Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me

I think that if you looked back at the month of November for every year I have been blogging you will find some sort of Seasonal Affective Disorder post.  Here is the 2011 installment.

I hate this time of year.  I hate that it's dark at 4:45.  I hate that every ounce of energy I have is zapped from my body.  I hate that I can't sleep when I am oh so tired.  I'm in a funk and even though- for the first time in my life- I am working out three times a week or more, it's not helping.

The simplest of tasks take everything to complete.  And everything is just so... blue.

Depression has many frustrating aspects.  It's amplification during the winter months is just one of them.  But the one I find most frustrating is that people usually don't consider that there is anything wrong with you- except that you are a disrespectful, ungrateful, cold-hearted, bitch.  They don't consider the extreme anxiety you feel in certain situations, or the effort it takes to leave the house.  No they don't, because some depressed folks do a pretty good job of hiding what they feel.  Until they're back home.  And the sun goes down.

I am not the type of person who deliberately hurts people, and yet my actions, or lack thereof, seem to do just that.  I don't mean to hurt anyone, and I don't want to feel this way, but I have and I do, and sometimes we all just have to learn to accept it.

I'm sad.  I have a therapist.  I work out.  I take medication.  This too shall pass.

I've come full circle and I got my Gleek on!

Last weekend I attended my first ever blogging conference.  Perfect timing considering my blog has sat unattended for darn near a month!

I spent two days in lovely Holland, MI at Gleek Retreat 2011 and it was such a great experience.  In addition to spending time with Heather for the first time in about 10 years, I also saw many bloggy friends in real life and even heard a few of them speak and share their blogging expertise!

It was a great way to network from other bloggers like myself, and kick back with an old friend.  The swag bags kicked ass too with fun from Bissell, Therapon, Mabel's Labels, Good Life Granola, Island Girl Bags, Rogers Jewelers and Rudy Kazoody's.

The last six weeks have been a little surreal for me.  You see, it seems I've come full circle.  One of the motivators behind the name of this blog was a major life change I made in November of 2008.  I quit my job in advertising.  Those of you that know me, and those of you that have read about my "process" for the last two-and-half-years may be surprised to find out that I have returned to that world.  Yes, the world of advertising.

I've streamlined some of my extra jobs and have contracted with an agency in the Detroit area.  I handle Business Affairs and about 100 other things.  I'm freelance so I am kind-of my own boss, and I work when and where I want. I don't feel guilt about working at home, and I don't feel guilty if I can't work at all.

So, that's one of the reasons you  haven't heard from me in oh-so-long.  There are other reasons too, but they are for another time and another post.  I'll share more about my job later, but tonight I just wanted to offer an update and a thought- we may wonder what if, and that is OK, but it's also OK to realize that you can go "home" again.  Sometimes when we go to find ourselves, we may realize we were right there all along.  I don't feel lost, and I don't regret my time away from this business, and I'm not 100% sure I'll always be here, but for now it feels right and that's good enough for me.

Time

The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight.  Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time.

Ti-i-i-ime is on my side...

Time, where did you go?   Why did you leave me here alone?

I love the changing of time, but I hate the time change.  Does that make sense?

I think changing, implies gradual.  I love bright sunny days and bright sunny evenings.  I just hate losing the hour of "time" in the process.  It's so abrupt and I don't deal well with abrupt.  I don't mind change, but I hate instant change.  Such as the instant Standard Time becomes Daylight Savings Time and my whole household is up too late and grumpy when poked in the morning.

All week long I have felt jet-lagged.  No energy, can't sleep when I am supposed to, and generally just off.  My girls are the same.  My husband is right there with us, only he had to be somewhere bright and early on Sunday morning.  Work!  Ewwww.

I know I should just shut up.  I have discussed my winter blahs here and they are finally disappating thanks to the day lit evenings, and bright, somewhat-warm days.  But I'm tired.  I've lost an hour and it will take more "time" to recover from the loss.  Or a nap.  But then I won't sleep tonight.  Sigh.

