Easter's coming up

Anybody bugged by Easter? Passover? And I'm talking suicidally like Christmas sometimes is. Yes? No?

I'm not. Except that next week (April 1 to 8) we (choir) have lots of gigs for Holy Week. Ha! The church gang sure as hell doesn't like you calling them "gigs", but they are, lol. Especially our head honcho (parish priest) who gives the impression that the only way to god is through making yourself (and everyone around you if you're the head priest) miserable. But he's From Away. He's a South American Catholic where they have different views from us folks (Christian or not) here in Ottawa. Us Ottawans have different views from the folks who grew up [got programmed] in China, in Japan, in South Africa, in Israel, in Arabi al Saudi, in Alberta (cowboys), in Ireland (Christians but divided into further subgroups), Hawaii, New Zealand Aboriginals, Western Canada Aboriginals, Eastern Canada Aboriginals, Italians [north/south/central], the French, the Russians (how big is Russia? How many Thought Groups live there?) . . . Get my drift?

I have something to run by you guys.

One of the chicas in the choir (alto, so on the far side of the group from me) had a brother who got written up by the cops as a suicide about a year and a half ago.  He was a druggie. His own guns were elsewhere and the gun that killed him was not his own. She's Catholic. If you're Catholic — so the story goes — and you kill yourself, you go directly to Hell, you do not pass GO. She is having such a bad time dealing with this that she's now a basket case. Her husband hasn't gotten laid for . . . Well. Let's not get too personal, okay?

How could I deal with this? Do I tell her that even though he killed himself and he's in Hell that life is marvy for her and her daughter and son and husband and other relatives? Do I support her in her belief that "others" killed him even though the cops don't agree with that?

See? What I'm trying to say here is that "religion" can fuck your head up so BAD that it can destroy you.

No matter who she goes to for comfort in the Catholic church, they will all tell her that her brother went to Hell for committing suicide and she will never see him again unless she goes to Hell too. How fucking stupid is that? If she goes to the cops, they'll tell her "yeah, he offed himself so like what's your problem? Lots of druggies do that." What can she do? Where can she go (in her mind) for comfort? Is it enough that every time I see her (practices and on Sundays) that I give her a pat on the arm or a hug to let her know that she's important to me?

See how you can really, really fuck up those who love you if you off yourself? You think it's all about you and wanting to get away from it all and you can't take it anymore and blabbedy bla . . . But what I learned from this woman is that it's damn near the meanest mother-fucking thing you can do to a relative or to somebody who loves you. OK. OK. To somebody who SAYS they love you. Give me a break! Lots of people love you. You can be the most twisted individual in the solar system but trust me, somebody is going to be fucked up if you off yourself.

Yeah. It's true. When you off yourself you go to a really nasty place. But that nasty place is the same place you just tried to get away from but magnified. I won't back down on that theory. But really, do you have to bring people who give a shit (whether you believe it or not) along with you? That's not the least bit fair. Not at all.

Still here

I took most of November off as it seemed like the best way to handle this year's battle. This left me 30 days behind in my work, though. I am almost caught up. Whew! And TG because I have some new clients. Things are looking good business-wise. Yay! Always nice when something gets better, huh?

My friend and I were talking last week over lunch about how people get to be famous and rich and successful, etc. It looks like it ISN'T luck, it's bloody hard work with only a dollop of so-called luck. For example, if you want to be a famous movie star, you can't get to be one by sitting at home watching movies on TV. You have to get out there. If you want to be in a specific up-coming movie, then you have to kinda be where you have the greatest opportunity of being noticed and subsequently hired. It's just like any job —  except there are usually a LOT more candidates scrambling for fewer positions. You decrease the odds substantially by working harder at it.

Life only sucks if you let it. (I will try to remind myself that I said this when October 2012 comes around. lol)

Wow! Where has the time gone?

Been ages since I checked in. Hope all y'all are still alive and breathing with the same intellectual capacity (non-damaged brain tissue) y'all had before I last signed in.

