Hurts So Good

I met with my new trainer tonight. The Big General. TBG. (Well, she’s taller than TLG.) She said to me, “you’ve been out of it for a while, right?” I commented I’d been to the gym three times already this week, but previously only once each in the past two weeks. She asked if I wanted a real workout or if I wanted to ease into it. Of course I told her to ride my ass. I can barely walk. This is the closest I’ve come to giving up on a workout in a really, really long time.

First we did Froggies. Start in a squat position, jump forward, land in a squat and immediately jump again. Repeat ten times, turn around, and do it again. Super-set that with crunches on the half-ball. Then dead-lifts with 15-lb. dumbbells. Then lunges using the squat machine. Starting with 10lbs. on each side and working up to 20. Next was push-ups using the bar (not on the ground) super-setted with more ab work. Then shoulder press and cruches on the full ball. After the walk-jog yesterday, my legs are jelly. I could barely write down my next appointments with her because I was shaking so much.

I stayed and walked for an hour, though, while I watched Grey’s. That helped move the acid around a bit, I hope.

Oh! This one’s for you, Chicago! I was at Zellers, picking up my birth control prescription, and I found this at the end of an aisle. I cracked up, there in the store. Nobody wants a monkey butt!

Other than that, Hell was okay today. It was deadly quiet, but for an hour, I helped The Supervisor transform the customer survey he’d written into English. It felt good to be doing that which I’d gone to school for. Writing. Editing. Preparing a document for customers. I need to do more writing. I mean, the blog is great, but it’s not my life. Hopefully this computer course that I’m thinking of taking will help. Take enough courses and I could help design websites.

Anyway, I’m soaked in sweat and need to wash my face and go to bed. Oh, and I think I just set myself up for a blind date on Sunday. Guy from POF. Can’t hurt, right? I set the place (very public) and he agreed. We’ll see what happens.

Sunshine on my Shoulders

All right, who’s searching for my blog using “creepy fish from the midnight zone”? What the hell kind of search term is that?

Interestingly, I’m averaging between ten and twenty views per day. No idea why, I only know of three people who are reading this regularly. Whatever.

I was supposed to meet with my new trainer tonight, but apparently there was a scheduling conflict, and our meeting was cancelled. We are still on for tomorrow night, though, which is good. On the other hand, I couldn’t do any weights at all tonight, because I don’t want to mess up whatever she might choose to do tomorrow.

Instead, I put on my running shoes and headed down to the beach. It’s about a five-kilometre round-trip from the park in B-town over to the Lift Bridge. I jog/walked it and it took about an hour. That included the time I lost staring into the B-town Canal. I could watch water all day. It’s constantly changing. If I watch it long enough, I feel like I’m moving with it, like it’s part of me.

Woodstock and I had a debate today about swine flu. I don’t think it’s as big a deal as everyone’s  making it out to be, and she’s genuinely concerned. I said that there’s no way we can contain the outbreak or the spread from Mexico. She said, “does that mean we shouldn’t even try?” She likened it to a drunk driver; society has put rules in place to govern idiots who drive drunk. Why should we do any less to govern those who would willingly expose themselves to an illness that may kill someone that they come into contact with?

I was still pondering that argument at the end of the day. Her points were valid, and short of saying “I don’t necessarily agree”, I couldn’t really back up my arguments. I hate that about myself. It makes me look wishy-washy. But I like that about Woodstock, because she forces me to reconsider statements I make in a rush, in order to clarify my thoughts to her and to myself. I react based on how I feel really often, without taking the factual considerations into account.

I made myself dinner and watched part of Obama’s press conference. He’s enjoyable to watch, and I find his presence really reassuring. If I was stuck in some sort of new-age commune, like in Lucifer’s Hammer, I’d want Obama leading my group. That’s a really good book, I should buy myself a copy. He’s engaging, and though he clearly ducked some of the reporters’ questions, they came back at him and he flat-out answered them. Yes, he thinks waterboarding is torture, and yes, he thinks that sanctioning it means that the previous government took part in torture. It doesn’t get much more plain than that. I wonder if Dubya watched.

Otherwise, there’s not much new. On the crazy pills front, I think they’re wreaking havoc on my insides. Apparently there’s serotonin in your intestines, too, and they help you to digest. Side effects of the pills are problems with digestion and upset stomachs. I haven’t had that particular problem, but for the past two days, I have had crazy amounts of effluvia, and – okay, remember this is my blog – I’m afraid to release for fear I might florch. Stop laughing, Chicago. It hasn’t happened yet and I’d like to keep it that way, but the pills are definitely affecting everything down there. Someone used the phrase “stool softeners” with me the other day, and that is clearly something I don’t need. Are there such things as “stool hardeners”? Maybe I should be eating more cheese.

