Kicked Off The Eyeland

I have been driving myself a little batty trying to recreate all the things I'm thinking and feeling and sharing in therapy.  It's so fucking empowering to finally have a glimpse back into my own psyche, where over the years those ideals were slowly boarded up and I kinda stopped looking for a crack in the wood.  Now with a little more discovery, I wanted to write through my experiences here; a chronicle of sorts so I don't lose another two decades to fuzzy memories.  But my new found muscles are still new and removing the nails takes time, so today I write something I am aware of.  go me.

~~~~~

My body is breaking down, isn't

I used to think the correlation to a numerical age was rubbish.  It was this fantastical concept drummed up by my husband, friends and the medical industry gremlins to sell pills.  Now I find myself kinda freaked by the subtle changes.  Because that means there are things I can control, like consistent physical activity, and then there are slow degenerations I can't.  Whether I ignored what was already in the works OR replicant witches have just cursed me using a fallen lash, I think my body is listening to their chants of change.  First one teetering on the brink of collapse - the eyes.  ok it's not really dramaticaville, but these blue iris' have always been 20/20 and now, not so much.  In fact, after a 2002 major car accident where my head became BFFs with the drivers side window, my eyes were better than 20/20.  didn't know that was even possible.

As a kid, eye ate carrots obsessively to the point my fingers were orange.  Eye liked them, still do.  Eye'd bring them to school in a plastic bag, along with a small orange tupperware filled with red catalina dressing.  Eye ate them under the pretense it was for sight, which for whatever reason grownups in my family insisted on telling me the benefits of most things they never ate.  bullocks.  When, err ummm, really it was because eye was the first in my class to experience the joy of acne.  Eye desperately wanted natural Vitamin A to be my cure all, a solution to make the teasing stop - when in reality eye could never eat that many.

Also as a kid, eye saw the optometrist every few years where he wrote in his little booklet how eye'd need reading glasses around 40.  pfffft, 40 was like forever from then.  But ballz - Eye'm 35 & hearing that dude whispering in my ear (which is a positive since eye have a decent case of indistinct tinnitus too - but that's not new so it doesn't count!!)  Eye feel like pleading before the Eye Council; Don't kick me out, eye still have so much to give!  Eye'd beg and plead and do anything to see it through till death.

So now - tiny print is a little fuzzy; license plates a bit scrambly at night; the computer screen brightness ticked a bit higher.  If only these changes were related to like fluffy kittens or something, it wouldn't seem so crappy.



booooooooo weirdo agey things.

Someone Else's Depression

I realized while fumbling along and eventually seeing this journal come together, it is a parallel for my experience of 2015.  Confusion, frustration, safety, lows, highs, discovery and optimism.  what a trip.

~~~~~

In therapy, we spend a fair amount of time working to unravel nearly 3 decades of fully locked away shit.  Friends, parents, relationships, and oh did I mention parents.  But more importantly & more personally, it's finding a way to unlock the root cause of my inability to consistently identify & articulate what I'm feeling, thinking, want, expect, and need.  I truly believe that is the missing key for my entire scrambled puzzle.  Talk, talk, talk by question and answer so I can arrive at a conclusion.  It's simple in principal, complicated in practice.  Imagine trying to describe a Picasso painting, with its individual abstract pieces.  You know it's a beautiful image when it comes together, but it's not so easy to explain.  It's not every time and I certainly manage for the most part, but moments beyond a surface emotion can take hours, days, if not weeks putting to voice.  Luckily none of it crosses into the workplace or I'd really be screwed, because then I'd never know I am capable.  So why me?  I have important things to say (and ok some are silly,) but we all have a point of view to share and I fight hard for mine.  Internalizing this build up nearly every damn day, I just want to fucking scream so I can control something.  anything.  Even writing this entry, I walked around the house randomly thunking down the laptop hoping a change of scenery would help.  But I get distracted, so I daydream of a beautiful sun-lit patio that would easily carry my thoughts or the perfect modern artist studio, where I can be alone & create.  Would it be easier then?

the silent wails are longing to speak free.

