Not Just Your Garden-Variety Neurotic Smartass.

Music Soothes the Savage Beast.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Tom Waits, who I just absofuckinglutely adore, and it’s helping.

I also talked to my mom last night about my depression and how lately it’s been eating away at me like a rabid coyote, and that was helpful, too. She urged me to count my blessings, which is something I really don’t do enough.

I have a beautiful, healthy daughter that always makes me smile and is a compassionate, kind person. She has a loving, giving boyfriend that does a lot for us. I have fantastic friends that stay by my side even when I’m in the bell jar. I have two healthy parents that are both still working and help me in immeasurable ways. I have pets that bring me joy. I have a warm, comfortable house that I am truly lucky to have.

Despite all of my health problems, I am lucky enough to have a family and friends that support me.

I’m really very lucky. I need to be mindful of that. Always.

Have a great Wednesday.

Treading Water.

Since my severe suicide attempt last summer during which I opened up my forearms and scarred myself unbelievably badly for life, I have been struggling to forget – to forget what happened, to forget the feelings that led me to that point, and to try to forget about my often-shitty life circumstances that bring me down on a daily basis despite therapy and meds.

It’s a pretty harsh struggle. Some days are tougher than others, and today was a particularly tough day. I had lunch with an old and dear friend, and afterward she was telling me how much she’d always looked up to me and thought I was cool. I should have been happy and flattered, but instead, that never-ending negative voice in my head simply said, “What’s to admire about you? You’re a piece of shit that can’t even work and take care of her own parents and daughter.”

“You’re a loser who has accomplished nothing in life.”

“You, my friend, suck.”

This voice has been ever-present in my head since I was tiny, and it gets exhausting. More exhausting is constantly having to pretend that I’m fine and that it’s not there. So bear with me, please. I’m going through a pretty strong rough patch. While I will still joke and laugh on social media, I’m hurting deeply.

Hopefully things will start looking up soon.

Be well.

Sleep, At Long Last.

I slept in until 5:30 today, which is rare. I feel absolutely great – so great that I am scrubbing down my entire bathroom. I’m just taking a short break to let the foaming Clorox cleanser do its thing.

I have a dentist appointment today, during which my new dentist will likely recoil in horror at the state of my choppers. At last count I needed two cavities filled, two root canals, and I have two broken teeth – one of which broke from eating Swedish fish a couple weeks ago.

This is what comes from being an ex-bulimic and anorexic – your teeth get completely weak and fairly fucked. I am already missing several teeth in the back and need a bridge, too.

It’s a wonder I can eat.

But off I go to clean and get then get my mouth repaired, and here’s hoping that my dental insurance will cover most of this work.

Have a splendiferous day.

Fat Fat Fat Tuesday.

Hello! Well, it turns out my recent lethargy was due to the fact that I was once again getting sick, and I’d like to have some words with the universe for creating the world’s worst immune system.

I am feeling much better today aside from being a walking ball of snot, just in time for the predicted fifteen inches of snow we’re supposed to have in Chicago. Yay.

However, today is Fat Tuesday, and that means paczki, and I am unreasonably excited about the powdered sugar-covered pastries.

Filled donuts are pretty much the bomb.

With that, I have nothing more to report, so have a happy Fat Tuesday.

Lethargy.

I have been the slackiest of slackers this past week; and UGH, does my house need cleaning; and UGH, do I not want to clean it. I want to sit on my couch and Netflix my Friday away until it’s time to go to bed.

I blame the weather. I am personally much more motivated to do things when it’s warm, and I can totally see why other creatures take this time to hibernate. I wouldn’t mind hibernating until spring rears its green little head. When the flowers emerge, then I will clean my dusty ceiling fans.

What I have been doing is spending an inordinate amount of time policing kittens. “Don’t play with the blind cords!” “Don’t jump on me when I’m sleeping!” “Don’t eat the TV cables!” “NO!” It’s like having two-year-olds in the house. They’re so stinking cute, but so very bad.