On that happy note, I can tell that Chicago is just cracking up, and I need to go to bed. I have a slight headache brought on by the exercise, and I just want to go to bed and relax.

Tonight’s The Night (Gonna Be All Right)

Right at this moment, right now, I’m torn between feeling completely at peace for the first time in weeks, and wanting to cry. And I’m not sure if the wanting to cry is because I feel at peace, or not. Tonight on the way home from the gym, I was sitting at a red light, and I thought, it’s gonna be all right. It’s going to be okay.

The meeting at Hell wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. Sure, my job is slow, but it doesn’t look like I’m going to lose it any time soon.

I’m going back to the gym, and I’m not a slug. I can still do a powerful forty-minute cardio workout without passing out. And my capris from last summer are too big. I’m never going to shop at AdditionElle again.

I’m going south in about three weeks. I’m going to see old friends. I’m going to relax, read books, maybe play a bit of a tourist. I’m going to spend time with T. and The Boy. And I’ll meet my furry niece for the first time!

I can sleep with the window open and the curtains blowing in the breeze and I’m not crazy. And I wake up listening to the birds chirping.

I emailed with NJ today and I emailed the Lifter tonight, too. A little male attention never killed anyone.

It’s far too soon for the crazy pills to be working. Based on what I’ve read, there’s a lot going on in my brain right now, and if anything at all, it’s simply more confused than it was before I started the medication. But for some reason, I think it’s going to be okay. And I expect that’s directly related to having left the gym tonight for the second night in a row. It felt great.

Now it’s ten after eleven, Indigo is down my robe, and I’m… comfortable. Satisfied. I’m okay. I miss Grammar, though. Weird, but the trucks rumbling by outside remind me. I think it’s time to take my meds and go to bed.

Ticking Away

First – the meeting. It was just an update on the status of the company. Without divulging too much, we’re not making money. Then again, no one is. No shocker. This hour and fifteen minute meeting could’ve been condensed to a three paragragh email, but whatever. I’m not in charge of shit, so what do I know?

T. had asked me a few weeks ago if I could go down south for my week of vacation. I told her that technically I could, but I couldn’t afford the flight. She asked if I would go if she paid for it. I said of course I would! And then today I got an email with the flight details. I leave on the 16th and come back on the 23rd. I’m hugely excited to be going – just to get away from here and remember that there’s another reality somewhere else is amazing. And of course the flight paid for is a huge gift. A wonderful gift. I think I’d better find my passport and buy some shorts… Old Navy here I come! Of course, I expect I need to pack my recipes for rugelach and bread. And the butter tart squares. Hmm. I should make a list.

Other than that, I went to the gym tonight after work (it’s eleven now – I need to be asleep soon). It was very odd, walking back into this gym after being away from it for so long. This was the gym that I originally joined. And then they bought out the gym I joined next, and then they closed the location down the street from me, so now I’m back to my very first gym. The equipment is a bit different, but everything’s in the same place. The TVs are new, the members are different, but it was a weird sense of deja vu to walk in and out of there. This gym is almost twenty-four hours. They open at 5:30 Monday morning, and close at 11 Friday night. They re-open early Saturday and Sunday, but close at 6 both nights. The hours are better for me; gives me more opportunity to go, and if I wake up at 3 a.m. and decide I want a workout, well, I can go!

Nothing else is new. I have to go wash my face and take my crazy pill. And I need to start looking up places that I can visit by myself down south. I don’t want to spend the whole week sitting on T.’s couch watching TV, as tempting as that might sound to some pregnant readers…

Freedom

According to WikiAnswers, the first song played at Woodstock was “Freedom” by Ritchie Havens. Herein lies your useless information for the day.

I went to Woodstock today. It was hard to get out of bed; the day was grey, the weather stank, and it was raining. Having plans really helped, though, especially having plans before noon when someone was counting on me to be somewhere and do something. My laundry was already all packed up, so I had no reason to procrastinate. I ate my bagel, dropped the laundry in the car, and proceeded to get lost. As usual. I can’t see to get to Woodstock’s house without getting lost. A happy coincidence lead me from my “new” route to a road I recognized from the last time I went out there, and I managed to find my way there.

Her son is just the cutest little thing, he jabbers to himself, and I couldn’t figure out what it was about his speech, until she pointed out that it’s like he’s always got a cold. That’s it! That’s how this poor kid sounds.

