new leaves

I'm blowing off my psych. appointment.

And I don't feel bad about it.

A few weeks ago I started taking Celexa as well as Wellbutrin to combat the anxiety and depression I had sunk into after getting pregnant. At first, as with any new mood altering drug, it was hard to sleep and I felt jittery and just awful. I was considering just giving up on the whole thing. But I was encouraged to persevere by Dr. Steiner and I noticed the difference within a few days of the new medication. It's like magic.
Side note: I know that I'm pregnant and so these drugs are also being passed to the baby, but if the professionals think this is better for the baby than having an emotional wreck of a mother would be, than I must do what I must do. If the professionals thought it would be better to take me off all of the drugs, I would. I really do want the best for my little bean.
So anyway as I was saying, I began to feel better in no time at all. In fact, I haven't had a weepy spell at all since starting on Celexa. This is big! I was having them at least every couple of days. And that is just the beginning!
I got the nesting urge, and got everything ready for Carter's arrival. His clothes are clean and folded, bassinet is in the corner of our room, fit with blankets and mobile, and all of his things have a special place in our tiny environment.
I am painting for him! I had been meaning to do this for months and just couldn't. But now I'm at it. I am rubbing my belly affectionately without even realizing I am doing it. I sing Jimmy Eat World songs to him and fantasize about the moment we meet, what he will look like, and what his favourite disney movie might be. This is how I knew I wanted to be but I wasn't and I knew he deserved better. Now he has better because I feel so much more like me. Fuckin' eh.

So screw the appointment. I will reschedule. I just don't feel like talking about negative feelings today. I left my last appointment feeling like pond scum, anyway. Next time. Promise.

small update...

I've been good lately!
Everything has been pretty good. To a degree, one of the best cures for depression is distraction. So I have been distracting myself. From time to time the beast creeps up on me and I have to change my scenery; go for a walk, a car ride, or just go upstairs and hang out with my mother. That helps. The other day I was at the hospital again, visiting with my obstetrician. Because of my history with my "mood deterioration" they always make me see their social worker, Valerie. She was pretty amazed by the fact that I have been trying to get a medication change for 2 months and haven't gotten any response from the clinic or from my family doctor, so she left some nasty messages on a couple machines for me. Good lady. I am not expecting any phone calls today, though. I've given up. It's been a long time and I am tired of waiting for doctors to get back to me. So I distract myself. And things are good, most of the time.
I have to tidy this basement today.
Oy vey.

death by depression

I'm trying!
I really am trying to keep an upbeat attitude and be happy. I even tried to volunteer some place but the co-ordinator never called me back... I would be painting if I had the paint... I am trying. I don't like being depressed.
But what if depression is like a terminal illness?
What if, without proper pain management and treatment, it grows and grows like a tumour, and just keeps slowly trying to kill you?
That is what it feels like. When you can't maintain appearances anymore, and when you are constantly worrying about everything and just waiting for everything to turn to shit... that must be this depression thing trying to kill you. This thing in your brain that grows with every negative thought, gets stronger with every tear or insult, and wants you to die.
That's what it feels like, a lot of the time.. like I am just waiting for this thing to kill me.
But I am trying. Fuck. I just want to feel better.

why would anyone read this blog it's just insanely pathetic

When did I begin to feel like a prisoner in my own life?

I have what feel to me like flashbacks of another life, before this one. A life where I had friends, a job, money, and I looked great in my underwear. I drank martinis at One Duke and picked up a bouquet of flowers on the way home, just because. I smoked on patios and did some drugs when they were offered. I had a zillion boyfriends and I made art. I listened to music loudly while I devoured poetry on my bed, all night long. I drank wine in the tub and I painted walls lime green.

Now I wake up still tired, and try to fall back asleep. Then I have to get up because the sound of people walking around upstairs is too distracting. I drink 2 cups of coffee and have a shower. Then I sit on the couch. There is never anything on. I get on the computer and I have no one to talk to; there are no new messages on my facebook. I try to read a book, but most of them aren't interesting so I read one I've read before, years ago. I eat too much junk food and my one size fits all bath robe is starting not to fit around my ever-expanding waist. I wonder how much weight I will have to lose after this baby is born.

