This blog is moving. I repeat. "Meg's Rants, Raves, and Randomness" is moving.
WHAA???
In the best interests of this blog, I have decided to make the big move over to Tumblr. Why? Because not only has Tumblr become wildly popular, it is also more accessible to a wider audience. I hope that if you do take the time to read this, that you will follow me on over to the NEW blog, which will have the following:
*A new layout.
*A new name.
*New posts and a more regular update schedule.
*Quote of the Day
*A new attitude.
*More jam packed awesomeness courtesy of yours truly. :)
So what are you waiting for? Hop on over to Daydreams in the Key of Awesome and follow me there! :)
ONE MORE THING!!!
I will be keeping this blog up (mostly for the "archive" factor. Everyone loves nostalgia, right?), but I will not be updating it. If you want the updates, you have to go to the new one!
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
How Temple Run 2 Ruined My Life
Six months ago, I posted the following to my Twitter page:
"I've finally fallen into the trap that is Words With Friends. If I ever get a smartphone, I'll know that I am finally doomed."
Well, 2 months ago I became the proud owner of a brand new Android, and let's just say that I really, truly am doomed...
It all started about 2 weeks ago when I picked my niece up from the bus stop and hung out with her until my sister came home from work.
Caitlin: "Aunt Meg, have you ever played Temple Run 2?"
Me: "No, I haven't."
Caitlin: "Can I download it to your phone?"
Me: "Sure. I can give it a shot."
I wasn't quite sure what I was setting myself up for when I let Caitlin hijack my phone and download Temple Run 2, but okay. I opened the game up, played through the tutorial, got a few tips and hints from Caiti, and was well on my way to running away from a monster that looked like a cross between an aardvark, a gorilla, and a bear. Of course, I didn't play for long at first, but once I got home, after having my usual Songpop war with my roommate, I decided to dive back into it and try it again. I started beating objectives, and making my character run bigger distances. I earned enough coins to upgrade my characters abilities. Unlock NEW characters. Unlock NEW abilities.
Holy. Crap. It's time for me to crash for the night. I'm really tired.
But do I sleep that night? No! I toss. I turn. I look over at my nightstand and see my phone laying there in front of my alarm clock. Sigh. I wonder if I can beat that one elusive objective and finally level up. So what do I do? Do I resist the urge, roll back over and finally fall asleep?
No. I grab my phone, open up Temple Run 2, and pick right back up where I left off. I can't sleep, because I'm too busy getting into the game, until I finally do realize that yes, I really am tired and I really do need to go to sleep. It only gets worse when I actually wake up in the morning too. Wake up, grab phone, play Temple Run 2.
I put off trips to check on job applications because I got caught up playing and lost track of time. Woops!
I *almost* ran late picking Caitlin up from the bus because I got caught up playing and lost track of time. Woops!
My roommate had trouble trying to hold a conversation with me because I got caught up playing and couldn't pay attention to both her and the game. Woops!
Sitting in the waiting room before therapy? Better break out Temple Run 2!
This actually went on for about a week and a half. Just a few days ago I finally decided to start giving it a rest. I'm glad I did. It was getting pretty crazy. My roommate still gives me 10 kinds of crap about it from time to time, but it's not near as bad as it was. At least I didn't need a 12 step program to get off of it...
I'll be the first to admit that while I don't really have an addictive personality for the most part, video games tend to be my weakness. I just get so into them because my mindset goes from zero to "OH MY GOD I'VE GOT TO ACCOMPLISH EVERYTHING!!! I CANNOT LIVE UNTIL I HAVE DEFEATED THIS!!!"
Then I get bored and move on to something else, or my responsible side kicks in and I remember that I have priorities that come before gaming. This is something I've dealt with off and on for quite a long time, more than likely since I was 9 and got a Super Nintendo for Christmas that year. And over the years it's grown to other consoles, the computer (Bejeweled, Mahjong, the random bubble games I tend to play on Facebook, Chuzzle) and of course, other games on my phone (Songpop, Fruit Ninja, which I might add I use as the excuse of "But I'm practicing so I can get an awesome high score on the 42 in. touch screen at the arcade!!!", and of course.... ahem... Angry Birds.). While my gaming habits may get obsessive at times, I can assure you, they could be worse. Trust me. I was married to a prime example of that for 3 years.
Luckily for me, I have other hobbies. I have my music, reading, writing poetry (I've written a couple of new poems that are pretty good, one being inspired by Tundra and his demanding personality), crochet (which reminds me, I need to get back on that hat I started last fall that's supposed to match the scarf I made last winter...), my classic car admiration, and this blog, just to name a few. And just because of that, I know that no game will ever kill my social life or totally take precedence over anything else in my life.
Well, at least until something else comes along and hooks me.
"I've finally fallen into the trap that is Words With Friends. If I ever get a smartphone, I'll know that I am finally doomed."
Well, 2 months ago I became the proud owner of a brand new Android, and let's just say that I really, truly am doomed...
It all started about 2 weeks ago when I picked my niece up from the bus stop and hung out with her until my sister came home from work.
Caitlin: "Aunt Meg, have you ever played Temple Run 2?"
Me: "No, I haven't."
Caitlin: "Can I download it to your phone?"
Me: "Sure. I can give it a shot."
I wasn't quite sure what I was setting myself up for when I let Caitlin hijack my phone and download Temple Run 2, but okay. I opened the game up, played through the tutorial, got a few tips and hints from Caiti, and was well on my way to running away from a monster that looked like a cross between an aardvark, a gorilla, and a bear. Of course, I didn't play for long at first, but once I got home, after having my usual Songpop war with my roommate, I decided to dive back into it and try it again. I started beating objectives, and making my character run bigger distances. I earned enough coins to upgrade my characters abilities. Unlock NEW characters. Unlock NEW abilities.
Holy. Crap. It's time for me to crash for the night. I'm really tired.
But do I sleep that night? No! I toss. I turn. I look over at my nightstand and see my phone laying there in front of my alarm clock. Sigh. I wonder if I can beat that one elusive objective and finally level up. So what do I do? Do I resist the urge, roll back over and finally fall asleep?
No. I grab my phone, open up Temple Run 2, and pick right back up where I left off. I can't sleep, because I'm too busy getting into the game, until I finally do realize that yes, I really am tired and I really do need to go to sleep. It only gets worse when I actually wake up in the morning too. Wake up, grab phone, play Temple Run 2.
I put off trips to check on job applications because I got caught up playing and lost track of time. Woops!
I *almost* ran late picking Caitlin up from the bus because I got caught up playing and lost track of time. Woops!
My roommate had trouble trying to hold a conversation with me because I got caught up playing and couldn't pay attention to both her and the game. Woops!
Sitting in the waiting room before therapy? Better break out Temple Run 2!
This actually went on for about a week and a half. Just a few days ago I finally decided to start giving it a rest. I'm glad I did. It was getting pretty crazy. My roommate still gives me 10 kinds of crap about it from time to time, but it's not near as bad as it was. At least I didn't need a 12 step program to get off of it...
I'll be the first to admit that while I don't really have an addictive personality for the most part, video games tend to be my weakness. I just get so into them because my mindset goes from zero to "OH MY GOD I'VE GOT TO ACCOMPLISH EVERYTHING!!! I CANNOT LIVE UNTIL I HAVE DEFEATED THIS!!!"
Then I get bored and move on to something else, or my responsible side kicks in and I remember that I have priorities that come before gaming. This is something I've dealt with off and on for quite a long time, more than likely since I was 9 and got a Super Nintendo for Christmas that year. And over the years it's grown to other consoles, the computer (Bejeweled, Mahjong, the random bubble games I tend to play on Facebook, Chuzzle) and of course, other games on my phone (Songpop, Fruit Ninja, which I might add I use as the excuse of "But I'm practicing so I can get an awesome high score on the 42 in. touch screen at the arcade!!!", and of course.... ahem... Angry Birds.). While my gaming habits may get obsessive at times, I can assure you, they could be worse. Trust me. I was married to a prime example of that for 3 years.