Redemption keep my covers clean

Redemption keep my covers clean, originally uploaded by 6.5st.

I have fallen for the song Only The Young by Brandon Flowers.

One of my favorite lines is Redemption keep my covers clean, tonight. So, while googling it, as I am apt to do with things I fall for, I found this photo on Flickr.

The pic is amazing and there right below are the lyrics to one of my current faves. How fun.  For me.

Ridin' the wave

This is me.  I could critique myself until you swore to never read this blog again.  How I wish I was a confident person.  Inside.  I can play confident on the outside, but on the inside I am usually dying.

Three months shy of 39.  Two-and-a-half years into regular therapy and I am still ridin' the wave.  The waves of ups and downs.  Days where I can run though this house and clean, then write, then blog, and by 5 I've done more then I have in the weeks before.  Then there are the days where I'm lucky if I shower.  I try to make sure no one else is affected by my waves, but sometimes they catch on.  I just hope that by laying it all out here again tonight I can put it to rest for tomorrow.  A day with so much promise, and so much to do.

The meaning of things

I have recurring dreams.

Not the same dream over and over, but dreams with a solid recurring theme.

A few times a month I have a dream where I am going about my day in a very ordinary fashion when across the room, outside the revolving door, or through a window I see someone who played a significant role in my past.

It's very cinematic.  I see them, I look away, I double take.  They mouth "sorry" to me with an expression of regret and then it's over.  The dream that is.  Or at least that's the last bit I usually remember.

I don't really understand it.  This person, to the best of my knowledge, is very much alive.  They really don't need to apologize to me, or maybe they do?  Or maybe I owe them the apology?   I don't know.  Is it a closure issue?  Maybe, but I thought I had that.  Unanswerable.

I also dream about the flower shop where I used to work.  I have not been back in there since I quit nine months ago.  My lack of patronage is not for any specific reason but due to the dreams I am starting to wonder if I don't have closure there for some unknown reason.  It's all very speculative.

It's dark outside.  I hate this time of year.  The minute the sun sets my mood shifts.  I know that many others are affected the same way, but still.  No matter how much caffeine I have poured into my system I shut down every day at 5 p.m.  But then, come bedtime I don't sleep well, and maybe that is why my dreams are so broken.  And cryptic. 

It's all a learning process.  Thank God for psychotherapy.

Best. Day. Ever. (and the most overused title for a blog post)

*** a funny thing happened on my way to writing this post.  I had the best day, then a good day, then a bad day, and now another good day with bad undertones.  Just another week in my rollercoaster life. ***

I started this post on November 16.

Twelve days ago.

*sigh*

It started as a great post.  I had just finished a music deal for one of my clients and I was euphoric.  I was also picked for quite a few special projects with Collective Bias.  I was on top of the world. And then...

I was going about my day, my really great day, when I decided to sort through the bills folder.  Bad idea.  We have never "swam in cash".  But, and I am going to sound like a broken record here, since I quit that job two years ago (November 13, 2008 to be exact) we have barely dipped our toes in cash.  Every time I think we can exhale a little something stupid happens.  Truck repairs.  Checking account mishap *blush*.  Girls want to play indoor soccer. etc. etc. etc.

Of course on this day, that fateful November 16th my husband was also at deer camp.  I hate this time of year.  I don't care that he deer hunts.  I don't care that he travels to the far reaches of the Upper Peninsula to do it.  I just care that he goes in November.  When it's dark at 5 p.m. and cold, and dreary, and depressing to even the most non-depressed.  I really don't like November.  Bad things happen in November.  My kids get sick in November.  I quit jobs in November (wait...).  I find ways to rock the boat in November.

Do you get the picture?  November = hate.

The last 12 says have been up and down.  High and low.  Great and sucky.  Throughout all of that I just couldn't finish this blog post.  I was feeling too much, and I couldn't express it in words. 

In my rollercoaster of a week I did some thorough cleaning.  I started my one-month free pass to the gym, and I started eating better.  I am whacked.  Or perhaps, bipolar?  I just don't know anymore.

