Did you really just say that?

I take the whole "til death parts us" part of the wedding vows pretty seriously. So much so that it was one of the few traditional parts of the wedding ceremony that Steve and I kept in our somewhat less than traditional wedding. So, it's quite a heartbreak when a marriage breaks up. And I know it happens, and in some cases it's probably for the best, but it's still sad.

Even more so when it turns into a screaming in the middle of the street, name calling fiasco IN FRONT OF THEIR TODDLER to such a horrible degree that I damned near called the police. On her. He was trying to stay civil, and keep the kids safe from any further trauma. She was calling, screaming, the most vial things at him. As it turns out, she's the one that had the affair.

This weekend, they've been moving out of the house, each with their own separate trucks and helpers. I'm amazed that there hasn't been another incident, but maybe it's because they're staying in the house as much as possible. The thing is, our other really helpful neighbors don't seem to be helping. I think everyone within a five block radius heard that fight and know that tensions are high. Best just to step away.

So, it's pretty obvious that my one thing today is my husband. There are times I'd like that whole "til death parts us" to find him buried in the backyard, and I'm pretty sure he's felt the same about me at times. But in the 7 years we've been together, we've never had what I would consider a fight. We've disagreed, sometimes quite strongly, but we've always found a way to compromise and/or find a middle ground. And we've been through some of the most stressful situations you can possibly face as a couple.

It's amazing to find someone who accepts me with all my crazy, and even love me not in spite of it, but because of it. It's great to be able to sit on a grass hill, cramping up from the uncomfortable position, stomachs beginning to churn from the rich meal we just ate, for the simple pleasure of watching a million bats come out from under a bridge at dusk. It's special to play together in the pool, splashing and dunking each other with complete trust that you're always perfectly safe.

But the best part? The absolute best part is when he says something completely private in a public place loud enough for the woman shopping next to us to hear and then he blushes while we both giggle. The best part is that despite the years, the pounds, and the fact that he has seen me at my absolute worst, he still finds me attractive. And vice versa.

Holiday rage

Nothing brings on pure, blinding, irrational rage and anti-social attitude quite as quickly or completely as holiday traffic. For anyone reading this outside the States, this Monday is Labor Day. In true American fashion, though, one day simply isn't enough to show our love of all things summer (I'll talk about that in another post), so we use the entire weekend for car sales, mattress sales, and booze sales. Seems less like a farewell to summer and more a reveling in consumerism.

I mistakenly thought that today, Friday, midday, would be safe to run some of the errands that I needed to get done. Stores will be crazy this weekend with bargain hounds and people getting the makings for their last bbq of summer, but people work Friday, right?

No, apparently not. Apparently the traditional 3-day weekend has oozed over onto Friday as well. Normally, people are- generally speaking- horrendous drivers. Most of the time I'm stunned that half the people on the road ever got their license because it seems they just don't understand the concept of lanes, brakes, speed limits, and especially turn signals. Couple that with the heat index, oncoming storm fronts, and holiday brain it's amazing that anyone is surviving. Thank goodness it's not a full moon! Although, living in a city whose infrastructure was built for a fraction of the people now living here really doesn't help matters. I'm pretty sure the city planner had his 5 year old play roller coaster tycoon and then based the layout of the city on the outcome.

I'm now scared to pick my son up from school today. The radical lane changes, wondering shoppers, and clucking women- honestly, there was a group of 3 women in Home Goods that were trying to drive the world insane with their incessantly inane chatter- have made my eye twitch. Literally.

The best part? I still have to do groceries. I'm holding out until Monday. It may be a mistake; the one that finally pushes me over the edge. I can't face Wal-Mart right now, though. Just the thought of it makes me physically ill. I'm going to sit here, in the air conditioning, drinking my coke, and I'll probably do some sculpting. Later, I'm going to try cognac for the first time. And I'm going to pretend that Wal-Mart doesn't exist. Pretend that I have servants who do the chores that threaten the last scraps of sanity that I clutch on. Pretend that when I don't have any other choice but to go, it won't be as bad as it normally is.

One thing: I have a bottle of Laphroaig. Mmmmm....

Technicolor

One of the things I used to do was every month I would buy something or do something just for me. Sometimes it was a massage, sometimes a cd; big or small, I made sure to do something for myself once a month. It felt selfish at first, but it was a good way of meeting my needs without overburdening myself.

Then I got married, and even that little bit became difficult to do. Now I do things for my husband and I on a much more regular basis, but our individual needs do tend to go by the wayside. It's not necessarily a bad thing, it's just life. Sometimes that's just the way it is.

