Today has been, on the whole, not a bad day. At least, not objectively. And yet, I am floundering in depression, mostly because before today (or at least last night), I didn't realize I was in depression.
It started, I think, with a call about having to go do a random drug test and breathalyzer. Neither of these were problematic from the stand point of me worrying about not passing. I don't drink (it's been over a year since I have), I don't smoke (which would be legal, as long as it was tobacco), and I would be the least likely person to do any actual drugs (I dislike needles, I don't like the idea of snorting anything, I barely tolerate taking pain reliever, and I am against the idea of smoking anything, which rules out most forms of drug intake). The call came about 3 hours before I was likely to get up. It was almost 2 hours before I would finish my actual (legally required) break (it didn't hurt me nearly as much as it could, but it did screw up my work day later that day). And then I spent the rest of the day overly tired, but unable to convince myself to take a nap.
So, despite depression usually sneaking in through bringing insomnia, it snuck in when I was distracted with work-based, forced insomnia. And then I just thought I was tired, because of hormones/time changes/somebody screwing with my schedule for a day.
Instead, I was apparently sinking into depression.
The sign that tipped me off was my lack of actually feeding myself on my own. I didn't buy food, or make a sandwich, either of which I could have done and it would have been better for me. Instead, I just decided I should make a sandwich, and then didn't make one. Because we ended up somewhere it was snowy, which required a little bit more effort when going in to go to the bathroom, and coming back out to relax, while waiting for a load. And then I would remember, after sitting on the bed, that I was going to make a sandwich, but I didn't want to climb back down. So, I just didn't really eat.
This, by the way, is very unhealthy and not a coping mechanism. My body was still telling me, screaming at me really, that it was hungry. I just couldn't get myself to do what needed to be done.
Last night, I confessed this to Ace, while eating a ham and cheese sandwich he bought me before bed. We were switching who was driving, and I knew I'd enjoy the ham and cheese sandwich, so I asked him to get me one, while I went to the truck and pulled down clothes for us and made him the active driver. He reminded me that I can buy something for myself to eat, including Lunchables, if I need to. That it's okay, and even budgeted, for me to spend that money. It was a good reminder. It doesn't necessarily help me if my brain tries to claim the lines are too long, but the better thing there is to remind myself that I don't have to talk much to buy my food and that feeding myself is important.
So, I'm back to trying to find the shore. Finding out about Stan Lee's death did not help today. It brought about the feelings of sadness, but the depression was really already here, lurking. Keeping me from doing the bare minimum of taking care of myself.
Tomorrow, we have a load again. Tomorrow, I focus on driving and listening to Terry Pratchett's Moving Pictures (and some preaching on marriage). Tomorrow, I do my best to keep my head above the water and keep searching for the shore.
But tonight, I give myself permission to just breathe, if that's what I need to focus on. And to eat some dinner, because food is good and good for me, but that I won't be upset if I don't eat much because I'm just not up for it. And that I can buy myself a Lunchable, if need be. Tonight, we make it through, minute by minute, hour by hour.
Monday, November 12, 2018
Sunday, October 21, 2018
A Wrinkle in Time
Ace and I watched A Wrinkle in Time this evening. And now I want to talk about it.
It seems that Meg is depressed. Which might be why she doesn't care that she doesn't really seem to have friends. But, as Mrs. Who tells her, "The wound is the place where the light enters you." (Original quote by Rumi.) And a vast majority of the movie is Meg dealing with her wound.
Along the way, she has to learn how to find a middle ground, how to be afraid but find out the answer anyway, to trust that her flaws have good things, and ultimately to love herself as she is.
As someone who occasionally battles with depression, this movie speaks to me. Meg fighting for Charles Wallace seemed to me to be Meg fighting with her own depression, to make it through to love herself and save her brother. And her stubborn nature got her to rescue her father and then save her brother.
I won't pretend that the movie doesn't change things from the book, it clearly does. The only time Aunt Beast shows up is in a vision between the Happy Medium and Meg. They drop the twins. Charles Wallace is adopted.
That said, it is still a good movie. And it is worth watching.
It seems that Meg is depressed. Which might be why she doesn't care that she doesn't really seem to have friends. But, as Mrs. Who tells her, "The wound is the place where the light enters you." (Original quote by Rumi.) And a vast majority of the movie is Meg dealing with her wound.
Along the way, she has to learn how to find a middle ground, how to be afraid but find out the answer anyway, to trust that her flaws have good things, and ultimately to love herself as she is.
As someone who occasionally battles with depression, this movie speaks to me. Meg fighting for Charles Wallace seemed to me to be Meg fighting with her own depression, to make it through to love herself and save her brother. And her stubborn nature got her to rescue her father and then save her brother.
I won't pretend that the movie doesn't change things from the book, it clearly does. The only time Aunt Beast shows up is in a vision between the Happy Medium and Meg. They drop the twins. Charles Wallace is adopted.
That said, it is still a good movie. And it is worth watching.
