Thursday’s Sarcasm

There are times brilliant ideas strike while taking a shower. Solving world problems are for middle of the night–which I’m hoping my insomnia will eventually lead to solutions.

Anyway, someone created this.

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I’ll bet you can’t guess what it is….

a cyber kissing machine.

I believe it remains a prototype, but who knows–you may find it in your local Walmart store soon!

So…if that can be invented, then there should be some way to prevent our credit or banking information from being hacked. If buying online, maybe a cyber fingerprint doohickey could keep us safe?

If you don’t appreciate the bland looking machine, perhaps kissing some odd type of bunny or bear looking thing would be a better choice.

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Happy Thursday!

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Choose wisely, young weedhopper

Most of us have heard, or contemplated the question of whether we would do something all over again…like life.

The answer to that question, for me, would be yes. Every bit of my life has led me right here. There are periods of time I could do without, but even in my orneriest, or darkest days, I received lessons.

We all have choices of paths to follow, and you can bet one of the paths chosen will be bumpy, slippery, and lonely. The path always leads to other paths, and we are continuously making decisions over which one is right for us.

Unfortunately, depression is a path we are forced to take–we are blocked from the path we chose, we are robbed of our decision. My fellow sufferers will understand, I hope the rest will find a way to accept that depression isn’t a choice.

I have read so many inspirational blogs, and while I think some may think I’m a little over the top, their words have touched me in ways they will probably never understand.

Accepting who I am, and that’s enough, has always been a struggle for me. (a little repeating here) I stuck out, I had red hair, my name wasn’t as common in my generation, I had a big mouth brother two years ahead of me in school, I was shy, and I never stood up for myself. Because of that, others took advantage of my vulnerabilities.

My only regret—I wish I had known in my 20’s, that I was enough. With such low-self esteem, I continued to take the bumpy, slippery, lonely path, expecting that this time things would be different. Thinking I had control over any situation, it took me a long while to learn that it was simply my reaction I had control of.

Eventually, I would be met with new paths of opportunity.

It was that one time I made a different choice. I took a path I feared.

Now, dammit, I have to love myself. :D

Which path will you choose?

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How far would you go?

Since my sister passed, I have asked myself the same question over and over. How far would I go to live another week, month, year?

In the last couple of days, I have apparently found my answer.

I wanted out of my mind so bad, that I would take anything the doctor pushed my way. He prescribed, I complied.

I weighed the side effects vs. depression. In my mind, I could handle any side effect in order for the pain, which was my life, disappear.

Yesterday, I encouraged advocating for yourself, but for the mentally ill, is that even possible?

Even though I received the look of I told you so from my husband, I’m thankful that he pays attention.

I may have to remain on medication for the rest of my life in order to manage my illness, but I can live with that—as long as I do my research first.

 

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One more thing about pharmaceuticals

You can skip to the end if you want, because that contains the summary of my far-too-many-words. However, I have learned a lot and wanted to share

Every time my Primary Torturer hands me a prescription–which is usually her answer for all that ails me–or she recommends I see a real torturer disguised as a physical therapist—I ask her about what she’s giving me, and I remind her that I’m going to go home and Google it, which I do. Many prescriptions I don’t fill, which she knows.

So…why didn’t I Google the hand full of prescriptions given to me by my pill pusher?

Dr. Saved-My-Life, aka the pill pusher, is a little sketch to me now. Why did I blindly follow his instructions?

Because I was D E S P E R A T E.

He was the one with the degree. He was the fourth pill pusher in my lifetime that I interviewed. He seemed to know what he was talking about, and definitely took the time to listen to me.

I only had two choices. I chose to do whatever it took to manage my depression and anxiety. I have been the most compliant patient, other than following homework assigned by my therapist.

Three of the medications I take have been a staple of my diet for years. Life continued to be a struggle to maintain some sort of sanity. There had to be something better than what my Primary Torturer was giving me, whose expertise was not in the field of psychiatry.

One of the add-on pills from my new pill pusher was a mood stabilizer. However, I continued to have anxiety which interfered with my daily life. I also continued to struggle with depression, which was also interfering with my life.

My pill pusher added another old standard medication which worked wonders for my anxiety. It’s a drug older than the new medications forced upon us, creating little guinea pigs for the pharmaceutical companies to cash in. The older medications have little value, but are just as effective. In my case, the older medication was the answer to the snowball of anxiety I had created.