What about that dirty bugger of a ship captain who bailed instead of going down with the ship, eh? Where have our once-noble ethics disappeared to?

Two-and-a-half More Sleeps

The Solstice approaches.  This year it arrives December 22 at 12:30 AM.

What's the Solstice?  That's the day the Earth's angle tips into a better (day length-wise) view of the Sun from our north-of-the-Equator section of the planet and the days begin to get longer.  Australians, South Africans, and most South Americans are heading into their summer.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Equator.  The ancients have known about this since Pussy was a . . . well, I guess a sabre-tooth (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saber-toothed_cat):  Stonehenge, the Maya calendar, the Valley of the Kings . . .

It's not so much the Earth tips, it's already at an angle (relative to the Sun). What happens results from the Earth's being off-kilter as it goes around the Sun — spin a toy top and you'll see what I mean if you picture the toy top spinning but leaning over to the right a bit.  (For the technical among you, it tilts 23°26´.)  It goes around the Sun counterclockwise, by the way.  You'll see that as it goes around your pretend Sun, it will show its butt side when it passes around the right, then its non-butt side as it goes around the left. At its positions above or below the Sun, it will be exposed almost equally butt and non-butt. I can't find any public domain pix so you'll have to check this link out yourself:  http://library.thinkquest.org/29033/begin/earthsunmoon.htm

The Winter Solstice is The Seasonally Depresseds' favourite day of the year.  It's when the pressure starts to abate.  The Summer Solstice (June 21 or 22) is when the days begin to shorten.

The January Blahs Folks
I'm aware that certain people find January/February extremely bad.  It's something I haven't done any research on because it appears not to have anything to do with actual day-length but with the total length of the Too Damn Cold To Plant Anything Yet So I'm Stuck Eating Fucking Pickles And Jerky season.  Yes?  If any of you have difficulties during this time, please feel free to comment.  Teach us!

Sang up a Lung on Saturday
Our choir had two Christmas carol gigs to do.  The afternoon one was at a seniors' residence and the other was at a church in the evening.  Great exercise for several body parts.  Luciano Pavarotti called himself an athlete.  During an interview he shared that his testicles jumped into his body when he hit the high notes.  My husband at the time could sing and I asked him: "Hey.  Is this bullshit?  Or for real."

G says: "Let me check.  Doh re mi fah sol la ti dooooooooooh.  Yes.  It's true.  Cool.  That's cool!"  And off he went hitting the high notes for the rest of the week.  I'm sure he demonstrated to his girlfriend, but I never got to see if it really was true or not.  Took his word for it.  If any of my readers are so inclined, check it out and let us know, okay?

Christina

G' morning

Yawn, stretch.  I slept almost straight through last night for the first time in ages.  Feels good.  It was a beautiful sunny day yesterday and I ran a couple of errands first thing.  I'm also waking up around 6:30 again and actually getting out of bed to start the day.  (Last 14 days or so of The Bad Time, try as I might, I could NOT get myself out of bed at 6:00 anymore to turn on my light.)  My energy has returned.  Yay!

Now I gotta get crackin'.  Have work to do.  TONS of it!

Christina

Koff, hack, snerf!

I'm feeling much better but still have symptoms of my cold or flu or whatever it is/was.  I've been treating myself as though I love me by making myself rest under blankets while sipping herbal teas laced with lemon.  I am fluffing my own pillows — no choice, I'm the only one who lives here except for Kitty.  I do this in the manner of Kahlil Gibran who wrote "do everything as though it were for your beloved".  What a Life's concept that is!

There's an old story about a man who went to Lourdes hoping to be cured of his affliction. What his affliction was I don't remember, nor does it matter.  Concept, right?  While he was in the crowd praying his heart out that he would receive a miracle —  which, truth be told, didn't look too promising right then — he happened to notice a young boy who had a far worse condition than the man had.  He was touched.  He reached his thoughts out to the Being he was praying to and asked:  "Please.  Never mind me.  Heal this boy.  He needs it much more than I do."  No rolling thunder or flashing lights or orchestras playing in the background, nor any Voice from Heaven but the man was cured instantly.