I know it sounds absolutely awful to even think this way, but I just hope I don't resent this baby. I hope I don't feel like he ruined my life. I hope he doesn't ruin my life. I hope I don't end up a single mom. I hope I don't start wearing mom jeans. I hope I still have the will to put on make up when I get out of the shower, and I hope I don't start getting into floral patterns and "the mom show". I hope Mike loves him and we get married and we are a family. I do not want to lose everything that ever mattered to me in exchange for a baby that I didn't exactly ask for. We're coming so close to the end and I am just terrified of what kind of mother I am going to be. What kind of mother has these thoughts? Aren't I supposed to be excited and happy? Sometimes I am. It's just when I sit in this basement and think about it long enough that I start to wonder if I'm capable of doing a good job at this...

In a parallel universe I am writing the antithesis to this blog entry in a cafe, drinking a cup of coffee spiked with several different liquors and waiting for a friend to arrive and spend the afternoon with me. Maybe I'm writing about the trip I am planning to Barcelona. Maybe I am writing about how happy I am that I am going to have a Masters degree soon. Maybe I am writing about how sorry I feel for this person I know, who has depression and can't get the right medication...

Or maybe this is it. This is me and this is who I've been working up to becoming every second of my life so far. Maybe there is nothing left to dream for and no reason to put on make up in the morning because I'm just going to sit on a couch in a basement all day, every day anyway.

everything that is frustrating me and how i am choosing to deal with it, part I.

I am angry that I don't know how to get limewire on my macbook. I need it to download music. So I can put said music on my ipod. My 200 dollar ipod that I cannot use, because I don't know how to use the 1400 dollar computer. When I think about this it almost makes me throw this laptop out the fucking window and grab a neighbourhood child and tear his throat out with my teeth. Instead I shake uncontrollably while trying not to cry.

I am irritated that my mother thinks limewire is the devil and will not let me use it on her computer (the one i know how to use) and is thus very much contributing to my hatred of the apple corporation right now. Hatred of all technology. I hate technology.

I am pissed off at Mike because he has been facebook creeping some really pretty girl named Tina Gray and he thinks I don't see this in my history files. Normally this would not bother me, except that I am very hormonal and feeling very fat and ugly as of late. I want to cut off his head right now.

Also pissed off that he is gone for the day in Brantford, getting away from me, while I lose my ever loving mind here in this basement all alone. He should be here suffering too. Fucker.

I need a new prescription, some new combination of antidepressants and I have needed this for moooonths. I am incredibly unhappy and I need some sort of chemical to alter this. My fucking doctor needs to get back to me before I jump in front of a goddamn train.

I found a stretch mark. 'Nuff said.

So I am sitting here in absolute silence, on the ugliest and most uncomfortable love seat in the world, hardly blinking and just letting it out and onto blogger. After this I am going to go to bed and cry until I fall asleep and try not to wake up for as long as possible.

the real world: hamilton.

I'm sitting here watching The Real World. They're in DC. It's the first episode. I love this show, it's a little pathetic. So you know how in the first episode it introduces you to every person in the house and shows you bits of the video they sent in to be selected for the show? Well I'm sitting here and I'm wondering what I would do for my Real World audition tape.

...What would I do for my Real World audition tape?

Maybe I could take the camera with me to Harvest Burger, I could chug a 40 of beer in 25 seconds and order a burger, fries, fish, more fries, a chocolate milk and a greek salad and bet someone 20 dollars that i could finish it all? And then proceed to finish it all and throw up puke that looks just like tartar sauce on the ladies room floor?
I've done that! A 100% genuine Lindsay moment.

I could videotape one of my "episodes" where I lay in bed and cry for hours on end. I've done that!

Other than that, I do not know what I could put on that tape that would distinguish me as an original, authentically entertaining person. Shit. Good thing I'm having a baby. He will justify my existence and give me a good excuse for being a super lame-o. Just kidding!