Lady Therapist reminds me we're unraveling years of conditioning and it takes time to shift a psyche.  That the process will totally be messy, bumpy and uncomfortable, but in the end it will be ok.  It will be positive.  I know that, but it's still nice to hear.  I draw on that realness when reflecting on the minimal progress of some areas, because I have seen progress - decently on a few even.  And that's rad, more rad today than I thought could be achieved 7 months ago.  I felt alone then, not so much now, and know it'll be even less in the future.  Each week I embrace the time needed to fully work through the caverns because it's worth it.

~~~~~

I've witnessed depression: many friends share their experiences openly; my husband has had it nearly his entire life; I've even understood what those cheezy commercials for pills were saying.  Others' application of the label seemed effortless.  And yet I never saw those same behaviors in myself.  It was someone else's sadness I tried to comfort, never mine.  I always saw their depression, not mine.

December especially, I bounced around vague's bandwagon more so than other months.  Joy to lowly-low sadness, generous to maybe next year, productive to who gives a fuck.  And I'm talking near instantaneously having the pendulum swing violently from one side to the other.  The physical manifestation of something I couldn't pinpoint, resonating in my chest and back, shoulders bearing the weight of 1000 index fingers furiously jingling about all the things I'm working to understand.  The electric like fury attacking the most innerly sensitive parts of my heart & mind, not giving a shit.  The only thing I could do was sit on the floor, hold my head, shut my eyes and wish it away...

I spent so much time focusing on someone else's anything, I never understood depression was happening to me.  Understanding how far back it goes is still TBD.  But for whatever reason, Sunday December 18 the right combination of neurons & atoms made the connection.  I was alone, just as I was 24 hours prior, but it was a totally opposite experience.  Saturday had been productive, making jam & listening to christmas music classics.  Frank, Bing, Burl... the digital jukebox spun.  The doors were open, letting in the crisp air while Leroy played with his toys in the yard or slept in the sun.  I was fully enjoying the day, excited to share yum things with friends.  Then Sunday happened, and I was alone again, but productivity went undercover.  I found myself extremely overwhelmed by christams, unmotivated to really do anything.  I didn't want to make gifts, I wanted to write through the feeling but as usual didn't know what to say.  Music seemed pointless, I missed Travis, the yard needed tending to, the list of stuff to get done seemed 12 stories tall and I wanted nothing to do with any of it.

Peering down, I pitied the person I was at that moment.  I didn't bother reconciling how different a day makes.  I didn't care, I just knew it existed.  Another bout of well I guess this is normal.  However, there were commitments and bummed on the couch or bummed finishing them, was still bummed.  So I harnessed what little motivation was inside and swung my legs to the floor.  They say taking the steps towards doing something is the hardest part.  I less than enthusiastically dialed in the christmas music, because at least it could drown out the void.  I started prepping the blackberry basil jam that I can happily say, is divine.  I wasn't very far into the process when I stopped to review the recipe.  At that moment, staring at the computer screen, my eyes & brain went fuzzy.  Like when an analog TV station would fine tune its signal, it kinda skipped and buzzed and jumped around, landing on a fresh new picture.  That's when it clicked, "OH MY GAWD YOU'RE DEPRESSED AND THAT'S WHY YOU'VE BEEN FEELING THIS WAY."  And like the opposite of clouds parting, that moment of clarity made way for the pouring of tears.  I'm not weird, I'm not off, this is normal and I just now realized it!  grrrr x 100 - why had it taken so long?  it probably needed to.

A set of mixed emotions flooded my body.  I was sad, scared, yet suddenly optimistic & a little joyous.  I was certainly teetering between the two like a tight-rope walker.  on one end of the pole: you're depressed, you can't be happy VS. the other side: no I got that, but I have this sticker now and have assigned it accordingly.  I found out the relief of said descriptive tag is quite common.  Which ever way I wobble, I'm just grateful for finally experiencing the association.  And as I discover more about this thing through talk & read, standing together with others' who may be more versed, we don't face anything alone.

When I told Travis after he got home from his comedy show, I mentioned this strange desire for peers to acknowledge it before I could apply the term.  Like is the act of saying mean it's a thing or am I stealing a badge not yet earned.  I know that's daft, but it's a sensitive subject & one that can't be taken lightly.  And I'm sure people use the word to explain all kinds of behaviours away and I don't want to ever be lumped together with tools.  Here's to therapy helping me understand more, but I can only assume, among other things, depression is why I entertain the following notions: that I'm not as good at this or that, or as so & so; why I question my choices, my statements, my opinions, my voice, my body, my mind, my heart, my perception, and my emotions.  Why I judge myself so harshly; why I'm so mean to me; talk cruelly to me when I make a wrong decision; find it incredibly difficult to ask for help; shut down when you think my idea is no good; cry at a poor choice I made 16 years ago; why I set unrealistic expectations no one could live up to; why I repeat you'll never be pretty enough to that same junior high face that stared in the gym class mirror; refuse the notion it's ok to do something for myself; and why my parents are just these people I know.