Why?

Love without any motivation but itself — and I mean Love with the capital letter, not the oh-I-just-love-chocolate kind of love, nor even the love one feels for one's spouse or sig-other (that's chemical) — is the most powerful tool we human beings possess and the most difficult to pull off.

Christina

The Power of the Mind

Back when I was working my ass off as a paid employee meeting extreme deadlines, some of us would work 12/7 until the jobs were out the door.  This was private industry, not government, so the deadlines had to be met.  Mostly because the jobs were government jobs.  Ottawa is a government town.  If the Nation's Capital were moved to . . . say, Vancouver, Ottawa would have nothing but a few archeologists wandering through empty buildings to cricket serenades.  I suppose that's what kept me going, knowing that I was . . . What?  That important?  Whatever my motivation, it enabled me to continue without cessation until I'd fulfilled my responsibilities.  And talk about a serotonin boost with all that stress and activity and coffee and excitement!  Will we or won't we?

Within a day or so after a bout of this over-activity (essentially, at government year-end budget time), I would be half-dead with some waiting-in-the-wings cold or flu.  This is where I'm at today.  I have a bitchin' cold.  I've even had to stuff my nostrils with tissues so I don't drip all over what I'm trying to do. Example:  pulling down my undies to use the toilet (frequently, because I'm maxing on fluids) while trying not to snot on Kitty who always follows me in there.  He likes to be close.

Why does this happen?  The mind keeps the body working so well when we need it, that we don't come down with these pesky viruses until we tell it "Okay.  Done."

It was a hard go again this year but I made it.  Not that I've ever done it so can merely imagine what it would be like, but I feel like I've just run a marathon.  And won.  I am picturing those amazing Olympic marathon runners break through the tape at the end of their run and then collapse into the arms of handlers and doctors.

This too shall pass.

December 1!

Made it!

Nothing seems any different really but I didn't wake up feeling guilty about nothing this morning.  Major plus, that. Yay!

I have a ton of stuff to do today so can't write long.  Have to go downtown (buses REALLY suck this time of year as everybody is Christmas shopping) so want to get it over with.  They have this special deal for Ottawa buses. Seniors get to ride free on Wednesdays and on Monday and Friday afternoons.  Picture this at front of bus while driver pulls away then slams on the brakes, then pulls away again: two sets of strollers and three walkers and you're trying to squish through this ALSO jammed-full bus of regulars to grab an upright pole rather than swing on a strap near the front like a monkey all without falling against some pervert who probably, full of hope, rides the buses. ha

Later.

Christina

3 Days to Go!

Here I am having [so far so good] made it through another Bad Time.  But one always must maintain vigilance during these days.

If you recall, I was feeling really good there for a while. But I got a little cocky.  Since last week, the days have been their usual-November overcast, but because I was feeling so well, I did some this-n-that away from the influence of my precious light.  I guess you could say about me: "She's okay unless she goes off her light." ha ha  Went through some guilt-tripping shit yesterday.  Had attended a local fundraiser dinner and dance on Saturday night with A Special Friend as escort so was on a relative high until I opened an email on Sunday morning that got me all Guilt-Ridden.  Kaboom!  Back into the depths we go.

I belong to several organizations and associations.  For one of these, our group used to hold seasonal parties at a member's home way out in the boonies where "nobody can hear you scream" if you get my drift.  We are always recruiting members, we have an e-mag that goes out to members only, but a newsletter that goes out on a public mailing list. The member is a wonderful, loving, accepting, therefore somewhat naive person who, at first, saw no harm in publicly advertising where she lives.

I jumped in with: "You really want to tell every potential cyberspacer that you have expensive shit in your house and you live alone way out there?"

She responded with: "Oh.  Heh.  Right."