20-10

I was thinking about resolutions.
If there was a year I should be making them, I'm thinking this may be my year. Me and this baby are so close to the end. It's so strange, I've been holding him every second of his life so far and in no time at all he's going to be out of me, into the world, and his own person. I will never see things from his perspective again. He's already growing up too fast.
I don't mind in a lot of ways, really. Being pregnant hasn't been fun for me since day 1. It's been a real struggle, emotionally. I did not miss these emotions that this baby has brought back to me and I want to feel better. I was feeling better for so long, and then I thought I had overcome the depression and then I got pregnant and now it's as bad as ever. I am back to being a slave to my own mind. It keeps me prisoner and it keeps me lonely. I don't go anywhere or do anything. I have lost all of my friends because I just don't want to be out there in the world, with people. So in a lot of ways this pregnancy (and its hormones) have made me feel worse than my depression ever has in the past. My obstetrician and my doctor think that if they can't come up with some kind of medication cocktail that can get me through the rest of this pregnancy I am going to have some wicked post-partum. I'm just taking it day by day. I don't want to be a sad mother. I would call that a bad start.

So, 2010...
What I would really like to do is make this a good year. Last year was great. It was so great. This year is off to a slow start but I want it to be a good year. So. Resolutions.

I'm not going to say no more McDonalds... but I will say 'McDonalds once every 2 weeks'. Fair enough?
McDonalds has been something I've been craving practically every day of this pregnancy. So much so that even Mike has started to get a little grossed out by it (and this is the guy I fart in bed beside night after night. He isn't easy to gross out). Once every 2 weeks sounds fine to me. If I swear it off entirely, I will only find myself bathing in big mac sauce within 7 hours.

I have to start being a little more proactive about my own happiness.
Okay. So I live in a basement. I'm as big as a house. Walking up the stairs practically kills me and I hate going out in public. Why should that stop me from getting out there once in a while and being productive, god dammit? So what I'm thinking I should do is volunteer someplace or pick up a hobby. Volunteering someplace is iffy simply because in a strange situation and I may very well have a panic attack on my first day, but nothing is going to get any better unless I try. Correct? Right. And painting the wine glasses. Mom thinks that's just the greatest thing I could be spending my time doing, even for some extra cash. Let's just give it a try. It might work out. Lord knows you could use some extra money.

I want to start behaving as if this baby is here, watching me, right now.
I want to be a good mother. I want to do right by this baby and I want to be a part of what makes him wonderful, instead of fucking him all up. This is the most important thing in the world to me so I am going to start now. No matter what happens, this baby is mine and he is staying with me and we have to make it work, so I cannot depend on anyone else to raise him for me. Ergo I must stop breaking down and spending hours in bed crying for no reason. I wouldn't want the baby to see me doing that and I don't need to see myself doing that anymore. Must swallow it down and do something to distract myself from whatever ugly thought is prompting that madness. This is where a hobby comes in...

I am going to stop there because I think it's a healthy start. Now I am going to eat a grapefruit for breakfast and have a shower. but I refuse to wash my hair.

twiddling thumbs

I cleaned the apartment!
Well, for the most part.
There is a lot to be done before packing and moving out. I have lots of shit that needs to be taken to the dump. I have to give my television to Fran, so she has to come and get it. The balcony is FULL of garbage and recycling that I am just too lazy to carry down to the dumpster in the parking lot. And the bigger that pile gets, the less likely I am to feel like getting that task out of the way. Mike will do it if I ask him nicely. I will help, too.

To the dump: Green chair, TV stand, couch, wooden thing by front door, desk, bookshelves (mike has to build me new ones), dresser, bar cart, hopefully that's it.

I sorted out 3 garbage bags full of clothes that are going to be on their way to goodwill sometime this week.
I called in my prescription refill even though I'm not able to go and pick it up. I scheduled my maternity registration visit (January 8th) and so far I have read 37 pages of Kavalier and Clay. Productive day, I'd say.
It's 2pm and I am bored out of my skull.
Might have to get my ass over to mom and dads because I have nothing else to do.
Mike wants me to go get my flu shot but I reeeeeally don't want to go do that. I'm not that scared of getting the flu. I'm sure I'll survive the flu. Hours and hours of waiting for a flu shot I may not survive. Not in the spirits that I am in due to my lack of anti-depressants.