The benzodiazepine, Xanax, has been my friend under all stressful situations. I never took it when my kids were little, and I can’t take it if I plan to drive, or handle heavy machinery–like the car. :) I began using Xanax to check out, so to speak. Life isn’t always easy, but I had a pill for that. I also recognized that it wasn’t normal.

Anxiety has plagued me most of my life, maybe all of it. I’ve done things to escape it, that I won’t even share on here. (see, I can keep a bit to myself)

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All is good, I didn’t want to tweak anything because I could slowly feel myself come to life. I want off Xanax–which has continued to be prescribed for my dances with panic and to aid with sleep. In my opinion, Xanax is bad <echo> <echo> <echo>. (My apologies to the grammar-spelling-punctuation-police-persons for using the less than and greater than characters for emphasis–it’s most likely incorrect, but it’s all I had).

I’m tapering off Xanax, but it is an extremely slow process because the withdrawal can be rather horrid–so I’ve read. To replace the Xanax and help me sleep, my pill pusher prescribed yet another pill–one that has been around for a long time. He started me on a low dose, but I started myself on an even lower dose to see if I really needed the larger dose.

I didn’t Google the medication.

Since being on this latest medication I have had many mishaps far and above what are normal for me. My husband recognized that I was a little more lost than usual and tried to encourage me to go back to the doctor or quit taking the last medication prescribed, but I refused because I wanted to return to life. Sleep is pretty important to how the brain functions—but I think we all know that. This medication gave me the much needed sleep, but it also robbed me of any lucidness.

My brain stuffing was nothing but mush, but I was finally looking forward and was beginning to see something, even if it was full of confusion and gaffes. At least I was beginning to feel less anxious and depressed. I believed I could deal with side effects if I had to. The other choice I had, is not one I want to face again. Ever.

I Googled the medication.

I knew to stay away from grapefruits, or grapefruit juice, but I was very shocked that the new medication had major drug interactions with three of the other medications I was taking.

I did something against all my common sense, and what I preach about. We must be our own advocate. We must know what is being given to us and why. We must know of ALL the side effects and drug interactions. I know that there is information that I should have read which is attached to every prescription filled, but when was the last time you read the enclosed literature?

I tapered off the medication with the help of Dr. Sketch, and I am slowly feeling a bit more cognizant. I have been off the medication for three days now.

Wow.

The internet can be full of misinformation, but it can be your friend if using reputable sites. I never read the forums, just the facts.

Be informed.

Advocate for yourself.

Oh, and read that literature that comes with your medications.

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Treasures on the deck

I’ve been up since 3 am, and a person would think that they could have written a great blog post in the last 8 hours. Yikes! And Crap! No–I only read through a part of the blogs I follow, and because I am continuing to clean up the mess of depression’s devastation, I feel a bit guilty spending time on something other than cleaning, sorting, and purging–serious purging.

So, here you go.

Something I found beautiful this morning. Well, maybe not so beautiful, but she made me laugh. My husband is not laughing.

The relics of this weekend’s dig by the grand puppy. I’m hoping that one day she finds some buried treasure that is worth something.

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Hope you find some beauty in your day.

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A little squirrely in our backyard

I have a bunch of topics milling about my mind, but my to-do list is longer than my list of blog topics. So, I’ll write a quickie.

While researching the types of wildlife we have in Georgia, I discovered quite a bit about squirrels.

The gray squirrel, which is most predominant in our backyard, make their nests of leaves in a tree, or use a cavity in a tree. I love watching them go up and down with twigs and leaves. They also strip the bark of some kind of tree we have growing.

Our first winter here, we wondered what kind of bird nests were in all the trees. It’s not like I haven’t seen a squirrel, but I didn’t know they did this. I never thought about where they have their babies, or find shelter. When I found out what they were, we had a good laugh.

This is a beautiful example of a nest of leaves. I understand that squirrels are quite hospitable and share their nests.6K2A2082

Here is a failed attempt at making a nest in a cavity which was too small.6K2A1969

I may gave shared this photo before, but here are some squirrels hanging out around their temporary home in an oak tree cavity, which grows behind our house.SONY DSC

 

This is what I found beautiful today.