Thanks to the generous offer of a member, last year we changed venues to a city location to make the party more accessible (in case of Canadian weather on the party day) and were particularly careful not to publicly advertise where this member's apartment building (party room) was, and therefore, where she lives.  We provided her email address for folks to RSVP and (once vetted) to acquire directions to this new hostess's building.  The email I opened yesterday morning was to announce that this year, directions to the party were going to be sent out to everyone on the mailing list to encourage All And Sundry to show up.  Umm.  Tap, tap on shoulder.  "Guys?  More than the members will get this, eh?"

"Oh," responded one person.  "Yeah.  Heh.  Right."

"Well, it's too late now!" responded the person who sends these things out who happens to be a really good friend of mine.  Not angrily as it might appear, but with total shock that she might have inadvertently sentenced some sweet, elderly woman to horrors beyond imagination just by following what seems on the face of it to be an extremely logical and innocent suggestion by the original no-one-can-hear-you-scream hostess.

So here I am, racked with guilt about making my friend feel guilty about sending out this message to the public.

So why am I so paranoid?  I'm not paranoid.  It's called hypervigilance and it's a symptom of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).  I was stalked by an abusive ex-boyfriend (whose brother-in-law had a shed-full of big whonking guns  (AK-47s?) one of which my ex-boyfriend pointed at me and pulled the trigger to 'splain what would happen to me if I ever opened my mouth about what I had just accidentally seen.  That was in Another Life.  See my previous comments about depressives and Risk Taking . . .  If you haven't guessed yet, that's my biggee:  risk taking.  I should be dead.  I really should be dead.  The guy was also a druggie.  He's not the only scary person I've been involved with.  He was the only terrorist, though.  (And before you RCMP guys who might be reading this get all excited, this was many, many years ago and you guys already know everything about him.)

It's plain old common sense, too.  They teach this stuff to diplomats and high-ranking officials to avoid their getting . . . like . . . assassinated?  Their kids kidnapped?  You know, the kind of drama that only happens in the movies?  Never in real life.  And it doesn't happen in real life because they are VIGILANT about not have set routines, giving out personal information like where you can be found if any flipping sociopath wants to take a few minutes out of his day to track you down and have some his-kind-of-fun with your dead body.  Or just steal all your stuff.

Following my stalking episode (one-and-a-half years of it), I learned a lot more when I had to get a certain Security Clearance for where I worked.  So high that some dude from the RCMP came to give us A Little Talk.  He said "You must give out NO information whatsoever.  What they do is get a tidbit of information from him, a little from her, a little from you.  One of his buddies will get a snippet from him, and him, and her.  Then they have a meeting, compare all these seemingly small, insignificant bits of information, and they'll have the whole picture."

"Oh.  Heh.  Right."


Thanks for listening.  I feel better.

Still here

I'm back home from another dog-sitting gig.  Got home earlier than expected so BONUS.

Feeling good.  Am usually fighting good this time of year, but am feeling good instead.  This is wonderful.  Can't believe it, actually.  Must be because of all the sunny, warm days we had in November this year in this area that The Bad Time lifted early.  I don't care WHY, I'm just happy THAT.  Still not letting my guard down, though -- have 11 days to go until December 1. And especially not turning off my light! And I still have the stupids but am not as "depressed" about that as usual. ha ha  (Hey, look!  I made a funny.)

It helps with the dog-sitting because I know how important I am to them.  The dogs, I mean.  Dogs always like you no matter what so they're easy to be around for us depressives.

This dog-sitting gig was for a different client.  These are not that huge pack of little happy tail-waggers, these are five large hunting-type dogs (not hounds) with practically unexpendable energy: go go go go go.  Two of them just turned 13 and for large breeds, this is equivalent to about 110 in human years.

Seems my vacation is over now and it will be back to work tomorrow.  And I have shit-loads to do.  That could be depressing but I'm forcing myself to look at it as being needed.

Hang in there.

Christina

Some good ideas ...

... on handling stress (a.k.a. feeling crappy about life):
http://www.realage.com/health-tips/3-steps-to-coping-with-stress?eid=1010648469&memberid=50181327

I'm okay.

Wow. That sucked!

I fought it off and was okay by the next morning.