~~~~~

Doom and gloom it would seem - yes, there is that right now.  And if you're thinking dude, you've written words I totally understand, even though I may not identify with - what you're reading has taken weeks to prepare and hit more stop signs I care to quantify.  But in the spirit of exercising my atrophied kind to self muscles, there are swell things to celebrate around me and of me.  I make a mean cake doughnut bread pudding, will go out of my way for a friend, can say "what the fuck do you want" in thai, sing off-key like a beautiful turkey, immensely dig running and hiking, have a ridiculously lame cupcake joke at the ready, enjoy making art, reading, mmmm dear friends, I am an intrinsically solid bird, am an advocate for all animal rights, look fantastic in a backless gown, am supportive & loyal (just don't cross me or I'll slash yer tire,) love walking to take photographs, can smile with my eyes, and am a healthy ball of flesh.  Of course there will always be tweaks & adjustments, reminders and forgetments, new finds and goal achievements, plus others I'll keep for myself right now.

Then there's Travis. my Travis, who is the one person that can inherently make the day better just by existing, no matter how I'm feeling on the smile scale.  He himself has also started therapy and working to discover a happy he's had locked away - which in turn, makes me incredibly stoked.  We help each other through our own sessions and are better partners because of it.  And Leroy, my 100% certified sweet boy.  Whose little face & ears I never want to stop squishing & hugging and kissing... and no matter how stubborn that 22lb body gets, he is an incredible being that makes my family complete.

I took a proud step of therapy last year, that act of kindness I hardly show myself.  I've unwound a lot from my past and through my own capability, connected it to now (both the obvious and obscure.)  I challenge myself daily on the things I continue to work on because it's all an opportunity to learn.  I will use this to progress forward through my verbal challenges.  I'll try new-for-me techniques, because the definition of insane...

No matter how often a setback tricks me into thinking I've failed, I am always moving in the right direction - it just may not be how I saw the path yesterday.

I am depressed, but I won't let it define me. (thumbs up.)

Helpless, Hopeless, I Can't Tell Anymore

• I feel utterly helpless with how much anger is being displayed in the world.  so much with the innocent people.
• I can't imagine what others feel, who are currently or have experienced tragedy in the face of violence.  it's sickening.
• I throw on my completely fucking defensive pants in honour of my friends who are threatened in person or on social media, yet feel downright powerless to help them.  once is too many.

Helping people is what I do, it's who I am, and I want nothing more than to drape a gigantic, impenetrable protective cape over everyone I know.  I want to keep them safe, but I can't.  I want to run and be their deflector shield against anything hurtful, but that's impossible.  I want to change what is broken, but all I can do is question.  I should also extend this to people I've never met, but I don't have enough fight left.

I'm not scared, but it makes you think.  it's not fair.  life isn't fair and when it comes to threats and brutality against innocent people, especially my friends, that's bullshit.

~~~~~

To my knowledge, I have never been in a situation where my life was in danger.  I have not faced death, have not had to fight for my life, nor been forced to do anything I didn't want to.  I have absolutely made a crapload of bad decisions, so I feel lucky none of those turned worse.  But bad decisions shouldn't come with an asterisk warning of "maybe this time."

I have no experience with daily barrages of peoples opinions who vehemently disagree with mine.  Not bombarded with nonsense by persons who feel the need to just be shitty to other humans.  And how would I feel if I did?  How do you learn to live/deal/excuse/ignore when all your might is geared towards educating the wrong.  Just because it happens a lot, doesn't make it right; I can empathize.  fucking human response, you can't argue with stupid.

I don't know what the answer is and these words are no solution.  But words in themselves, can be.  right?  I can be, right?  Words can change legislation, correct the wrongs of bygone eras, educate and help provide valuable treatment to those who need it most.  We have seen little to no course correction, but does that mean we should stop asking?  stop demanding?  I don't want this to be normal anymore, or an ever will be.

I'm angry.  I'm angry at faceless numbskulls who either get off by being assholes or aren't getting the help they need for a mental illness condition.  So I am angry because they showed me who they were.  I come from a place of compassion and care for people that do not deserve wretched hatred slung at them, while they are coming from a place of vile.

Does that mean I'm like them in some way? gawd I hope not.





PS: also, you guys know prayers are useless, right?

Pain's Backstory

5 years ago on November 30, 2010, Travis and I sat in near silence as we drove to Cedars Sinai for his back surgery.  His MAJOR back surgery.  A surgery that would take months to heal from.  We were both scared for our own reasons, but it was something totally necessary not just for his body, but for his life.


I held his hand tightly in mine, the entire ride.