Ugh, it's just that getting to mom and dads is such a huge excursion and once I get there, there is just as much to do there as there is here. What I really need is a hobby. Or something. Fuck I'm bored.

Signed up for youvegotsupper.com e-mails. They send you grocery lists and recipes for all your dinners. This will be fun because I've promised myself that I will make at least 2 meals a week that they send to me through e-mail. So that's something.

I have to go to mom and dads, I'm way too bored to stay here.

getting there together

It's certainly been a while since I wrote.
I promised myself I wouldn't do that anymore; that I would write even if I felt like I had nothing at all to say. I need to start keeping promises to myself. At the very least, writing might help me work through the emotional roller coasters.

I feel kind of bad for my son. He's going to have a lot of challenges in his life. We all have a lot of challenges. If he is depressed, I don't know how I'm going to deal with that. I will know that I gave him that and that he hurts in ways he won't talk about. And that will terrify me. I hope that I am a good enough mother that he will have the tools to get through his darkest times. I don't know anything about raising children, so hopefully I figure it out. Hopefully I can manage to make him feel comfortable talking to me about stuff. Hopefully I can one day talk to him about all the bad stuff that happens to everybody...

God knows what else he's going to have to deal with. Life is hard. This kid has no idea what he's about to embark on. Or maybe things will be easy for him. Maybe he will be a beautiful person who is incredibly smart and knows himself so well that there is never any wars inside his head. Maybe everything will come easy to him and maybe he will be so talented and so kind that he can go anywhere he chooses, and do whatever he feels like. Maybe he will be that way. I've known people like that. When you cry in front of them they make you feel like a total retard. I would like it if he were like that. Not so emotional or sensitive or unsure. Not so scared and apprehensive and self-conscious.
How the hell do you raise a child to grow up that way? How do you make a person whole and happy? I guess I have no idea what I'm about to embark on either. So we just have to get there together, my son.. my son..

Birthday Canundrum

Mike's birthday is in 14 days.
2 weeks.

I am a little strapped for cash (a little? I mean a LOT) and I want to make his birthday special because he really, really made mine awesome. I don't know what to do...
I wanted so badly to get him Leafs tickets. They are 200 freaking bucks. I can't justify spending that right now, when I don't know when I will have money again or where it might be coming from...
I don't even wanna fork over the cash for my antidepressants, and those are pretty essential!
What to do what to do what to do........

Help!

I guess I'm ready to write again..

Yesterday was an awful day. Probably the most awful day of my life.

Things haven't been going very well for me lately, emotionally. Whenever I went to work I had a hard time seeming happy. My boss was a complete jerk and a total idiot. I had a hard time smiling when he made me feel like a piece of shit. But this is just me, I mean, jobs and me... I can't hold down a job like a normal person. I get emotionally involved and fuck the whole thing up, every time, i never fails.

So yesterday I go into the office and I don't really want to get into too much detail BUT...
I got fired.
By the new guy. He's been there for 2 weeks and he isn't my boss. At all.
But he fired me.
And then I had to sit at my desk for half an hour crying while I waited for my mom to come and get me so I could get the fuck out of there, which I should've been able to do immediately.
After I left a friend of mine (whom I got an interview for a couple of weeks ago) texts me and tells me that my boss wants her to start immediately.

So I got fired. By the new guy. And then my friend got to take my job.

I know that may not seem like the worst thing that has ever happened, but this was the only decent job I've ever had. And just like that - gone. I wasn't worthy of it. I don't know what it was. I don't know why I got fired. But try to imagine being more emotional than you have ever been in your life (because you're pregnant) and then something like this happening to you. I felt so sorry for myself yesterday... I was behaving like someone had died. I bawled and bawled and lay in bed all day long, not eating, throwing up like crazy, my head was so sore...

