An Ad, to Be Placed on Freecycle or the Giveaway Section of Craigslist
Free to a Good [or Bad] Home - Type 1 Diabetes (Philadelphia or Anywhere)
The beta cells in my pancreas quit working after 8 short years. My immune system attacked them, and instead of going back to doing their f**king job, they decided to just sit and panhandle around the Islets of Langerhans, like that's some kind of vacation for them. I've tried to give diabetes a chance for 25 years, but you know what? I'm done.
Surely there is some soul out there who would like to adopt my diabetes and give it a good home. Or maybe you know an unsuspecting Men's Rights Activist right-wing homophobic politician asshat that you want to teach a lesson. Either way, please come to this address [Hannah's House or Place of Employment] and help yourself.
Type 1 Diabetes has been a challenge to love. Most recently, an insulin pump site of mine got pulled off in the middle of the night, so I woke up around 6:30am with a raging "HI" staring deep into my soul from my glucose meter. Through gritted teeth I said, "Hello yourself" to the screen and injected a buttload of Novolog as I replaced my infusion set, drank two giant cups of water and went back to sleep, nauseous. A few hours later, at work, that buttload of Novolog kicked in all at once, so while my blood glucose clocked in at 200, my body was trying to tell me I was a solid 65 with shakiness and a case of the woozies.
Diabetes is sometimes a gentle nuisance, and other times it makes me want to cry, scream, and throw things across the room. That's not a terribly healthy behavior, so obvious my Diabetes would do much better if it were rehomed.
Please stop by this weekend. Type 1 Diabetes can be yours for the exclusive price of FREE-NINETY-NINE! I will even throw in all the fancy gadgets and tropical fruit punch glucose tabs!
I can also just leave it on the curb. Come grab it, as I only have this one case of Type 1 Diabetes to give away. If you're also interested, I will set out some plantar fasciitis, macular edema (right eye only), and arthritis of the lower back, also free.
It's a whole new kind of summer fun!
Over a decade of high levels of glucose and geekery.
Showing posts with label Honest O'Clock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Honest O'Clock. Show all posts
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Friday, February 21, 2014
Mind Your Manners, Miss[es & Misters]
Gentle Advice Columnist:
"Proper" etiquette may sometimes be in the eye of the beholder. Not all people lift their pinkies when drinking tea. Some people double-dip their buffalo wings in the shared dish of bleu cheese dressing without a single afterthought. Some men will hold a door open for a woman and allow her to pass by, while others will hold it open about halfway until the woman takes over. (And until recently, Ms. Hannah did not realize it was potentially recognized as rude to wipe one's nose on a cloth restaurant napkin. Ms. Hannah was clearly born in a barn.)
It seems, Gentle Advice Columnist, that in your opinion, it is rude and unsightly for a diabetic to do their blood tests and "medical procedures", as you called them, in public. You suggested that people should test in the bathroom or another private room. Some of Ms. Hannah's colleagues and peers have taken to the internet to badmouth and rail against such advice. What this blogger sees is an Advice Columnist who may not have any experience with diabetes.
You say you "draw the line at drawing blood", and it's true the sight of blood makes many people uncomfortable; however, for people with diabetes, a little blood is a fact of life multiple times a day. The diabetics of this world are not drawing out syringes full of blood from their own arms. A blood glucose meter reading takes approximately 5 seconds, and plenty of people with diabetes never have a second thought about plopping that meter on the table in front of everyone, conducting their diabetes business. (It is not even a blip on the etiquette radar, much like Ms. Hannah hastily wiping her nose on a cloth restaurant napkin.) It's often just a tiny drop of blood, or a quick poke with an insulin pen.
The good people of the Diabetes Online Community typically call things as they see them, and in your column, they saw ignorance, intolerance and perhaps even ableism. These days, it is unavoidable that people share details about their personal lives online. Some people, including this blogger, discuss things that some people find unacceptable to share with unauthorized individuals or strangers. Everyone in this country is entitled to health information privacy, but a number of folks choose to disclose their visible and invisible illnesses and disabilities in a very public way.