~~~~~

I met Travis when his back was bad.
I married Travis when his back was shit.
I nearly lost Travis when his back was to the breaking point.

~~~~~

For seven years, I watched Travis fight daily against chronic pain, against worsening depression, and against everything telling him to quit.  For seven years, I learned how to maneuver my way through our life, being both a support system and lady friend.  I witnessed more mornings than I care to remember filled with gasps and screams.  The pain pills would make him fall asleep in the middle of a sentence and in meetings; he couldn't work.  We missed parties, movies, dinners and life because he was crippled with nerves that wouldn't shut up.  He tried desperately to remain positive it would all turn out ok, for him and for me.  He worked hard at the illusion things were normal - he had to cling to that dream or it would all be for naught.  And I did too - I was the loudest about it, because that would be the most important thing I could do, or at least control.  Silently I sobbed as it became harder and harder for this truly, most fucking significant person in my life to remain capable, to remain funny, to remain my partner, and to remain upright.

I would spend countless hours massaging his low back, waiting for sleep to reign down.  He had certain mannerisms that indicated it was coming and I would breathe, knowing it was the only time he would occasionally be granted respite.  And that relief was for me, too.  As the pain increased, naturally so did the seemingly erratic behavior, the anger, the depression.  I was constantly adjusting to the unpredictable whims of his nerves, which could lash out at any moment.  It was exhausting; we both were exhausted.

If you've never taken care of a person with a chronic condition,  needing a break may sound selfish.  It's not.  It's such an emotional, stressful existence for everyone involved, if you don't take care of yourself you're no good to the other person.  I had to master this on my own.  Dealing with the unknown and us being so young, I had no one to turn to.  These are old people problems, right?  We're supposed to have a bunch of years before theoretically facing any health junk... Sure, friends were around in the best way they knew how, but there was no context for them to truly understand the type of encouragement I needed, the support, or that my huge accumulation of guilt was normal.  I barely understood, let alone an outsider.  I dissolved more and more as a person, to where I was simply Travis' caregiver - not his old lady.

His L4/5 was near collapsed.
His L3/4 was in jeopardy of doing the same.

~~~~~

For a long time, he bounced around from doc to doc, test to test, med to med looking for answers and I was right there taking notes.  We arranged speculative surgeries & implanted devices, hoping we'd stumble upon the cure.  At first, no one mentioned degenerative disc disease, which was both hereditary and induced by his young-man weight lifting.  Initially, no one told us how long it had been progressing and that it was a miracle he was still able to walk.  He was put on hardcore narcotics by a surgeon, as a way to deal with the pain instead of correct it.  That person ended up abandoning him by refusing to answer our phone calls, let alone refill the prescription he started.  Mother fucker left us cold and on our own to oversee a legal addiction.  We finally found a pain management clinic who could properly administer the dosages, yet even they didn't diagnose his common acute illness depression.  Never discussed or suggested a therapist who could help talk through these traumas each of us were going through.  By the end he was taking one of the highest dosages of Oxycontin that could be given to someone not being induced into a coma, who was simply waiting to die.  His quality of life nearly becoming moot.

Now here's not to say Travis was never given option plans - he was.  For a long time, we were never in a position to either medically or financially do anything about it, so that was fun.  Some doctors were incompetent as was their office, some were dismissive and cruel, and others never made sense.  In what would later became the procedures Travis got, at the time they were suggested either the risks far outweighed the benefits OR it wasn't even available in the US.  This was the case for fusion and disc replacement.  Both had been suggested over the years, even before I knew him.  Fusion was common practice for collapsing discs.  But in the early days, that involved taking part of his hip (rather than a cadaver bone,) shoving it into his spine, having it take well over a year to heal, his hip would be messed up forever, his mobility would be greatly compromised and in the end, there was little confidence the problem wouldn't persist or spread.  yeah no.  The disc replacement was a technique developed in Germany and had been used in Europe for years, so the orthopedic surgeons Travis was consulting with were stoked about that being the best option.  But the US considered the device experimental and thus not approved by the FDA.  They loved it so much because the experience was basically opposite of everything fusion was.  HELL YEAH LET'S DO IT!  But until 2010, it seemed completely unattainable for a couple of young kids, so it was like why the fuck did they even suggest this wondrous idea...