I used to have that feeling 24/7 so getting it once in a while is great. HOWEVER, it's like when you're not used to something -- let's say running 20 kms? -- and then it happens, it wipes you right out. Scared hell outta me, anyway, with its power.

There's good news though.  That bad night (Monday), because I'd been having such trouble sleeping in my own bed, I switched to the couch, just for the night. Tossed and turned (but hey, what was different about that, eh?), however, when I woke up, I felt rested. And that horrible urge was gone. Still felt like crap, though. Stiff and sore and tired. Unbelievably TIRED.

Then on Tuesday night, when I lay down, it felt like my lungs were full of fluid. I couldn't breathe. Thought I was going to die. Wondered how I could talk on 911 if I happened to begin suffocating totally. Now what the hell was happening to me? I got up and used my puffer. It seemed to help but when I lay flat again, I still couldn't breathe. I was very tired (like I said) and was practically falling asleep, needed the sleep. I grabbed a bunch of sofa cushions and propped myself up to sleep that way. Gradually throughout the night I removed cushion after cushion until I was down to two levels by the morning.

The crazy thing is, that when I woke up the next morning (Wednesday), I was in such a good mood. It seemed like The Bad Time was gone. Today -- this will sound really, really asinine -- I can feel it in my eyebrows. Yes, my eyebrows. They are relaxed today. Last night (or was it the night before?) I thought I felt that "lifting" in my head but couldn't believe it could be happening so soon. Usually it's not until December 1. But we've had such a beautiful November. Sunny, warm, etc. Maybe it took The Bad Time away? I'm not letting down my guard though. Not yet. Even though it goes away December 1, I'm only talking about the really BAD stuff that's hard to control (like wanting to jump). It stays there until the days start to get longer around December 21 and improves gradually until the sun shines brightly early and into the evenings.

btw, when I wanted to jump, it wasn't to die -- not at all -- it was to feel the splat. Like I wanted to "hit" myself really hard, make it hurt. I'll think on this and letchaz know.

ohhhh shit

Right now what I'm wanting to do is go to the building beside mine. It has 18 floors. And jump off the roof. And I can get there easily. Really easily and that scares the shit out of me because I don't really want to do it but there's something else inside me that is making me want to do it REALLY BADLY.

Gawd I hate this time of year!

Space bends?

We all thought that Space was a vacuum, didn't we?  Turns out it ain't.  I've been watching programs lately which discuss Physics -- particularly Quantum Mechanics.  (Don't tell anybody, but I love this shit.)  Because I'm a writer, my right brain (concept side) gets a regular daily workout, so I can actually follow this stuff even though it's a total mind-fuck.

In school, I had a problem with Arithmetic from the get-go because I moved mid-first-year into a district where they were already adding and subtracting numbers, so I was lost.  Plus, unfortunately, the way my mind worked was that I could quickly glance at a problem (1 + 3, for example) and come up with the Close-Enough-For-Me Answer partly because Mrs. Teacher had put that same particular problem on the board just a couple of days ago.  I had always relied on memory and concept, but Arithmetic required left-brain work.  My subconscious told me not to get involved with all those schtewpud time-wasting numbers when a guess was close enough.

As it turned out, the stress of failing at something did a real number on my Arithmetic self-esteem so anything Math-ish, I ran from, screaming.  Later on in life, when I became aware of Quantum Mechanics a.k.a. Quantum Physics, I kicked my arse HARD for eschewing Arithmetic when I had my chance to embrace it.  Life is all about choices, isn't it?

Why am I talking about Quantum Mechanics?  Because everything affects everything else.  All that empty Space out there isn't empty after all but full of things that bounce around and appear and disappear and annihilate each other constantly.  It's what they call Dark Energy/Dark Matter and they haven't a clue what it is.  How fascinating is that?  Stuff appears out of nowhere!  Seventy percent of our Universe is made of this non-stuff!  They know it exists because it affects things they CAN see and measure, but they can't PROVE it's actually there.  For some reason, this makes my soul giggle.