Luckily for me, I have other hobbies. I have my music, reading, writing poetry (I've written a couple of new poems that are pretty good, one being inspired by Tundra and his demanding personality), crochet (which reminds me, I need to get back on that hat I started last fall that's supposed to match the scarf I made last winter...), my classic car admiration, and this blog, just to name a few. And just because of that, I know that no game will ever kill my social life or totally take precedence over anything else in my life.
Well, at least until something else comes along and hooks me.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
I Interrupt This Blog to Bring You...
Hey you. Yeah, you. You there. The one sitting in front of the computer reading this blog. You know what you should be doing right now? You should be checking out an awesome band called Of Course Not. Yep, that's definitely what you should be doing right now. Never heard of them? They're a "local" band (they're based out of Joplin, MO, which is about 60-ish miles from where I live) but I do believe they are destined for great things soon.
Why do I think this? Is it because I'm friends with one of the members? Well, yeah, of course I'm going to be a little biased, but that is not necessarily the case. Is it because they just released their very first album Friday? Definitely yes. "Pushing Pencils" is the name of their album, and you should check it out. You won't be disappointed. From the a capella intro "The Moon" to the closing track "Stranded", it is definitely a gem worth playing over and over again. However, the main reason I say they are destined for great things is because Luke, Torey, Chris and Craig are all incredibly talented and have a style that is fun and very difficult to NOT want to rock out to. In fact, I went to their album release party last night, and their live show is equally fun! They have awesome stage presence and really get the crowd going with their energy.
So where can you get in on this? You can check them out by listening to the entirety of "Pushing Pencils" here. Do eet. You know you want to. You won't regret it. Just click the link! :)
I now return you to your regularly scheduled blog reading. :)
(Don't forget: Of Course Not!)
Why do I think this? Is it because I'm friends with one of the members? Well, yeah, of course I'm going to be a little biased, but that is not necessarily the case. Is it because they just released their very first album Friday? Definitely yes. "Pushing Pencils" is the name of their album, and you should check it out. You won't be disappointed. From the a capella intro "The Moon" to the closing track "Stranded", it is definitely a gem worth playing over and over again. However, the main reason I say they are destined for great things is because Luke, Torey, Chris and Craig are all incredibly talented and have a style that is fun and very difficult to NOT want to rock out to. In fact, I went to their album release party last night, and their live show is equally fun! They have awesome stage presence and really get the crowd going with their energy.
So where can you get in on this? You can check them out by listening to the entirety of "Pushing Pencils" here. Do eet. You know you want to. You won't regret it. Just click the link! :)
I now return you to your regularly scheduled blog reading. :)
(Don't forget: Of Course Not!)
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Some Days Are Better Than Others...
I'm really not sure as to how I'm feeling today. I'm sure by the time I sign off on this post, however, I'll know.
And yep, remember how this blog is a collection of my rants, raves, and randomness? It's rant time, people. Boy howdy, is it rant time...
So as always, when someone just royally pisses me off and I decide to blog, I will not point fingers and put the specific person on blast. Unfortunately, I'm going through a rough time. Why? Well for one, I'm getting a divorce.
And for two, sometimes... life just sucks. However, am I going to let this get me down? Nope! Well, at least I'm going to try not to. However, it's been a rather bittersweet 3 months, and it's been very hard to hold everything in. Unhealthy, I know, but I can't stand blathering about super personal things online. Especially on Facebook. Don't let me get started on that ridiculousness.
Anywhoo, my marriage starting falling down the tubes in October. In my opinion it had been on a downward spiral for awhile. "But Meg, you and Josh were doing so well! You were soooo happy, why are you getting a divorce? You're so perfect for each other!!!" No. Josh and I were keeping up appearances. It was a facade to keep people from noticing that things just weren't okay with us anymore. In fact, we'd been on shaky ground since before we got married. The problem? I fell out of love. I'm a flighty person by nature, and after awhile I just didn't feel the way I felt when we first got together. I didn't even see a future for our relationship. But I tried to keep things going for Josh's sake. It was exhausting, and I was miserable. After several fights, we finally agreed to just call it quits, and we've been separated for about a month now. The separation wasn't supposed to come until after the first of the year, but things were bad enough that we didn't make it to Christmas. Ah well. Can't win 'em all. It's a cold reality, but it's reality nonetheless.
I often fear for when I start dating again. I have already made it perfectly clear that I won't ever get married again. I feel like getting married in the first place was a huge mistake on my part. I have several worries, the two main ones being 1) I feel like no one is ever going to want to be with me (which I know isn't true but the fact is I am incredibly picky when it comes to finding a partner: I can be a lot to handle at times and I need someone who can stand up and be strong with me, rather than having a weak/strong relationship or vice versa.) and 2) When I do get to be with someone great, and things go super well, I'm going to lose interest thanks to my flighty attitude and wind up hurting them. Either way, it's going to be awhile before I start dating again. Not because "Oh I'm hurt and I'll never date again, blah blah whine whine snore," but because in the last 7 (almost 8!) years, I've been single for a grand total of a month. When I broke up with my ex, I immediately dived into my relationship with Josh a month later, and even still during that month, I was talking to someone online in Minnesota. Not a good thing. Because of this, I've more or less lost sight of who I am, and it's time for me to reacquaint myself with Meg. I need to make sure that I'm standing on solid ground before I can be solid with anyone else. I'm a work in progress, and I'm slowly getting there, but it's all about the baby steps. Slow forward progress is better than none at all. So I'm going to focus on getting back on my feet, enjoy my family and friends, take care of my fur babies and just get my life lined back out.
Which brings me to another depressing note:
I am taking this spring semester off from school.
It sucks, but I need to focus on getting a job so that I am able to afford my bills and get back on my feet. I also need to focus my attention on the divorce. I also have holds to remove from my accounts at both LCC and Pitt State, holds that should have been taken care of months ago and weren't due to bad judgment on my part.
Wait, no. "It sucks" doesn't even begin to cover it. I am DEVASTATED. BROKEN HEARTED. TORN UP. I was seriously looking forward to this semester, and seeing my new friends again, and all sorts of stuff. Unfortunately, life happens sometimes. I feel crushed by the fact that I had to make such a hard decision, and it feels like I'm totally giving up on my dream. Which I'm not giving up on my dream, but it's hard for me to not see it that way. I'm hoping that my positive mindset will return and I'll be able to see the situation for what it is: not giving up on my dream, just temporarily putting it on hold due to extenuating circumstances. If any of my Pitt buddies read this, I want you all to know that I will be back in the fall, and I will hopefully get to keep in touch with/see you all really soon.
Needless to say, I've been tempted to just curl up in a little ball and cry my eyes out. I haven't cried yet, surprisingly, but I probably should. I might feel a little better.
For the most part, I do okay though. I have an awesome roommate living with me (one of my best friends) and she's been an immense source of support for me in this difficult time. I try to hold my head high and not let all the negativity get the best of me. In fact, I've been doing well enough that at my last therapy appointment, my meds were adjusted to an as-needed basis, and I haven't really needed them. My lows haven't really gotten too low. But just in case, I am keeping them handy in case things really get to me. I'm hoping that once the divorce is over, my depression will start to dissipate. We shall soon see though...
So now, I'll close this feeling a little more sure of myself, a little less bogged down, and ready to send out positive energy to each and every one of you who reads this. :)
Until next time... :)
And yep, remember how this blog is a collection of my rants, raves, and randomness? It's rant time, people. Boy howdy, is it rant time...