I can't get back out there. I can't go try and get another job. I'm terrified. I'm so scared and miserable.. I do not want to be anywhere near any other human beings right now. I feel better just being on my own. This isn't about wallowing either, this is about being as calm as possible and providing the baby with a healthy environment to develop in...
I just need a break.
So hopefully I can get unemployment benefits. Because I have to. Because I can't go back to that right now.

you're stronger than you think

When I think about my life, the things that have happened and the things that haven't happened yet, I almost feel tired. Sometimes I wonder how I will keep up, and if everything is going to turn out alright in the end. I have no way of knowing. I also wonder how transparent I am, and what everybody else can see right through me. I have been a sad person, I've almost always been a sad person. And I don't know how I am ever going to get through that. Medication helped, but now that I'm pregnant I am a complete slave to my emotions. That's fine, it doesn't hurt me, but I worry about my future child. I don't want them to know that their mother is sad. How am I to make certain that that won't ever happen?

I went to the CNE this past weekend and there was a psychic. So I went to her for fun, and shelled out 45 bucks to hear what she had to say. She said the baby will be fine, and will be just like me, but she didn't want to talk about the baby. She wanted to talk about me.
She said that the amount of pain that I feel is enough to give a person a nervous breakdown. She said I've always felt trapped in darkness and she said she worried about how I would be after my pregnancy. she fears post-pardum depression, and she wondered how things got this way for me.

I wonder that all the time. And that is probably the major issue, right there. I am always wondering. I have always lived inside my head and I have always had a hard time making that place comfortable to be in.
I have to try, because I can't be the person that she worries about.

on a more serious note..

do you ever get in thoise moods? do you ever just slumpright down into yourself and not want to speak? do you ever wish they made a drug that stopped you from thinking available on prescription? i get in these moods sometimes, like right now, where i feel like i don't even know me anymore. i feel like i don't belong in the world with all these people who know what they're doing, and never do anything wrong to anyone, and are happy. and i mean, really, i'm just a very sneaky, immature fraud who pops happy pills and watches too much television because it sort of drowns out her own thoughts.

praise for the 'if tom cruise were in charge i'd be dead by now' vitamin!

it bothers me that no one has the patience to deal with someone who is just sad. -Emily Haines.

I read that quote today on someone's tumblr...
And I have to admit that there are fewer things I could agree with more.

Depression and I are likethis. I feel like we always have been. I have been dealing with my depression for as long as I can remember.
And at first it wasn't easy to admit to myself that something was wrong. I think it wasn't until I graduated high school that things started to get really bad for me. I dated a guy who hit me, I wrote someone a love letter in blood, I dropped out of university and I quit almost every job (and didn't quit the right way). And I went years without any help, without any medication, without really knowing what was wrong. I knew I was sad. Who really knows what depression is? Who is to say that any of us is or isn't in an unshakable funk. No, no it's more than an unshakable funk: it is being the walking dead. It is being unable to get up in the morning, it is being unable to face the world, it is being unable to go through a day without some mind-altering drug for fear you will break down and have a fit in front of everyone. Because you can't do that; because you can't be sad. People treat the depressed the way they treat anybody who is mentally ill. They treat them like freaks.
And it really is just an incredible, all-consuming sadness. I think we need to have more respect for those who suffer from it. I have met far too many people who claim the Tom Cruise theory: no one is depressed and no one needs medication.
Well I am going to tell you my experience with depression. I assure you, I did not want to be on medication. I assure you, I suffered for years without it, and I assure you that it only got worse until I faced it and treated it in whatever way I could in order to feel like a person once again. I can't remember ever feeling like one.

