AMFYOYO

That was the license tag in front of me for most of my drive in to work this morning. I am deciphering it as "A Mother Fucking Yo-Yo." It may not mean that... but that translation resonated with me and made me laugh so I'm sticking with it.

Remember at the beginning of the year when we all had that horrible flu? And we kept thinking we were "over it" and then we'd all get sick again. And it lasted forever and some of us thought we would never feel better again?
Remember how Sally and I thought we should make "I survived the Flu '08" t-shirts and then we both felt crappy again and thought maybe it was too soon to announce that we had actually survived?

I think I can say that at this point I can safely say that I have, in fact, survived the flu.

This depression is apparently the flu's cousin.

I have been reading back through journal entries and blog posts (looking for themes and patterns because that's what happens when you cross an English major with a social worker) and I keep writing, "I think I'm coming out of this," and then a few days later I'm at the bottom again. I have decided to treat it as though it were the flu and stop thinking that there is a nice predictable curve.

Better is relative... and relative to last week I feel better. For about five days I was barely functional and it started to really worry some of my inner circle friends. It started to worry me too.

I think that a lot of it has to do with these transitions... work and school and practicum and Bean and (duh) Bartleby. A lot of stuff is changing - has been changing, will be changing. And transitions are difficult under the best of circumstances.
I think some of it is that I have been running for the last two years or so on "I just have to get through this" and "this" keeps changing and I don't have a lot of energy left for running anymore.
I think that some of it is normal grief cycling through.
I think some of it is just that I haven't' had a breakdown in a long time and maybe I was due for one.

At one point a very fabulous and also very worried Michelle was talking to me with that really calm voice we save for scared animals and crazy people and she wanted to know what needed to happen for me to feel better.
I said, "I just need to put my big-girl panties on and stop acting like Jeff."

So my big-girl panties are on and I am out of bed and I am functional.
Today.
But like the weeks and weeks of flu relapse I am paying attention to what my body is telling me it needs so that I don't overdo it and end up sick again.

And, yes. I am a motherfucking yo-yo... but the fact that it is still making me laugh is a good sign for today.

Out of Sorts

I may not be posting much for a while...

I will be OK, but right now nothing I have to say is funny or interesting. It's all just a big wad of angst on one side and blank on the other.

Knit on, knitters!

Cue the Music...

BILL, I love you so, I always will...

Your result for The Harry Potter Husband Test...

Mrs. Bill Weasley

Your perfect HP man is Bill Weasley.

You like guys who are cool. And not cool in that fake, dicky way, but actually cool. He's so cool that they couldn't find any actor to adequately portray him, so they decided to just leave him out of the movies rather than risk not doing justice to his coolness. He's like the Chuck Norris of Harry Potter: plain freaking awesome. When Voldemort says "You-Know-Who", he's talking about Bill Weasley.

Take The Harry Potter Husband Test at HelloQuizzy

Luckily for me, I think that he seems like the type who would be OK not getting married. I would hate to break his heart.

Hope your Saturday is a good one.

In Which My Passive-Aggressive Side Shines:

Well hello, PMS!
No, no, please make yourself at home. It's not like I had anything else to do today... and I rather enjoy the 4-day migraine and the cramping and the mood swings. They just remind me how amazing and mystifying nature really is.
No! Really! Please just sit there, and don't mind me while I chew my fingernails to nubs and lash out mindlessly at those around me. And when I start crying there is a box of Kleenex behind you there. Just pass them over. If it's not to much trouble.
The cravings? Well, for the most part I can handle that... but - and not that I want to complain or anything - could we at least do away with the waves of depression?
No?
Oh. Well, OK. I was just thinking my time might be better spent thinking something other than half homicidal, half suicidal thoughts all day... but whatever you think is best.
I'm going to try to get some work done, so just, you know, settle in and I'll try to work around you!

I Hate Mouse Poo

I was instructed to start cleaning out my desk today.
Apparently they need space for another desk in my area and since I'm going to part-time it makes the most sense to move my stuff around.

Sure. I can see the sense in that. But I thought I would have more time... I thought I could just take a little home here and there; go through old paperwork and the layers of accumulation slowly.

Nope.

I am finding all kinds of things... some boring, some emotionally charged and some surrounded by mouse poo. I am taking a break now, trying to convince myself that the headache that I have is NOT an early symptom of the hantavirus. Stupid mouse-filled workspace. Ugh.

I have washed my hands eighty times in the last hour alone.

And I am SO tired! I have really gotten my sleep mojo back. Yesterday I slept for about 3 hours in the afternoon and then had no trouble falling asleep last night. I knew I was only going to work a half-day today so I didn't set my alarm and I didn't wake up until 11. So I have basically been asleep for 13 of the last 24 hours. That can't be good. And I could sleep now. If I didn't know how much mouse poo was all over the station I would just curl up under my desk. There's room now! I've been cleaning!!
Any other day and I would just sneak out the back door and take a nap.
But it's Wednesday and Wednesday we swim... so as soon as the Idiot Step-Mother drops Bean off we're going to mom's to get ready.

It's cooler today and I am really looking forward to some float time.

I'm sure it's all the transition stuff that is going on this month, but there is something I can't quite name that is nagging at me.
I feel like I need to slow way down and make sure that everything that I am doing and saying and accepting is really what I want to do and say and accept. Does that make sense?

Everything is just moving so fast, and the way I feel about things seems to change in unexpected ways - and then change back. It's weird to have to think of my own mind as an unreliable narrator.

Ugh. Enough of that. Back to the mouse poo!