So as always, when someone just royally pisses me off and I decide to blog, I will not point fingers and put the specific person on blast. Unfortunately, I'm going through a rough time. Why? Well for one, I'm getting a divorce.
And for two, sometimes... life just sucks. However, am I going to let this get me down? Nope! Well, at least I'm going to try not to. However, it's been a rather bittersweet 3 months, and it's been very hard to hold everything in. Unhealthy, I know, but I can't stand blathering about super personal things online. Especially on Facebook. Don't let me get started on that ridiculousness.
Anywhoo, my marriage starting falling down the tubes in October. In my opinion it had been on a downward spiral for awhile. "But Meg, you and Josh were doing so well! You were soooo happy, why are you getting a divorce? You're so perfect for each other!!!" No. Josh and I were keeping up appearances. It was a facade to keep people from noticing that things just weren't okay with us anymore. In fact, we'd been on shaky ground since before we got married. The problem? I fell out of love. I'm a flighty person by nature, and after awhile I just didn't feel the way I felt when we first got together. I didn't even see a future for our relationship. But I tried to keep things going for Josh's sake. It was exhausting, and I was miserable. After several fights, we finally agreed to just call it quits, and we've been separated for about a month now. The separation wasn't supposed to come until after the first of the year, but things were bad enough that we didn't make it to Christmas. Ah well. Can't win 'em all. It's a cold reality, but it's reality nonetheless.
I often fear for when I start dating again. I have already made it perfectly clear that I won't ever get married again. I feel like getting married in the first place was a huge mistake on my part. I have several worries, the two main ones being 1) I feel like no one is ever going to want to be with me (which I know isn't true but the fact is I am incredibly picky when it comes to finding a partner: I can be a lot to handle at times and I need someone who can stand up and be strong with me, rather than having a weak/strong relationship or vice versa.) and 2) When I do get to be with someone great, and things go super well, I'm going to lose interest thanks to my flighty attitude and wind up hurting them. Either way, it's going to be awhile before I start dating again. Not because "Oh I'm hurt and I'll never date again, blah blah whine whine snore," but because in the last 7 (almost 8!) years, I've been single for a grand total of a month. When I broke up with my ex, I immediately dived into my relationship with Josh a month later, and even still during that month, I was talking to someone online in Minnesota. Not a good thing. Because of this, I've more or less lost sight of who I am, and it's time for me to reacquaint myself with Meg. I need to make sure that I'm standing on solid ground before I can be solid with anyone else. I'm a work in progress, and I'm slowly getting there, but it's all about the baby steps. Slow forward progress is better than none at all. So I'm going to focus on getting back on my feet, enjoy my family and friends, take care of my fur babies and just get my life lined back out.
Which brings me to another depressing note:
I am taking this spring semester off from school.
It sucks, but I need to focus on getting a job so that I am able to afford my bills and get back on my feet. I also need to focus my attention on the divorce. I also have holds to remove from my accounts at both LCC and Pitt State, holds that should have been taken care of months ago and weren't due to bad judgment on my part.
Wait, no. "It sucks" doesn't even begin to cover it. I am DEVASTATED. BROKEN HEARTED. TORN UP. I was seriously looking forward to this semester, and seeing my new friends again, and all sorts of stuff. Unfortunately, life happens sometimes. I feel crushed by the fact that I had to make such a hard decision, and it feels like I'm totally giving up on my dream. Which I'm not giving up on my dream, but it's hard for me to not see it that way. I'm hoping that my positive mindset will return and I'll be able to see the situation for what it is: not giving up on my dream, just temporarily putting it on hold due to extenuating circumstances. If any of my Pitt buddies read this, I want you all to know that I will be back in the fall, and I will hopefully get to keep in touch with/see you all really soon.
Needless to say, I've been tempted to just curl up in a little ball and cry my eyes out. I haven't cried yet, surprisingly, but I probably should. I might feel a little better.
For the most part, I do okay though. I have an awesome roommate living with me (one of my best friends) and she's been an immense source of support for me in this difficult time. I try to hold my head high and not let all the negativity get the best of me. In fact, I've been doing well enough that at my last therapy appointment, my meds were adjusted to an as-needed basis, and I haven't really needed them. My lows haven't really gotten too low. But just in case, I am keeping them handy in case things really get to me. I'm hoping that once the divorce is over, my depression will start to dissipate. We shall soon see though...
So now, I'll close this feeling a little more sure of myself, a little less bogged down, and ready to send out positive energy to each and every one of you who reads this. :)
Until next time... :)
Sunday, October 14, 2012
October Blues
I can't stand the month of October.
Not in that "Oh my god, I hate this effing month so much I just want to rip it off of the calendar and be done with it" sort of way, but in the dreary feeling I get when I look at my phone, day planner or calendar and see that it's a day in October.
Why should I feel this way? There are lots of great things to look forward to in October for me: 4 of my nieces, one of my nephews and one of my best friends have birthdays this month, my best friend's wedding anniversary is coming up soon, and next weekend my other best friend is getting married. That enough should make me really happy and excited about October.
Unfortunately, there is sadness tied to this month that for me, will never go away.
Two years ago, on October 28, my mom passed away from a long battle with kidney disease.
It was inevitable, but still hard to see coming. We started the month throwing a surprise celebration for her and my dad's 30th wedding anniversary, and then the next thing we know, we're sliding downhill. All it took was 26 days.
Now, my mom's health hadn't been the best for awhile. She had been diagnosed with Renal Tubular Acidosis in 1995, which is the calcification of the kidneys. She was very lucky and did very well for a long time, keeping everything at bay and living her normal, active lifestyle. Unfortunately, it did get worse over the course of those years, and in 2007, she had to quit her job to go on kidney dialysis, due to the function being low. She was also given an official diagnosis of end stage renal failure. She fought it the whole way, though. She also never let it get her down: if she wanted to see any of the grandkids, or go somewhere (like our mother-daughter girls night to go see "Twilight" when it came out in theaters) she would find some way to do it. Come 2010, though, we started noticing things. She would see things no one else would, like people. She had a list of things she wanted to do "one last time," such as visiting her brother in Texas, going to a Three Dog Night concert at Downstream Casino (she didn't get to, and let's just say my dad heard about it right up to the day she died.... She even put him on blast on Facebook the day after the concert!!!) and learning to text, among other things. Either way, things were starting to look pretty sketchy. One day I was kicking around ideas, with my parents' anniversary right around the corner (October 3). I decided that it would be fun to throw a little party to celebrate my parents' 30th wedding anniversary since we weren't too sure how much longer we were going to have Mom around and not only that, but my parents basically eloped, for want of a better term. No big wedding, no reception, and a little bit of celebration, but not a whole lot. So I got two of my sisters in on it, we put our heads together, and threw the wedding reception that was 30 years in the making. It was a wonderful day, and I am really glad my sisters and I were able to make their anniversary extra special.
A week later, I had a strange dream. In this dream, I was at my parents' house, and my sisters were there too. I was looking out the screen door, and there was a lighthouse in the across the street neighbor's backyard. A lighthouse. In Kansas. Strange, yes, but keep reading!!! I said, "Oh, look at the lighthouse!" and my sister Misty comes up next to me and says "And there's the tornado that's going to take it down!" About that time I see a funnel cloud coming up, and our family takes shelter in the kitchen, of all places. When everything was over, we walked out. Mom was gone. Misty left. Tina went into another room. Josh walked in. My house was the only house standing. The lighthouse was gone. It wound up being me, Josh, and my dad standing in the middle of the living room. I was a little confused as to what this dream meant until a few days later.
