Trí labra ata ferr túa...

In my neverending quest to de-stigmafy (it's a word now, dammit) mental illness, I need to be honest. I haven't been particularly well. I haven't been back to my self-harming, stay in bed all day levels, but I've been... meh. Sleeping when my body isn't tired, mindlessly watching the Cooking Channel, even avoiding Facebook because it's just too damn much work.

When clicking the little squares to "harvest" imaginary crops is too much work, it's time to take inventory.

Some of this is my own damn fault. I haven't been taking vitamins, I've occasionally been somewhat spotty in taking my meds. They get taken 95% of the time, but of that maybe only 75% of the time am I taking them at the times I should be, which screws further with my sleep patterns. I'm not eating enough protein with breakfast or drinking a cup of coffee in the morning, two things I absolutely must do to overcome the sedative effects of the Lexapro I take.

Some of this is not my fault. I lost an aunt last week, and buried her at the beginning of this one. I was not particularly close with her, but have found that there is a hole in my inner patchwork where she's supposed to be. Her loss was also incredibly hard on my other aunt, with whom I am very close. To say nothing of my father and my uncle. Dealing with my mother was stressful, to say the least, as her stress levels rose above what her anti-anxiety drugs could deal with.

Also there has been a significant hiccup in my home life. Since some of you readers do actually know me in real life, I'm going to abstain from details, at least for now. I will say that it did not involve infidelity, and that my husband and I are going to be putting some really nice therapists' kids through college. That being said, though, it has sucked. It has sucked royally. It has sucked like Queen Elizabeth's very own private Dyson vacuum cleaner. It's left me sad, angry, and frustrated. And, quel suprise, depressed.

On top of this, it has become readily apparent that adjuncting just isn't bringing in enough money. I love doing it, but I can't afford to anymore. So I have begun my first active job search in about 9 years. God, I'd forgotten how much I loathe it.

So where do I go from here? I called mein guter Ehemann and told him how overwhelmed I felt. As always, he stepped up to the plate. We have made plans. Trader Joe's is a godsend for breakfasts you can grab and go. We're going to work on the practical aspects of our problems together tonight. I will double down on my self-care efforts, including getting my behind into the gym on a regular basis.

Sadly, I am not one of those people who get depressed sometimes, or who have one or two episodes in his or her lifetime. Those are awful enough, don't get me wrong. But this is an everyday struggle and it just gets so old sometimes, and I feel so powerless. But as I said about a year ago, onward I go. It's hard, but it's the only way to go.

Dear Smug Self-Centered-Actor-Turned-Director,

No, you ASS, "outlining responsibilities" and "giving an overview" are NOT the same fucking thing. One would have given me FUCKING DETAILS about what you wanted, while what you DID was give me generalities such ask, "Make sure I stay on task," and "You know, just keep things running smoothly." That would have, you know, given me an idea of what you needed, and you could have been spared the effort of composing the incredibly condescending email you were spineless enough to send me rather than, you know, TALKING to me. 'Cause that must have been a killer while you were sitting in your office with the free time to work on theater stuff on your employer's dime. A shame my THREE YEAR OLD doesn't give me the same freedom, and thus the rehearsal reports sometimes come out at odd intervals.

Killing you with my brain,
Icewolf

Okay, to help everyone understand the true import of what I'm about to relate, I must elaborate on my current living conditions. My husband, BFF, daughter, and I all live in a row house in Baltimore. We like to call ourselves the House of Neuroses.

Now, the BFF and I have been hemming and hawing over a small container of Greek yogurt in the refrigerator. The husband has washed his hands of the situation. You see, I ate some of BFF's yogurt, oh, about two months ago. I then bought her replacement yogurt, but it was the wrong brand.

It has been sitting in our refrigerator since. Impressive, considering its sell by date was Tax Day. Neither of us wants to eat it, but we hate to waste it, and couldn't we use it in something, really?

Fast forward to ten minutes ago. Once again, I tripped over this yogurt, so to speak, while rummaging around for something else. I knocked the container out of the refrigerator, and it quite literally went "splut" as it hit the floor and busted open, squirting yogurt.

My thoughts? Huh. You know, splut shaming is really horrible. People who drop things are no better or worse than people who don't.

This is what happens when you pair social consciousness with a twisted sense of humor, folks. You may fire your rotten tomatoes at will. No, really. That guy over there, Will...

As with every other hot internet mess I've either been a part of or witnessed (if you weren't there, don't ask. As someone else has said, your blood pressure doesn't need the workout.), I've at least made some nifty new internet acquaintances. :)

And, oh, yeah, I'm alive and stuff.

Because everybody's sick of Matthew and Luke at this time of year (Mark starts with the ministry of John the Baptist and doesn't do a nativity story). And, honestly? John got it most right out of the four of them. Stables and shepherds and kings are great and all, but the Light is what Christmas--and Christianity--are really supposed to be about, for us.

in principio erat Verbum et Verbum erat apud Deum et Deus erat Verbum
hoc erat in principio apud Deum
omnia per ipsum facta sunt et sine ipso factum est nihil quod factum est
in ipso vita erat et vita erat lux hominum

...

In the beginning was the Word: and the Word was with God: and the Word was God.
The same was in the beginning with God.
All things were made by him: and without him was made nothing that was made.
In him was life: and the life was the light of men.

Don't read the comments if you don't want to be spoiled for tonight's Mentalist.

Can someone please explain the last five minutes to me? What the hell does "Tiger, tiger" mean?

Hi, everyone--

About two months ago, as some of you know, I found a kitten under a car near our house.

We've made a good faith effort, but he's just not meshing well with our household, specifically, our other three cats.

So, does anyone want a sweet, cheerful, and extremely active kitten? At my best estimate, he's about five months old. One problem he does have is food issues. We have not been able to shake the instinct to scrounge for anything edible from him yet.

He comes with collar, a nearly full bag of kibble, and (as of today) about a half dozen cans of wet kitten food.

Because we continually referred to him as "the new guy" or "the little guy," his name has become, by default, Guy.

From Guy

From Guy

Hey out there!

A non-LJ/DW friend of mine has a beautiful grown cat which has to leave the household. My friend's young son has suddenly developed some new--and extremely virulent--allergies.

Any recommendations of no-kill shelters and/or rescues out by Centerville, OH would be appreciated.

Over on LJ, a friend of mine (disc_sophist) started a book meme. I've been wanting to jump-start my blogging, and this seems like as good a way as any.

Day 1: the best book you've read during the past year

Without a doubt, The Language of Bees by Laurie R. King. I'm dying, waiting for the followup, The God of the Hive, to become available through the library.

To get first things out of the way first, yes, Mary Russell is married to Sherlock Holmes. Yes, that Sherlock Holmes. Technically, all the Mary Russell books are Holmes pastiches, but they are really so much more. Awesome historical detail, an incredibly intricate but not unintelligible plot, and a healthy dose of humanity, which the Doyle works so often lack, make all the books impossible to put down. Additionally, in Russell King has created a character who is strong and breathtakingly intelligent. She's also emotionally backwards in that way that only genius can be. She is, at once, ahead of her time (currently 1924) and completely a product of it (flying deeply disturbs her explicitly because it is such a new technology). You don't need to read the entire series to follow The Language of Bees, but you do need to read them in order to fully appreciate the book.

( Spoilerrific details )

Tomorrow, The Most Underrated Book.

( List of Days )

You catch one cold and spend the day away from LJ/DW, and all heck breaks loose.

In 50 words or less, what the heck is going on?