State of The Dissy

I’m finding it difficult to share these days. I seem to have fallen back into the headspace of, “no one gives a shit.” It’s not really in a “bad” way, though. It’s more like something I can’t quite describe.

I’m down to 1 twenty-five mg tablet of Effexor per day. I quit taking the Clonidine with it, as it was making me tired.

All in all, I’m feeling like a reasonably competent human being. Every day isn’t perfect, but I feel like I can successfully navigate through what comes my way.

At first, I thought I may want to stop drinking during my weaning off period. I felt, a couple weeks ago, like I was getting a little irrationally angry, but I’m thinking that may have been more PMS related than anything else. I had my once-a-week vodka drink last night, and I was just fine.

Without the Clonidine, the feelings of vertigo are a little more frequent, but they’re nothing that isn’t manageable.

I’m still seeing the shrink. I’m trying to decide if she feels too basic for me or if I’m just looking for an excuse to not engage. I’ve been known to do that from time to time (meaning, every other damn time I’ve spent any time with a mental health professional).

She is heavily encouraging me to look for a new job. The one I currently have is not contributing anything meaningful to my life, and, in fact, it makes me pretty irritated every time I’m here. It’s also made worse by the fact that I can’t exactly cover my bills and enjoy my life on my current salary. I guess we will see what we will see. She seems to have a lot of faith in my intelligence and my ability to do better for myself. Me? I’m fraught with impostor syndrome.

My sista and I have been hitting up a yoga class twice per week. We’ve been doing a yin yoga class and a vinyasa flow class. I’ve done yin before, and I suppose this class is ok. Personally, I think, in order to get the desired result, longer than an hour is needed. But, it’s something fun to do with Barb. Maybe, one day, we can do some work with the dvds I have. You know, after I have space in my house.

So, that’s about all that’s new in my world.

At Least the Stormtroopers Aren’t Coming to Get Me… yet.

Once, a long time ago, I told one of my “doctors” that Prozac was not helping me. For some reason, he decided to try me on some hard core crap. I can’t even remember the name of it, but that medication taught me all about side-effects. I guess some folks out there may have found them amusing. Me? not so much.

One evening, probably about 30 minutes after taking my medication, I left work. After stopping at the local shopping center (shit, are they even called that anymore?), I went about my drive home. I drove under a bridge and came to a stop at a traffic light. As I waited to turn left onto the expressway, I looked into my rear-view mirror.

I shit you not…

I saw a fucking Stormtrooper walking toward me, all business-like with his gun drawn. I mean, not that he’d have hit me or anything… But still… fuh-reeeeeeaky.

This is not The Dissy you are looking for.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shook my head, and looked again. As luck would have it, it was just a dude on a white crotch-rocket wearing a white jacket and a white helmet.

Fast forward to current times and current events…

When I advised my doctor (different from the doctor mentioned above) that I wanted to discontinue the Effexor, she told me she was going to prescribe something called Clonidine to help with side-effects.

Now, when I am prescribed a medication I’ve never heard of before, I go out of my way to dig up ALL the information I can find about it. You know… because I want to know if my arm hair is going to fall out, or if I’m going to grow some testicles from my belly button.

Luckily, the information only said they may cause some hallucinations.

I kind of thought that was bullshit until the other night.

I keep seeing movement around me. Shadowy figures and images. Usually, it’s just the screen door blowing in the breeze or the clock changing time, but for that minute, there is something in the room with me.

That aside, my mood has been excellent. I’m not going to lie and say I’ve been joyous one hundred percent of the time, but I’ve been able to cope successfully with things like anger, loneliness, sadness, and happiness.

I am, once again, experiencing pure, genuine laughter, and, thanks to a bit of flirtation, I am starting to notice other feelings returning. (“hello, lady parts, how you doin’?)

Everybody Loves Joey.

But… that’s where I am right now. Jumping at shadows and gladly interacting with myself again.

On a Partly Sunny Day

“I’ve always known that the mirror never lies…”

I haven’t checked in for a few days. Part of me feels like I really haven’t had anything new to add. Part of me feels like I’ve dropped the ball.

I had my third visit with the new therapist. I’m sort of feeling like she is throwing basic shit at me. Shit that may not occur to someone who hasn’t made it a life’s pursuit of understanding what’s going on in his or her noggin.

But, we will play the game her way for now.

This week, I’m supposed to observe my inner dialogue and see what kind of themes I come up with. Ummm… derr…

I’m very judgy about some things, mostly toward myself.
I’m surprisingly non-judgy about some things most people judge harshly.
A lot of time I’m singing to myself, mostly songs I made up for my dog.
And I’m not the most forgiving person anyone will ever meet. Particularly toward myself.