My mom had been in and out of the emergency room for various complications quite a bit for awhile, and 4 days after I had had the dream, my dad called to tell me he was taking her in again. I followed him out and came in just in time to hear the doctor discussing the prospect of going on hospice care with my mom. I knew that that was for terminally ill, but didn't realize that it was basically care to keep them comfortable until the end of life. Believe me when I say I learned that one REAL fast.... however I was feeling rather okay with it when the hospice nurse came in and explained that people who generally have a few months to live are put under hospice care. Mom was all for the idea, and got things started right then and there.
The following week went it's normal route. I went to classes, taught a few piano lessons, kept my house in order, and just lived my normal life... until October 19. It was a Tuesday night, and I had just finished up teaching a couple of piano lessons. Josh was working, and I decided to settle in in my pajamas with a snack and a movie. It'd been kind of a busy day. I had just kicked back on my couch when my phone went off, and it was my dad. "Meg, you need to get over here. Your mom's confused and not responding well, the hospice nurses are here trying to help, Misty's already over here and Tina's on her way. Get over here as quick as you can." Lucky for me, I lived right around the corner from my parents, so I was over there in virtually no time at all. And what I walked into was sheer insanity... fighting, my mom trying to be corralled by 2 hospice nurses, and an all around stressful atmosphere that made me want to just break down right then and there. I got a hold of Josh and had him come home early on account of a family emergency, and we decided that our best option at that point in time was to have Mom admitted into the hospital for 5 day respite care so that we could get things situated and taken care of. It was during this time that we were told that she would be lucky if she made it a couple more weeks. While dealing with the emotional turmoil of knowing we were on the very brink of losing Mom, we managed to get some quick remodeling done on a couple of rooms of the house and some important legal matters surrounding the whole situation settled. On October 24, Mom was able to come home. Now keep in mind-- I had just returned to school that semester after 4 years of working full time. I was in the middle of midterms and the day Mom came home, I happened to have a choir concert, and I had Josh record it so that she and my dad could see it, since she wasn't in any condition to attend, and Dad was staying at home with Mom. I didn't go home that night. Instead, I went to my parents' house, and showed the video, even though Mom was barely conscious. I knew she could still hear it though, even if she wouldn't remember it later. It also gave me a sort of peace of mind. I spent the evening hanging out in the bedroom with her, holding her hand, and singing to her. When I stopped singing for a minute and left my hand draped over the rail of the hospital bed she was in, she grabbed my hand and hollered, "Sing!!!" It was hard, but I managed to pull through it. I don't know how, but I did. I ran to my house later to grab a change of clothes and my stuff for school the next day, and spent that night in a recliner in my parents' living room.
When I woke up the next morning to get ready for class, I heard some cheerful conversation coming from the bedroom. Mom was awake, and she was okay! Dad and Tina were in there, helping her eat scrambled eggs (that was what she'd asked for) and I walked in and told her about my concert from the night before, and some other things while I got ready for class. It was a nice little chat with her in the midst of everything that was going on. Then, as I got ready to leave, I kissed her on the cheek and said, "I'll see you at 1. Love you!" That was that. When I came back, though, it was hell all over again. She had spiked a fever, and things just started to worsen as they progressed. I was a little confused, and upset, and couldn't figure things out. So to pass some time and help myself deal, I decided to break down and read the hospice pamphlet on coping with a family member's end of life process. It was there that I read about how when a person is dying, they will rally, or show signs that they might pull through and act normally for a very brief period of time. It hit me HARD. My sisters and I agree that when Mom rallied that morning, she had come back to say goodbye. So we contacted as many friends and family as we could, spent as much time with her as we could, and prepared ourselves for the worst.
October 27, 2010. I woke up on that Wednesday morning with a really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I managed to get myself around and into class on time that morning, but something didn't feel right at all. English Comp II came and went. So did Psychology class. And Music Appreciation. At the end of Music Appreciation, I grabbed my backpack, and started rummaging through my purse for my keys so that I could put my backpack in my car and switch it out with my music for Choir, but as I started to dig for my car keys, I noticed my phone going off. It was Tina. I grabbed my phone and walked out of the music room. "It's time. You need to come home now. She's not gone yet, but it won't be too much longer. You need to come home." "Okay." I poked my head in the door and simply told my teacher, "It's time." He knew immediately what I meant, and said "Go be with your family." That whole day I was a complete and total train wreck. I snapped and fought with everyone, I cried, I'd get myself calmed down for a minute, and then burst into tears again, I called my friends in hysterics. It was just... rough. By the time the night came, I was exhausted, but didn't want to sleep. I wound up catnapping on the couch for a brief period of time, and woke up instantaneously at 5:20 on the morning of October 28. A friend of Tina's was in the living room talking to my brother in law on the phone and I heard him say "She's gone. She just passed away." I shot up and into the bedroom. It felt too surreal to accept at that very moment. I woke Josh up. I woke Dad up. I called my best friend. We contacted hospice. The funeral home. It happened too fast to take in. The dust finally semi-settled around 8am, and my dad was insistent that I go home and get some sleep. So I made plans to meet Misty at the flower shop that afternoon before we had to all meet up at the funeral home, and I went straight home to bed. It was hard to sleep, but I got there. With all the stress and everything, and the fact that Josh came home and was rummaging through our garage and Prudence heard him and started growling (I've never seen a cat be protective of his owner like that...), I just wasn't sure it was possible. I made it through the rest of the day, though. And through the visitation, funeral, the emotional breakdowns and the following 2 years up to this point...
I'm still surviving everyday, but everyday gets just a little bit easier to deal. Sure, some days are better than others, I still have trouble with certain songs or stories or things that trigger memories, but for the most part, I'm doing better now than I was 2 years ago. I'll never stop missing my mom, of course.
In case any of you haven't noticed, my mom and I were pretty close. We worked together, hung out together, I could tell her just about anything, and we had an overall good relationship. She was super friendly and personable, and everyone that knew her loved her. I pride myself in thinking that some of my best traits were inherited from her. I'm also not really sure what else there is to say... except that I know that she's always with me, and that I miss her terribly. I could go on and on about silly little stories... but with as heavy a post as this is, those may come around in time as little anecdotes for future posts. I only have a million of them, like when I got my first tattoo done, and didn't tell her for a month, until she noticed and freaked out on me. "What the hell is that on your leg?" "Oh, it's my tattoo!" "When did you get it...?" "A month ago!" "That's just TACKY!!!" Or when I was in 8th grade, she was taking my dad to work at 5am. She always poked her head in my room to let me know she was heading out, and on one particular morning, she poked her head in and said, "Meg, I'm taking Dada to work." "Oka-- WHAA?!?!?!" "Oh! Sorry, I'm going to be 2 years old again!" She wasted no time leaving that morning, and I couldn't go back to sleep. Or I could mention that I broke a stapler at work one night, working with mom. It had seized up, and Mom was trying to fix it. "Here Mom! I'll do it!" The stapler broke apart into two pieces in my hand. The note left for my boss? "Frieda- Mom broke this. -Megan"
-Because of my mom, I am a musician.
-Because of my mom, I have a love for the people in my life that will never waver, and I'm not afraid to let any of them know this. I will also put them all before myself in any given situation.
-Most importantly, because of my mom, I have high standards for my life, goals that I can attain, the drive to go down swinging when life decides to throw me into battle, and the tenacity to get where I want to be and have everything I will ever need or want.
Patricia Kay Myers
January 25, 1951- October 28, 2010
Gone but never forgotten!
Not in that "Oh my god, I hate this effing month so much I just want to rip it off of the calendar and be done with it" sort of way, but in the dreary feeling I get when I look at my phone, day planner or calendar and see that it's a day in October.
