I was going to post yesterday, but knew I was too much of a drag. I'm better today.
Father's Day gets me down. I lost my dad sixteen years ago, before I understood that I was crazy about him-- it was his disease of drinking I couldn't stand. I lost my Micha on June 1, before I had a chance to save him. I lost my moral compass long ago, my work ethic in 2008 and my joie de vivre last month. My thighs and ass went sometime in the mid-80s. My flat stomach took a hike last August.
Loss paralyzes me. At first, it feels like I'm wading through molasses each day. Then, I feel like Trader Joe cherries, gelled with red wine, pecans and ricotta cheese in my mom's signature jello creation. Then, I progress to a fly trapped in amber.
I'm irked at my Higher Power today; kvetchy cause we are put on this earth, struggle on this earth, are taken from this earth. Why? What's the point. Time on earth is a showcase for disease, dysfunction, dread, discouragement, and the ultimate strong conclusion-- death.
My friend, Patty, told me she looked at the piles lying on every surface of her house the other day and thought, This is what depression looks like. I look at my kitchen countertop. What countertop? I try to find it through the rounded heaps of books, invoices, magazine clippings, lottery tickets, recipes, catalogues, receipts and cut-out coupons which expired three weeks ago. The prehistoric mound peoples of Tennessee have nothing on me.
I resent customer loyalty programs which require me to return what I just bought to CVS, then re-buy it so I can get a $5 discount on a $15 purchase. Thank you, JCP for doing away with your bewildering maze of mailed discount cards, emailed coupons and receipts with discounts running along the bottom of the paper. Why can't more retailers be like JCP? Of course, I hear you can roll a bowling ball down the aisles at JCP and not hit a single customer since "the change".
I have no answers, only self-pity and a desire to eat everything in my kitchen. Sugar, fat and dough will make everything better-- for about 30 minutes. Then the horror will strike. I know just the graphic for my terror. Edvard Munch -- how apt.Glad I waited till today to post.
I understand and can relate. Sitting at my laptop at my kitchen counter working away in my exercise clothes. (not at exercising) Hang in there my friend. Nice to know I have you.
ReplyDeleteLove, c
Don't get my started on JC Penney. I shopped there exclusively because they carried clothes for tall women. First they did away with the catalogues so I don't know what clothes they have. The website is hard to use with lousy photos. Then The store discontinued my favorite brands and I don't know which new brands would fit me. Sorry for the rant. Makes me depressed that my fave store is making shopping so difficult.
ReplyDeleteSally Carpenter
Yes, I know what you mean about their website. It sucks! I worked in the fine jewelry department (one size fits all) over Christmas. We constantly had to order things for customers online. It was high anxiety time for me, as the website came up slowly and was most tedious to navigate.
DeleteTry writing a letter to Ron Johnson, the new CEO. I'm serious! He's very feedback-sensitive. He's the guy who created Apple retail stores and revamped Target. Eventually, JCP should be as easy to shop as those two places.
Sweet Cindy! I think friendship is one of the few joys that lasts over time in this life. How I value your friendship! I am also sitting at my desk in my work-out gear. Working at little shi__ stuff, not working out.
ReplyDeleteBut I am leaving in five minutes for a ride on my bicycle. Sad, how it, since last week, feels like a chore instead of a joy. Before, I couldn't wait to jump on my bike and pedal away into the wild. Now, I am dreading it. I am a delayed reactor. Sadness and loss always hit me just when I think I am "taking things well". Poop!
When are you coming to see me? I paint such a pretty picture of what a visit with me would be like, don't I?
Marta, Believe it or not, most of us have been where you're at right now. Trust me when I say it will pass and all of a sudden you'll get up one morning to blue skies. You'll look around and wonder how you ever managed to feel so low. Quit "taking things well" and take control. You can do it, I have faith in you. Don't forget the bad times, but remember them when you're feeling better. Then you'll realize that, yes, you really DID take control.
ReplyDeleteIn the meantime, have some chocolate. Chocolate can make almost anything better. Oh, but then you'll have to go exercise and ride your bike even farther. Forget the part about the chocolate. Just know that even people who've never met you, care about you.
Well, i vote for the chocolate, of course! Sadly, it's so effing hot here today, chocolate does not even appeal. Never mind that I ate most of a watermelon all by myself last night before bed. MISTAKE! I was up every hour...
ReplyDeleteYes, I know it's a universal, this blue feeling. But, as you have experienced, while one is in it, it seems like it will never lift. Thank you for the encouragement, for caring though we've never met, and for leaving a comment!
Hey Marta,
ReplyDeleteMake sure you get out for a long walk. Strike up conversations with people. And as well as chocolate, take Vitamin D!
