Bumps in the road
I swear I never set out to make this my online catalog of complaints ... But. I do need to record that I'm sort of taking a nosedive right now. So much so that my therapist is insisting I get back on meds, at least for awhile. Which I am going to do starting this week.
Depression sucks. I still have such a hard time accepting it as an illness that is not my fault; symptoms like hopelessness, feelings of worthlessness and guilt, anxiety, complete and total physical and mental exhaustion all feel like things I should be able to "get over" with positive thinking, exercise and a healthy diet. The fact that I can't only makes me feel like more of a loser.
So I hope the medication helps.
Other than this one big black spot on my heart, things are going OK. The house and garden are looking good, the dogs are awesome, I'm exercising every day and getting out with friends and eating mostly pretty well. Bea went in for her spay surgery this morning, which I've been having very mixed feelings about. Not that I want her to have puppies, because I definitely don't. It's just that she's my little girl, and this is major surgery, and I've never had a girl dog before and I really hate the thought of anyone cutting into her poor sweet little puppy belly for any reason. I dropped her off this morning and cried all the way home.
I also stopped by my old house, which happens to be just across the street and down a bit from my vet's office. The property has been on the market for at least seven or eight years and it finally sold, so right now it's sitting empty and as luck would have it the doors were open so I let myself in and spent a half hour or so walking through and remembering how much I loved the place when I lived there. I was lonely there a lot of the time, but it was such a sweet little house, all French doors and windows and a little stone fireplace, with flowers and vines and roses everywhere and beautiful trees all around. It's been sadly neglected, and painted some pretty god-awful colors, but the plum tree I planted ten years ago is doing great and so is the lemon verbena, and the fencing I built when Tater was born is holding up well too. I don't know who bought it but I'm guessing the whole place will probably be bulldozed before too long, since nobody who could afford to buy it would ever consent to live in it, and it's too far gone now to offer as a rental. So that was kind of sad too, though I'm glad I got a chance to see it one last time, empty, instead of full of ugly crap "antiques" for sale like the last time I stopped by. It will always stay in my memory as one of my favorite houses I've ever had.
It feels weird to be here with just Tater and me. Bea is staying at the vet clinic overnight. It's a foggy, cold morning; the fog never did really burn off yesterday and maybe it won't today either. I really should get out and go for a long walk, try to metabolize some of these stress chemicals ... or maybe I'll just go back to bed for awhile and walk later.
Depression sucks. I still have such a hard time accepting it as an illness that is not my fault; symptoms like hopelessness, feelings of worthlessness and guilt, anxiety, complete and total physical and mental exhaustion all feel like things I should be able to "get over" with positive thinking, exercise and a healthy diet. The fact that I can't only makes me feel like more of a loser.
So I hope the medication helps.
Other than this one big black spot on my heart, things are going OK. The house and garden are looking good, the dogs are awesome, I'm exercising every day and getting out with friends and eating mostly pretty well. Bea went in for her spay surgery this morning, which I've been having very mixed feelings about. Not that I want her to have puppies, because I definitely don't. It's just that she's my little girl, and this is major surgery, and I've never had a girl dog before and I really hate the thought of anyone cutting into her poor sweet little puppy belly for any reason. I dropped her off this morning and cried all the way home.
I also stopped by my old house, which happens to be just across the street and down a bit from my vet's office. The property has been on the market for at least seven or eight years and it finally sold, so right now it's sitting empty and as luck would have it the doors were open so I let myself in and spent a half hour or so walking through and remembering how much I loved the place when I lived there. I was lonely there a lot of the time, but it was such a sweet little house, all French doors and windows and a little stone fireplace, with flowers and vines and roses everywhere and beautiful trees all around. It's been sadly neglected, and painted some pretty god-awful colors, but the plum tree I planted ten years ago is doing great and so is the lemon verbena, and the fencing I built when Tater was born is holding up well too. I don't know who bought it but I'm guessing the whole place will probably be bulldozed before too long, since nobody who could afford to buy it would ever consent to live in it, and it's too far gone now to offer as a rental. So that was kind of sad too, though I'm glad I got a chance to see it one last time, empty, instead of full of ugly crap "antiques" for sale like the last time I stopped by. It will always stay in my memory as one of my favorite houses I've ever had.
It feels weird to be here with just Tater and me. Bea is staying at the vet clinic overnight. It's a foggy, cold morning; the fog never did really burn off yesterday and maybe it won't today either. I really should get out and go for a long walk, try to metabolize some of these stress chemicals ... or maybe I'll just go back to bed for awhile and walk later.
Labels: boring self-indulgent nostalgicizing, depression, dogs, house, sick
2 Comments:
i love your writing! wish i could have walked through that house with you. i love that sort of thing.
jt
Hi, T dear. So sorry you are feeling bad. You are adored in Portland, Oregon, if that helps.
I loved that little house too, and my visits with you there. So delightful, the two of you. The house seemed to be an extension of YOU, a visual representation of your lovely persona. Glad you got to see it again.
--g
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