Why should I feel this way? There are lots of great things to look forward to in October for me: 4 of my nieces, one of my nephews and one of my best friends have birthdays this month, my best friend's wedding anniversary is coming up soon, and next weekend my other best friend is getting married. That enough should make me really happy and excited about October.
Unfortunately, there is sadness tied to this month that for me, will never go away.
Two years ago, on October 28, my mom passed away from a long battle with kidney disease.
It was inevitable, but still hard to see coming. We started the month throwing a surprise celebration for her and my dad's 30th wedding anniversary, and then the next thing we know, we're sliding downhill. All it took was 26 days.
Now, my mom's health hadn't been the best for awhile. She had been diagnosed with Renal Tubular Acidosis in 1995, which is the calcification of the kidneys. She was very lucky and did very well for a long time, keeping everything at bay and living her normal, active lifestyle. Unfortunately, it did get worse over the course of those years, and in 2007, she had to quit her job to go on kidney dialysis, due to the function being low. She was also given an official diagnosis of end stage renal failure. She fought it the whole way, though. She also never let it get her down: if she wanted to see any of the grandkids, or go somewhere (like our mother-daughter girls night to go see "Twilight" when it came out in theaters) she would find some way to do it. Come 2010, though, we started noticing things. She would see things no one else would, like people. She had a list of things she wanted to do "one last time," such as visiting her brother in Texas, going to a Three Dog Night concert at Downstream Casino (she didn't get to, and let's just say my dad heard about it right up to the day she died.... She even put him on blast on Facebook the day after the concert!!!) and learning to text, among other things. Either way, things were starting to look pretty sketchy. One day I was kicking around ideas, with my parents' anniversary right around the corner (October 3). I decided that it would be fun to throw a little party to celebrate my parents' 30th wedding anniversary since we weren't too sure how much longer we were going to have Mom around and not only that, but my parents basically eloped, for want of a better term. No big wedding, no reception, and a little bit of celebration, but not a whole lot. So I got two of my sisters in on it, we put our heads together, and threw the wedding reception that was 30 years in the making. It was a wonderful day, and I am really glad my sisters and I were able to make their anniversary extra special.
A week later, I had a strange dream. In this dream, I was at my parents' house, and my sisters were there too. I was looking out the screen door, and there was a lighthouse in the across the street neighbor's backyard. A lighthouse. In Kansas. Strange, yes, but keep reading!!! I said, "Oh, look at the lighthouse!" and my sister Misty comes up next to me and says "And there's the tornado that's going to take it down!" About that time I see a funnel cloud coming up, and our family takes shelter in the kitchen, of all places. When everything was over, we walked out. Mom was gone. Misty left. Tina went into another room. Josh walked in. My house was the only house standing. The lighthouse was gone. It wound up being me, Josh, and my dad standing in the middle of the living room. I was a little confused as to what this dream meant until a few days later.
My mom had been in and out of the emergency room for various complications quite a bit for awhile, and 4 days after I had had the dream, my dad called to tell me he was taking her in again. I followed him out and came in just in time to hear the doctor discussing the prospect of going on hospice care with my mom. I knew that that was for terminally ill, but didn't realize that it was basically care to keep them comfortable until the end of life. Believe me when I say I learned that one REAL fast.... however I was feeling rather okay with it when the hospice nurse came in and explained that people who generally have a few months to live are put under hospice care. Mom was all for the idea, and got things started right then and there.
The following week went it's normal route. I went to classes, taught a few piano lessons, kept my house in order, and just lived my normal life... until October 19. It was a Tuesday night, and I had just finished up teaching a couple of piano lessons. Josh was working, and I decided to settle in in my pajamas with a snack and a movie. It'd been kind of a busy day. I had just kicked back on my couch when my phone went off, and it was my dad. "Meg, you need to get over here. Your mom's confused and not responding well, the hospice nurses are here trying to help, Misty's already over here and Tina's on her way. Get over here as quick as you can." Lucky for me, I lived right around the corner from my parents, so I was over there in virtually no time at all. And what I walked into was sheer insanity... fighting, my mom trying to be corralled by 2 hospice nurses, and an all around stressful atmosphere that made me want to just break down right then and there. I got a hold of Josh and had him come home early on account of a family emergency, and we decided that our best option at that point in time was to have Mom admitted into the hospital for 5 day respite care so that we could get things situated and taken care of. It was during this time that we were told that she would be lucky if she made it a couple more weeks. While dealing with the emotional turmoil of knowing we were on the very brink of losing Mom, we managed to get some quick remodeling done on a couple of rooms of the house and some important legal matters surrounding the whole situation settled. On October 24, Mom was able to come home. Now keep in mind-- I had just returned to school that semester after 4 years of working full time. I was in the middle of midterms and the day Mom came home, I happened to have a choir concert, and I had Josh record it so that she and my dad could see it, since she wasn't in any condition to attend, and Dad was staying at home with Mom. I didn't go home that night. Instead, I went to my parents' house, and showed the video, even though Mom was barely conscious. I knew she could still hear it though, even if she wouldn't remember it later. It also gave me a sort of peace of mind. I spent the evening hanging out in the bedroom with her, holding her hand, and singing to her. When I stopped singing for a minute and left my hand draped over the rail of the hospital bed she was in, she grabbed my hand and hollered, "Sing!!!" It was hard, but I managed to pull through it. I don't know how, but I did. I ran to my house later to grab a change of clothes and my stuff for school the next day, and spent that night in a recliner in my parents' living room.
When I woke up the next morning to get ready for class, I heard some cheerful conversation coming from the bedroom. Mom was awake, and she was okay! Dad and Tina were in there, helping her eat scrambled eggs (that was what she'd asked for) and I walked in and told her about my concert from the night before, and some other things while I got ready for class. It was a nice little chat with her in the midst of everything that was going on. Then, as I got ready to leave, I kissed her on the cheek and said, "I'll see you at 1. Love you!" That was that. When I came back, though, it was hell all over again. She had spiked a fever, and things just started to worsen as they progressed. I was a little confused, and upset, and couldn't figure things out. So to pass some time and help myself deal, I decided to break down and read the hospice pamphlet on coping with a family member's end of life process. It was there that I read about how when a person is dying, they will rally, or show signs that they might pull through and act normally for a very brief period of time. It hit me HARD. My sisters and I agree that when Mom rallied that morning, she had come back to say goodbye. So we contacted as many friends and family as we could, spent as much time with her as we could, and prepared ourselves for the worst.
October 27, 2010. I woke up on that Wednesday morning with a really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I managed to get myself around and into class on time that morning, but something didn't feel right at all. English Comp II came and went. So did Psychology class. And Music Appreciation. At the end of Music Appreciation, I grabbed my backpack, and started rummaging through my purse for my keys so that I could put my backpack in my car and switch it out with my music for Choir, but as I started to dig for my car keys, I noticed my phone going off. It was Tina. I grabbed my phone and walked out of the music room. "It's time. You need to come home now. She's not gone yet, but it won't be too much longer. You need to come home." "Okay." I poked my head in the door and simply told my teacher, "It's time." He knew immediately what I meant, and said "Go be with your family." That whole day I was a complete and total train wreck. I snapped and fought with everyone, I cried, I'd get myself calmed down for a minute, and then burst into tears again, I called my friends in hysterics. It was just... rough. By the time the night came, I was exhausted, but didn't want to sleep. I wound up catnapping on the couch for a brief period of time, and woke up instantaneously at 5:20 on the morning of October 28. A friend of Tina's was in the living room talking to my brother in law on the phone and I heard him say "She's gone. She just passed away." I shot up and into the bedroom. It felt too surreal to accept at that very moment. I woke Josh up. I woke Dad up. I called my best friend. We contacted hospice. The funeral home. It happened too fast to take in. The dust finally semi-settled around 8am, and my dad was insistent that I go home and get some sleep. So I made plans to meet Misty at the flower shop that afternoon before we had to all meet up at the funeral home, and I went straight home to bed. It was hard to sleep, but I got there. With all the stress and everything, and the fact that Josh came home and was rummaging through our garage and Prudence heard him and started growling (I've never seen a cat be protective of his owner like that...), I just wasn't sure it was possible. I made it through the rest of the day, though. And through the visitation, funeral, the emotional breakdowns and the following 2 years up to this point...