But today I decided to finish this post.  I hate unfinished tasks and I couldn't bring myself to delete the non-published few words.  I had to finish it, and move forward.  I am sitting at the new Biggby Coffee by my house and I am finishing things, and accomplishing things, and trying to be more up than down, and repeating one fact.  December is two days away.

A ship without a sail, boobs without a bra

I've been feeling a little blah lately.  I don't think my health is the greatest, and my weight has crept up and for the first time ever I can feel it effecting my everyday life.  I don't like it.

It took a lot for me to admit that to myself.  It's taking a lot for me to admit it here.  And when I tried to have a conversation with my husband about it, well I guess it was the wrong time and his response was to rattle off World Series stats.  OK, so my timing wasn't great, but he had just turned the TV on.  Just.  It's not like he had watched every minute of every game.

Of course, and really, I don't like to air my dirty laundry here, but sometimes.... well, I don't think I'm heard around here much.  Maybe it's martyr syndrome, but I do a lot.  I handle a multitude of actual paying "jobs".  I volunteer at my girls' school, we run the concession stand for the soccer club, I am a co-leader of one daughter's Girl Scout troop and leader for the other.  I do a lot.  But I don't think the other three people who live in this house agree.

My six-year-old seems to always point out the things she feels I don't do. Such as, make her dinner.  Because apparently when you make someone dinner and they wait 45 minutes to sit down, then decide they don't like it, and you won't make them anything else?  That means you never make them dinner.

I want to be heard.  I want someones full attention.  I don't want to be asked when I am going to pay the Verizon bill.  It makes me defensive.  I've tried to hand off the family finances and yet I am still in charge, so don't ask me those questions, with that tone.  Yes, that tone.  Well, I hear a tone.

I want to be told I am doing a good job.  I want to hear, "It's such a relief to have YOU take care of ALL of this.  Thank you for alleviating my stress."

I guess I am just selfish.  Perhaps needy.  Maybe I really am just brat.  Or maybe when I squeeze you tight because I am overwhelmed with love, I just want to be squeezed back.

All that, and physically I feel like crap too.  Happy Friday.

Emotional Baggage

I've often wanted to send my own postcard to PostSecret, but often think my own secrets would pale in comparison to the ones I have obsessed over.  I keep a file of my favorite PostSecrets on my laptop, and when I feel a connection to one I usually post it here. 

But there are a few that I love that never really fit into a category.  Maybe I don't identify with them personally.  Maybe I do?  But they speak to my heart in a way that only I, and maybe a few people on this Earth who really know me, understand.

Friday afternoon I was overcome with emotion in the parking lot at Barnes & Noble.  My heart felt heavy and I had a 'moment'.  I was happy that I am blessed enough to be at a Barnes & Noble on a Friday afternoon.  I was reflective of the last 22 months and what they have meant to me personally, mentally, psychologically, and so on.  And I was saddened by a number of what ifs.  I sat there for a moment and stared at nothing.  I wondered, for the infinite time, what I was doing?  Who am I really?  Is this what I was meant for, and to do?  Am I where I am supposed to be?

All are million dollar questions.  So I pulled myself together and walked into the store.  I found peace in the pages, and I find peace in these secrets.  Some of which I could have written myself, or perhaps they were written about me?

Self Inflicted Exhaustion

Isn't it crazy that the things we love to do the most are the things that are most often neglected or completely ignored. Like, this blog.

I love writing here, and I am so proud of this blog, and yet when I get busy with life it's the first thing to go by the wayside. (What does that mean anyway, go by the wayside? The Wayside is a bar in Mt. Pleasant that I spent a lot of time in a lifetime ago.)

It seems impossible that a balance may be maintained across all avenues. If the house is clean, no writing gets done. If writing is accomplished then you can not find a clean sock or the kitchen sink.