Monday, August 27, 2018
Tiny Living
I admit that while I generally try to not judge people, I can't quite help but wonder about people who decide to live in tiny homes. The people who, willingly, decide that living in 134-ish square feet is for them. I wonder if they realize how difficult it will be before they start.
I live in a truck cab, so I know tiny living. 134 square feet would actually be an upgrade for Ace and I. We have bunk beds and storage cabinets and, as a treat, a fridge (we aren't sure if the microwave will work now, so we will have to test that soon). There is no where to really cook anything more than canned foods really. All our clothes stay in bags, because the storage space is taken up with food, drinks, and other things that make life easier on the road (like DVDs, apparently). The only time Ace and I are apart is when we take showers, unless we share one, or are in a hotel room. We have about 3 weeks worth of clothes that we haul around, because that is easier than trying to wash them weekly, but that is more of a trucking thing than a tiny living thing.
We have very little mystery in our lives at this point. At least from each other. The good news is that we figured out how to share small spaces without fighting before we started living on a truck. And we quickly realized that having our own computers was a must, otherwise violence might ensue. We are both fairly calm people, but a lack of privacy (we usually only have a curtain separating us) and constantly being together can still get any two people to fight. And after a certain point, you know what your spouse/partner/whatever sounds like when waking up or just breathing when you spend this much time in tight quarters. My husband knows all those things that women usually prefer to pretend don't happen with their husband, because it's not like I can really hide anything.
Small spaces can easily be overwhelmed with bad smells (sweaty socks/sweat in the recirculating air/burnt food/farts/whatever other bad smell), because there is only so much room for them to dissipate. We use Fabreeze to help, but that requires us to be able to spray it and let it sit for a bit sometimes, which we can't always do (and it doesn't really help the recirculating air much). Air fresheners can only do so much. And if we go to any dirt/gravel lots (which happens), the inside of the truck gets dirtier than usual. It's bad enough with no dirt/gravel lots and just food particles.
I understand the pull of simplifying your life and getting rid of stuff, but after living in such a small space for so many years, I want multiple rooms and a few hundred square feet (minimum) of living space. I want to be able to have room away from Ace, so we can both grow and then come back together.
I'm not trying to talk anyone out of living in a small space, there are benefits to not having much stuff, and Kindle is a good way to have a mobile, portable library (with lots of free or inexpensive books, as my laptop can suggest). Realizing how little you need to have a happy, comfortable life is not a bad thing. But keep in mind there are downsides to tiny living. And one of them is that not having much stuff means not being able to always get more stuff as you want it. You have to keep your stuff fairly pared down to stay living tiny.
I live in a truck cab, so I know tiny living. 134 square feet would actually be an upgrade for Ace and I. We have bunk beds and storage cabinets and, as a treat, a fridge (we aren't sure if the microwave will work now, so we will have to test that soon). There is no where to really cook anything more than canned foods really. All our clothes stay in bags, because the storage space is taken up with food, drinks, and other things that make life easier on the road (like DVDs, apparently). The only time Ace and I are apart is when we take showers, unless we share one, or are in a hotel room. We have about 3 weeks worth of clothes that we haul around, because that is easier than trying to wash them weekly, but that is more of a trucking thing than a tiny living thing.
We have very little mystery in our lives at this point. At least from each other. The good news is that we figured out how to share small spaces without fighting before we started living on a truck. And we quickly realized that having our own computers was a must, otherwise violence might ensue. We are both fairly calm people, but a lack of privacy (we usually only have a curtain separating us) and constantly being together can still get any two people to fight. And after a certain point, you know what your spouse/partner/whatever sounds like when waking up or just breathing when you spend this much time in tight quarters. My husband knows all those things that women usually prefer to pretend don't happen with their husband, because it's not like I can really hide anything.
Small spaces can easily be overwhelmed with bad smells (sweaty socks/sweat in the recirculating air/burnt food/farts/whatever other bad smell), because there is only so much room for them to dissipate. We use Fabreeze to help, but that requires us to be able to spray it and let it sit for a bit sometimes, which we can't always do (and it doesn't really help the recirculating air much). Air fresheners can only do so much. And if we go to any dirt/gravel lots (which happens), the inside of the truck gets dirtier than usual. It's bad enough with no dirt/gravel lots and just food particles.
I understand the pull of simplifying your life and getting rid of stuff, but after living in such a small space for so many years, I want multiple rooms and a few hundred square feet (minimum) of living space. I want to be able to have room away from Ace, so we can both grow and then come back together.
I'm not trying to talk anyone out of living in a small space, there are benefits to not having much stuff, and Kindle is a good way to have a mobile, portable library (with lots of free or inexpensive books, as my laptop can suggest). Realizing how little you need to have a happy, comfortable life is not a bad thing. But keep in mind there are downsides to tiny living. And one of them is that not having much stuff means not being able to always get more stuff as you want it. You have to keep your stuff fairly pared down to stay living tiny.
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