It’s been a one-month hiatus and I think that’s long enough. I mentioned in a post before that I really hate writing in the blog when I’m depressed, because it just becomes a series of depressing posts and who wants to read that? I’ve had no motivation to do anything – work, eat, clean – even taking a shower required supreme effort on some days. You (and the people around me) will be happy to know that I did manage that last one.

But life has been plodding along. I’ve been spending a lot of time with E and friends, and that’s been the only thing that’s really kept me feeling like I might still be alive. I love my blog and blosse but for some reason I’ve needed the face to face company lately, like I need to reassure myself that there’s a real world around me and not just the one in which I imagine that I am popular and pretty and a brilliant writer.

But enough of that. I’m sure you are on the edge of your spinny desk chair, drooling as you anticipate the recap of my month.

Jeep

The big news is that the recession got me in the middle of my depression, and I had to get rid of the Jeep. Gas prices, insurance prices, payments – KILLING me. My medication costs have gone up significantly and I just can’t afford it anymore. Seriously, meds these days? If you’re not depressed already, the cost of anti-depressants will MAKE you depressed. But I got a cute little Pontiac Vibe the other day and I have to confess, it’s so fun and zippy! I feel like a traitor saying that, but dammit, Jeep – you let me down! 15 mpg in the city? Hybridize yourself! Take some initiative! You make my bank account weep!

Boys

In slightly smaller but still not awesome news, I met a friend’s new boyfriend the other day and I have to say, I was a tiny bit underwhelmed after her glowing raves about this fellow. Guys, aren’t you supposed to make an effort to woo the friends with charm on the first meeting? Aren’t you supposed to keep your mouth shut about divisive topics like religion and politics and not try to evangelize your Republican views like Pat Robertson on crack? Now I have no problem with Republicans. Or Democrats or Libertarians or Greens or whatever else. Be what you want and so will I. But really? Save yourself the strain of stepping up on the soapbox because it just makes me want to shoot you while you’re up there making yourself an easy target.

I honestly don’t think that my failure to be swept off my feet by this fellow has anything to do with my friendship with my girlfriend’s ex. I’ve thought about this at length because there is obviously a huge potential for prejudice here. I just fail to see the attraction. I like boys to be charming and handsome and sweet because she deserves all of those things… she’s in her twenties, beautiful and brilliant and could probably have any guy she wanted. Why this one?

Perhaps I’ll grow to like him. You know, if he doesn’t talk around me.

Fun!

My anal-retentive apostrophe habits have made me famous-ish!

Boo.

I got invited to sub on E’s volleyball team on Monday when one of the other girls had to get a cyst removed from her hand. So in the spirit of team solidarity, I managed to break my left thumb during my first game. I was the lucky one though – my friend Jill took a tumble and tore ligaments in her right ankle and is basically immobile for six weeks. Ow ow ow!!!

The irony here is that Jill and I were the only ones playing sober. So here’s the plan: I’ll drink a whole pitcher of beer before the next game, and then my thumb won’t hurt and I will be able to play and not get injured.

That’ll work, right?

Snow!

We got our first stuck-to-the-ground snow of the season last night in St. Louis. It was such a beautiful ending to a crazy month – here’s hoping that December is much more chilled-out. Rimshot!

I just barely finished NaNoWriMo yesterday. My new medication was making me soooo sleeeepy that I’ve been napping every day after work and sleeping all through the night as well. I could not write at home, I had to go somewhere away from my bed and couch and sit up straight and eat something in order to work. To that end, I fell in love with The Gelateria on South Grand. Gelato, hot tea, coffee drinks, pastry, panini… and their lack of WiFi made me super productive since I wasn’t distracted by LOLz.

The meds have kicked in now though, and my body and brain are adjusting nicely. No more panic attacks, no more hiding under the covers because I don’t want to face the world.

I know that there are a lot of people who don’t believe in using drugs for depression, and a lot of people who don’t even believe that depression is a real disease that can require medical treatment.* My depression is a subset of Type II Bipolar Disorder. My doctor compares this to diabetes. It won’t kill me, but it requires a certain lifestyle in order to be healthy. I may be on medication for the rest of my life, she says – both mood stabilizers and antidepressants. And you wouldn’t deny a diabetic her insulin, would you? I don’t care if my meds are artificial or synthesized or if they come from a Bolivian coke farm. Gimme. I’m chemically unbalanced and actually meet the requirements to be considered disabled by the ADA.

Anyway.

When I wasn’t writing that 180-page brain barf of mine, I was spending a lot of time with E and our friends.  He really is racking up the points by taking such good care of me. I don’t know WHAT came over me one night, but I started ordering shots (we did one called “Your Mom”) and got pretty messed up last weekend. E woke up and saw me literally banging my head against the wall because I was in such pain. I was crying and pulling my own hair… it was like every hangover I’d ever had converged on me all at once. Worst. Pain. Ever. I think I’d rather have been in labor.

It really freaked him out, so he got up and walked down to the gas station in the cold to get me some Excedrin. He said that when he walked back in the house I was out of the bed, laying on the hardwood floor and didn’t respond the first time he shook me.  Eek. I don’t remember that part. Nor do I remember the fact that I had the dry heaves for an hour after we got home and that he laid down in the tub so he could stay with me in the bathroom while I slept on the floor for awhile before I could crawl into the bed. He said he was a bit drunk too and was afraid he’d drop me if he tried to carry me back to bed.

I got completely gorked on the Excedrin and my head only stopped hurting when it was pretty much numbed from the inside-out. E made me an ice pack with a Walgreens bag and ice cubes. I love that boy.

Maybe that night wasn’t such a good idea. Okay, it REALLY wasn’t a good idea and I am a moron. Healthy lifestyle, not so much. But some diabetics have a slice of cake now and then. I was doing so well at avoiding hard liquor! I guess this was just reinforcing the fact that I still can’t handle it. Back to beer for me.

And back to blog )

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* And if this is you, I bite my thumb at thee. Now shove off.

I am not very politically active, I do not live in California, but I will post this link here because it’s a fantastic and enlightening read:

“Our Plea” is a post by Beth is about California’s Proposition 8 and aims to debunk some of the more popular myths surrounding this controversial legislation. Whether you’re a Californian or not, for or against the principles of the proposition, have a look.