It was good to sit and relax and talk, and have a quiet lunch, and just be with someone who is happy and satisfied with life, to hear about someone else’s life and be removed from my own for a while. We didn’t talk about depression all that much, and we didn’t dwell on me being “sick” in any way. A lot of our talk revolved around “Go Go Baby” aka “Creepy Baby” and Pooh and Goofy, but it was nice to talk about that instead of SSRIs and depression meds. Not that my talk with other friends really revolves around my broken brain, but I was removed from my own “comfort zone” so to speak and it was good to be outside the bubble that is B-town.

Then this evening, my parents came by. I know this was a direct nod to the email I sent them in December. They hit the border around seven and my place around 8:15, where they ate the dinner that they’d brought and left around 9:15. That’s okay, though, it was nice to have them here, even if it was for a short visit. Mom said this apartment was nicer than the other one, though she really couldn’t pinpoint why. I said it was okay, most people have been saying that.

Other than that, I have to take my pill and I’m going to bed. I’m hoping to hit the gym tomorrow night after work, because I know I’m not going to get up tomorrow morning in enough time to go. Tomorrow afternoon is the big meeting at Hell, and I have to be honest and say I’m a bit concerned about what they’re going to say. Hopefully it’s only an update, but I don’t know. Lord, please don’t let it be something else to get depressed about. Haha (sense the dark humour there).

One Fine Day

Did you know there’s actually a CD for sale on Amazon.Com that’s titled “Backyard BBQ Party Mix”? Really? Good Lord. Anyway.

Today was a good day. I slept in, woke up, and it was 22 degrees in my apartment. A tad warm, shall we say. I had a quick shower, then tried on three pairs of bottoms before I settled on the “best fitting” ones and headed out to meet Pretty. We went walking at the Eramosa Karst Conservation Area. Because I know Chicago will ask,

“Karsts are geological formations including underground drainage, caves and passages caused by dissolving rock, found in limestone formations like the Niagara Escarpment.”

It was pretty neat, we actually went into two of the caves. Well, one cave, and one “window”. In the Nexxus Cave, it’s big enough to climb into and two or four people could comfortably fit if seated. And even though it was 27degrees out today, in the Cave, you could see your breath. That was pretty remarkable. I’m glad we went when we did; I’m not sure in the height of the summer heat, I could bring myself to climb down into a cave with the consideration of snakes and other creepy-crawlies.

Then we did a bit of grocery shopping, and went back to Pretty’s house for lunch, and watched her husband finish their deck. Part of it had blown away in the wind. It was a nice quiet afternoon, during which I got sunburned. Go figure. I got my oil changed, too, and I got the same guy I always get. He’s a really nice guy, but today I just wasn’t in the mood. The sun left me with a bit of a headache, which was only exacerbated by sitting in the hot car in the hot garage with no breeze. By the time I got home, I was not happy.

But I got back just in time; I finished putting away my groceries and cutting up my ribs, and the weather took a nasty change. Clouds piled up on the horizon, and the wind picked up. One gust was so strong it blew over my cement gnome. I had to bring in my rug from outside and rescue my garbage can lid, too. I put the gnome in the recycle box to stop the boxes from flying away. Apparently there had been reports of funnel clouds in the area; one of the guys across the street is married to a cop (good to know) and he came over to tell NeighbourGuy. (Who, by the way, is out back drinking beer as I type. Good Lord, it’s no wonder he has a potbelly.)

Pretty and I were supposed to go to a movie tonight, but we just didn’t make it. The sun was pretty exhausting. I felt better around eight and probably could’ve gone to the nine p.m. show by myself, but I … just didn’t feel like it. It’s been raining off and on all day. And tomorrow with the drive to Woodstock, it’ll be a long enough day that I’ll appreciate doing nothing tonight.

It’s only ten on a Saturday night, but I think I’m going to put Indigo in his cage, close my door and lock it, and head to bed to read for a bit. The sun really wore me out. First, though, I have to print out directions to Woodstock’s house. I’ve been there twice, but from different directions each time. I’d rather not get lost…

Heroes in the Sun

Mom and Dad have reached Virginia safely. Thank the Lord for Facebook; it cuts down on the expense of long-distance phone calls. Grandpa even sent me a message using Dad’s FB account tonight. Apparently Grandma planned the move so well he hasn’t had to do much except be there. I’m glad, and sad that he’s already learning to do without her. Sis got held up at the border for some reason, then stopped to buy a cell phone (?) and isn’t expected to hit VA until sometime around 2 a.m.. That’s gonna suck for her as she’s going to have to turn around and drive back, because the lady taking care of her kids won’t be able to do so past Saturday morning. So she’s going to have to drive right back.