What I'm wanting to say in this post is that WE affect everything around us, too.  WE are 70% Dark Matter.  On the program "How Long Is a Piece of String?" one of the physicists stated that if you took all the Space out of all the molecules of every human on earth, what's left would be the size of a sugar cube.  That's a lot of nothing that was walking around, eating, singing, loving. Being.

Lately, things have been screwing up.  One of my computer's programs ceased working properly; then another one;  when I did the laundry last week, one load ended up a sopping mess because the spin cycle hadn't worked; one of my not-for-profit clients has had a financial downturn so won't be using my services for a while; a little thing here, a little thing there . . .

So what I got to thinking was that the Fates were beating up on me.  Woe is me.  As if I don't have enough problems at this time of year.  Boo hoo.  Like the weak one in the pack, the others are going to kill me and toss my body to the scavengers.

But then I remembered how lucky I am usually.  How things always seem to go my way if I just "ask".  I'm not talking about official, religious praying here, or making wishes, I'm talking about needing something and sending out the vibe that I'm going to get it.  The converse is also true:  If I expect the worst to happen, it will.  We affect everything around us whether we are aware of it or not.  So here's another thing we must try to do during The Bad Time.  Think positive.  Expect the best.  Maybe "the best" won't happen, but this attitude will help keep the negative things at bay until we're feeling better and attracting the positive things once again.

Jeepers

Everything, just everything, is so damned difficult.  Standing up hurts.  Even picking up the TV remote is exhausting, mostly because I have trouble deciding what I want to switch to once I do, nothing interests me.  Breathing is work.  I am forced to use my puffer which I never use.  I get them, then have to throw them out unused because they're past the best-by date.  I smoked for years, you see.  Did in my lungs (emphysema and asthma).  (Substance abuse.)  Hung with heavy smokers/boozers.  (Risk taking.)

I'm happy to see TV commercials these days which describe the symptoms of depression.  This means depression is coming out of its black hole.

No closet this!  Closets have doors.  Even in horror movies, closets have doors -- although, for some reason, they often get locked but only when somebody's in one.  As an aside, tell me, please.  What house have you ever been in with locks on any door but the bathroom and maybe Mommy and Daddy's room?  Ditto for those movie-set closet doors with the slats in them for children to watch brutal murders through.  Oops.  Have I ruined every horror movie you ever saw?  My apologies, but because I write in this genre, I am extra diligent in watching for glitches.  In horror stories, and especially in sci-fi, the Suspension of Disbelief is paramount.

But back to the commercials.  During my Normal Time while watching these commercials and hearing that "depression hurts", I always said to myself: "Not me.  It doesn't do anything physical to me.  How lucky I am."  But now that I have that annoying Guilt Thing under a smidgen of control, I am better able to see what else goes on with my body, and I am very, very surprised to learn that depression DOES affect one's entire system.  Good to know.  Nothing all that serious then, right?  All in our heads?  It's as serious as a guillotine.

Some scientific group or other did a study on the brains of people who were both depressive and suicidal.  (Apparently one can be severely depressed but non-suicidal.  That would not be me.  I am suicidal.  And, uh, this testing is done in laboratories, eh?  Not on living subjects?)  In the brains of those with both symptoms they found extra receptors.  From what I understand, extra receptors means an extra need for serotonin and those other feel-good chemicals.  Our bodies produce these normally.  For us depressive-suicidal types, the normal amount is not enough because our brains want more.  So we seek serotonin boosts:  substance abuse, promiscuity, and risk taking.  Not one of these is a good idea if you look closely at what can happen if Something Goes Wrong.  Having an inkling of why we might do these things will make us feel less guilty about having done them, though.  Hooray, hooray, it's not my fault.  Hooray, hooray.  Now what we need do is concentrate on finding substitutes for these possibly dangerous activities -- substitutes which are just as much fun.  Not an easy task.  And it's entirely individual.  Me?  I write.  Some people sing.  Some dance.  Some exercise.  Some bird-watch.  Do your own thing.  Only you know what will work for you.