now under covers w/me, both of us falling back asleep
Sunday, 5/8, 5pm or so - got up. Had some coffee, played Plants vs. Zombies
Sunday, 5/8, 8pm - ate an enormous stromboli, watched an episode of Flash Forward
Sunday, 5/8, 8:45pm or so - cleaned up after dinner, looked up wtf does QED mean, anyway?
Sunday, 5/8, 9pm or so - asleep on couch
Monday, 5/9, 1am - got off couch, went to bed
Monday, 5/9, 6am - awake, drinking coffee, reading Cracked, trying to decide if I really want to pay bills or do I want to go back to bed?

I am so fucking productive I amaze myself.

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Rainbow Serpent Woman

August 2014

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