All this is bringing me to the simple fact that I dyed my hair this morning. For whatever reason, I have to justify the cost of hair dye. Most people, I'm sure, wouldn't even question it. Depression makes me question if I'm actually worth the $20.

Whether or not I am, though, I do enjoy having red hair once again!

Baskerville Hound- UPDATED

In the beginning of the year, we decided to get a second dog. We thought about it for a while, weighed the pros and cons, and finally decided that yes, it would be a good thing. So, when we went to the pet store where they have adoptions every Saturday morning, we were prepared to seriously consider the dogs available. None really appealed to me, though, so I was ready to try again in a week or so, start going to the shelter, try another place, etc.

Until one of the little dogs caught Steve's eye, and he just had to meet him. It was love at first sight. Of course, as soon as Steve was in love, the kids were in love, and I was over ruled. Toby joined our family.

It's not that I don't like Toby- he's a great dog! Dumb as a stump, but he tries so hard to please and he is so loving you can't help but love him back. But he has some issues.

He's a cairn terrier mix, meaning he has long hair. I don't like long hair dogs because grooming them takes a lot of effort. Even more so when the dog is terrified of anything to do with grooming. When we first got him, he attacked the brush any time he saw it. We actually left it in the middle of the living room floor, purposely ignoring it, until he finally stopped growling at it every time he walked by. Then it was another month of holding it, getting it closer and closer to him, before finally being able to brush him a little. Now, he doesn't mind the brush as long as we keep him trimmed, which brings us to the next issue.

He's ok with having his back and sides clippered. Touch his face, legs, chest, stomach, tail, or ears, though, and you'll loose a finger. Basically, all the places that are currently matted with burs from the yard. And the last time I took him to the groomers, they called and said they couldn't finish because he was in such a panic they thought he might seriously hurt himself.

We had to take him to the vet for updated shots, and we told her about the problem. She said she could prescribe some sedatives to knock him down just enough to let us groom him.

We just tried it.

We gave him half a pill like she said. Damn near lost a hand.

We gave him another quarter of a pill like she said. There's no change!

One of the problems is that he's naturally so mellow (until the grooming tools come out) that it's very hard to tell if the sedatives are taking effect. He's not a big dog, this really should have done something!

This is when I want the ability to call the dog whisperer and plead for help.

At least a positive for today is that my son seems to be settling into his new school ok. He was told off for making jokes at an inappropriate time (the math teacher asked if anyone had any questions, so he raised his hand and asked, "How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" He's very proud of himself that he can say it now, it's taken a lot of practice), but there have been no calls home, no emergencies, and he doesn't even fight me when it's time to go to school. This is a huge improvement! Fingers crossed he can keep it up.


UPDATE- Apparently the sedatives just take a little longer to take effect. He still complained bitterly, but at least we got the burs and knots off. And now we know we can take him to a groomer. Just have to sedate him 45 minutes before!

I don't like Mondays

Today started with anxiety riddled butterflies in my stomach, and has somehow managed to go downhill.

Mondays suck. Today more than most.

It's the first day of school for my son; he's started 6th grade this year. We moved this summer so this is his first time in a Texas school, and the first time in 2 years in a mainstream school. We have not had good luck with schools.

When he started school in New Zealand when he was 5, the principal was an evil man. No really. We were going through testing to see what was going on with my son because he wasn't like the other children, and it was decided he is on the autism spectrum. The principal said it was a speech impediment brought on by listening to his American mother and I should just really stop talking and focus on the housework so that I would stop destroying my son. Yes, he really said that, nearly word for word, to my face. He almost died. It was when I went to pick my son up after school one day and found the principal chasing him around the playground with a bit of wood threatening to hit him that I said enough is enough and moved to a different school.

They were better, and much more equipped to deal with difficult children.

We moved back to the States a few years later, so when my son began 4th grade, we were in Southern California. We told the school everything we'd been through. We gave them copies of the tests and his school records from New Zealand. They did their own assessments. And then put him in a classroom where he lasted a total of 45 minutes before chaos erupted. Blood was shed. He was suspended, put through an amazing array of assessments, 5150'd and dragged to an institution in hand cuffs where they couldn't hold him because he was too young (he was only 9!), and enrolled in a special school with one-on-one support. He did ok there, but since it was a school for troubled youths and special need individuals, his education was not to the level I was happy with and it was always a bit stressful.

Now he's back in mainstream school. I've been terrified. But, it's been 5 hours since I dropped him off, and we haven't gotten a phone call yet. That's a good sign!

Normally, however, Mondays are not my favorite days. My Mondays are grocery shopping days. I hate grocery shopping with a passion. Actually, I'm not fond of shopping in general, but groceries are the absolute worst. I don't know why exactly, it's just the way it is.