Hugs,
Melanie
Yeah, baby! Bought two cookies at Some Crust Bakery this morning. Saved them till just before the bike ride, because the thinking is I can burn them off while pedaling. How's that going for me? Not so great yet. I keep trying.
DeleteI take 5000 units of Vitamin D daily, as I have been sun phobic for years. Striking up conversations with people? I'm not so sure I can do that. People drain me, but I promise i'll try. I feel the title of Joan Rivers' new book, "I Hate Everyone, Starting with Me."
The Father's Day comment got to me. I struggled so much with my dad while he was living. It is an easier relationship now that he is gone...but then I remember...he really is gone...and then I cry. So, before and after...I shed tears when dealing with my crazy dad.
ReplyDeleteYou hear me, Charlotte, though I must say my Dad was not the crazy one. It appears to be me. He had Chippewa blood and the native American allergy to fire water. When in that state, he was a stranger. Thankfully, he was not in that state daily.
DeleteStill, I know what you mean. My relationship with Daddy is less complicated without the tension of real life interaction hovering in the background.
I'm not buying it. What you need is a kick in your bike riding pants. You're the one who isn't allowing me to wallow in tears because of this whole kidney/tumor thing. What makes you think YOU get a break?
ReplyDeleteCall me before they decide to do surgery on my throat and tell me not to bitch anyone out for a few weeks.
You can count on me, Sunny. On the other hand, I think you should get the "bitching out" in place BEFORE the surgery.
DeleteMarta, you're as insane as the rest of us...father's day can be rough for many of us...what happened to the original Ward Clever or Jim Anderson's (okay so I watch TV Land on cable when I surf). I was fortunate, I had a Step-father who resembled them, but where are they today? Not to male-bash; but many of the husbands aren't too better. Enough of that I could say the same for moms---not too many resemble the Donna Reed's or even the Ma Kettle...I guess we are just plain ole folks (and I like that). Cheer up, chin up and peddle steady we're still reading your posts.
ReplyDeleteI was just conversing with someone in the know today and two of the TV Dads I most admired, Robert Young and Fred MacMurray, were blessed with that drinking disease. One was a mean drunk, the other just a drunk-- and they both relapsed constantly.
DeleteSo much for fairy tales. You are right, Augie. We're all just bozos on the bus, trying to make a living and get through life as best we can.
Marta,
ReplyDeleteSometimes, the whole world looks gray. It's easy to sink into depression and we all give in to it sometimes. Bad things happen, life isn't fair, things get to us. That's just the way it is. But. . .
Other times, we see the beautiful blue skies, green grass, bright, yellow sun and everything seems right with our world. What changed?
It's all about attitude. A good friend of mine (wise beyond her years) told me once that she's made a commitment to herself to be happy. I've never forgotten her words. Trust me when I tell you that she went through some horrible events in her childhood and well into adulthood and, of course, she struggles with problems like all of us but, when you see her, she has a smile on her face. She's not in denial; she's honoring her commitment to herself.
Life is too short to wallow in grief, self-pity, worry or any other negative emotion. We make a choice every day whether or not we will be happy - in spite of what happens or what anyone else says or does.
Will you believe this? As soon as I had written my "woe is me" post, I felt better. When I posted it, I felt even better. When people responded, I felt great.
DeleteBy now, I am back to my usual happy self. The blues have no longer engulfed me. The sadness of recent losses has a special place in my heart, but just one little corner of the parking lot, not the entire structure.
Thank you for the good cheer.
Remember the Beatle song, "Strawberry Fields Forever?"> "...nothing is real...", etc.
ReplyDeleteLet me take you there...
DeleteThanks for stopping by my blog...got you on my blog list now.
ReplyDelete>>My thighs and ass went sometime in the mid-80s. My flat stomach took a hike last August.<< Loved this!!
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ReplyDeleteGlad you caught the humor. I was too dry for most... ;-)))
DeleteYes, we do make a choice everyday. If i don't get out and get fresh air and exercise, I am toast.
ReplyDeletei"m with you. I've noticed just getting outdoors seems to immediately elevate mood, even without exercise. I'm not knocking exercise, it's the best-- but sometimes, when I feel paralyzed, the best I can do is at least get outdoors.
DeleteLife is beautiful, every moment. Take the time to breathe and realize this. Make a choice to be happy: it sounds "stupid" but it makes a difference. I've chosen to see the good and beautiful even in the ugliest moments.
ReplyDeleteEvery moment? I'll have some of what you're having! Most moments are delightful. Some are not. But you are right in that there are elements of good to be found in even some ugly moments. Not all of them.
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