We endured the great furniture swap of 2010 to make room for a pool table, and in the process my husband completely cleaned out a storage area in the basement so that I can finally have my own office space. Have I made any progress in created said space? Nope. I went from losing sleep because I was giddy with ideas of how to decorate my office and to now, weeks later and nothing has been done.

I've had all week to get ready for girl scout camp this weekend, and yet because I can't say no, I will spend all day tomorrow rushing to help at the flowershop to help at the school, making a mad dash to the council shop and then home to pack in a fast fury. Really? What is wrong with me?

The opportunities are really starting to come in, but if I don't organize myself and come up with some kind of schedule then I am going to ruin everything. Oh and did I mention that I was sick, then Jayden was sick, and then there was a snow day? And car issues?

God grant me the serenity...

...to make it through the day tomorrow and accomplish all I need to.
...to enjoy Girl Scout Valentine Camp.
...to rest and recover from camp on Sunday afternoon.
...to use my Monday wisely.
...to sign up for next Saturday's Writers Workshop.
...to learn to say no!
...to get off the computer and go to bed.

November 13

I have been waiting a whole year to write this post, and yet, here I sit at 9 p.m. just getting started.

All year long I have had ideas of what I might write on this day. I have had dreams about what I might list as my accomplishments and what I still planned to do. But it's funny, I almost don't feel like any of that is really important.

One year ago on November 13, 2008 I walked out of my office, and away from my career in advertising and never looked back. Seriously. I haven't even been back to visit. The week before I left, the company I worked for laid off two hundred or so employees and I found out that if I hadn't given notice I was going to be outsourced anyway. Ironically, one year later the same week, that same company announced that they will close their doors at the end of January because their only client is partnering with other advertising agencies. (OK, you twisted my arm, the client is Chrysler.)

I have mentioned on many occasions that this time of year is significant for me. I have had several life altering events occur in the month of November. When I was 22 my Grandpa fell ill in November and died on December 1st. I have had other traumas during this time as well, some devastating for me, and others where my actions have devastated others. I ended a twelve year career in advertising in November.

This year, during my week of reflection and the one year anniversary of the biggest risk of my life, we put our 16 year old Lab C.J. to sleep and I saw my girls cry for a dog that has been around for their entire lives. I saw the exhaustion in my husbands face after taking C.J. to the vet and then burying him in our yard at 10 p.m. all the night before leaving for his annual hunting trip.

Cory left Thursday night and I have that empty feeling that I feel every year when he leaves for the Upper Peninsula. My Grandpa got sick when Cory was up north, our life together has been in shambles while Cory was up north, and honestly I had a strong fear that C.J. would finally "go" when Cory was up north.

So much has happened in November that I now associate with this trip that I have spent the first 24 hours feeling out of sorts. I go through the motions, I take care of my girls, but in the back of my head there is something nagging me, and it has no name, no face, no exact anything, it just hangs there. The trip. The dog. I used to work full time?

I can't say my career is where I thought it would be a year later, because I had no idea. I didn't know I would be freelancing for my hometown newspaper, or doing writing of any sort. I didn't know I would have a part time job in retail that I truly love. I didn't realize how many people would tell me (this week alone) that the all mighty dollar has nothing on happiness and spending quality time with family and feeling passionate about what you do each day. I had no idea how much lower my stress level would be, and I had no idea how much I would miss that dog.

Speaking of missing people, I miss many of my old co-workers. I miss some dear friends who I have not hung out with in so long. There are others I miss as well. Still.

Life has it's up and downs. It has it's right turns and wrongs. I truly believe I have no regrets, but I will always wonder what if. I made the right decision one year ago when I left my career for myself. I still don't have all the answers, and I feel like I have even less time, but I'm OK with all of that. It's all about the process. My process. And it's all about being happy because you deserve to be.

The Broken Clock is a Comfort

I'm starting to notice a pattern. It seems that while Fall may be my second favorite season it's also the time of year I am most likely to go into a dark place and start questioning everything. It may be why I quit my job almost a year ago, although I feel like I was fairly in control of that decision, but it's probably why I am starting to question myself again.