I'm still surviving everyday, but everyday gets just a little bit easier to deal. Sure, some days are better than others, I still have trouble with certain songs or stories or things that trigger memories, but for the most part, I'm doing better now than I was 2 years ago. I'll never stop missing my mom, of course.
In case any of you haven't noticed, my mom and I were pretty close. We worked together, hung out together, I could tell her just about anything, and we had an overall good relationship. She was super friendly and personable, and everyone that knew her loved her. I pride myself in thinking that some of my best traits were inherited from her. I'm also not really sure what else there is to say... except that I know that she's always with me, and that I miss her terribly. I could go on and on about silly little stories... but with as heavy a post as this is, those may come around in time as little anecdotes for future posts. I only have a million of them, like when I got my first tattoo done, and didn't tell her for a month, until she noticed and freaked out on me. "What the hell is that on your leg?" "Oh, it's my tattoo!" "When did you get it...?" "A month ago!" "That's just TACKY!!!" Or when I was in 8th grade, she was taking my dad to work at 5am. She always poked her head in my room to let me know she was heading out, and on one particular morning, she poked her head in and said, "Meg, I'm taking Dada to work." "Oka-- WHAA?!?!?!" "Oh! Sorry, I'm going to be 2 years old again!" She wasted no time leaving that morning, and I couldn't go back to sleep. Or I could mention that I broke a stapler at work one night, working with mom. It had seized up, and Mom was trying to fix it. "Here Mom! I'll do it!" The stapler broke apart into two pieces in my hand. The note left for my boss? "Frieda- Mom broke this. -Megan"
-Because of my mom, I am a musician.
-Because of my mom, I have a love for the people in my life that will never waver, and I'm not afraid to let any of them know this. I will also put them all before myself in any given situation.
-Most importantly, because of my mom, I have high standards for my life, goals that I can attain, the drive to go down swinging when life decides to throw me into battle, and the tenacity to get where I want to be and have everything I will ever need or want.
January 25, 1951- October 28, 2010
Gone but never forgotten!
Friday, September 14, 2012
I'm Alive
Okay, so that title can go a couple of different ways. On one hand, I haven't posted anything in awhile, so it might seem as if I've fallen off the face of the earth. Obviously not true. On the other hand, it could also mean that I'm surviving my first semester at Pitt State, which is true. I am surviving it, and I'm loving every minute of it.
However, the REAL reason the title of this post is "I'm Alive" is because, well, I'm alive, breathing, kicking, and proud of it.
2 years ago this past March, I wasn't so enthused about that. In fact, I had hit such a low that I was done. Finished. Fed up and ready to just end it all. Now, I've hit some pretty low lows in my life (Age 9, age 13, age 21... those are some of the lowest) but age 23 took the cake. This is my story.
I've struggled with depression for YEARS, and when I say YEARS, I mean the vast majority of my 25-almost-26 years. I almost failed the fourth grade because I was so depressed, I didn't care. Lucky for me I had a teacher who did, but he and my mom still didn't acknowledge the fact that depression was or could have possibly been a factor in all of my issues. So I basically went through most of my life thinking (once I had an idea of what depression was) "I might be depressed. There is a name for this!" when the rest of my family was like "What do you have to be depressed about? Just do this, or do that! You'll be fine!" I don't think anybody quite understood it or what I was going through, and to be honest, I wasn't exactly very informed either. I dealt with the roller coaster over the years the best I could, even though it was hard and I would have much rather holed up and withdrawn from the world. Until I hit 20.... that's when the landslide started.
At 20, I had a lot going for me: a great boyfriend (Josh, of course!), a good steady job, and the world at my fingertips. I felt happy. Normal, for the most part. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough to stave off the worst. I went through a period where I just couldn't make myself get out of bed. At first, I figured it was because I was staying up too late (I was guilty of it...).... but then I seemed to sleep more and more, or just stay in bed because I just didn't have the willpower to make myself get up. This was an off and on thing for the next year and worsened when I turned 21. One night, before I went to bed, I decided I was going to try and end it. I wasn't sure though, and wound up chickening out. This happened about 2 more times until I turned 23.
It was a Tuesday night, which was my Friday and meant that I had Wednesday and Thursday off. I had a high spell, where everything was okay. Not totally perfect, but okay. I managed to get through my wedding 2 months previously, at least. I came home from work at about 11pm. I was tired, and feeling at my lowest. I was tired, so tired. Tired of my job, tired of my life, and tired of the incessant pain and not knowing how I got it, or why I was having to deal with it. So I figured that the only way to get rid of the pain once and for all was to just end my life. I immediately went straight to my fridge and found the unopened bottle of strawberry Boone's Farm wine. Gone in one sitting. Went outside and smoked a cigarette. Couldn't bring myself to finish it. Went inside, and in a quick flash of rage, threw my cigarettes and lighter against the living room wall. I made a beeline for the bathroom, and found the bottle of Tylenol. There were only 4 left in the bottle. I took them anyway and found my big bottle of Ibuprofen that I kept for my hangover headaches after long nights of partying. I managed to get 4 pills shaken out of the bottle when I heard the door. Josh was home. EARLY. Before I could collect myself, he was standing in the doorway right as I panicked and downed the 4 Ibuprofen I had in my hand. I just knew I'd been caught. Josh wasn't quite sure what was going on though, because I had just taken Ibuprofen so he thought I just had a headache, because I went straight to bed after the run-in.
The next day we went to lunch at a local Chinese restaurant. I was finally able to bring myself to tell him I had tried again, with the intention of succeeding. He got really upset with me, and yelled "What, you want to kill yourself?!?!" All I could do was cower, but of course, I was the one to blame. He finally calmed down enough to tell me that I really needed to get help. I still wasn't entirely in agreement, but I nodded my head in sort-of agreement to make him happy, like "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear you. Whatever." When word got out a little further, though, I wound up getting a sort of intervention from my friends. It wasn't one of those everybody gets together and tells you, just random text messages and calls with an approximation of the same message: "Hey Josh told me what happened, I love you, please get help, etc." I finally started considering it, and it took me about a week to finally pick up the phone book to find a therapist. I was still leery of it. I didn't want anyone to know, because I didn't want anyone to think I was crazy. I also didn't want to see one in Parsons, either, because I didn't want to deal with someone who might know me. I wanted complete anonymity. So I called a behavioral health clinic 35 miles away, and got assigned to a therapist. It would be the first of May when they would be able to get me in for an appointment, but I figured I would be okay until then. Josh watched me like a hawk during that time too, so there would be nothing to worry about.
That was the best move I could have ever made. While it took me a year to finally open up about why I was there, and dealt with more ups and downs with the depression (Back in October, I holed up in my room and stayed there unless I had to go to school or therapy and even then I was doing good to get to those places!), it's worked. Once I admitted the suicidal past, and everything, I was referred to nurse practitioner to be put on anti-depressants, as I was getting progressively worse through the year I'd been in therapy. It's helped immensely, even though it's been tough to stay on them due to some extenuating circumstances (No, not the typical "Oh, I'm okay now, I'm cured! I can quit taking them!" excuse). I've also been learning how to value myself and my life over the last couple of years. I haven't fully defeated the enemy that is depression, but I like to think that I'm getting there. At least I've made progress. :) I've also learned that it's okay to be in therapy, that it's not a big deal to take anti-depressants. It's so much easier to talk about it and I feel that I can be more open, because it is something that has been an issue and in some aspects of my life, defined me, unfortunately.
