Category: Random Voidness

The Dark Days Are Over…

Let the terror begin.

Okay, melodramatic, I know.

Good news; I got a job. The fear of never being wanted or hire-able or useful for the rest of my life is waning. That doesn’t mean I won’t get fired again, or I won’t stick my foot in my mouth. I’d like to believe I have learned the lessons of my past.

Now my brain is tripping over the fear that I’ve forgotten how to draw blood. That I’m not going to be effective with old veins and get the blood I need to get. There are so many aspects of this that is driving me crazy, but if they are being truthful about the money, it should out weigh all the items on their phlebotomist to do list. I’m just panicking, like always.

I saw the new shrink. I was at the office for three hours, not all talking to someone, but he put me on a new anti-anxiety that’s supposed to help me sleep, and it does. Until 3:00am and then I’m wide awake again. I need to get up and do something, but alas. I don’t. I just put my story back on and lull myself into a light sleep I don’t want to wake up from. I’ve also moved my Wellbutrin from 200mg first thing in the morning to 100mg at morning and one at night. I’m not waking up with the absolute dread of the day and the long discussion and bargaining of “you just have to get out of bed and that’s it” conversations have stopped. I’ve noticed I’m ‘feeling’ more, which I haven’t decided if it’s a good or a bad thing.

I think Finch (@finch) is helping with that as well. I never had a digital pet before, I remember wanting one but they were too expensive. ($20). So, I’m going to stick with the program until I hit a wall. Hopefully it happens on a weekend so it won’t interfere with my new job. One of the things I talked to the doctor about was going back into therapy. I just need to sharpen a few tools, I think. But I can’t afford Ellen’s rates on unemployment. I should be able to afford her now. I hate the idea of having to break in and train a new therapist.

As If & I Don’t Care

I was meandering through a journal entry yesterday. (Meandering is like a mash-up of free writing about a specific subject and stream-of-consciousness writing.) I wrote something that was both new and not new to me but I recognize it as my new norm. I was discussing the efficacy and practice of a mantra for love and worthiness.

I have come to the decision it doesn’t matter what I thing/feel/see when it come to my worth and, well, me. I am acting as if:

  • I’m worthy
  • I’m of value
  • I am talented
  • I am loveable
  • I am loved
  • I am sane

I wish I could act as if I was a size six but that would make me delusional. And I don’t want anti-delusional meds, so I won’t go there. 🙂 Or maybe instead of “As If” it’s more “I Don’t Care.” I don’t care what the evil pixie thinks of me, says to me or tries to trip me back into the darkness. I don’t care because I control my life. Yes, some days the pixie adds weight/dumbbells to my emotional baggage I carry around but I get through and continue to go towards my goals. I lament my speed and compare it to the speed I should/could be going if I wasn’t bogged down by the dead weight of my emotional dysfunction. I will continue to move forward one bag at a time, one inch at a time, one breath at a time.

Journal Entry from 06/06/26*

I keep waiting for ‘sanity’ to rise up and save me, I realize. Sanity isn’t a white knight to rush in an sweep me into the world of normalcy, like it’s a fairytale castle. I am the princess and the dragon in my own fable, I know that. I have the tools I amassed through therapy, and perhaps my shed could be larger for storage of the excess baggage I carry, but even with the baggage, I am not without the ability to tilt at my own monsters. When I get tired, and my guard is down, the pixie uses the shadows in my brain to creep up and discourage me. “As if” adds light to those times, but it still feels like I’m still giving the darkness power. “I don’t care” feels like the ball is in my court and though I might foul or make the basket, it is in my hands not in something else’s.

I have bee using a self-care app called Finch. It’s like Tomagachi (electronic pet from the 00’s) got it’s MFT in CBT. I’ve not been doing it long, Tuesday will be two weeks, but it’s simple. It allows me to track my mood and name my emotions when I need it and I can look back over weeks and see my progress. I’ve only told two people I’m doing it so I don’t have a lot (or any) friends on the app. Which is fine. My Finch’s name is Harlow. At night, just before I put my head down I do three minutes of breathing designed to help with sleep, and it does. I get up with a plan and I follow through because I want to mark everything off that list. But it is something you do every/other day/week/month kind of thing. I like it right now, so if you’re looking for something to help you track and prove you are just getting through some days, there is an app for that. If you join, please be my friend: 7Q9WR39BGK.

