I ask not for a lighter burden, but for stronger shoulders.

I feel so powerless lately!

I MISS MY CAR. My mom's car got repo'd Wednesday morning. Since I only work 15 minutes north of home but she works 45 minutes south of home, it's easier for me to catch a ride with someone than it is for her, so she takes my car. I no longer have the freedom to come and go as I please, my schedule is dictated by the people around me. And none of it is my fault! My mom never helped me get a car or let me drive hers - which is why I didn't learn to drive till I was 24. But now I am stuck paying the price for her bad decisions. It makes me SO ANGRY.

There are things in my future over which I have no control, and we're encountering stalls and setbacks at every turn. Every day that something else gets in the way of our plans, I just break down entirely. I want to have faith but it's so difficult!

I had another test Monday for my cervical dysplasia, and this is the worst part - waiting for the results. I'm trying to be positive - after all, the news last time was good - but the worst-case-scenario voice in my head won't shut up.

And while I was with my doctor, I talked to her about getting off the Prozac. It's definitely taken care of my depression - that cold, hollow feeling is gone, has been for a while - but since I've been on it I've been so much worse. Since I've been on it I've crossed the line between not wanting to live and flat out wanting to die. I think it's better for me and those closest to me if I quit taking it! So now I have to wait for it to work its way out of my system and hope that when it does, I'll go back to normal.

My weight is OUT OF CONTROL. This is the biggest I've ever been. But all the stress and the anger and the worry and the frustration are exhausting; I'm tired ALL THE TIME, I don't sleep well at night. So not only can I not find the strength to work out, but I'm drinking a ton more soda trying to stay awake at work!

But I'm not totally powerless. This weekend at some point I'm going to buy the stuff so I can have a salad for lunch every day and healthy snacks instead of junk. And I'm working on my Cognitive Behavioral Therapy - I have a few apps on my phone for it, plus I signed up for an account at Mood Gym.

The say that sometimes God calms the storm, and other times he lets the storm rage and calms the child instead. I can handle that. I'm looking forward to a little calm this weekend.

Thanksgiving 2011.

I slept til 3 PM and ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

But I am thankful for my friends, for the man I love, for my job, for the love of my Maker.

I am.

I should NOT be blogging when I want to get another 5,000 words done on my novel before I go to bed, but I left this on such a bad note last time I felt I owed an update.

One night, a little over a week ago, I was lying in bed, crying uncontrollably. I texted a friend who'd been gone for a week. I told him I hurt so bad. He asked what was hurting me, and the answer was...nothing. There was no cause, the pain just came, relentlessly, from inside myself.

Pain. That's all it is. I can handle pain. I get migraines, and I have to deal with them. I have a bad knee, and I have to deal with it. My fractured tailbone still hurts, and I have to deal with it. So why is it so hard for me to deal with this pain?

Depression is like a vampire. I can see myself that night, lying in bed while the monster drained the life out of me.

No more. I have a stake in one hand and a sledgehammer in the other. If my depression wants me, it can try and take me, but I won't go without a fight.

I know that part of my improvement is from the Prozac, and part is from the love and support of my friends. But part of it is rediscovering the strength of my will.

I've got this.

Treading water.

I hate what I've become.

I'm back on Prozac because honestly, I don't want to live anymore. The endless cycle continues; my highs are awesome, but my lows seem to be getting lower and lasting longer. I cry all the time. I'm stressed, anxious, worried about everything. My stomach hurts all the time. I have nightmares almost every night. I don't enjoy...anything. I don't even listen to music anymore. My self-esteem is nonexistent. I feel totally and completely alone, even though I'm not. I want to talk about it, but to what end? It doesn't make me feel any better. I want someone to help me, but...how? There's nothing that will help. I don't even know how to exist anymore. Pretending I'm okay makes me feel more alone, but being honest about how I feel makes me feel like a burden. I'm starting to go numb. I feel like my inner self is curled up in a corner with her head down and her hands over her ears and all the negativity inside me is just a dull, muffled roar.

Tomorrow is the start of National Novel Writing Month. I'm hoping I won't have time to feel anything.

In Loving Memory

In the days leading up to PAX when I was starting to fret about shit like how I'd get back to the airport, DP was the one who kept saying "Just get here. Everything will work out." It was awesome to get to put a real person to my drunk-text buddy and the guy who (didn't remember that he) popped my WP Halo cherry. He's a really awesome guy to be around and I'd even go to Florida to chill with him.

That's what I wrote in my PAX Peeps Recap after my trip to Seattle in September of '10.

Chris Brown, aka D34THP1MP72 or just DP, was a staple of my gaming group, The WorkPLace. He was loud, crude, trash-talking, lightning-quick with a hilarious insult or comeback. He was also kind, supportive, and genuine. He was a blast to game with and always the first to assure me that it didn't matter how bad I was, we were playing to have fun, and have fun we did. He was a good friend who got me through some of my toughest times, either just by being there for me or in his own style of "Shut up, you're being stupid, everything's gonna be okay." He was a man who loved his friends and wasn't afraid to say it.

I'm so glad I went to PAX last year. Glad I got the chance to track him down at the airport and lead him to the wine bar to wait for the rest of the limo crew. Glad I got to laze around his hotel room with him and Pat Friday morning and, from the patio, bust a couple getting busy in the pool (at ten AM, seriously guys?). Glad I got to stand around outside the Taphouse with him Saturday night, entirely shitfaced, smoking and bullshitting with our friends. Glad that Sunday night he said that he hadn't been down to the Pike Street Market, so a handful of us went for a walk, clear out till we could see the sound. Glad I got a few minutes alone with him on the patio, smoking and talking about what an amazing weekend it had been and how much it meant to both of us to get to spend it with our friends.

I can't believe he's gone. I miss his voice, his sense of humor, his bitching and swearing. I miss him saying "No" for no reason, or strolling into a random thread and posting "I'm gonna have to lock this." I miss being on XBOX Live and getting invites from him for games that he knew damn well I didn't have. I miss my friend.

RIP Christoper Wayne Brown 5/23/72-10/14/11. Spartans never die, they just go MIA.

I know I'm not easy but I thought I was worth it.

I'm difficult.

I hate hearing about your exes in any context.

I'l get upset if you mention that you find another girl - ANY other girl - attractive.

I need frequent reassurance.

It doesn't take much to hurt my feelings.

I get insanely jealous and possessive.

I require a lot of time and attention.


I don't like that these things are who I am. But they are. And loving me means loving those things too.

I never liked math anyhow.

I'm not getting on the scale anymore.

I used to weigh myself every single day - well, every day that I worked - and that stupid number had the power to make or break my day.

I haven't run in about three weeks, first because I didn't have time in the days leading up to my trip, then because I was gone, and now because I've been sick since I came home. I miss it, though, and I'm hoping to get started again next week. And I'm going to restart the 100 Pushups Challenge - and stick with it - as well as the 150 Dips. And I'd like to find time to do Pilates again, maybe once or twice a week.

And I want to start eating more fruits and veggies, because they make me feel good. And the more good stuff I have in my tummy, the less room I'll have for chips and fries and bacon cheeseburgers and pepperoni pizza and chicken nuggets. But I'll still eat those things too, because I like them.

I know that doing these things will affect that number on the scale. But that's not why I want to do them. Nor is it about how my body looks or what size clothes I wear - another arbitrary and useless number! I'll be doing it for the way it makes me feel. Doing it so I become capable of things I'm not capable of right now. So I feel good and well and fit and healthy.

But I'm not a slave to numbers anymore.