Today was Thursday at Hell, and nobody lost their jobs. The big staff meeting is Monday; I’m curious as to what they’re going to discuss, and frankly, I’m not looking forward to it.

I had to work tonight at CM, but only for about two hours. There was a problem with the delivery of the paycheques, so I had to cover a few hours while AM1 ran to the flagship store and picked them up. And like a good little girl, I came home to eat dinner instead of grabbing Mickey D’s on the way. I had a small bagel with light cream cheese, a whole pile of fresh cut veggies, and some strawberries. I have to stop eating so much chocolate and candy. I don’t know how it happened, but apparently they’ve become one of my new foodgroups, and enough is enough. I’m gaining weight instead of losing, and that is not acceptable.

I was fascinated by an article I read today on CNN. This concept is fascinating, that you can concentrate and a machine can spell for you. To me, it opens a realm of science fiction that people never thought was possible. And it was because I got excited about this idea – the first time I’ve been excited about anything in a while – that I looked up Continuing Education at my Alma Mater. I can take an online learning course for $150. I might just do that. I’m looking at Web Design. It’s something that’s always interested me, and the price is right, and the fact that it’s all online would make my life a lot easier. Even the exam is online, I think, and I believe it’s open book.

Anyway, I’m off to bed. The next chapter in my depression book deals with the actual physical effects, I think, and I find that completely amazing. It’s reassuring to know that my brain is actually broken, that there’s something wrong, that it’s not just me being melodramatic and blowing something out of proportion. The other day I read about how SSRIs work, and I want to re-examine that concept so I can completely grasp what’s going on in my own head. It’s truly fascinating.

Trickle Down

I’m tired. I haven’t done much today. I didn’t go to the gym. I should have. I did do my groceries, at the No Frills down the street. People I work with would insist that saved me money. The carry the same brands that I like, and the grocery store is closer than the one I normally go to that’s apparently more expensive. So I had to figure out how to put a quarter in the cart and then get my quarter back… And I had to bag my own groceries, but I prefer doing that, anyway. Whatever, I managed.

There are meetings going on like crazy at Hell. I wonder if I’ll still have a job at the end of the day tomorrow. Layoffs typically happen on Thursdays and there’s a big staff meeting on Monday. Not much I can do about it; if I get laid off, I’m going to have to deal, simple as that. Or move home. I’m sure my parents would love that. I’d probably actually enjoy the slower pace. But let’s not put the cart before the horse.

Today is day six of my antidepressants. So far I’ve found extreme thirst (I drank over three litres yesterday), and clenching my teeth. Contrary to AM2’s opinion, I was actually clenching my teeth before I read the Wiki article that indicated that clenching my teeth is a side effect of SSRI’s. I was reading about how they work yesterday, and I think I have a decent idea now. I’m hoping that if I get further into the depression book that I bought, I’ll learn more about the science behind it. I don’t like the idea that my “personality” is defective, but if it’s “defective” because my brain is actually broken, then I’m okay with it.

Tomorrow I have to do laundry, and I have to make it to the gym. Those are my goals. One day at a time.

You’ll Be In My Heart

And you’ll be in my heart
Yes, you’ll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more
You’ll be in my heart
No matter what they say
You’ll be here in my heart
Always

Grandma died last night. Around midnight. Grandpa didn’t call Mom and Dad until around seven tonight. They called me around eight, but I was working. No message left, but Dad had updated his FB status, and it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. They were giving her morphine, perhaps enough to put her into a permanent sleep, perhaps not. It doesn’t matter now, she’s passed on and it’s probably best for everyone. The memorial service is Friday in Virginia. I won’t be able to make it. I don’t think Grandma would have minded.

The woman couldn’t cook. I don’t know if she couldn’t or simply didn’t want to. Like Johnny takes no interest in cooking, hence doesn’t like it. Perhaps that’s how Grandma was. But she loved butter tarts, kielbasa, and pie. She’d never had butter tarts or kielbasa until coming to Canada. I remember her in the kitchen of the house in the country, just being mystified by these “Canadian” foods.

She pronounced “roof” as “ruff”. She didn’t take grief from anyone, and was sassy when she needed to be. She could tilt her head and just shoot you that look, and you know that she was being nice about it, but she meant every word she was saying. She called Grandpa “Grandpappy” and I think she wanted us to, but of course, we were a bit too old to modify “Grandpa” by then.