Gentle Advice Columnist, Ms. Hannah is certain that what has angered those in the DOC the most is your seemingly rigid and outmoded stance about what is proper for diabetes management in public, as it seems you have no experience living with diabetes yourself. Additionally, Ms. Hannah would like to note that answering questions in the third person may make you seem haughty, holier-than-thou, and inaccessible to younger readers who prefer their advice more off-the-cuff. (She would also like to note that writing in third person while trying to relay a personal opinion is pretty effing difficult, so kudos to you for doing it for so many years. Clearly, you have a good editor.)
Ms. Hannah's initial reaction was anger as well. "Where does this woman get off, telling me I need to run to the loo for a five-second blood test? Perhaps she will perish in a fire," she said to herself. Soon, this blogger realized that was an overblown reaction, having never taken kindly to some strict viewpoints about politeness. Another thing she realized is that every person is different. People with diabetes have just as much a right to disagree with you as they might to agree with you. In fact, allow this blogger to lay out a shocking fact for you:
Ms. Hannah has tested, changed insulin pump infusion sets, injected and applied continuous glucose monitor sensors in public restrooms. She has also tested her blood and injected insulin in front of party guests, out at dinner, and even while working the door at a poetry slam. Is she wrong for doing it in one place and not the other?
There is no reason for either to be wrong, because it seems the sort of thing to be based on situations and personal preferences. Ms. Hannah does not do things involving needles and/or blood in the sightlines of friends who go pale and woozy at the mere sight of needles and/or blood. While she wants them to understand her Type 1 Diabetes, she does not want them passing out into their craft brews and plates of vegan brunch. That's bad news for everyone.
To make up for any accusations of potential flip-floppery in her opinions on etiquette, here are some rude things Ms. Hannah has done which may shock and appall you, Gentle Advice Columnist--perhaps much more than any quick injection in public:
--Licking a finger following a blood test
--Not disposing of sharps in a proper biohazard container
--Hitting "ignore" on a phone call from Ms. Hannah's mother
--Removing wedding rings to apply hand lotion
--Sitting on, not hovering above, the toilet seat in a dive bar bathroom
--"Breaking wind" at work when I am alone in the office
--Asking friends with bleeding paper cuts if they would like their blood glucose checked
--Hoping her blood glucose would drop low as an excuse to not bolus for a donut
--Wiping her nose on a cloth restaurant napkin
That being said, this blogger advocates individuals continuing to do what is best for them, and learning how to educate others along the way. People with diabetes and other medical conditions that require constant monitoring or potentially obvious medical interventions in public should not be obligated to choose "Team Tidybowl" over "Team Test Strip on a Lap, or Inside a Purse, at the Airline Gate". Ms. Hannah also feels that PWD should not be jerks who yell "DEAL WITH IT!" at people uncomfortable with diabetes-related bloodletting and poking. Perhaps the polite thing is for the PWD to explain what they are doing and advise the squeamish to look away until they're told it's over?
Gentle Advice Columnist, the DOC may have had choice words for you in the past couple of days, including telling you to eat a number of...unseemly things. Ms. Hannah advises you eat something, too--a cupcake, while sitting down to chat with someone with diabetes about the realities of what they see as proper in polite company. After that, you may truly be able to dispense applicable diabetes etiquette which is relevant to everyone's interests.
Best regards,
Ms. Hannah
PS: For the record, I agree with you sometimes. I think baby gender-reveal parties are unnecessary. And as a person who has drawn hearts, smiley faces, and written stuff like "Woo hoo we can't wait to see you!!" on wedding RSVP cards, I did rather enjoy the way you dissed them in the letter just above the diabetes letter that caused all this controversy.
"Proper" etiquette may sometimes be in the eye of the beholder. Not all people lift their pinkies when drinking tea. Some people double-dip their buffalo wings in the shared dish of bleu cheese dressing without a single afterthought. Some men will hold a door open for a woman and allow her to pass by, while others will hold it open about halfway until the woman takes over. (And until recently, Ms. Hannah did not realize it was potentially recognized as rude to wipe one's nose on a cloth restaurant napkin. Ms. Hannah was clearly born in a barn.)
