Same Shit, Different Day

I am living in the movie Groundhog Day.  Every day is the same.  This fucking winter is never going to end.  Get up, drink coffee, sit in front of therapy light for an hour, wonder what in the fuck I am going to do for the rest of the day . . . it’s GREAT!  How did I ever live with responsibilities?  A job?  I’m not for sure but I think I *may* have the winter doldrums.  Why write?  What IS there to write?  I get up.  I take medicine.  I go through the motions.  I pee  I poop.  Woo!  This is LIVING!!  I’d say I need another trip to Florida for a temporary lifting of the SAD symptoms, but the re-entry into winter last time was so harsh, I don’t know if I can take it again!  Underlying everything is the fear of ending up in the mental hospital.  Yes, that same mental hospital where I kind of burned up my bridges with gasoline and a cigarette.  See, the last time I went for maintenance ECT, they kept me waiting for more than an hour, and I flew into a rage, called my ride, started to leave, they came out to get me as I was leaving, and I cussed them the fuck out.  It was only appropriate!  Don’t keep me waiting for an hour!!  I was more mad for my Mom, who was going to pick me up, and would be waiting an extra hour.  I can just see me showing up in the hospital, and them saying “Hey, let’s shock the shit out of you again!” and me showing up in the ECT room where I bitched them out, and being forced to have treatment.  And eat shit for being such an asshole.  All my fears.  So this is why I get up, and take my medicine, and go through the motions every day.  Why I sit in front of my therapy light an hour in the morning and an hour at night.  Why I exercise every day.  I just want to stay out of the mental hospital!  I wish I could say I had loftier goals, but this is what I’m living for right now.  Just to stay sane and non-suicidal.  It’s a tightrope I walk that’s balanced by daily actions that I take, whether I want to or not, even if I’m sick to death of going to that fucking health club, I get in there and move.  I sit in front of that fucking light and try to entertain myself.  No, I haven’t tried masturbating while sitting in front of the light.  Thanks for the idea.  Just saying “entertain myself” gave me the idea.  I hardly even have the desire to entertain myself!  Ok well . . . one day at a time, one workout at a time, one pill at a time, I will get through this fucking winter.  Sing it with me now “I will survive!  Hay-HAY!”

There’s Snow In The Air, But Sun In My Heart

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Well it’s Colorado, so you know it’s gonna snow. Have I mentioned that winter is not my favorite season?  Yesterday morning when I woke to snow falling, all I could do is sit in front of my therapy light for a full hour (yes that might be therapy light abuse) and thought about Florida, Florida, FLORIDA!  One week as of yesterday until I am in Florida and away from this dreaded winter!!!  Since none of my current clothes are going with me to Florida, I went ahead and packed.  Oh it got me so excited, I nearly came!  I rode a wave of Sunticipation all day.   This has also fueled my workouts, which I am still managing to do once a day (that exercise pill will keep the SAD head above water, I promise you) thanks to my sister and her wife, who gifted me with three months of a health club membership for my Christmas present.  When Dr. Drugs said he’d never seen a more supportive family than mine, well, that fucker wasn’t even kidding.  I feel  very supported and VERY grateful for my health club membership.  On the shittiest days, I can still go sweat it out.  Even just getting really hot is good for SAD, I think.

Today I will shop for my Secret Santa gift. Our family has given up getting each other gifts in favor of each of us buying one Secret Santa gift, and then we have this all-out war of a gift exchange, where you pick a gift under the tree, but the person after you can steal it from you if they like it, and someone can steal it from them, etc.  It is super-mean yet super-fun and it motivates everyone to get a pretty slammin’ gift.  I am going to fill my Boy Scouts Limited Edition Denver Broncos Popcorn tin with all sorts of excellent Broncos paraphernalia.  It should be the hit of the day.  Hopefully people won’t come to blows over it.  Well, it could go either way.  It might be fun to see my brothers rolling around on the floor trying to pry that tin from each other’s hands.  Hey!  A little hair-pulling never hurt anyone.  And what are we modeling for the next generation?  The kids do their own Secret Santa exchange too.  Fortunately this will be on December 27.  I return the 26th.  So I get to miss Christmas, and any accompanying nastiness that may come with the traditional family holiday (always happens).  I will just swoop in for the fun.  GOD I am so proud of myself for figuring out how to do Christmas RIGHT this year!!!  I will be drunk on the beach Christmas day, while everyone here is eating ham and scalloped potatoes.  Which is totally overrated.

Now if I could just figure out something fun for New Year’s. I am tired of staying home to avoid the drunks on the road.  I have heard that Cards Against Humanity is the funnest and raunchiest game ever.  Not sure if my family could handle it though.  I am the funnest and raunchiest person in my family, by FAR!  Maybe I should just start a Meetup called “Fun and Raunchy People” and play the game there.  Now there’s a thought.  I don’t know though.  People might think it’s a Swingers group.  That might be awkward . . .

Ok people let’s make this a great week! Only TWELVE shopping days left until Christmas!  Me?  Don’t worry about lil’ ol’ me.  Just send cash. 🙂  Peaches!

Welcome To SAD Season

Welcome to SAD season, where Daylight Savings Time has officially ended and Seasonal Affective Disorder has officially begun.  The uphill battle/fight to stay out of the mental hospital and stay off ECT has also officially begun.   Here’s what I am doing to fight the good fight:  sitting in front of my therapy light for an hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon; walking mile after mile to get that exercise in and those good endorphins flowing; getting support from and staying in touch with others on the blogosphere; and maintaining this consistency day by day the hardest of all.  There’s also the givens:  Daily doses of mood stabilizers and anti-depressants, and weekly therapy.  For the most part, these are things I don’t want to do. In fact, I don’t want to do anything. I feel like a total slug. That is why this is a fight. My definition of self control is simply this:  Doing what I don’t want to do, knowing it’s good for me.  By contrast, it could also be defined as: Not doing what’s bad for me.  Just as hard.  But, by doing what’s good for me, I have a better chance at abstaining from the bad stuff (excessive sugar, marijuana, alcohol).  Just like the alcoholics, this is a one-day-at-a-time proposition.  So, for today, I have one good thing done so far, sitting in front of my light.  Next on deck, I have plans for exercise.  Knowing that I will be filling out my self-monitoring spreadsheet kind of motivates me.  I want to be able to say that I did good things.  And I want that Beck score to be low.  Or at least not too high.  I’m going to allow myself a super-caffeinated drink, then I’m off to the hiking trails.  What’s your plan for winter survival, Stan?  Peaches!