Single Girl Chronicles: Alone vs. Lonely

I think this weird sadness that has been hovering over me for the past two weeks or so is finally maybe starting to dissipate.
Maybe.
Spending time with friends this weekend helped... and having some time with that Bad Bad Man is always a plus. I think sad is starting to move on.
Maybe.
I have certainly been knitting more, and reading a lot more... the fact that I can concentrate on either of those activities is a positive sign.
I think I was just feeling overwhelmed and alone.

As this whole grieving process moves along and I get through my anger and shock I find myself falling through emotional trap doors. Because he wasn't always a bad guy. And he did love me once. And I loved him back. And no matter how bad it got for me in the end the truth is that in the beginning it was good.
And that's the meat of it... I think that I am scared to trust that if I let someone get close enough to convince me that they love me that way that it won't end in a total shitstorm. That if I let myself need another person I am setting myself up to lose again.

I am equally afraid that there will never be another person who loves me that much.

I don't think this is a death thing... I think if we had divorced I would be going through this same sort of thing.

OK. I know that I am not alone. I have Bean, I have my friends, I have a Bad, Bad Man, I have my family.

I am not alone.

But also? I am alone.

I do not want to be married again.
I was terrible at it and it was terrible to me.
But surrounded by couples I think I started realizing that not being married took the assumption of spending the rest of my life with someone completely out of the equation.
It's that whole "fear that I might die alone and be eaten by wild dogs" thing that Bridget Jones was so worried about.
Or worse... that I might end up as one of those nursing home ladies that nobody visits.

But the thing is... being married doesn't mean those things won't happen.
Women generally outlive their husbands. We just do.
And also... I was so much more alone when Bartleby was around. There was so much I couldn't say about what was really happening in my house... and secrets build walls that that are so hard to get through.

For all of the loneliness involved, there are so many things I like about living by myself:

I like that I am not subjected to anyone else's musical taste.

I like that I don't have to negotiate with anyone if I want to re-paint the walls... or the entire house if and when I feel like it.

I like that I can buy the brand of laundry detergent that I want. Ditto the toothpaste, soap, cheese and peanut butter.

I like that for the most part I sleep alone. All the blankets, all the pillows, all the control over whether the TV is on and what is on it. I don't have to feel bad if I can't sleep and decide at 3 am to turn the lights back on and knit or read. It doesn't matter that I snore.
Sometimes Bean will want to sleep with me, and sometimes when Bean is not home there is a Bad Bad Man lurking under the covers... But those nights are the exception to the norm and even I don't mind sharing my pillows from time to time. (I will say that they are both shameless bed hogs and I almost always end up perched on the very edge of the mattress).

I like that I am not required to pretend to care about sporting events.

I like that I can come home on time... or not... as long as Bean is taken care of and the cats are fed.

I like that (unless I decide I require a "plus one") I can RSVP to any party, event, dinner or gathering without consulting anyone else.

I like that I can have a party, event, dinner or gathering at my house without consulting anyone else.

I could continue...

Good Weekend...

There is an "excessive heat warning" in effect until tomorrow night.
Guess who won't be mowing tonight!

Last week was a bad week... just when I think I have this grief thing figured out something else pops up. Like Whack-a-Mole.
This weekend was actually pretty good.

Friday:
I took Bean and Lara's older two girls to Watermark for the Breaking Dawn release party. They went as vampires, and thanks to Lara's extensive stage make-up collection looked pretty un-dead! Andie stayed to keep me company and we invited another mom to sit with us while her daughter ran around with my girls. It was great fun.
Then we went to mom's house for a midnight swim. The girls swam anyway, I talked to my brother and his girlfriend for hours... and finally took myself to bed around 4:30.
I wore make-up Friday night - which is very unusual for me - and even though I washed my face before I went to bed I woke up looking like I had been attacked by Amy Winehouse's make-up crew. Not a good look. And since I'd had very little sleep and had been smoking with my brother in the back yard I sort of felt like I had spent the night clubbing.

Saturday:
I had a funeral to go to... my first since Jeff's. It was for the mother of a woman I know from the station... she was 98. I did OK at first, but then they played some Irish music and I cried a lot from then on. Thanks to my pal Xanax I managed not to cry in big, loud sobs - but kept it to quiet but constant tears.
It was embarrassing. I mean, yes, it's a funeral and people cry at funerals, but crying more than the family when you didn't really know the person is sort of like wearing white to a wedding you're crashing.
Then I went to my "happy place." (I love you, Twist!)
My favorite baby-lesbian was there. She's finally realized that she is, in fact, gay. The last time we talked she said she thought she might be, but wasn't sure if she was gay of bi- or what. I told her not to rush into any labels (or relationships). I admire her strength... to make the decision at 16 NOT to hide who she knows she is... Wow. I wish I had some of that strength at 20, let alone at 16. She does not have a girlfriend - and seems perfectly happy to just be who she is without anyone else. I LOVE this kid.

Jess and her mom came in - her mom wanted to learn the 2-at-once socks, so I spent most of the afternoon on that... then Sally showed up in time for movie night (The Full Monty) and we ate movie candy and knitted. It was a very nice afternoon.

On the way home I had one of my sudden panicky fits of crying so Xanax and I took a book to bed and slept and slept and slept. I think that the weight of last week combined with the Irish funeral were just too much for me.

Sunday:
That Bad Bad Man came to cook for (with) me again. And Andie and Sally came over for that. I forget how much I like to cook... especially with someone else around... and his knife skills are very handy. He made honey ginger glazed pork and I made garlic mashed potatoes and apple pie. After dinner he read and we knitted. After Andie and Sally left we sat in the den and both read for awhile. It was such a nice day... the cooking and the conversation and the food and the relaxing.
Sigh.