It seems, Gentle Advice Columnist, that in your opinion, it is rude and unsightly for a diabetic to do their blood tests and "medical procedures", as you called them, in public. You suggested that people should test in the bathroom or another private room. Some of Ms. Hannah's colleagues and peers have taken to the internet to badmouth and rail against such advice. What this blogger sees is an Advice Columnist who may not have any experience with diabetes.
You say you "draw the line at drawing blood", and it's true the sight of blood makes many people uncomfortable; however, for people with diabetes, a little blood is a fact of life multiple times a day. The diabetics of this world are not drawing out syringes full of blood from their own arms. A blood glucose meter reading takes approximately 5 seconds, and plenty of people with diabetes never have a second thought about plopping that meter on the table in front of everyone, conducting their diabetes business. (It is not even a blip on the etiquette radar, much like Ms. Hannah hastily wiping her nose on a cloth restaurant napkin.) It's often just a tiny drop of blood, or a quick poke with an insulin pen.
The good people of the Diabetes Online Community typically call things as they see them, and in your column, they saw ignorance, intolerance and perhaps even ableism. These days, it is unavoidable that people share details about their personal lives online. Some people, including this blogger, discuss things that some people find unacceptable to share with unauthorized individuals or strangers. Everyone in this country is entitled to health information privacy, but a number of folks choose to disclose their visible and invisible illnesses and disabilities in a very public way.
Gentle Advice Columnist, Ms. Hannah is certain that what has angered those in the DOC the most is your seemingly rigid and outmoded stance about what is proper for diabetes management in public, as it seems you have no experience living with diabetes yourself. Additionally, Ms. Hannah would like to note that answering questions in the third person may make you seem haughty, holier-than-thou, and inaccessible to younger readers who prefer their advice more off-the-cuff. (She would also like to note that writing in third person while trying to relay a personal opinion is pretty effing difficult, so kudos to you for doing it for so many years. Clearly, you have a good editor.)
Ms. Hannah's initial reaction was anger as well. "Where does this woman get off, telling me I need to run to the loo for a five-second blood test? Perhaps she will perish in a fire," she said to herself. Soon, this blogger realized that was an overblown reaction, having never taken kindly to some strict viewpoints about politeness. Another thing she realized is that every person is different. People with diabetes have just as much a right to disagree with you as they might to agree with you. In fact, allow this blogger to lay out a shocking fact for you:
Ms. Hannah has tested, changed insulin pump infusion sets, injected and applied continuous glucose monitor sensors in public restrooms. She has also tested her blood and injected insulin in front of party guests, out at dinner, and even while working the door at a poetry slam. Is she wrong for doing it in one place and not the other?
There is no reason for either to be wrong, because it seems the sort of thing to be based on situations and personal preferences. Ms. Hannah does not do things involving needles and/or blood in the sightlines of friends who go pale and woozy at the mere sight of needles and/or blood. While she wants them to understand her Type 1 Diabetes, she does not want them passing out into their craft brews and plates of vegan brunch. That's bad news for everyone.
To make up for any accusations of potential flip-floppery in her opinions on etiquette, here are some rude things Ms. Hannah has done which may shock and appall you, Gentle Advice Columnist--perhaps much more than any quick injection in public:
--Licking a finger following a blood test
--Not disposing of sharps in a proper biohazard container
--Hitting "ignore" on a phone call from Ms. Hannah's mother
--Removing wedding rings to apply hand lotion
--Sitting on, not hovering above, the toilet seat in a dive bar bathroom
--"Breaking wind" at work when I am alone in the office
--Asking friends with bleeding paper cuts if they would like their blood glucose checked
--Hoping her blood glucose would drop low as an excuse to not bolus for a donut
--Wiping her nose on a cloth restaurant napkin
That being said, this blogger advocates individuals continuing to do what is best for them, and learning how to educate others along the way. People with diabetes and other medical conditions that require constant monitoring or potentially obvious medical interventions in public should not be obligated to choose "Team Tidybowl" over "Team Test Strip on a Lap, or Inside a Purse, at the Airline Gate". Ms. Hannah also feels that PWD should not be jerks who yell "DEAL WITH IT!" at people uncomfortable with diabetes-related bloodletting and poking. Perhaps the polite thing is for the PWD to explain what they are doing and advise the squeamish to look away until they're told it's over?