Weaning off the Effexor is still going okay. Nothing horrible has happened. I haven’t shanked anyone. I still feel mostly tired. I’ve had challenges to my decision. Things have come up that may push me back into a funk or make me unreasonably angry. I feel like I responded at an appropriate level, and the most fun thing happened.

I realized I didn’t even really give a whole lot of fucks about it.

I’m thinking a lot of good will come of this.

I went to dinner with Tama and Mary last night. They took me out for my birthday. I really miss seeing them both regularly and spending regular time with them. I need to figure out how to correct that.

I have a lot of ideas and plans brewing, and I’m feeling very optimistic about the ways life is shaping up.

Today

Every night, before I go to bed, I do a guided meditation with Kim Eng. I have a series on Audibles called “Meditations for a New Earth.” I really enjoy all of the meditations, and I absolutely love her soothing voice. I love that they aren’t super-complicated meditations that ask you to visualize some complex journey/time/place/entities. It’s all very straight-forward. So allow me to recommend this to you. She does also have Yin Yoga and Chi Flow Yoga dvds. Those can be gotten through eckharttolle.com, though, I did find mine on Amazon for slightly less.

As this weaning off of Effexor project progresses, I’m finding a lot of differences in myself that are hard to put into words. Today, the worst thing is that I feel tired. I think it’s an effect from the Clonidine. As for my moods… they’ve been fairly stable. There’s a small part of me that is worried this won’t last, but I am able to successfully not allow that nagging little anxiety take control and ruin my day.

I keep trying to make it to a yoga class, but I haven’t yet. I’ve been putting in some overtime at work, and I also took Daisy-Lou toy shopping this morning before I came to work. She needs a new supply every couple of weeks or so. She flat-out destroys her toys. One day, I’m just going to shut up and get her a Bark Box subscription.

The bouts of mild vertigo haven’t happened today, which is a good thing. Not that they were so troublesome.

That’s really about it for now.

I’ll check in tomorrow when I’m more alert and awake. haha. Hallelujah… it’s almost time to go home and sleep.

Wait What??

Right now, I just really wish I had some chocolate pudding. Jello brand, sugar free, and with the layer of vanilla in the middle.

The other day, I saw an offer someone was extending. For a nominal fee, the person in question will re-blog your blog. What the actual FUCK? I am not down with this in any way, shape, or form. I think it’s one of the purest forms of bullshit I have ever heard of.

“here’s my money, now re-blog my bullshit writing and ideas…”
OR
“I don’t have any money, so please skip over my well-written, thought-provoking blogs.”

Is this the state of blogging these days? The very thought kind of makes me want to barf.

Actually, it really makes me miss MySpace. I had a wonderful blog there. I had a huge following, and when I was shared, it was because people liked, admired, or respected what I had to say or because I had amused them, and the same applied when I shared someone else’s material.

Enough of that…

Day three of weaning off Effexor:

I feel like I’m sleeping a little better, and, emotionally, I feel pretty steady. I’d say “good,” but I feel a little flat. I’m still not falling into any pockets of despair, and I can bring myself “up,” but I sort of feel kind of dull. Maybe it’s because I had to be to work at 10 for a few hours of overtime.

Physically, I feel okay. I do get a dizzy spell here and there, and I get the brain jolts on occasion. I thought the vertigo was going to be more of a factor, as I got a pretty good case of that yesterday. It’s very mild today.

The nurse practitioner I was seeing (who initially prescribed the Effexor) said I was having a hard time sleeping because Effexor is partially a norepinephrine re-uptake inhibitor, which means it will increase adrenaline in your system. It’s a sizeable difference I’m feeling with cutting the dose by so much. I’m sure it’ll continue to improve. I think that’s why I’m sleeping better, and I think it’s decreasing my anxiety.

I need to focus on finding natural ways to increase my energy. I need to get back into an exercise routine, and I need to make sure to eat well. Hopefully, the therapist and I can work out why I seem so neglectful of myself.

Today, I would continue to call this experience good. The telling times will be in about 5-10 days when PMS kicks in. muaaaahahahahahahaaaaa…

Boom Boom Boom

She said she thinks I’m a firecracker. If she only knew. I’m talking about my shrink, of course.

This was after she asked me what I wanted to do with my life and I communicated it quite clearly. Sure, lady, I have an idea and zero clues how to make it happen.

This clinic works on a 45 minute hour, and I suppose it would feel more helpful if I went more than once every two weeks. I do really like her, though.

This time, I was a little more down than I was last time. I guess I’m trying to decide if I’m doing that thing I always do… Usually, I act like I’m in better shape than I actually am so the therapist ends up wondering why I’m even there. It was my brilliant idea to go there, so why would I want to talk myself out of needing help?