* My journal entries tend to jump from one thought to the next without grace, so please forgive if the quote seems a little jittery. I could have corrected it but that would defeat the purpose of quoting the journal.

Thriving In Action

This is my mission statement for 2026:

One of my action items to prove to myself I’m thriving was to have quarterly get-your-ass-out-of-the-house things to do. My first one was Between the Lines. A play in Castro Valley, CA which was directed by a coworker at One Medical. It was a sweet story of a girl trying to fit in and the characters in a book who were refusing to let that happen. It was a sweet story that touched on some deeper subjects like the importance of fathers in their child’s life and a single-mother’s struggle when he doesn’t. The importance of friends and acceptance in life. But in general, it was fun, well thought out and staged. I walked away from the play lighter of heart and desperate to be able to see better.

Saturday, the 23rd. I singed up to go see Mandalorian and Grogu with a theater full of rabid Star Wars fans. People dressed up and strangers talked to strangers. I won a trivia book for all the Star Wars movies. I am a fan of anything space based, I realized. I loved the TV show The Mandalorian because I would come home from work exhausted and sit on my bed and watch and episode or three and Sammy, who was pissed off at me because I was gone the whole day, would sit on the bed and watch with me. Not cuddle, just watch. I think she had a crush on Grogu: he was small and green too. It endeared the show to me. And the violence. I do love me some fictional, unrealistic violence.

I’m already planning my third outing, I want to go to the opera for my birthday. My birthday being in the middle of the quarter. I can’t afford the choice tickets my friend used to buy but I’m going to go to a matinee on a Saturday and hope there will be tickets available for the cheap seats at cheaper than face value prices. There is Manon and Tosca coming up for that time frame. I’ve seen Tosca but not Manon. I’m looking for a CD player at thrift stores so I can prep by listening to the CDs. I don’t use a streaming service and I mostly listen to books in the car, so my life has been something of a musical desert. I love the way Opera makes me take deep breaths with the arias and then float away on the high notes. It’s very calming.

I realized I’m picking outings where we are all there for a uniform experience. I’m not really ‘socializing’ but going somewhere without someone is a really big step for me. My sisters don’t like musical theater and science fiction/fantasy doesn’t really interest them. The difference between the the first two is the opera will have alcohol, which adds a scary element in the mix for me. I really never figured out why. You just can’t trust people when they drink. There is no argument you can make that will make me believe otherwise. But we are all still there for a civilized cultural experience. My last one might need to be to a Faire (Ren, Dickens or Psychic) where everyone is doing what they want and I need to participate in something other than shopping. If I don’t get a job any time soon, I won’t be able to participate in anything at all. (Sigh).

I’m proud of myself. Even if these are baby steps compared to what my life used to be when I was younger and not terrified of the outside world. I’m happier and safer in bed, but that’s not how life is lived. It’s not how to thrive.

I Protest Two

Today was No Kings III. For a small town (like under 100,000…I think) we had a mighty force of courageous and outraged citizens demonstrating. I worked mostly at the membership table. I know I can talk to people if there is something between me and them….a table, a bar on the chair, even glasses. That’s not saying I like doing it, but I know I can do it if it’s needed. I held a sign for about 30 minutes towards the end. I made it myself…”Stop Deranged Trump Syndrome”. I think there is a better word for syndrome for the message I was trying to get across, but it’ll do. I was forthright in getting people to sign in, get them to take a “Fabulously Fighting Fascism” sticker until we were out. I told them about drop cards and why, even if they’re old and white, they needed one.

This picture sums up my whole day. I don’t know her name, she sat in her chair, in the sun waving her flag at passing cars and refused to give up, or give in. My hero! I couldn’t hold a sign unless I was in the shade of a tree. I’ll get stronger, but she showed us all how it’s done.