Hope you find something beautiful as well.


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Avoiding the grocery store—yet again

Part of the discipline I’m trying to impose upon myself, is to read blogs with my coffee. Blog a couple of times a week, and carry on.

Apparently, it’s a work in progress.

This morning I have read different blogs with topics which were enjoyable reads.

The topic of one blog was about rude questions and comments stay-at-home-moms endure. You know …and what do you do? aren’t you bored? While doing my genealogy research, the very early US census reports referred to my kind of people as keeping house, and that was admirable until it wasn’t anymore.

The topic of another blog was about people critiquing the blogging/writing styles of others. I have had an idea in my head to blog completely unedited. Meaning no backspaces when I type an incorrect letter or word. I know that my punctuation isn’t always correct, and my sentence structure is a bit askew, but I seriously don’t care. I would love to let loose every made up word I have in my vocabulary…and let the critiques rejoice in their criticisms.

I lingered over many beautiful photos, and read some wonderful poems.

Then I read a blog about fear and Faith. :D

I have asked my husband where that opinionated–couldn’t-care-less about other’s opinions of me–that small part of me who relaxed and didn’t worry about entertaining or worrying about spending time wastefully—go? That time waster in me, is now controlling my life.

I was the one at the edge of a river receiving safety instructions from our guide on my first whitewater rafting trip, praying…please don’t let me fall in, please don’t let me fall in. Fearful, but I did it anyway. Guess what? The first set of rapids everyone, including the guide, fell in the river except my extremely anxious friend. Whitewater rafting is by far, the most exhilarating activity I have participated in. I wouldn’t have known it if I didn’t do it in spite of my anxiety.

The one who decided to take flying lessons in a Cessna 152—the small plane equivalent of the Mini Cooper. I blame it on the cost of the lessons, but when I was instructed how to recover from a stall and a spin, that was a little more daredevilish than I wanted to be. Ha! Now I have a phobia of flying. Go figure.

The person with so much anxiety, but I did it anyway.

My motto was, I’ll try anything once, within reason.

Fear—the ball and chain I’ve acquired since the mostly carefree thinking of my early 20’s.

Fear?

You gotta go!

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More Grandpuppy Antics

I love that little dog belonging to my son. There will come a day that she will leave our home and only come for visits. I will miss her spunk, but her destruction—not so much.

Here’s the tally on the Christmas decorations:

Plastic ornament. The verdict was to pitch this one.

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She made a one-eyed snowman.

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And a cyclops of another.

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I will keep the two snowmen. Every year I will pull them out and be reminded of that little puppy.

Oh! Thankfully, I was schmart when I went the plastic ornament route when the kids were little, and we had cats milling about. Also, I’m glad I have hoarded the plastic ones. So far, we haven’t had to tie the tree to the wall as we did many years ago…and that’s a good thing.

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What’s in a picture?

The photos of the childhood part of my life.  I was awkward, shy, and afraid of everything.

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That’s me on the left with my brother and sister. Which now this photo makes me sad…they were part of my history, and they aren’t here any more.

 High school graduation—with a dream in my mind, and a sparkle in my eye.

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 The beginning of a new path in life.

IdoHolding my babies.

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I’m behind the camera most of the time, and my husband isn’t that steady, even in the automatic mode, so a lot of photos come out rather fuzzy, which is really okay when they’re of me.

Anyway, that means I have the pleasure of avoiding being the subject in most pictures taken. For the overly critical mind I haul around with me, not a one of them is perfect. However, I’m coming to accept this. Guess what? I’m not perfect! Who knew?

I have been rummaging through my stored photos and trying to organize them when I have time. I have enjoyed the memories while viewing them.

Unfortunately, there is the photo taken May 30, 2011–the day before I was diagnosed with cancer. I had just finished building some wooden boxes for our oldest son. The boxes would give him more storage that a twin bed mattress would fit on top of. I thought it would be of use to him while living in his fraternity house.

IMG_2265I was proud of my boxes. Frazzled, but proud. This particular photo has become a dark memory for me and overshadowed my accomplishment. When I look at this photo, I see fear, but trying to remain strong. That band around my wrist will always remind me that this was the night before life changed for me and my family.

The words, “it was cancer”, seriously was not what I had expected. Who does?

The beginning of another trip down depression lane.