I feel like this is going to be a slow process for a while. That’s okay, I suppose. I have time.

Later in the evening, I went to dinner with a friend. It’s amazing I even made it out of the house. This was supposed to happen last week, but my dog was sick, so I wanted to keep close to her in case I needed to take her to the emergency vet. I feel like I might have found another excuse to reschedule just because I’m so out of the loop and out of practice with the whole “going out” process that the thought of socializing gives me anxiety. Add to the mix that this isn’t a friend I see very often, and it’s the first time we’ve hung out without the rest of our mutual friends being there, and there’s a recipe for me to sit there looking like a deer in headlights.

Let’s just say I’m a teensy bit of an awkward person. Well… I guess that’s what pina coladas are for. It does make one wonder, though, when and why this shit started happening. I’ve never been a particularly awkward person before. I’m not the best with small talk, but, hey, I probably wouldn’t be hanging out with this friend if I felt like that was an expectation.

“Let’s talk about the weather.”
“Let me choke you with this bowl of tortilla chips.”

I have a few friends coming over on Tuesday for my birthday. That felt like the right thing to do. I think I might make a cake, too. I want a damn cake, and I don’t want anyone to go buy me one because, unless it’s NY style cheesecake from Giant Eagle, it will be wrong, and I rang in my birthday last year with cheesecake, and, while it was wonderful, I really just want some regular, normal cake.

So, I’m basically just rambling on now trying to take up time at work. It’s slow here. I’d better stop rambling, though. Along with small talk, that’s another thing I’m not especially fond of.

Til we meet again.

The Golden Age of Disstina

Almost two weeks ago, I made the stunning realization that I now have more years behind me than I have ahead of me. You know, unless I actually meet my goal of living to be 134. Don’t ask where I came up with that random number. I kind of just pulled it out of my ass one day and ran with it.

That statement, though, should clue you in to the fact that I have no clue how goals are supposed to work. Shouldn’t they be attainable? Is 134 attainable? Maybe I should get more seriously back into yoga. I’m sure that’s the one thing that has the best potential of getting me there. Maybe I’ll lay off the caffeine, too. Eventually. One day. Maybe.

The looming Five-Oh has prompted me to think about some other goals that are, quite possibly, attainable or, maybe they’re as ludicrous as expecting to live to 134.

  1. Maintain my current level of sanity and/or attain a higher level of sanity. Bottom line: don’t get any worse, Dissy, mmmmkay?
  2. Continue making my house my home.
  3. Get rid of my remaining fucks. I want to be one of those “no fucks to give” people. Not in an obnoxious asshole way, but in a way that has me going out and tasting ALL that life has to offer. Unless it’s ebola. I’d rather not experience that.
  4. Get back into a regular exercise routine. I have no words for how much I miss working out and feeling strong.
  5. I want to learn how to cook one awesome dish (above and beyond all the other awesome shit I make).
  6. I want to tell one person who dearly deserves it to fuck right off. (I don’t know who that is yet, so I didn’t say that with anyone in particular in mind).
  7. Get back into a regular spiritual practice.

I think that about covers it for now. I don’t want to overwhelm myself with too much. After all, I’m almost a senior citizen.

The Mess That Never Ends

So, back when I saw them dominating my newsfeed, I bought one of those chair cushions that looks like, for lack of a better description, a figure 8. One butt cheek goes into each “hole,” and this is supposed to help with posture and sciatic pain.

I should sue. I never got a rounder butt from this item.

While it didn’t help with the aches and pains I’m having, I did really like the cushion. It was suprisingly comfortable, and it helped me avoid having a sweaty ass from sitting in my vinyl office chair.

Fast forward to January 23, 2020. I came home, and a certain puppy dog had absolutely destroyed this chair cushion. And I don’t mean that she chewed it up and ripped the fabric. Nope. I mean she completely shredded it. It seriously looked like it snowed in my kitchen and dining room. No… not a simple snow. This was of blizzard proportions.

I swept up what was in the direct walking path last night. I had come home from work dog-ass tired (where the fuck did that expression come from? Why are dogs’ asses tired?), and I simply didn’t feel like dealing with the rest. I figured I’d get the vacuum cleaner after it in the morning.

So, this morning, I got out my handy-dandy Shark Rotator (best vacuum cleaner on the planet. they should pay me for advertisting them), and I sucked up the remainder of the mess.

Mine is better because it’s purple.