Part of why I am doing this is to fight back the anxiety of unemployment, looming recession and because it is horrible out there, and if we don’t stop it, it’ll only get worse. This week I’ve been to a TRACC Indivisible membership meeting and a SURJ.org local circle meeting. The circle meeting asked questions of what we would be comfortable in doing, gaging where we need to focus on to be a better team and support system for those in the community. One was to be a decoy car with a Mexican flag when ICE is in the area to give people time to go home where the government can’t get to them. My first thought was NO! That’ll get me shot. Which is a valid concern with the untrained stormtroopers making life miserable in the towns they infest. But then the evil pixie pops up her spiky little head to ask, “Would that be a bad thing?”

Yes, you evil sprite, it would be a bad thing to be shot and killed before I am ready to leave the earth. Again, it’s the passive suicidality trying to reassert itself into a more prominent role in my life. And the depression, anxiety, passive suicidality and the pixie can rearrange the deck chairs all the want, but I still own the boat! I still decide when the ship sinks or float. And damnit, it is going to sail until it reaches the Elysian shores we’ve all been promised in our individual spiritual studies. It just bothers me that I’m not cured. I still have to tackle the darker elements to the mat every day. I know, I’ve had this for decades, probably my whole freaking life if you look back at Distraction I wrote my first suicide-esque note when I was barely double-digits. I’m hoping it’s not too late to make a life of what life I have left, but every time I try to get out, they pull me back in.

I’m constantly trying not to let the thoughts of failure, giving up, of wasting my life and all that entails bog me down. I’m trying to write, but the ever present need for an income keeps me distracted from the comforting pools of creation. I set the goal at the end of last week to go back to the basics….take meds, exercise, eat 3 meals a day, pray and read the scriptures. Anything else is gravy, as they say. And then I caught myself piling on more and more things every day and I shut down. After going to the SURJ and TRACC meetings on Thursday made me withdraw from the world on Friday. It was hard to engage with people today, but I had the safe space of a barrier (even if it is imagined) me and them.

I know this is sounds like a doggy-downer post, it’s not. I got up, even when I didn’t want to, and went to the protest. I accomplished that. I shared my opinion, my jokes and my stake story with strangers. I am moving forward, but just like the dragonfly in the chrysalis, it is a struggle to emerge a new and stronger creature. And I just want to be the promised dragonfly instead of in a constant lava state.

–

Health & Healing

The loss of my job in January was bad enough, but it was insult to injury after I got the message from my states ACA program that my insurance premiums were going up by 160%+. It worked out to be what I managed to scrape together and save from refinancing my only tangible asset, changing my insurance and phone coverage. I wasn’t worried. I began to believe the fear mongering by the press about how the ACA subsidies were expiring at the end of the year were going to double or triple our premiums. It made 160% not as horrible as it could be. Fast forward to the beginning of this month and I checked to make sure my autopayment cleared my card and the cost was $1,500+. That was a 300%+ jump in the premium., or close to 500% jump total. I’m still shocked…terrified…bewildered…dumbfounded…pissed off.

The bureaucratic two-step I’ve been doing to get my money back and set up the state funded medical program has been intense, confusing and frustrating. I’ll admit, I do have a mental block when it comes to stuff like this, it’s a lot like figuring out taxes for me. I hate it and need it and it’s written in legal double speak and I allow it to confuse me. I try to push through, but by the time I get to the end of the paragraph I can’t remember what it was talking about. I’m assuming it’s willful ignorance, but I don’t know how disengage my will. I’ve filed a complaint to get my money back and I’ve set up my state funded medical which will be available to me 1 April 2026.