The photo of Christmas 2012 with two of my kids. Deep in the grip of depression I was fighting so hard to recover from. That photo now reminds me just how determined I am, and that determination has saved my life.

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I will probably always look at those photos and have to work hard for the beauty held within them, but I will continue trying, for these photos are few.

The photos like this? Now doubt about it, they were happy memory makers.

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By the way–the were laughing really hard.

This year, we will all be together for Christmas, and I believe many beautiful memories will be made, and if I get a haircut, maybe I might look on the outside as I’ve been feeling on the inside. I wonder, a hundred years from now when one of my relatives is trying to envision what life was like for their distant relative, will they see the darkness in the same photos I see?

Hope you find some beauty today.

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So it goes, catch me if you can

Courage is not having the strength to go on; it is going on when you don’t have the strength. ~ Theodore Roosevelt

There comes a day when the person I’ve been hiding, has to pull out her big girl panties made of iron and keep them on. A clean pair every day, of course.

side note: I wanted to describe the panties with the most strength without failing–I never knew there were so many combinations of alloys which combined with iron, make a different type of strength according to how it will be used. So, I need to pull out the iron mixed with the correct alloy so that I will not break under stress of my own making.

Words come out of my mouth as if I know what I’m talking about. They make sense, they sound fair, kind…but with serious meaning behind the words. Whatever I was anxious about, was silly, silly, silly. I can’t wait until I can recognize my thoughts in a matter of minutes, instead of a couple of days.

I spoke, my kids listened.

Except the grandpuppy. Oh my gosh! Being that I semi-trained our mastiff, I thought I could train that little dog while she lived with us. Any mastiff owner could tell you that motivating a mastiff to do what you want, when you want, depends upon whether they choose to move or not. Ours sits on command very well, and gets in her cage when we need her to. That completes the extent of the training she will obey–if she feels like it. I’m kind of thankful she’s old and doesn’t move as much, because when she does, she can still pull me off my feet.

Just as a real grandkid imagines, apparently the dog kind expects Grandma to be fun and wants to play ALL the time. Sit, stay, come, drop it– all meaningless words when they come from my mouth. I try to stand really tall using the deepest most firm voice I can muster, and she still thinks I want to play keep away.

Yesterday, I noticed a tip of a mini Christmas tree light between her lips. First came panic because I thought she would swallow it, or be harmed by the glass.  The keep away game commenced. When she finally stopped, she cleverly pulled the bulb completely in her mouth, and clamped her jaw. I retrieved it after a few minutes of prying and a bit of tough love.

We have a pre-lit tree that comes in sections. For each layer there is a smart bulb which connects the different sections together so—if you’re lucky, you have a tree that will be ready for decoration. The smart bulb is made of all plastic and whatever the little thingies are on the inside. That was the type of bulb she had in her mouth.

This Christmas, I’m trying to go with my version of a Scandinavian-Style Christmas decor. A minimalist type of Christmas decorating. Not too much shiny but not too sparse. I have lots of ideas for crafting hand made ornaments, but they’re still in the development stage.

The tree is perfectly fluffed and ready for decorating. I thought I would do something I saw on Pinterest, by sewing paper circles together to make a garland. It took about 15 minutes for two cats (not mine) and one little dog to destroy part of it. So I’m onto the next idea, but will end up with mostly my old store bought ornaments—the plastic type. While sewing my dots together, I looked at my bobbin holder as if it were a completely foreign object. It scared me for a moment because I seriously didn’t know what it was.

My cats, the ones with the health issues, one with hyperthyroidism the other with a mental illness–according to the vet–have topical medicine to manage their symptoms. Both medicines come in the same type of dispenser. I placed dots on top of the hyperthyroid cat’s, and made two different cups so that I didn’t give the wrong medication to either cat.

The cat with hyperthyroidism received a little anti-anxiety drug last night.

Even though the days can be crazy, and there are days I’m hanging on by a thread, there is beauty like this….

Simplicity

Okay, this was taken in the Spring, but I still have the frozen moment of beauty.

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A real grandchild, however not mine–my sister’s. This is my loaner grandson, he calls me Grannie Auntie April. He’s wearing my boots by the way.

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Grandeur

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Mother-daughter love

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Pilfered photos from the Wee One and Sensible Girlfriend.

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