I think any chronically depressed person has an idea when it started and why. I was a very awkward little girl. I was so shy and I didn't make friends easily. My mother would probably disagree with that, but trust me. I wasn't a very popular little girl. I specifically remember recess being an absolute nightmare; I would spend it in the corner of the playground combing a troll doll's hair. I knew I was just a little bit different. I didn't get along with many girls because they made me uncomfortable, they made me shy (probably because I grew up with brothers?). And because of this, they thought I was just retarded. My social skills were always lacking, and sometimes they still do. At any rate, I remember the first time I ever felt lonely was when my best friend in second grade declared that she had gotten a new best friend. I begged her to reconsider and take me back, but she didn't. I offered her my entire sticker collection and she still broke my heart. And I sat alone at lunch that day. Eventually we were best friends again, but I was wise enough to realize that I obviously put much more stock in this friendship than it warranted and I felt cheated. I began to withdraw into a world where people had less chance to hurt me. And there I always stayed. I have always retreated into books, writing stories or poems, and I always played better by myself than with others. I had to be my own best friend. Nobody else really liked me.
This has largely always been my experience with the world. I was just awkward and I felt like nobody understood me at all. Nobody was like me. I have only had a few close friends in my lifetime because of this, and all of them eventually leave as well. It only gets more difficult as you grow up. For instance, I never made a single friend in my 2 years of university. Not one. That's probably why I dropped out; it was the loneliest period of my life. All I had was a toxic relationship with a guy who, as I mentioned, hit me. Luckily that only happened once.

In the last year things had gotten unbearable for me. Last July I began a relationship with someone. He was (is) a wonderful human being who inspired me to be better. But we were not right for each other at all and I always knew it. The thing that hurt the most was that he refused to understand the sadness. The pain I was always in, and he couldn't figure out why.
There were times when I would cry for hours, for no reason. There were times when I couldn't do my job, I simply couldn't. I could not get up and pretend that I could take care of myself. I just wanted to die. I felt like an empty shell. Nobody had the patience. I would get drunk and cry and cry, and it would just make everyone angry. But I drank. I took drugs. I didn't know how else to handle it.
One day it just got so bad that I knew I had to try something, because I would soon die if I kept up this denial. I was dying. Medication saved me. I would like to say that I clawed my way out of despair without any help, just with positive thinking and the right attitude. Anyone with depression will tell you that's a crock of shit. Of course to some degree you have to want to get better, and you have to decide to take ownership of your life once more. But that only gets you so far. At some point you have to accept help. You can't beat this alone. And the day eventually comes when you simply can't fight it alone anymore, because you're as low and beaten down as a person can be.

I have always let people hurt me. I have always given my entire heart and I have always been rejected in the end. My former best friend, for instance, always treated me like a child and I only recently grew a pair and decided she could just go fuck herself. C'est la vie! That is one example of the ways in which my life has changed since my depression has lifted. I am happy to say that I no longer cry for no reason. I don't do drugs and I don't get drunk and feel sorry for myself. I haven't called in sick at all, just so I could lay in bed and hate myself. I eat regularly, and I sleep pretty well. I don't fear the future because I know who I am. That's definitely a first. I am even slightly less awkward!

I guess this post is really just about patience. If you know someone in your life who is sad, be patient. Don't walk out on them. Don't tell them to just be happy. That is the worst advice ever. Don't bother reminding them of how precious life is and how lucky they are; they know. Just be there, and don't be judgmental. Be a friend. Have the patience.

tick tock..

I'm not quite sure how I feel about being as predictable and unexciting as I am.
I guess I feel okay about it...
I just wish I had something up my sleeve, you know? Something that would make people jealous, and make people wish they were in my shoes. But that never happens with me because one day leads to the next and to the next and nothing really ever changes. The only thing that marks the passing of another day is a couple of anti-depressants down the hatch and another penniless shift at a thankless job that I despise.
I wish I were going to Burning Man.
Or anywhere, anywhere at all.

Sometimes I'm like dude, lindsay, shut the fuck up. why do you always have to feel slighted in some way? why does everything in the entire world have to revolve around you and your stupid inferiority complex?
Well, self, because me is the only thing i know, and if me isn't happy, then what the fuck am i even bothering getting out of bed for?
And then I say to myself get a grip. it's called life. fuck. stay out of chapters and maybe you'll actually have something to show for yourself.
and then i tell myself to fuck off and i eat a pint of haagen dazs. or however you spell it. whatevskies.