Desperate, I researched americans going to Germany for procedures and just like every other avenue we pursued, it too, became nearly impossible to materialize.


We weren't yet living in a society where our government finally eliminated truly wrong pre-existing condition insurance clauses, which prevented people from getting the treatment they needed.  His carrier was legally able to repeatedly deny most treatments, year after year, especially the replacement.  We appealed every time, provided boatloads of research and backup, only to be disregarded by some general physician yuck who had no experience in spines.  And not just like sorry, try again.  Like seriously, we're sick of you, stop asking, we said no, now pay us our $600 p/mo so we can continue to service basically your meds.  Good luck.

I call bullshite.

Being faced with a problem and no apparent solution, made the tiniest part of me fall into hopeful denial he would just somehow get well.  The 99.999999.2% remainder of my brain knew better and it was hopelessness, defeatment.  I had no one who could advocate on our behalf; I didn't have enough cash to buy our way out, his insurance was a joke, at one point I even considered writing the local news asking for help getting in front of the medical review board...  I was a 20-something lass who was alone.  But I could never let him know that, I never let anyone know.

~~~~~

Travis did have days where he felt better, which only meant 'ok enough to do an activity beyond laying down.'  Early 2010, we had just taken delivery of a new couch and a few pieces of furniture needed to be moved back, which I always insisted he let me do.  Yet that day he offered to grab a chair - it was maybe 10 pounds, maybe. That was the piece that broke the Travis' back.  Something popped and instantly became an entirely new level of pain.  bloody hell.

Weeks after, although I don't remember the exact date, became our day of infamy.  I remember the moment vividly.  He was laying on the older couch that hurt least, writhing from side to side because he couldn't get comfortable, we were both crying, he couldn't stop screaming from his bodies' inability to have of a moment of reprieve.  I had become accustomed to these ups and downs, but this was an entirely different low.  I often had Travis squeeze my hand during flare ups, because it was the smallest gesture I could offer to take any portion of the hurt away.  That night was the tightest grip he'd ever had, probably close to breaking my fingers.  I never asked him to stop.  And instead of going through my reassurance rolodex, I flashed back to a very scary & personal thought he shared with me about suicide, not that long before this night.  As I sat on the floor, his hand crushing mine, looking at his face, assessing the state of things, feeling like every second is a year, I thought to myself "I understand wanting to make the pain stop.  How could I deny him that..."

Yes.  I did and it was the most real & compassionate thought I had at the time.  It's why I will always, fully support any legislation that allows people the right to die with dignity.  You may disagree, but I've spent years facing this first hand and in certain circumstances when all hope is lost, that may be the only thing to eliminate the suffering.  Most people will never experience a person going through something like that; It's horrific and emotionally immeasurable.  I get it, it's some heavy shit. But you have to put on a different pair of pants for a moment.  If you have ever spent more than 5 minutes with a person dealing with chronic, physical pain, especially one you care so much about the word love doesn't even come close to conveying how you feel, you would do anything to spare them.


It was right after that I knew I had to do something.  This was not a life.

~~~~~


Through crying pleas for help, that's when I called our dear friend Kevin, who selflessly left band practice to come over.  Normally, Travis didn't ever want to bother anyone with his pain, but Kevin was in a unique position to actually understand what he was going through.  He was the surgical assistant to like the top US orthopedic surgeon who was now performing the disc replacements.  For years, he & Travis had spoken about the health of his back and ways he could alleviate discomfort.  But we never pursued consults because his boss was in such demand, he didn't take insurance.  I knew how much our medical bills were on a regular basis, how could I ever think we'd be able to afford a top surgeon who only takes cash?!  However, we found out that night, due to a long series of misinformation and misassumptions, we were wrong.  We were so wrong...

Kevin gave us life changing information, which simply was "here's a hug, it'll be ok, call the office, tell them I sent you, and setup an appointment.  They will work with you...."  That was all it took (as I sit here crying, replaying all the years we fought to move forward an inch, were pushed back a mile, and he swoops in saving Travis' life in one conversation.)  :-)  We will forever be grateful.