So I really didn't need the text message from Sprint as I left Costco notifying me that they are going to disconnect my service unless I pay them. The thing is: our account is $200 in credit! Steve called them last week when they sent a past due notice and they said, "Oh, sorry about that! Our system must have had an error, I'll take care of that right away!" Turns out she didn't take care of it, and they were going to disconnect us! Even worse, it turns out that their system was taking the money for payment, but not allocating it properly. So, we only saw the $0 balance due, $190 credit, they saw $40 past due. And for $40 past due that wasn't past due they threatened to disconnect service and turn a collections agent on us!

As soon as our contract is up, we're changing phone companies.

With all of this, One Thing is a bit hard to find. It's strange because I don't feel particularly depressed right now. Anxious, yes. Pissed off, yes. Depressed, not really.

I do have a partial box of See's chocolates to partake of, and a bag of M&M's though. So yeah. Chocolate. Chocolate is always a good thing!

Doctor Who Day!

Today, despite forced manual labor- had to take the dogs for a walk and some gardening this morning- dying of heat, and not being able to complete a few things I really wanted to do for a variety of reasons, it is a good day. Because it is Dr. Who day! Tonight, not only is it a new series, but a new Doctor as well. After being married for a few years, a new Doctor is akin to a first date. Will you like him or will it take a while to warm up to him? Will he be dark and brooding or silly and boyish? Will he be steampunk, goth, nerdy, futuristic, or something else entirely? There is excitement in a new Doctor. There is joy in any Doctor Who.

If you have not discovered the brilliance that is Doctor Who, do yourself a favor and watch some. BBC America is running a marathon of Doctors past in preparation for tonight's epicness, and they often run Doctor Who marathons. Keep a look out.

And just for the record, spell check, "steampunk" is a word. And although "epicness" may not currently be a proper word, it should be. Note to self: use "epicness" in a sentence once a day.

New beginnings

I was 11 years old the first time I thought that the world and everyone in it- especially my friends and family- would be much better off if I wasn't around.

One thing, one day is about depression and suicide prevention. When things are at their darkest- the medication doesn't work, therapy has lost, the clouds are thick and you truly believe that you are the worst person on the face of the planet- find one thing to get you through one more day. Tomorrow, hopefully things will be better. Or maybe you'll have to find another thing to get you through another day. Eventually a tomorrow will come when things are better again. Until the next time they're bad again and you have to find one thing again. There is no cure for depression. Just the long endless battles. I may have to find a Xena costume to wear on my worse days just to remind myself that I have to be a warrior.

This promises to be a hard blog for me to write. Mainly because I've avoided talking about my emotions for most of my life since people seem to be very uncomfortable when the answer to the question "how are you?" is anything other than "fine." But sometimes I'm very far from fine. In fact, most days, "fine" is such a distant dream that walking on the moon seems more achievable. And no, that's not ok, but it is my reality so I live with it and just get to tomorrow.

The passing of Robin Williams recently has thrown the issue of suicide and depression into the spotlight for a little while. And although the huge surge of social media posts laying blame and saying "get help" has seemed to subsided a bit, it still needs to be an issue that we aren't afraid to talk about, despite being a difficult subject.

Isn't that the kicker? People go around shouting "get help!" but we really need to talk, to be listened to, it seems there's scores of people around us with their thumbs on their foreheads saying, "not it!" So, when we feel like we're unimportant, worthless, useless, and scum, the very same people who claim to care reinforce that believe because talking about the negativity makes them uncomfortable. It's natural, but still creates a vicious cycle. And if you've ever tried to gt professional help, you probably know how that can push you even further into depression. Some people are lucky to find a therapist that they click with. After trying 6, I gave up. It's apparently not for me.

And neither are medications. I've tried a few, and hated them all. Sometimes it's necessary to get me through a particularly rough patch, but then the depression worsens when I notice all the weight I've gained and can't take it off. Or when I feel so completely removed from myself and reality. And the medication doesn't change how people respond to me.

So, I'll try this. Writing about my feelings in a public setting will probably prove to be hard, at least at first. And I really want to try to write every day. I've set that goal and failed several times over. Maybe it's another symptom of depression- constantly setting yourself up for disappointment. But, I'm making the goal anyway. My hope is that it will help me feel more in control of my emotions and my life, and also help others out there who might be feeling the same way at least feel not so alone. So if you do find help here, please let me know so we both can feel not so alone.

My one thing for today is my son. He's usually my one thing. He's on the autism spectrum, quite high functioning, but still a challenge. I couldn't think about leaving him with the belief that I abandoned him.