Anyway, in the spirit of positivity I have decided to just make the best of it! So I'm not very exciting, so every day is basically like the last, so what if I'm too broke for vacations and too much in debt to go back to school and too flighty to even stay in school if i managed to go back? I've got love, man. I've got love for myself and love for my fellow man. SO MUCH LOVE in fact, that I get confused by anger. I look at an angry person the way a sane person looks at a lunatic. That's good, I'd rather be that than some angry douchebag. Better to be sad, I say, than to be a miserable prick who hates everybody and blames everybody else for their problems. 'Least I've got the good sense to blame myself.
So I'm going to go through this day as I would go through any other day, except today I will go through it with the knowledge that I am the coolest fucking person I know and I don't need any other validation than my own two fucking eyes and I don't caaaaaare if this person is off doing that thing or this person has more friends than me or whatever, because I have no use for that shit anyway and dammit, I've always appreciated a good book and boats give me motion sickness. C'est la vie! I'll get mine, bitches. PEA-SOUT!

Lindsay and Serving

I probably never should've decided to work in the public sphere in any capacity.. I posess that deep melancholic vein that probably would've remained undisturbed my whole life had I chosen a less stressful position in life than I have. I should work with things that don't talk. I should surround myself with objects that cannot express thoughts.

Instead, every day when I head off to work I know someone is going to have something to say that is going to upset me.

Sometimes it's my very first table and that'll be it for the day.

I'll spend the whole day psyching myself up, convincing myself that it's going to be a great day, that I'm happy go-lucky and positive and that good things happen to people who believe in good things happening to people who believe.. you know what I'm trying to say. Anyway, I head off to work with a smile on my face, everything is cool, and then I approach my first table.
Let's say it's a Monday, and lets say we're dealing with some guy.
Hey, can I get you a drink to start off with? *stupid unsuspecting grin*
I want the all-you-can-eat wings.
Uhh, I'm sorry but that isn't available until after 4 pm.
The sign out front doesn't say that!
Actually, it does. It says ALL U CAN EAT WINGS @ 4
No. It doesn't.
Okay, sure, it doesn't. Anyway, I'm sorry...
*cuts me off* Well I'm never going to come here again, that's for sure.

And then I shrink a little on the inside.

headstarts

i woke up this morning in the worst mood ever. I tried listening to some classical music, thinking it would brighten my day. That didn't work so I tried some Blink 182.
I haven't listened to blink 182 since I was 13. But let me tell you - nothing has ever put me in a good mood faster than dancing around to Enema of the State.
Thanks, blink.

so much for a relaxing getaway

Mike and I were both pretty stressed out and angry last week. I had to work a lot and he didn't want to pay ridiculous amounts in interest for his new vehicle after the truck caught on fire a few weeks ago... at any rate we weren't happy. The best option that we had was to go to the trailer for the weekend! I've never exactly been the biggest fan of the trailer in the past because everything is just like at home only miniature. I just don't see the appeal. There are spiders everywhere and you get covered in mosquito bites and it is impossible to have a decent shower, I swear to Christ...
but I digress. To the trailer we go! We just can't wait to be away from our infuriating lives for a couple of days. We brought our ferret along for the trip, his cage collapsed in the trunk and him curled up in my lap for the car ride. First stop timmies! We're happy. We're singing along to Rod Stewart songs in the car and looking at each other with love in our eyes. It was great. When we get to the trailer it's 11 at night and everyone is asleep. We grab a drink and lay in the grass, looking at the stars and talking. No mosquitoes. So far I'm impressed!
We go to bed. That part was equally impressive.
We wake up in the morning at the crack of dawn, and I remember having this awful awful nightmare, so this neggs me out just a little bit. I dreamt that Mike was going to beat the shit out of me for spilling his glass of milk. I have a difficult time distinguishing between dream Mike and real Mike, so of course this anger gets transferred to him.
him: "what's a matter?"
me: "nothing..." *glare*
Anyway it doesn't take me long to get over the dream. It was right after my bowl of fruity cheerios that I realize I completely forgot to bring my anti-depressants. This, my friends, is what I like to call the beginning of the end.
All of Saturday I felt a little out of sorts. It was like I was the same person inside, but the outside world became uglier and crueler (this is my experience with depression, anyway) and so I withdraw a little. I was sitting outside with my feet up on the table reading my book, and Mike could see I was bothered so he told me to get up and come hug him. I tried getting up and in the process my foot swung across the table and knocked over a wine glass and all hell broke loose. I started crying like an idiot and mike got frustrated and stormed off, which of course made me react even worse. He left (after I demanded to be left alone) to hang out with the neighbours, Bring and Jeanette. They are his best friend's parents. So I sat alone for a while, did some dishes and calmed down. Then I went over, too. I cheered up pretty quickly. Later in the evening I withdrew once more, but overcame that eventually as well. I had more nightmares when i went to sleep.
The next day I just wasn't myself. This was Sunday. I couldn't wait to go home. When we finally got in the car I didn't say a word to Mike until we got back to my place, where I doubled my dosage and ordered a pizza.