With help from Kevin & adjustments to his medication, we were able to temporarily reduce some of the grossness until we could meet with the guy a month later.  It's still difficult to think about Travis' high tolerance for pain and this reduction was simply getting him back to the crappy feelings he was used to.  It was motivating in an odd way.

After the doc did his set of tests, we discovered Trav's L4/5 had deteriorated so bad disc replacement was no longer an option.  Not what we wanted to hear, but the advances with fusion either eliminated or greatly reduced those initial challenges - so we agreed.  And because we were now married and he was on my way better insurance, they approved anything related to said fusion would be covered.  yes.  For the disc above, L3/4, doc suggested doing the replacement since fusions often affect the upper/lower vertebrae because of the stress placed on the joints.  The replacement, in theory, should stop any degenerating progression and he was a good candidate at that level.  Yet anything related to the disc was 100% out of pocket.  I wasn't going to let that stop us this time and vowed to make it happen.  We sold stuff & took advances on several credit cards.  You do what you have to, right?

Travis' major surgery to regain his life, was finally scheduled.

This certainly wasn't his first, but hopefully his last.
I don't ever want to revisit his backstory.


~~~~~

Cash out of pocket:
- $10,000 for the disc
- $12,000+ for the surgeon & operating room fees associated to the disc
- a few thousand misc dollars for other things I can't remember

Thankfully our insurance covered the fusion, hospital stay, $50 aspirins, x-rays, nurses who were amazing, etc.  Their potion was over $300,000, which I couldn't imagine having to repay every cent of those exorbitant prices.  I wish I could help the people who have to...

~~~~~

In Travis' words, from 30th November, 2015:

What I Didn't Tell You: Installment 4

Posts 1 - 3 found here.

What I've discovered since starting this show-and-tell on the 14th of April, 2014, is that this decision to expose my drafts is a fantastic & positive thing.  I've gained confidence while writing this here journal and yet, never really stop to appreciate the opportunity to tell myself good job now and again.  Both Travis and therapy are a continual, supportive reminder I should change that.

PS: A few of these are rad (see 4) and extra hard not to actually post for realz.  But those are the invisible breaks and I choose to stand by them.

High Five!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Again, the rules are:

• I save them for any number of uninteresting reasons
• I may have posted the exact or some form of said tweet
• I present them exactly how they were saved, typos or non-sense and all