Gentle Advice Columnist, the DOC may have had choice words for you in the past couple of days, including telling you to eat a number of...unseemly things. Ms. Hannah advises you eat something, too--a cupcake, while sitting down to chat with someone with diabetes about the realities of what they see as proper in polite company. After that, you may truly be able to dispense applicable diabetes etiquette which is relevant to everyone's interests.
Best regards,
Ms. Hannah
PS: For the record, I agree with you sometimes. I think baby gender-reveal parties are unnecessary. And as a person who has drawn hearts, smiley faces, and written stuff like "Woo hoo we can't wait to see you!!" on wedding RSVP cards, I did rather enjoy the way you dissed them in the letter just above the diabetes letter that caused all this controversy.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Jerkuary
That's right, January. You are dead to me. You have been nothing but trouble, trial, and tribulation.
How's that? you ask.
This is the third time my car has been in the shop this month, possibly for all of the same problems each time. This has resulted in less of a surplus than was planned this month, so some payments I was really hoping to double up on are not really getting anywhere.
This is the month I've had to take a bus to the El train to another bus to get to/from work while my car is in the shop. The total trip one way is about an hour and twenty minutes.
Work stress.
Frozen pipes in the kitchen. One kitchen sink overflow as a result.
Painful muscle tension caused by work stress and the general crappiness of this month.
Matt's grandmother passed away. She was a wonderful woman who will be dearly missed.
Definitely not getting out enough, due to aforementioned car issues.
There was, for certain, a lack of poetry.
Oh, and snow. Lots of snow. Snow that gets in the way of travel plans--this is how we were not able to attend Matt's grandma's funeral. This is how I had a FIVE AND A HALF HOUR commute home last week during the storm. This is how my snow shovel, which I'd only had for three weeks, was stolen from the front of my house and swapped with a small rake. I can't make up stuff like this. If they wanted to borrow a shovel, they just had to knock and ask me! What am I going to do with this rake now?
And if you are only here to read about diabetes stuff, let's throw in a few sticky, gross, eye-blurring, tongue-drying high blood glucose readings that were tough to bring down, even with site changes and injections. Oh, right, I attribute that to all the jerkiness of Jerkuary!
Jerkuary did spare me in a few ways. There were some generous SEPTA employees who took pity on me for not having the proper fare or who rushed us all through the gate without having to pay for the already-late subway. There was the incredible Balkan brass band show Matt and I attended. There was the kindness and ingenuity of Matt's brother, who set up a Google+ Hangout session on a smartphone so we could virtually attend the funeral service that we couldn't travel to. There were friends, hugs, Hello Kitty slippers that I got for $5, there were recipes tried and well-received.
But really, Jerkuary, I'm glad you're heading out of here. Next month is my month: February. My birth month tends to hold lots of good things. At this point, almost anything could be an improvement.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Happiness: deal with it, okay?
 |
| That is, um, if it's okay with you. |
See? I am a happy person from day to day, for the most part. I sometimes feel like I don't show that to myself often enough, if that makes any sense. I can say I'm fine, I will tell you everything is great, but on the inside it may be a different story sometimes.
It's so easy to get hung up on the negative, the disappointing, the discouraging, the bad news. I am so guilty of it lately. It's hard not to when bedbugs are causing stress at home, when my job is less-than-cool, or when diabetes is making me feel like garbage. I have a friend who says when you are feeling down, you should write a list of 36 things you are grateful for, happy about, thankful for. So here are some things that are happy in my life, just to remind me that in the grand scheme of things, I'm okay.