I've had some interesting things happen to me in the Fall, things of great significance. Some were bad, some good, some in between. Some events that made me question so many things about myself and my life- my decisions and my dreams. All the questions come with the darkness. The early darkness of Fall.

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be content. I wonder if anyone is truly content for any length of time. I recently had a discussion about motivation versus inclination. So I may be motivated but not so inclined to complete the tasks that are required to do my work. Or maybe I am inclined to do them, but not motivated?

This seems to be the time of year I go looking for things. Things both good and bad- ha ha. I can laugh about it now. It's also the time of year I miss things, and people. I reminisce in the early darkness of evening and I wonder, what if? I dissect lyrics, and scenes from films, and I replay significant events from my life over and over in my head. Seasons come and seasons go, it's that time of year, and that, nothing and no one, can change.

I would just like to care a little less

Up for Renewal: A book that answers "what if?"

Anything can change a life that's ready to be changed.

The greatest thing about covering Chick Literature over at the Examiner is the books that are brought to my attention that I would have never found otherwise.

Sure, I know about Sophie Kinsella, Jennifer Weiner, Meg Cabot and Emily Giffin to name a few of my faves, but I've learned of so many more like Julie Buxbaum, Binh Ming Nguyen, and now with a memoir spin on Chick Lit I have found Cathy Alter.

I just finished Alter's Up for Renewal: What Magazines Taught Me About Love, Sex, and Starting Over. If there was a book written about what-ifs, then this is it.

The premise is a simple what if. "What if I give my life over to the advice of women's magazines for one year?" Well, Alter did it and with all the craziness of my last year the book could have easily been written by me, or at the very least for me, since I don't have the ability to write anything longer than a blog post or a board meeting brief.

It's a great book and I recommend it highly. So to hear more about it click on over to the Examiner and read my review of Up for Renewal: What magazines taught me about love, sex, and starting over.

When it's good, then it's good, it's so good, 'til it goes bad

Even without episodes of depression life is full of ups and downs. People often say they are waiting for the other shoe to drop, or things are going so good, when is the bad thing coming?

So I can go along having a great freelance month. Lots of newspaper assignments, a lot of traffic here and at the Examiner. I even got a new gig covering my county at Detroit Mommies, and then here comes the crap, I mean, not so good things.

Right before we left for vacation our dryer stopped drying, it's spins but doesn't heat up. The wall of our shower caved in (water was getting behind the tile). The fridge in our camper stopped working, and the A/C in my car died. Oh and while we were on vacation, our lovely oldest daughter hurled on Cory's laptop while watching a movie. Luckily, it still works, but is in the shop for cleaning and a new keyboard.

Some may think, bad karma? And I admit I have said "Who did I wrong in a previous life?" But let's not go there. Let's just say, it's all put us a little further behind than we already were, and how far behind we are is just a result, again, of me quitting my job nine months ago.

Oh yeah, that again. It's very hard to relaunch your life and redirect your career when the crap keeps showing up. But who am I kidding? It's just that other old saying "no one said it was going to be easy." It's not easy, the crap is hard, and every time I jump a hurdle someone puts another one up in front of me. But I wake up everyday thankful for what I don't have to do, and thankful for what I have, and I try not to let the crap get to me. Because honestly? The crap is worth it.

Love me some dooce

As a fan of dooce I'm one of a million or more. But I feel I have an odd kinship with this woman who has no idea I exist. For one, her oldest daughter Leta is 23 days older than my daughter Jayden. Two, her sense of humor is right up my alley, although I think I'm funnier verbally than in my writing. Three, while I've never had post-partum depression I have had some bad episodes of the blues (my OBgyn's were always surprised that I never suffered from post-partum) and reading her posts about depression make me feel less alone, as she writes what I can only think and feel.