A couple things about this mess:
1. As I sucked the foamy bits up off the floor, more grew back in their place. It was like fucking Hydra. Cut one head off, and two grow back in its place. Except, in this case, it was 75 and not 2.
2. This foam was very static-y. As I buzzed along the floor with the vacuum, what didn’t go up the hose flew up into the air and stuck to EVERYTHING. The walls, the vacuum cleaner, the outside of the garbage can, me, the dog, my black appliances, and the neighbors’ houses. For added fun, any time I would empty the container on the vacuum, half of it would fly up out of the garbage bag and cling to my face, hair, clothes, and dignity.

Eventually, I found the magic amulet that stopped the regeneration, and I was able to get the bulk of it up. There are still bits and pieces of it here and there that mock me. “catch us if you can, bitch!” I seriously think this is going to be like glitter, herpes, or that visitor that never seems to want to go home.

I hope my little fart factory had fun making that mess. Momma has learned that no object is sacred when it comes to a doggie who has grown bored and has destroyed all the other toys she has. I can’t even be mad at her.

et tu, Daisy-Lou

I picture her having a joyous time creating her own private little snow globe, if only for a little while. I’d like to think she is happy that mommy got to enjoy it, too.

Junkie-isms

Have I ever mentioned that I’m an office supply junkie? I love going to the home office section at whichever store I’m in (even the stores you wouldn’t think would have these sections, (like larger gas stations) but they do) and checking out what they have.

I’m especially fond of notebooks, journals, and pens. I have enough of these items to equip a classroom for a semester. In fact, if I get any worse with this, I may find myself eligible for an episode of Hoarders.

The highlight of every year, for me, is buying a new planner for the next year. My friend, Melissa, was happy she had found a 5 year planner. I’m glad she’s excited about it, but I’m not sure I could do a 5 year planner. That would mean I’d miss out on my annual rituals. This year, I picked out an awesome one. It had a pocket for sticking papers in, and it had sufficient space for all my notes, and my dog promptly ate it.

Daisy-Lou

I was going to holler at her, but she looked so shameless sitting there smiling that beautiful pit-bull smile amongst the scraps of paper strewn about my kitchen floor that I just laughed. Then I lost my momentum. This was shockingly similar to my parenting style.

Turkey Lurkey and me circa 1991

I got a new planner today, and it’s almost as nice as the first one. Pickin’s are getting slim since we’re more than halfway through January. Really, the only thing missing is the pocket.

Another weird thing about it is that it starts in July 2019. What the shit is this all about? I am not a fan. I just noticed, too, that this one ends in June of 2020. Who the hell does planners this way???? I think I’m going to have to return this.

While I sit here stewing in my righteous indignation, I realize I had a planner like this before. It was from the college bookstore way back when I was in college. I suppose it was useful then, and I suppose primarily students may be buying planners from Walgreen’s, but damn.

Half the year is gone on this bad boy. You’d think it would have been discounted or even on clearance, but no. I think it’s safe to declare that I’ve been robbed!

I’ll probably end up hitting up Office Max for a new planner. I try to avoid them because Office Max, for me, is like the shoe store is for other women. Who knows what I will walk out of there with?

I guess we will have fun finding out. I hope I don’t forget any appointments or plans in the mean time. If I do, it’s totally on Walgreen’s.

Lemonade

At this point in my life, I think I just have to accept that I am an angry person currently. It’s doing no one any good for me to hide this from the world.

I try to stuff it all down because, really, what can I do about many of the things that are generating the anger? Nothing really. Some things I’m not able to do anything about, and I’m simply not willing to do anything about other things.

Because of that, I think, so then why is this feeling here? Hey, self, you need to put this away since you can’t/won’t do anything about it. It’s not going to process on its own, so what’s the point in letting it linger?

The thing is… Just when I convince myself that anger is okay and that it’s all part of the process, I catch wind of someone else’s misfortune. It’s always 100 times worse than my own, so I feel stupid for feeling the way I do. I feel like the snooty chick who is all salty because she broke a nail.

Truth is? I’m tired of this life I’m living. Not in an “I wanna die” kind of way, but in the way that means something huge needs to change inside of me. I don’t know exactly what needs to change just yet, but it’s there. It’s waiting.

I have to figure out what I need to do in order to reveal it. I’m so tired of looking within and coming up with a big, fat “I don’t know.”

A lot of things, I feel like they’re too late for me because of my age. I don’t feel like I’ll ever bond with anyone on any kind of level that I’d need to in order to find a fulfilling sex life. I’m nearly menopausal, so there are the hormone issues making that unlikely along with the emotional problems I am experiencing. I’ve never been that gal who fucks just for the sake of fucking. Ever. I tried to be her, and it didn’t work. End of story.

On and on the list can go. Too old, too tired, to much “I don’t give a shit anymore.”

But, hey, I do have the best dog in the world, so there’s that.

Look at me… making lemonade.