I have some truly incredible relationships in my life. I have an amazing, supportive husband. I have a supportive, loving family. I have friends who treat me like I'm family. Despite almost 22 years with diabetes, I have yet to experience anything more than the most minor of complications. I can afford to work, eat and play. I've held the same job for over four years now. I am a blogger with over 60K page views and over 1000 followers on Twitter. I know how to take a decent picture. I have a pretty good eye for design. I've got great love in my life. I can make people laugh. I was the only woman to compete in semi-finals this year for the Philly National Poetry Slam team. Even at 30, I have a pretty ridiculous imagination. I've got great support out in the DOC. I have people who believe in me and what I'm capable of.
So I just have to deal with it. I've got plenty to be happy about, even when that little self-doubting voice in my head is trying to tell me otherwise. Happiness is here, I just have to remember to look for it first, before I see the negative. Just deal with it, Hannah.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Getting on the Couch -- Week 2
So my last post was all about how I was heading to see a therapist for the first time. What I didn't know until a couple of days ago is that it was voted one of the Best of the 'Betes blogs! Woo hoo! Yes, dear readers, honesty is the best policy. A lot of you want to know how it went. I'm not going to share all the details of all my therapist visits, obviously, but I do want to share a bit so you know what it's like.
I arrived at the office a few minutes early to fill out paperwork, just like going to any other doctor's office. It was a Friday afternoon, and apparently their office doesn't have a receptionist on Fridays, so various psychologists/therapists/counselors would come in from a hallway door every few minutes. Sometimes their patients were there waiting, sometimes they had to come back. I was immediately made more comfortable by how personable everyone seemed when greeting their patients, but I was still nervous. I am very slow when I'm writing by hand, so the first time my therapist popped his head out the door looking for me, I was not ready. I was a wee bit embarrassed.
He came out again a few minutes later, and I was finally done scribbling. He was smiley, had a very warm friendly vibe about him. It could just be because he had nerdy glasses, and I tend to assume that people who dress like me are mostly trustworthy. He apologized that the room we'd be going to didn't have any windows. He said that being the newest to the practice, he didn't get much of a choice. The room at least had comfy chairs, soothing lighting, and at least two boxes of tissues.
As far as I am able to tell, your first visit to your new therapist will involve filling out lots of paperwork and answering a lot of questions about your background and a little about yourself. Hopefully, like my visit, it will involve feeling honest and content with the person you are seeing. It may involve a tissue or two--I managed to not need any until the tail end. I hope to have an interesting and enlightening experience with my therapist. He apparently is also an art therapist, so of course I thought of Lee Ann when I was there and all the good that being creative can do for people.
We'll see what goes on over the next few weeks. Visit #2 is today at 3:00pm. It's kind of a strange concept when it comes down to it--figuring out how to trust someone who is to be much more than a stranger to you, less than a friend. I'm sure this is why your therapist will probably reassure you a number of times, as mine did, that you are in a safe space and everything you say will absolutely not leave the room. (Unless of course, like in Pennsylvania, the state laws mandate that if you seem a true danger to yourself or others, you will be reported to...someone. The therapist informed me this would not mean the cops would be waiting at my house for me. And don't worry about me, I'm the variety of depressive who just mopes and gets cranky and wants to sleep.)
So I think it turns out your therapist is not someone to get nervous about. You'll do fine. I did.
PS...EEEEEK I AM IN KIND OF AN IMPORTANT POETRY SLAM TONIGHT AND I AM WIGGING OUT, MAN! Whew, just had to put that out there. ;)
I arrived at the office a few minutes early to fill out paperwork, just like going to any other doctor's office. It was a Friday afternoon, and apparently their office doesn't have a receptionist on Fridays, so various psychologists/therapists/counselors would come in from a hallway door every few minutes. Sometimes their patients were there waiting, sometimes they had to come back. I was immediately made more comfortable by how personable everyone seemed when greeting their patients, but I was still nervous. I am very slow when I'm writing by hand, so the first time my therapist popped his head out the door looking for me, I was not ready. I was a wee bit embarrassed.
He came out again a few minutes later, and I was finally done scribbling. He was smiley, had a very warm friendly vibe about him. It could just be because he had nerdy glasses, and I tend to assume that people who dress like me are mostly trustworthy. He apologized that the room we'd be going to didn't have any windows. He said that being the newest to the practice, he didn't get much of a choice. The room at least had comfy chairs, soothing lighting, and at least two boxes of tissues.