Loki, sleeping, for once not tearing things up.
Thor, peaceful, not eating the curtains.

I need caffeine. Lots of caffeine. Have a great weekend.

That Time I Got Busted For (Not) Selling Drugs.

I went to a high school that had open lunch, which meant that we as kids could just leave and go to any of the fast food places around to eat. My friends and I favored the local Burger King, where we could annoy the employees and eat cheeseburgers that would not yet gravitate to our then-slim thighs.

One fateful day during my senior year, I forgot to bring my prom money to school. My boyfriend went to a different high school, so I’d had the money for the tickets at home. My mom kindly offered to bring it to me at lunch, so I waited for her in the Burger King parking lot.

When she arrived, she handed me the cash through her open car window and I pocketed it; and the next thing I knew, two cops were in my face, asking what had just transpired.

I’m not saying that drug deals never went down in the Burger King parking lot; but if you saw my tiny, blonde mother, you might realize that she was an unlikely suspect.

We explained what had happened, and the cops both looked at us suspiciously. Surrrrre the money was for prom tickets! You’re both WEED SNORTERS! I was trying to hold back hysterical laughter while still taking into consideration my mom’s obvious panic and the crowd of kids that had formed watching Jen Trance and her mom get interrogated.

Finally, they let us go, still looking unsure as to whether we were dealing crank, and my mom sped off.

Sadly, justice was not served, and I wound up snorting lines off my hand in the bathroom – lines of the fine, fine, Colombian cocaine that my mother had delivered to me in the Burger King parking lot. For sure.

Have a happy Wednesday.

Back To The Land Of The Living.

Well, I finally feel like a human being again, and not like some mangled creature simply crawling back and forth from the bed to the bathroom. It’s a relief.

There are purring kittens next to me, and I feel pretty content. That’s a rarity.

Since I’ve had to quit working at age 26 and have been disabled and unable to drive, I’ve been pretty antsy for the most part. I don’t like having a lack of purpose, and I don’t like feeling as if I’m not accomplishing anything in life. It’s been very hard for me to adjust to being sedentary, and I doubt I will ever fully accept it.

One thing I’m trying to do now – even with my torn rotator cuff- is get back into shape. I have a treadmill in the back bedroom, and now that the cats are out of there, I’m free to use it. I also need to get out of the habit of boredom eating, which has unfortunately become quite a nasty thing with me lately.

I have a million books, but I can’t read for long periods of time anymore due to my vision problems, so audiobooks are a good way to pass the time. I’m also learning to write code, and that has been helpful, too.

What would be truly great would be to have a chauffeur to take me anywhere I’d like to go for free, so that I wasn’t constantly bothering my parents for rides to the store or rides to the doctor. There is Uber, but Uber doesn’t really fit into a disability budget.

I am lucky to be at home in one regard – I’ve gotten to spend more time with my daughter than I would have if I would have been working, and I am grateful for that. I’ve really gotten to know her as a person and not just my child, and she’s wonderful.

Have a super Tuesday.

Flew.

I have the flu despite getting a flu shot, and I’m pretty pissed. I’ve spent the last couple of days in the bathroom and in bed, feverish, praying for a quick death, but I think that the worst of it is over.

I’m reasonably sure I still have a fever, because it’s eighteen degrees and I’m on the porch with my coat wide open, smoking, and I’m very warm. One way to survive a Chicago winter: get the flu – you won’t feel a thing.

I’ll write more tomorrow when I feel more human. Have a great Sunday.

Dental Damn and Dumpster Diving.

Good Morning! My back is starting to feel better at last, so it’s a lovely day here in the hood.

I could really use all of your good thoughts today, because Jasmine has an interview for a full-time job this morning. If she were to get it, that would be truly wonderful. She’s been looking for a job for quite some time and pickings have been less than slim.