And now, Installment 4.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. I have a few found crush on Vincent Piazza, the fella who played Tommy DeVito in Jersey Boys. (whispers and by crush, I mean he's cute.) (April 4, 2015. 11:53pm)
2. When this guy at the stores all "Ma'am, you do wrestling down here on the corner?"  And I'm all "Sir, I'm a married woman." (April 17, 2015. 7:30pm)
3. I really wish they'd bring back Finders Keepers #GameShow (April 28, 2015. 9:26pm)
4. Landscape Architects do it from the ground up. (April 30, 2015. 6:46pm)
5. Do Your Part! Report water losers, so the Water Cops can flash their badges. http://www.ladwpnews.com/go/doc/1475/2226042/LADWP-Water-Conservation-Response-Unite-Takes-to-the-streets-to-Curb-Water-Waste (May 1, 2015. 11:34am)
6. I just realized I don't know how to abbreviate Hawaii.  Is it HA or HI?  Either way, it's quite jolly. (May 5, 2015. 10:37pm)
7. Taking a 10-100. (May 7, 2015. 12:09pm)
8. Saw a license plate holder for what I thought was UC Breakfsst.  If go there  (May 11, 2015. 7:41pm)
9. When you put on brave pants to go waterfall repelling, get there, but you're not listed on the manifest.  Because it's tomorrow.  (May 21, 2015. 2:36pm)
10. I'm really digging The Girl on the Train, which is our current book club selection.  Although I keep imagining she's on the Ticket to Ride train. ;-) (May 28, 2015. 3:18am)
11. An automatic toilet that flushes on its own, is possessed by a peemon. (devil face emoji) (toilet emoji) (May 30, 2015. 4:12pm)
12. A man bun riding a bucket and air drumming. (June 1, 2015. 6:31pm)
13. When I stood in between two houses and em watches a guy sing (June 3, 2015. 5:22pm)
14. A Porto potty is a dirty Tardis. (June 12, 2015. 6:24am)
15. Henny ponders, "What cooks?" (June 14, 2015. 7:57pm)
16. Won a free Blue Apron box from work for achieving Level 4 during our step challenge.  I cooked the first of three meals tonight: calzones.  It took two hours instead of one and the kitchen had an eruption of dishes.  So that sucks.  But it was cheese & taste tastic!  I don't think we'll order the delivery on our own though.  Each serving seems too high in calories and the portions are wonky. (June 14, 2015. 8:20pm)
17. Cereal is literally the downfall of my nutritional society. (June 14, 2015. 9:10pm)
18. clock tease. (June 20, 2015. 7:48am)
19. Tonights therapy session sponsored by Kleenex. (June 22, 2015. 6:07pm)
20. Remember, The Fonz never ignores a challenge. (June 22, 2015. 10:10pm)
21. The Wire, but with Monopoly. (June 22, 2015. 11:50pm)
22. Here's a draft tweet frkm xxx ago. I then dreamt about ordering a dozen different donuts, all of which were knew to these people in my dream, and they wouldn't make up their mind about which one to try.  So I took a knife, cut little slices from each and went to town.  Reminding them how much their missing out.  At least my dentures were ok this time.  Now we're on a cruise ship that docked and I need to "run home" for something.  I don't renener what.  But when I got there, a few candles were burning.  Glass kind.  The realiEd I was duped wrapped up in blanket (June 23, 2015. 6:39am)
23. Dreamt our roof was leaking, water pouring down all the walls.  So either I'm feeling like there's no way to overcome something or (June 25, 2015. 8:12am)
24. This dude at our local farmers market sells orgasmically sweet strawberries.  Feels like I should take them to dinner first or something. (June 27, 2015. 9:52am)
25. I just ordered a sandwhich by saying "I'd like the shoes please, but not the hat." (June 29, 2015. 1:04pm)
26. How many building engineers does it take to get our a candy bar that got stuck in the vending machine?  At my work, apparently 3. (July 1, 2015. 10:21am)
27. I've invested way too much effort, and been unsuccessful at, getting a picture of my fitbit when it shows 666.  The devil laughs another day.  (July 2, 2015. 11:47am)
28. I <3 that Clementine gets me!! http://twitter.com/clementinesford/status/618870720987172864 (July 8, 2015. 5:42pm) 
29. Making food for one is a bummer. I think that's why I used to eat so much cereal. (July 9, 2015. 9:21am)
30. Elevate... The flavor profile.  - our Dalek grill  (July 11, 2015. 9:24am)
31. I'm always a little sad when I see a lone sock on the street, because I'll never know its sole. (July 11, 2015. 9:27am)
32. I'm close enough that I walk to therapy, which must have significance, although I haven't made the connection yet. #theraputhack (July 20, 2015. 4:51pm)
33. The best part of having to park furthest away at the market is riding the shopping cart for the longest time!! (July 25, 2015. 6:38pm)
34. A chicken who claims a game is rigged cries fowl. (July 26, 2015. 9:11am)
35. Is 4 months too long to forget about putting the registration tags on your car (July 30, 2015. 11:30pm)
36. Hair Ye, Hair Ye, I hereby declare: reddish < blond < whiff of lavender <3 (August 7, 2015. 4:21pm)
37. I fully understand the amusement of my choice to bring a box of Cap't Crunch Donut Cereal into a fancy compassion dispensary. (August 8, 2015. 7:30pm)
38. When a 60-something fella with a giant phone & notepad tells you how much he likes your shirt, but not in a creepy way. #CaptainPrettyBlouse (August 11, 2015. 1:22pm)
39. Wearing this tshirt, a guy stopped to tell me he has one but his other car is a Tradis.  Then I saw a vanity plate with the same thing! (August 18, 2015. 6:12pm)
40. I just took down ALL the spider highways, so if they're looking for them, please check my hair, face, arms & sanity. (August 18, 2015. 6:18pm)
41. Asked Travis to make dinner because I suddenly got a headache for unknown reasons. Then I remembered the 8 hour work from home/year the roof off bang fest I endured.  (August 18, 2015. 9:18pm)
42. I get so elated looking at our new roof, I'm pretty sure all millenials collectively just XXX. (August 29, 2015. 6:41am)
43. It's not proper etiquette to wear white panties after Labor Day. (September 9, 2015. 11:54am)
44. When you're the only taco in a sea of pickles. (September 17, 2015. 11:54am)
45. I watched the white Bronco chase, completely unaware of what it meant at the time. Just like, this is weird. I was 13. (September 25, 2015. 11:15pm)
46. I member a mature friend called, asking "Do you have O.J.!?" I pretended to not know what she meant cuz I thought watching news wasn't cool. (September 25, 2015. 11:16pm)
47. But this chick was smart & confident. She was like dude "OJ! He's getting away!" We stayed on the phone, watching it unfold for a long time. (September 25, 2015. 11:17pm)
48. It was the first time I realized you could be hip AND informed! I detested those other 'girlfriends' attitude to dumb it down for the boys. (September 25, 2015. 11:21pm)