She wore this odd peach-coloured creation to my wedding. It was the strangest dress, but she liked it, obviously, and it was quite dressy for the occasion. But more often than not, she was in a pair of track pants and a long t-shirt. Being a tall lady, it was a look that made her look even more stork-like. She used to get dressed and then come down stairs with dots of foundation under her eyes. She left them there for a while, then after breakfast she’d go upstairs and rub them in. Or rub them off, I don’t know.

She was comfortable with who she was and what she was. As long as she was with Grandpa, as long as she had a good book, and a comfortable chair… She survived breast cancer and chemo. Lord knows she had a horrid wig for a while, waiting for her curls to grow back in. She pinched every penny and didn’t give a damn if you called her cheap.

When I put together a book of Dad’s and the Aunts’ childhood memories, Grandpa wrote me an email that he was disappointed that I hadn’t included any memories of Grandma in it. Well, she wasn’t around when they were young, being their step-mother and all. I was baffled and hurt by Grandpa’s comment. But Grandma flat-out insisted that I had done nothing wrong, that the book was a beautiful gift, and that I hadn’t hurt her feelings at all. She was practical, and didn’t put up with much nonsense.

She might have been Dad’s stepmother, but she was my Grandma.

I’d Be So Happy

I’d be so happy if I was happy…

Today wasn’t that bad. If I could get out of the bad habit of clenching my teeth, today wouldn’t have been too bad. I was slow, but not so slow at work that I wanted to bang my head against the desk. And then CM was busy enough, too. If I could get my appetite back, I’d have had a good day. I’ve been preoccupied eating candy and little else for the past few days. . . to the point that I stopped yesterday and bought myself a quarter pound of gourmet jelly beans (God I love Jelly Belly).

I’m making whole wheat pasta right now to go with the sauce that I took out of the freezer. The sauce that TheGiant made. *shrug* It’s not like he poisoned it, and I need to start eating the contents of my freezer. There’s enough protein in there to satisfy a grown man for a week. It’s kinda gross, actually. I think the only vegetables in my apartment are three peppers and some cherry tomatoes. Totally unlike me. (note how yesterday I didn’t do that grocery shopping?)

Today was the tenth anniversary of the Columbine Massacre. That’s so sad, thinking about it. I read a few different articles on CNN today about it, and there’s simply nothing food about the situation, whether it turns out that the boys were bullied, or just psychopaths, or simply out for a lark. I can’t imagine… I just can’t imagine sitting in the library at my high school and then having someone come in and open fire. There was no emergency exit in our library; we would’ve been sitting ducks. No windows, no way out.

I was talking about school with one of the girls at CM tonight. She’s doing correspondence courses. I’d like to go back to school, take some courses. I’d like to take some nursing courses, but frankly, sciences are not my strong suit. I’m not so sure how well I’d do. I thought of a PSW, but Pretty’s brother is one, and she says they’re often treated poorly and the pay isn’t great. I could become a social worker, but it’s more likely that a career like that would send me over the edge. Pisces aren’t capable of sponging up that much negativity. At least, I’m not.

Grammar emailed me today on FB to tell me what’s new with his life, and how things are going. He’s off to England again at the end of the week and he’ll be there for ten days. I’m going to miss him, again. He’s been working nights, so I haven’t heard much from him. That’s a shame, he was definitely lightening my days for me.

Not much else. It’s raining, it’s miserable. I’m trying not to expect anything at all from the medication yet. It’s only been four days (I took today’s pill already) and there isn’t going to be any change yet. At least three weeks. If not four. And while I am glad I’ve done something, I want it to work right away. And it doesn’t. If it works as the doc expects, I should be feeling better – I should be feeling the lightswitch flip on and off – around May 2-4 weekend.

It’s funny; I have this urge to tell everyone that I’m Depressed. In capital letters. I’m Depressed. I’m not grumpy, I’m not angry, I’m not moping. I’m not arrogant or mean or unkind. I’m Depressed. I have an Illness. And at the same time, of course, I have an urge to tell no one – to retract it from the people who already know, to hide this Illness and try to cope with it by myself. But I know the only reason I’ve coped with it so far is because I have friends.

I wish more people understood it. I wish they understood what it’s like to have this feeling; like you’re waiting to be normal and you’re not sure when it’s going to happen or what it’s going to feel like when it does. Maybe I’ve been depressed for years, and just didn’t know it. How will I know? Is “normal” normal if you’re on medication to make you that way?