I often wonder what would happen if Josh hadn't come home early and walked in when he did. Would I have followed through? Would I have chickened out again? It's pretty likely with as low as I was feeling, I would have probably went ahead with it. I'm pretty lucky to have married a guy who loves me enough to help put the brakes on a downward spiral.
Now was the point of this story to make people feel sorry for me? No. To brag and say "Hey, I tried to kill myself!" Definitely, definitely no. I am making a statement. For those of you who struggle with depression who read this, I want to send this out to you because I have BEEN there. It will get better, and you can recover. You just have to truly want to fight it. Depression is a nasty adversary, and you can't just let it fester, or hope it will go away on its own because it will only consume you in due time. You have to stand up, put your foot down, and be proactive. Stand up to it and say "You will NOT control me!" You have to not be afraid to get help, know that you're not alone, and be willing to just fight it. When you hear people talk about "fighting depression," it is not a lie, because it truly is a battle that you have to keep on with and just keep pushing forward. Keep looking for that light. Hope for a happy continuation (not ending, because it's not over yet!) in life. :) Also, remember, when considering suicide, that it is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Whatever niche you have in life, the world's a better place with you in it. (I know, I know. These are the lectures I've heard too. They'll make more sense in due time, though. Trust me.)
How's my happy continuation so far? Pretty darn good, I'd say! Josh and I will celebrate our 3rd wedding anniversary in December, I'm working hard on my Music Ed. degree and we have a nice life in our home with our dog and 2 cats. :) Oh, and the most important thing? I'm ALIVE and able to see and appreciate these things that this tricky little thing called life has dealt me.
However, the REAL reason the title of this post is "I'm Alive" is because, well, I'm alive, breathing, kicking, and proud of it.
2 years ago this past March, I wasn't so enthused about that. In fact, I had hit such a low that I was done. Finished. Fed up and ready to just end it all. Now, I've hit some pretty low lows in my life (Age 9, age 13, age 21... those are some of the lowest) but age 23 took the cake. This is my story.
I've struggled with depression for YEARS, and when I say YEARS, I mean the vast majority of my 25-almost-26 years. I almost failed the fourth grade because I was so depressed, I didn't care. Lucky for me I had a teacher who did, but he and my mom still didn't acknowledge the fact that depression was or could have possibly been a factor in all of my issues. So I basically went through most of my life thinking (once I had an idea of what depression was) "I might be depressed. There is a name for this!" when the rest of my family was like "What do you have to be depressed about? Just do this, or do that! You'll be fine!" I don't think anybody quite understood it or what I was going through, and to be honest, I wasn't exactly very informed either. I dealt with the roller coaster over the years the best I could, even though it was hard and I would have much rather holed up and withdrawn from the world. Until I hit 20.... that's when the landslide started.
At 20, I had a lot going for me: a great boyfriend (Josh, of course!), a good steady job, and the world at my fingertips. I felt happy. Normal, for the most part. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough to stave off the worst. I went through a period where I just couldn't make myself get out of bed. At first, I figured it was because I was staying up too late (I was guilty of it...).... but then I seemed to sleep more and more, or just stay in bed because I just didn't have the willpower to make myself get up. This was an off and on thing for the next year and worsened when I turned 21. One night, before I went to bed, I decided I was going to try and end it. I wasn't sure though, and wound up chickening out. This happened about 2 more times until I turned 23.
It was a Tuesday night, which was my Friday and meant that I had Wednesday and Thursday off. I had a high spell, where everything was okay. Not totally perfect, but okay. I managed to get through my wedding 2 months previously, at least. I came home from work at about 11pm. I was tired, and feeling at my lowest. I was tired, so tired. Tired of my job, tired of my life, and tired of the incessant pain and not knowing how I got it, or why I was having to deal with it. So I figured that the only way to get rid of the pain once and for all was to just end my life. I immediately went straight to my fridge and found the unopened bottle of strawberry Boone's Farm wine. Gone in one sitting. Went outside and smoked a cigarette. Couldn't bring myself to finish it. Went inside, and in a quick flash of rage, threw my cigarettes and lighter against the living room wall. I made a beeline for the bathroom, and found the bottle of Tylenol. There were only 4 left in the bottle. I took them anyway and found my big bottle of Ibuprofen that I kept for my hangover headaches after long nights of partying. I managed to get 4 pills shaken out of the bottle when I heard the door. Josh was home. EARLY. Before I could collect myself, he was standing in the doorway right as I panicked and downed the 4 Ibuprofen I had in my hand. I just knew I'd been caught. Josh wasn't quite sure what was going on though, because I had just taken Ibuprofen so he thought I just had a headache, because I went straight to bed after the run-in.
The next day we went to lunch at a local Chinese restaurant. I was finally able to bring myself to tell him I had tried again, with the intention of succeeding. He got really upset with me, and yelled "What, you want to kill yourself?!?!" All I could do was cower, but of course, I was the one to blame. He finally calmed down enough to tell me that I really needed to get help. I still wasn't entirely in agreement, but I nodded my head in sort-of agreement to make him happy, like "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear you. Whatever." When word got out a little further, though, I wound up getting a sort of intervention from my friends. It wasn't one of those everybody gets together and tells you, just random text messages and calls with an approximation of the same message: "Hey Josh told me what happened, I love you, please get help, etc." I finally started considering it, and it took me about a week to finally pick up the phone book to find a therapist. I was still leery of it. I didn't want anyone to know, because I didn't want anyone to think I was crazy. I also didn't want to see one in Parsons, either, because I didn't want to deal with someone who might know me. I wanted complete anonymity. So I called a behavioral health clinic 35 miles away, and got assigned to a therapist. It would be the first of May when they would be able to get me in for an appointment, but I figured I would be okay until then. Josh watched me like a hawk during that time too, so there would be nothing to worry about.
That was the best move I could have ever made. While it took me a year to finally open up about why I was there, and dealt with more ups and downs with the depression (Back in October, I holed up in my room and stayed there unless I had to go to school or therapy and even then I was doing good to get to those places!), it's worked. Once I admitted the suicidal past, and everything, I was referred to nurse practitioner to be put on anti-depressants, as I was getting progressively worse through the year I'd been in therapy. It's helped immensely, even though it's been tough to stay on them due to some extenuating circumstances (No, not the typical "Oh, I'm okay now, I'm cured! I can quit taking them!" excuse). I've also been learning how to value myself and my life over the last couple of years. I haven't fully defeated the enemy that is depression, but I like to think that I'm getting there. At least I've made progress. :) I've also learned that it's okay to be in therapy, that it's not a big deal to take anti-depressants. It's so much easier to talk about it and I feel that I can be more open, because it is something that has been an issue and in some aspects of my life, defined me, unfortunately.
I often wonder what would happen if Josh hadn't come home early and walked in when he did. Would I have followed through? Would I have chickened out again? It's pretty likely with as low as I was feeling, I would have probably went ahead with it. I'm pretty lucky to have married a guy who loves me enough to help put the brakes on a downward spiral.