So, while this article is over a week old now, I still wanted to share it for those who may find it as interesting as I did. Heather Armstrong is inspiring, and I am proud that she represents powerful media moms, and that she remains herself while she conquers the media world.

http://www.forbes.com/2009/07/15/dooce-heather-armstrong-forbes-woman-power-women-blog.html

Lesson Learned

With lots of good, there is always a little bad. Most of my bad is self-inflicted and usually seems trivial to everyone else. Yesterday was a fantastic day. My work on chick lit at the Examiner is really taking off and that is so exciting. I am making some awesome contacts which will help make the page more informative.

I also have two stories to cover on Monday for the newspaper, one is a feature! I will launch my website for my Rights & Licensing business as soon as I my friend finishes my logo, so everything is going really well for me. I even worked a few hours in a sweltering greenhouse today spacing mums, but I was with great people and it was a fun morning.

But then I go and do something that I felt comfortable doing and quickly realize it was a mistake. I'm not sharing what it is here, but let's just say I will not do it again. There is no sense in it, I just wish my lesson learned didn't have to rain on my parade. Unfortunately that is how my brain deals with these things. Hopefully I can distract myself enough from my stupidity and go back to enjoying my successes. Hopefully.

An Endless Race

I'm not an athletic person by any means. I wish I was. I wish I was like my friend Molly who has taken up running again, really running. Like now she is entering races, running. Maybe I can do that at some point but right now I feel like I am in an endless race.

This race is my life, or maybe it's in my head. No, it's not all in my head. Who knows. When I say I'm racing I'm actually referring more to the longevity of a distance race, not the speed of the race. I'm not moving fast, but I am constantly moving. Moving from one problem solving mission to another. Whether it be about making money, or writing something others want to read, or cleaning the house, it's always something. Most days I just keep on truckin' without giving it much thought, convinced that my payout or reward is just around the corner. Other days I wonder how long I can keep running without any end in sight, wondering when my body, or my mind is going to give out and say enough.

Today I am tired. I was up until after 1 am. The school board meeting I covered for the paper ended just before 10 pm last night. By the time I wrote the brief and drove home it was midnight. Today I am frustrated. The paper itself is listed in the byline for my brief, not me. I suppose that as long as I get paid it's not a big deal, but the visual of it this morning flipped the switch inside of me that sends me spiraling. My meds are sitting at Target and I really need to go pick them up. My family doctor scaled back the anxiety meds and now I really know that that was a bad idea, something about "addiction factor". Well I'm thinking more about the 13 days left in the month.

School is almost out for Ryann and this is Jayden's last week at daycare. I need to go get her ready and take her there but I don't have it in me. I don't want to go anywhere, but I have to work today at 2. I want to sleep. I want to read magazines. I want the race to be over so I can enjoy the now instead of waiting for the later.

Isn't it Ironic (Don't ya think?)

That me, with the self-esteem of a slug, subjects herself to midnight newspaper deadlines that ensure my sleep will be anything but peaceful tonight?

I mean, seriously. I cover a school board meeting from 7 - 9:30, drive home while listening to my tapes, and then submit a story that I had basically written by 11 at midnight because I had to keep tweaking it and tweaking it until I was certain it was the biggest piece of crap ever composed.

Now I'm going to play on facebook and keep refreshing my email until my eyes pop out of my head just in case my editor writes to compliment me on the biggest piece of crap he's ever read.

And I opted out of advertising six months ago tomorrow why?

Conundrum

I'm freelancing as a stringer for my hometown newspaper. I'm also working part time in a greenhouse, something I did all through high school and college. In some ways I have come full circle. I have returned to where I was half my lifetime ago.

I love both jobs. The writing is one step in the path of me following my dreams. The other job is just something I enjoy doing.

But I am baffled by the fact that while I can easily over-analyze my decisions in life and question my self-worth at every turn, I can not give myself credit for any of my achievements. Ever. I do not have the ability to be proud of myself. I can point out every flaw I think I have, but ask me to accept a compliment and I cringe.

How on earth did I become this way?

I'm hoping that will change a little on Friday when my first story is published. I'm going to try to give myself a little pat on the back, no matter how hard it hurts.