The rescue lady came and picked up the mama cat yesterday, so now we’re down to just my cats, the kitten we’re keeping, and the kitten Jasmine’s friend is keeping. I almost hate to split them up because they’re so incredibly sweet together, but we really don’t need four cats – a point that was driven home particularly hard last night when all four of them were in my room and most of them were on my bed screwing around while I was attempting to sleep. I am a cat magnet. All four of them are gathered around me right now, waiting for my next move.

Today I plan to work on my little code training book and do some cleaning, but not much is on the agenda.

I sorely need to go to the dentist. I grind my teeth at night (and sometimes during the day, too) to such a terrible degree that the enamel on them is shot, and at last count I needed a couple root canals and a few cavities done.

I also knocked out the permanent retainer on my bottom teeth, and it’s gotten incredibly hard to floss in the areas my teeth have sort of shifted back, so I probably need that replaced.

Speaking of retainers, I have a story that is probably my dad’s favorite story of all time – the retainer story. When I was in junior high, like many kids, I had braces on my teeth. I had them for three years, because my pre-braces teeth were pretty gnarly. If I can find a photo, I’ll scan one and post it later, because my stacked-up, crooked, gap-filled, buck teeth are really something to see.

After I had the braces taken off during my eighth grade year, I had to wear a retainer on my top teeth. This was pretty standard. The retainer had sort of a plastic plate with a wire that went over my teeth, and I had to take it out in order to eat.

During my lunch break at school, I typically wrapped it in a napkin while I was eating so that nobody had to look at my icky gross retainer; and one fateful day, I accidentally threw it in the garbage. I didn’t realize it until I arrived home, and I promptly freaked out.

My father, not wanting to purchase a new retainer (which I now completely understand), drove me to the school the next morning, which happened to be a Saturday, so that we could dig through the garbage and find the cursed thing.

Now, it should be noted that although I am from the hood, I went to a rather posh private school in a rather nice neighborhood. Tuition was on the house if one was a church member, so did I attend church until the eighth grade? You bet. So not only was I dumpster diving, I was dumpster diving in chic, white-bread, suburbia.

I was mortified, to say the least, and ready to beat my father to death with a shovel for humiliating me in this manner.

We dug through bag after bag of garbage, and I felt like I was out there scrounging through the trash for a lifetime. My dad’s favorite aspect of this story is that I could tell when we were getting to the junior high lunches, because very few of them had been eaten. Eating disorders and private schools are made for each other!

Finally, I found the damn thing, covered securely in a napkin for safekeeping, next to an uneaten apple. I never lost my retainer again, and my father tells this story at least four times per year as either a cautionary tale or just a fond remembrance.

Feel free to leave me a comment if you’re reading! I do love a good comment.


My Body Doth Protest Too Much.

I have some herniated discs in my lower back that are making life a joyous, nonstop thrill ride at the moment, probably due to last week’s seizure and fall. Back problems are among my top 200 pet peeves, so I am currently just chilling with a cup of coffee before I actually do anything today.

I don’t like this business of getting older and falling apart. If there is a refund available for this junky body, I would like it now, please, before any more parts go awry.

Can you remember sitting cross-legged as a kid with absolutely no problem for hours on end as a kid? Now I sit cross-legged for five minutes on the floor with the kittens and I practically need someone to pick me up because my leg has fallen asleep and my back has just simply given up on life.

I’m in really crappy shape. I haven’t really exercised regularly since the first time I tore my rotator cuff, which happened during 2018. I need to strengthen up, limber up, and move my ass a bit. The problem there is that my rotator cuff is once again torn and I’m very limited in what I can do. However, I can still walk, so once mama cat has been adopted and is out of the back bedroom I am getting back to my treadmill, that old neglected friend. Once I finally have this second surgery and heal up it will be worth going back to the gym where I can do more total conditioning and cardio.

For now, I sit here like a lump, wishing that my muscle relaxers actually relaxed my muscles. But there’s coffee, and I certainly could never complain about that. Happy Friday.