Now was the point of this story to make people feel sorry for me? No. To brag and say "Hey, I tried to kill myself!" Definitely, definitely no. I am making a statement. For those of you who struggle with depression who read this, I want to send this out to you because I have BEEN there. It will get better, and you can recover. You just have to truly want to fight it. Depression is a nasty adversary, and you can't just let it fester, or hope it will go away on its own because it will only consume you in due time. You have to stand up, put your foot down, and be proactive. Stand up to it and say "You will NOT control me!" You have to not be afraid to get help, know that you're not alone, and be willing to just fight it. When you hear people talk about "fighting depression," it is not a lie, because it truly is a battle that you have to keep on with and just keep pushing forward. Keep looking for that light. Hope for a happy continuation (not ending, because it's not over yet!) in life. :) Also, remember, when considering suicide, that it is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Whatever niche you have in life, the world's a better place with you in it. (I know, I know. These are the lectures I've heard too. They'll make more sense in due time, though. Trust me.)
How's my happy continuation so far? Pretty darn good, I'd say! Josh and I will celebrate our 3rd wedding anniversary in December, I'm working hard on my Music Ed. degree and we have a nice life in our home with our dog and 2 cats. :) Oh, and the most important thing? I'm ALIVE and able to see and appreciate these things that this tricky little thing called life has dealt me.
Friday, August 3, 2012
I Wish...
Sometimes I just like to sit down and let my thoughts run away with me.
Scary? Maybe. Not always, though. Usually when I let my thoughts run away, the results can be pretty bad. Other times, I come up with some pretty damn brilliant ideas... a little crazy, but hey, that's how I roll! Tonight's brain train has been riding the "I need, I want, I wish" rail. So now I've decided to compile my nice little list of things I want. Or need. Or just wish for. You get the gist. Now read on!!!
1) First, I wish for Tundra to bark less. I'm saying this because he's barking right in my ear at this very moment and it's starting to really irritate the hell out of me. I love my dog, I love my dog, I love my dog.......
2) A working air conditioner in my car!!! Yes, this is superficial, but you try driving a black car with dark interior in super-freaking-humid 105 degree weather with the windows down, the sunroof open, and no cool breeze to alleviate it! Hopefully this will be fixed later today. It just needs charged up and some stop-leak placed in it, and that is on Josh's agenda for the day. :)
3) A bag of tortilla chips. I'm eating chips and salsa and my chips are reduced to crumbs. Bah. I plan on going to the grocery store this afternoon but that doesn't help me NOW. I also may or may not have sat on the chips trying to settle into my recliner with my laptop. Woops. :P
4) A date night with Josh. Josh and I haven't been on a date in so long, I think I've forgotten what it's like. But between being busy, being tired, and being *ahem* broke, that doesn't leave a whole lot of room for getting out of the house to just have a great time for one night.
5) No barking dog. No, I do not want to get rid of my dog. I love him, remember? I just want him to shut up.
6) Marriage equality. And on an even bigger note, acceptance of differences. Need I say more? For those of you who want to be bigoted and small minded about this: stop reading my blog right now. Seriously. I'm bisexual and proud, and I don't care what anyone thinks. Everyone deserves the same rights. There's no need to be ugly about it. It's the small mindedness and judgmental nature of society that makes it hard for everyone to live in peace. Imagine a world where everyone can be right in their own way and it's totally okay.
7) A vacation! I haven't been on a vacation in almost 12 years. True story. I didn't even get a honeymoon after Josh and I got married. Another true story. I got married, and then went to back to work the next day. I'm dying to find an excuse to get out of Kansas for a little while. We'll see how that goes.
8) Seeing Pomplamoose in concert. Live. In person. It's been 3 years since I've been to a concert, it's my turn to pick a show to go to, and I freaking love Pomplamoose (Obviously. If you haven't noticed this fact after reading my previous 3 or 4 posts, then you're just not paying attention!). When they decide to tour again, you can bet I will keep my eyes peeled for a nearby show, because the Midwest totally needs some Pompla-love.
9) A new tattoo. I've already drawn it up, I just need to find a good artist to throw the ink down. The tattoo is a tribute piece for my mom: an eighth note with a butterfly perched on the flag with her date of birth and date of death flanking the eighth note. This tat will go on my left leg/ankle. For the record, while I am on this subject, I love ink. I already have 2 done: 2 koi fish swimming around a Pisces symbol on my right leg and a treble clef on my right foot. One is all it takes to get hooked, and I've been ready to get the next several done since I got my first one.
10) Sleep. It's 4:30am, Josh should be getting home from work here pretty soon, and I've got a long day ahead of me. Maybe I should stop wishing for it and just crash out for the night....
(And in case anyone is wondering, numbers 1 and 5 came true finally. Tundra got bored and sacked out on the dining room floor. :) Win.)
Scary? Maybe. Not always, though. Usually when I let my thoughts run away, the results can be pretty bad. Other times, I come up with some pretty damn brilliant ideas... a little crazy, but hey, that's how I roll! Tonight's brain train has been riding the "I need, I want, I wish" rail. So now I've decided to compile my nice little list of things I want. Or need. Or just wish for. You get the gist. Now read on!!!
1) First, I wish for Tundra to bark less. I'm saying this because he's barking right in my ear at this very moment and it's starting to really irritate the hell out of me. I love my dog, I love my dog, I love my dog.......
2) A working air conditioner in my car!!! Yes, this is superficial, but you try driving a black car with dark interior in super-freaking-humid 105 degree weather with the windows down, the sunroof open, and no cool breeze to alleviate it! Hopefully this will be fixed later today. It just needs charged up and some stop-leak placed in it, and that is on Josh's agenda for the day. :)
3) A bag of tortilla chips. I'm eating chips and salsa and my chips are reduced to crumbs. Bah. I plan on going to the grocery store this afternoon but that doesn't help me NOW. I also may or may not have sat on the chips trying to settle into my recliner with my laptop. Woops. :P
4) A date night with Josh. Josh and I haven't been on a date in so long, I think I've forgotten what it's like. But between being busy, being tired, and being *ahem* broke, that doesn't leave a whole lot of room for getting out of the house to just have a great time for one night.
5) No barking dog. No, I do not want to get rid of my dog. I love him, remember? I just want him to shut up.
6) Marriage equality. And on an even bigger note, acceptance of differences. Need I say more? For those of you who want to be bigoted and small minded about this: stop reading my blog right now. Seriously. I'm bisexual and proud, and I don't care what anyone thinks. Everyone deserves the same rights. There's no need to be ugly about it. It's the small mindedness and judgmental nature of society that makes it hard for everyone to live in peace. Imagine a world where everyone can be right in their own way and it's totally okay.
7) A vacation! I haven't been on a vacation in almost 12 years. True story. I didn't even get a honeymoon after Josh and I got married. Another true story. I got married, and then went to back to work the next day. I'm dying to find an excuse to get out of Kansas for a little while. We'll see how that goes.
8) Seeing Pomplamoose in concert. Live. In person. It's been 3 years since I've been to a concert, it's my turn to pick a show to go to, and I freaking love Pomplamoose (Obviously. If you haven't noticed this fact after reading my previous 3 or 4 posts, then you're just not paying attention!). When they decide to tour again, you can bet I will keep my eyes peeled for a nearby show, because the Midwest totally needs some Pompla-love.
9) A new tattoo. I've already drawn it up, I just need to find a good artist to throw the ink down. The tattoo is a tribute piece for my mom: an eighth note with a butterfly perched on the flag with her date of birth and date of death flanking the eighth note. This tat will go on my left leg/ankle. For the record, while I am on this subject, I love ink. I already have 2 done: 2 koi fish swimming around a Pisces symbol on my right leg and a treble clef on my right foot. One is all it takes to get hooked, and I've been ready to get the next several done since I got my first one.
10) Sleep. It's 4:30am, Josh should be getting home from work here pretty soon, and I've got a long day ahead of me. Maybe I should stop wishing for it and just crash out for the night....
(And in case anyone is wondering, numbers 1 and 5 came true finally. Tundra got bored and sacked out on the dining room floor. :) Win.)
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