As far as I am able to tell, your first visit to your new therapist will involve filling out lots of paperwork and answering a lot of questions about your background and a little about yourself. Hopefully, like my visit, it will involve feeling honest and content with the person you are seeing. It may involve a tissue or two--I managed to not need any until the tail end. I hope to have an interesting and enlightening experience with my therapist. He apparently is also an art therapist, so of course I thought of Lee Ann when I was there and all the good that being creative can do for people.
We'll see what goes on over the next few weeks. Visit #2 is today at 3:00pm. It's kind of a strange concept when it comes down to it--figuring out how to trust someone who is to be much more than a stranger to you, less than a friend. I'm sure this is why your therapist will probably reassure you a number of times, as mine did, that you are in a safe space and everything you say will absolutely not leave the room. (Unless of course, like in Pennsylvania, the state laws mandate that if you seem a true danger to yourself or others, you will be reported to...someone. The therapist informed me this would not mean the cops would be waiting at my house for me. And don't worry about me, I'm the variety of depressive who just mopes and gets cranky and wants to sleep.)
So I think it turns out your therapist is not someone to get nervous about. You'll do fine. I did.
PS...EEEEEK I AM IN KIND OF AN IMPORTANT POETRY SLAM TONIGHT AND I AM WIGGING OUT, MAN! Whew, just had to put that out there. ;)
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Getting on the Couch
Well, I did it. Tomorrow I will be seeing somebody. I hope he is good. The receptionist was extra-friendly when I called, and reassured me that not only is he a phenomenal therapist, but he is also super-nice. She added with a bit of a knowing chuckle, probably about others at the practice, that some people are really great therapists but they're not as nice.
We'll see how it goes. I am a little anxious about it. Seems fitting, no?
I picture Betty Draper from Mad Men splayed out on the therapist's couch, talking more to the ceiling than anything. (Author's Note: I am nothing like Betty Draper, except that we are both blonde.) TV never seems to show a therapist caring about a patient. Of course, TV is bad at a lot of things.
So what's going to happen? I'll fill out some paperwork, and then talking will happen. That's all I know. Maybe I will be able to tell you more tomorrow. I'm excited to be doing something really good for myself.
In the meantime, I've been having a good week. I wrote a new poem, and I have new resolve to kick ass in a major poetry slam that's happening next week. If I win, I will be going to Colorado to represent Philadelphia in a national poetry event! Competition will be tough. I'm honestly a bit terrified, and I've decided that's a good thing. More motivation to be awesome, I think.
Meanwhile, it's back to the usual workday routine. How are you today, DOC?
We'll see how it goes. I am a little anxious about it. Seems fitting, no?
I picture Betty Draper from Mad Men splayed out on the therapist's couch, talking more to the ceiling than anything. (Author's Note: I am nothing like Betty Draper, except that we are both blonde.) TV never seems to show a therapist caring about a patient. Of course, TV is bad at a lot of things.
So what's going to happen? I'll fill out some paperwork, and then talking will happen. That's all I know. Maybe I will be able to tell you more tomorrow. I'm excited to be doing something really good for myself.
In the meantime, I've been having a good week. I wrote a new poem, and I have new resolve to kick ass in a major poetry slam that's happening next week. If I win, I will be going to Colorado to represent Philadelphia in a national poetry event! Competition will be tough. I'm honestly a bit terrified, and I've decided that's a good thing. More motivation to be awesome, I think.
Meanwhile, it's back to the usual workday routine. How are you today, DOC?
Friday, January 27, 2012
Honest O'Clock on Friday
My pal Mike has this concept that he introduced me to several years ago. He says that at every party, after all the initial fun is starting to wear off, when the levels of drunkenness are starting to run high, when people are starting to get to that moment where they are at their most raw, it becomes Honest O'Clock.
It's the time when you are likely to tell your friends about something you adore or despise about them. It's when real, often ugly, truths come out. It is wise for most party guests to start leaving after Honest O'Clock.