A Year Of Writing: 2015-7-1108

It hurt.  It always hurt when I thought about it, but I could never bring myself to stop.  Why did I crave a good, honest real-life torture.  what did I ever gain by thinking and looking, looking and thinking, driving myself mad to the point I could no longer scream?!

more pain behind these pale eyes who had already witnessed enough.

I tried to quit.  I did.  I found ways to trick my brain into thinking of literally anything else, but those moments escaped quickly.  I would cry far too often because of it.  c’mon, just a little bit of relief… but the images always found their way back into my blood, like the drug I was fiending for.

It wasn’t fair.  I’d already hurt enough.

~~~~~

I was waiting for the elevator to bring its bell of arrival, I’d pushed the call button like forever ago.  I stared down at my shoes and my clothes, wishing I was someone else.  somewhere else.  I want a new life, just for a bit.  Total Recall really had something there.  A new body to flaunt or hide, it would be fun.  I kid everyone, everyday - these clothes aren’t me anymore.  That person doesn’t exist.

finally.

The usual crowd stepped into our communal casket, day after day, head bowed towards the cold light transmitting from their hand.  No one ever says good morning anymore, it’s quite annoying.  I’m not any better, I’m such a hypocrite.  Something distracted me today and my eyes remained upright.

It was quick, almost nothing.  My soul sent up a signal flare, triggering the side head tilt that meant more.  I had to see why.  Something was calling my attention, but it was void of any sound.  It was howling silently to spot it.

And then I did.

And then I stopped breathing and then I passed out.  As I did, my brain acknowledged what I’d been socially inflicting on my eyes for months, was now in front of me.  And my bodies’ best defense was to give up.  I wasn’t strong enough to sustain real life.

A Year Of Writing: 2015-4-1007b

“what time is it?  how long have i been asleep? “  There is partitioned light bursting through every cracked wooden slat, filling the room, but few shadows.  I panic; launch my darting looks into a heap, scattering them around the room, hoping something will sonar back the answer.  nothing.  “it’s chilly, but barely fall adjacent.  i know this.  i’m nearly hyperventilating on this comfortable mattress, while millions of people wake from theirs, oblivious to my situation.  eager to start their day by gorging on pancakes & guzzling obnoxious coffee.  Or at least simulating to the best of their loneliest ability.  and topping that off by watching fucking stupid television, like there isn’t serious problems in the world.  selfish dicks.

but who really gives a shit anyway.”

…focus…

“maybe if i get out of bed, i can figure this out.”  The familiar man and dog are right where they should be, but something is still off.  The quad-legged slowly engages his muscles, temporarily atrophied from the night before; he looks my direction.  “i know.”

We get up and assemble the pieces that make his morning meetings tolerable.  I stare at everything either attached or in my hand.  “the notion these green, fancy squared plastics are any better for our planet is a fucking joke, especially.  But what option do i have… there’s too many causes now and it just makes me overwhelmed and I wanna do nothing.  it’s exhausting having a conscious.”   

I carefully peel the front door open, half expecting a boogity to be standing there, asking what took me so long.  But stillness.  A washing of silvery tones over the entire overly bright scene, as if it were graylight savings.  I cautiously step one in front of another, heeding the warnings of isolation as I leave everything behind.  I miss those days where something familiar would be always be around.  My tethered friend looks to me for answers.  “let’s keep going...”

There’s a suspicion the faders aren’t in sync.  The left light is way elevated, while the right people is extinct.  “this doesn’t add up.  did i drink too much last night?  i thought i only had one beer, but did i fuck up with more?  was the entire nights’ rememberance made up, as each minute of clarity shows itself?  i feel wobbly, hazy and on the brink of tossing up those desserts i ate last night.”  My eyes are mere dashes, covered only by their lids as the glow breaks through the flesh.  I struggle to understand what is happening to me, my body.

That’s when they came up from their hiding place.