fuck the self pity.

So I woke up this morning and I was pretty tempted to slip into self-pity mode once more.  I need a haircut and I can't afford one.  I remembered last summer when I would go grocery shopping all the time, and carry my groceries home, and how I haven't been able to afford that in moooooonths.  But fuck it.  I quickly realized that I have been doing, and will continue to do, everything I can in order to better my situation financially.  So I won't be going to burning man in all likelihood, fine.  I will just have to go on a different vacation when it's feasible for me.  I still plan on going to Eastern Europe next summer.  

All of the things I ought to be grateful for flooded my mind (and it's about time, really).  I have a job, and I have been making end's meet.  A lot of people don't, and aren't.  It's a sign of the times, I guess.  My heart is safe with a man that I love.  We are going to get married and make babies, when the time is right.  My family is safe and close by.  I am healthier than I have ever been since I quit smoking.  

So I have to stop this self-depricating nonsense.  So today I will just have to make a new resume, geared towards something other than bartending (since I am having no luck with that avenue).  I will clean the apartment a little.  I will read this awesome book (World Without End, by Ken Follett, God he's a great writer).

Okay, cool, I just wrote myself into a better mood.  Sweet.

I have this mat in the kitchen )people have those, thought I'd grab one too) and Breakfast continually drags it into the livingroom area.  the kitchen mat just doesn't stay where it should, and I'm always putting it back, just to see it in the livingroom 5 minutes later.  Repeat process.  It never ends.

I fucking love that little Breakfast guy.

help....

I am having a really hard time fighting off this feeling.

I feel very negative and hopeless.  I have no money at all, I don't even earn remotely enough money.  I will not be going to burning man this year, no way in hell.  They are not making me bartender at work.  Probably ever.  I'm pretty bitter about this and this is only going to make going to work an absolutely dreadful experience for me.  But I have to go because I have to keep earning my minor ducats at my shitabulous fucking waitressing job.  Fuck my life.

I have my brand new macbook to pay for... I owe cogeco over 300 dollars (fucking scumbags..) and I somehow have to manage to eat and have a life amidst all of this as well.  Did I mention I probably only make 200 dollars a week?

It's not even as if I haven't been searching for a job.  Nobody could accuse me of being lazy on this front.  I have been very proactive about it, and up until this point, very optimistic.  But every bar in this disgusting city probably has 18 copies of my resume and they just don't call.  They just don't.  What can I do?  What more can I possibly do?

Keep going to this job that I can't stand.  Keep struggling.  This struggle has been going on for years.  YEARS.  Why can't I manage to find a way out of it?  Why?

Mike and I are moving to Burlington this summer.  I need to get out of this city.  I cannot wait to go, I really can't.  I don't know how I'm going to survive until then.  I don't know how I'm even going to save any money for it.  I have no money to save.  Absolutely no money to save.  I don't know if I have ever been so raging mad, or stressed out.  I'm just really having a difficult time being optimistic and keeping my head up.  I can't keep getting kicked when I'm down.  I need to fix this and I have no idea how to.