So it's been a little while since I wrote a blog post, and it feels like it's Honest O'Clock here, dear readers. I want to blog. I want to blog more. I want to write, and it's just not coming out right now. In fact, a lot of things that I want to do right now aren't getting done.
I'm stressed. I'm depressed. I'm pretty serious about finding myself a therapist, probably in the next week.
Writing is one of my favorite hobbies. It's something I still hope I can translate into a new career one day. Right now, I can barely do any of it. I'll be honest and say recently, it's been tough trying to be my own fan, trying to support what still makes me happy, trying to remember that (hey, Clairol), I'm worth it. You know what? People seem to think that all poets are depressed, and that's why their poetry is good. When this poet is depressed, she writes no poetry. That's even sadder than depression itself!
I want to dance and do arts & crafts and enjoy life again. Every day. Believe me, I am still hanging in there, I am still doing okay. I went to an excellent concert last weekend. I've got two events tonight I'm looking forward to. I am excited for the CWD Focus on Technology in a few weeks. I just want there to be fewer days in between the fun stuff where I don't feel like leaving my house. I want there to be more days where I feel like I'm not floating through my workday, having difficulty remembering what to work on.
I've talked about my depression here before, briefly. Honestly, if you read that post, this may all sound like nothing new, except I am less than a month away from turning 30. I have some help already in the form of medication, but I am at the point where whatever is troubling me is more than an imbalance of brain chemicals.
I want to start feeling better so I can get this blog back into shape. So I can get my career back into shape. So I can write some damn poetry. So I can be 100% me again. I'm pretty sure depression is 100% cureable, just like diabetes. (See what I did there? With the joking? OMG Google will surely put me under listings for depression cures now.)
It's just the feeling that something is very wrong. It's time to make it right.
Do you struggle with mental health? Got any tips for finding a therapist? Let's talk and share. There's no shame to be had here. Let's get honest, because really? When you look back on the party, you should remember the fun stuff. Honest O'Clock is over for now.
It's the time when you are likely to tell your friends about something you adore or despise about them. It's when real, often ugly, truths come out. It is wise for most party guests to start leaving after Honest O'Clock.
So it's been a little while since I wrote a blog post, and it feels like it's Honest O'Clock here, dear readers. I want to blog. I want to blog more. I want to write, and it's just not coming out right now. In fact, a lot of things that I want to do right now aren't getting done.
I'm stressed. I'm depressed. I'm pretty serious about finding myself a therapist, probably in the next week.
Writing is one of my favorite hobbies. It's something I still hope I can translate into a new career one day. Right now, I can barely do any of it. I'll be honest and say recently, it's been tough trying to be my own fan, trying to support what still makes me happy, trying to remember that (hey, Clairol), I'm worth it. You know what? People seem to think that all poets are depressed, and that's why their poetry is good. When this poet is depressed, she writes no poetry. That's even sadder than depression itself!
I want to dance and do arts & crafts and enjoy life again. Every day. Believe me, I am still hanging in there, I am still doing okay. I went to an excellent concert last weekend. I've got two events tonight I'm looking forward to. I am excited for the CWD Focus on Technology in a few weeks. I just want there to be fewer days in between the fun stuff where I don't feel like leaving my house. I want there to be more days where I feel like I'm not floating through my workday, having difficulty remembering what to work on.
I've talked about my depression here before, briefly. Honestly, if you read that post, this may all sound like nothing new, except I am less than a month away from turning 30. I have some help already in the form of medication, but I am at the point where whatever is troubling me is more than an imbalance of brain chemicals.
I want to start feeling better so I can get this blog back into shape. So I can get my career back into shape. So I can write some damn poetry. So I can be 100% me again. I'm pretty sure depression is 100% cureable, just like diabetes. (See what I did there? With the joking? OMG Google will surely put me under listings for depression cures now.)
It's just the feeling that something is very wrong. It's time to make it right.
Do you struggle with mental health? Got any tips for finding a therapist? Let's talk and share. There's no shame to be had here. Let's get honest, because really? When you look back on the party, you should remember the fun stuff. Honest O'Clock is over for now.
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