Not a moment too soon, either. I thought I was suffering from sinus issues because of my nose clogging and my face hurting due to the pretty, pretty trees in bloom but it turns out it was more. I didn’t check to see if it was COVID because it didn’t go into my chest. But this messy, goopy, sticky, blood stained mush came out of my nose when I could get air through it to breathe. I power-washed my sinuses regularly with my battery-operated neti-pot which I think saved me. If I were working, I would have taken OTC meds and powered through but it was nice to stay in bed, literally for days and sleep and allow my body to heal. Today is my first day out of my room and I’ve been off all meds since Monday. As much as I love Nyquil and Dayquil they don’t do my body any good. So, yesterday my body forcefully ejected the unused or unnecessary portions of the meds from my body and, honestly, I feel five pounds lighter.

What made the recovery a little easier was knowing I could take my state funded medical card to an urgent care or emergency room and get help if I needed it. It’s just a fact of life, when you don’t have insurance even a benign common cold creates the most uncommonest of scenarios in your mind about death or drowning in debt. People who are against the Affordable Care Act, I believe, have never had to decide to wait out chest pains and hope it’s not a heart attack or go to the emergency room and not be able to cover rent. I have. And I have to say, jumping through the fiery hoops of bureaucracy is better than betting your life to make rent.

And Then I Read This

The universe gave me a response to the last post:

Life is not easy for any of us. But what of that? We must have perseverance and above all confidence in ourselves. We must believe we are gifted for something and that this thing must be obtained.

Marie Curie

The Cutest Ducklings Welcome Spring

A group of five ducklings swimming in a pond with rippling water reflections.

Spring has officially sprung when you see more ducklings in the pond than ducks. Happy Spring!

Drive-Thru Delight

Saw this beauty while going through the drive-thru to get my soda.  It was just sitting there hanging out.  I rolled down the window and got it.  Beauty is everywhere.  What a wonderful blessing!

Reality Schism

I’ll admit it, I’ve been struggling. I’ve been fighting the good fight for weeks but today the void is sucking me back in. Yesterday I realized I was doing it to myself and I need to stop…..but I’m having too much fun!!

I’ve been free writing again. I’m blissfully living in the space between my ears. I broke one book I wrote (Heart of My Mothers) into a trilogy. The original was too dense because I wanted my character to grow and experience life adjacent to the plot. My readers liked the story but it was suggested I break it up into three books so I could bring in more detail.

  • Book 1 Andi (Mother): Is ready to be sent to an agent or publisher, I just have to create the query letter and do it. It terrifies me I’ll do it wrong. Wrong means I fail…..again,*
  • Book 2 Veronica (Grandmother) : Is written and needs editing….like Edward Scissorhands level of editing, which magnifies my skewed reality I can’t write perfectly the first time around.*
  • Book 3 Claire (Great Grandmother): Free writing where even the original book isn’t a reference and anything can happen. I’M LOVING EVERY MINUTE OF IT.

The problem? I still have to live in reality. I still have to drag myself out of bed every day and face the world. I still have to take my medication. I still have to apply for jobs. I still have to go on interviews. I still have to remind myself death isn’t a solution.

This morning, by the time I convinced myself to get up (It took an hour today), take my meds and feed my bird I was crying. My reality is just really hard right now. I’m looking for glimmers, I’m walking more than I have to (goal is three times a week) and I still feel like I’m failing. Failing crushes me.*

My character isn’t failing. She fabulously wealthy, she’s popular and she’s the hero in her own story. I’m poor, few people know my name and I’m trying hard not to be the villain. Is there any doubt why I want to live there?

So, right now I’m straddling these two worlds. The endorphin rush from creation strips the serotonin on my brain. Low serotonin makes me want to escape into the story. I don’t know how to heal the schism without tearing me in two.

So I bought yarn.

Any suggestions?

* I know this is wrong thinking. I feel like Sisyphus constantly pushing the right thinking up an impossible hill only to get flattened when the rock rolls over me.

Constant Vigilance Is Everything

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The color attracted me. Its like purple with a green undertone. Then I realized it represented how insidious depression can be. I broke a long time ago and I’ve been putting the pieces back together wanting to be whole and then a hidden root wiggles it way though a crack to remind me I’m not. The positive take-away from this image is just a little concerted effort and the little tendril of doubt/sadness/darkness can be yanked out and the crack repaired. All it takes is constant vigilance.