December 28, 2015

I slept until I woke up on my own.  It was only until about 7:30, but it felt amazing!  I had a lot to do today.  I drove to my bank, made a number of important phone calls that I had been putting off, and caught up with some friends on facebook.  While I was on hold, I started eating some of the cookies that my family had given me.  A few hours later, depression hit.  Why can’t I just remember that sugar and flour directly affect my mood?  I didn’t finish anything else that I set out to do today.

I finished catching up on my blogs.  When I got to yesterday, I really got depressed writing about my father, messing up with Diego, and even the issues I had with the leader of my hiking group.  On Facebook, I chatted with Kevin, Zak, and that married guy who I was briefly sleeping with.

I started to contemplate the future of this blog.  I decided to create  a website, a facebook page, and a facebook group.  Facebook wouldn’t let me join as “depressimatic me” so I had to come up with a true false name.  After a lot of thought, I came up with Ingrid Ruysch.  Ruysch is a common Dutch surname that means the sound of wind or water.  Ingrid was the name of a character in a favorite novel of mine.  I also liked that the name I chose was unique.  I also decided to leave the name “Depressimatic Me” behind now that it seems my experiment was a success.  I decided to call the website and facebook group “Unearthing Happiness”.  I liked the implication that we all have happiness underneath and that we just had mounds of shit covering it.  I was a happy child when I was very young, but somewhere along the way, I lost it.  I feel like almost all of us, except those of us with the most severe mental illnesses were happy as children.  That means that our natural state is happiness and that we need to find it again, to unearth it from all of the shit that we piled on top of it over the years.

I was also contemplating the remainder of my week.  Tomorrow I’m spending the day at my nearest sister’s house.  Wednesday, I’m going to visit my other sister and spend the night there.  Thursday, I’m staying over Rachel’s house.  Friday, I was invited to spend the night for a special program at the retreat center.  It seemed like not only a lot of traveling, but I worried about my cats.  They are both getting old, being 14 and 16 years old.  Sure, I had planned to return to feed them and scoop the litter, but I still felt like that many nights and days in a row was a long time to be gone.  My older cat’s fur is starting to mat up.  It’s like my cat isn’t taking care of himself anymore.  I know I undertook the responsibility for them both when I got them, but I had expected to be better financially able to take care of them.  I wish I could afford a vet right now.  I’m starting to worry about my older cat. I also think my younger cat might have a UTI with the amount of pee I have had to clean up on a daily basis.

It got to be pretty late when I realized that I hadn’t heard from Diego yet today.  I knew he worked today, so I assumed that he was busy.  I texted him to see what he was doing.  I asked about his day and he asked about mine.  He seemed very disappointed in the fact that he wouldn’t see me again until Saturday.  Because my Spanish wasn’t that great, I called Diego to speak in English about it.  Combined with the fact that I’d love to kiss him at midnight on New Years Eve and that I was worried about leaving my cats alone for so long, I decided to cancel on Rachel.  She only lives an hour away, so it’s easier to go visit her.  The other invitations I really couldn’t cancel.  And it put me at home for almost a full 24 hours to spend time with my cats.  I wondered if I was breaking a cardinal relationship rule about cancelling plans to be with him or if I was already predisposed to break those plans because of my cats. Why was it that I couldn’t make a decision like this without questioning it soon afterwards?

As Diego and I hung up, he told me he loved me.  While he often uses several endearments like “sweetie,” “mi amor” (my love), “mi corozon” (my heart), and “mi vida” (my life), he rarely tells me that he loves me.  All of my past boyfriends, once they had said they loved me, said it daily or even more often.  “I love you” ended every phone call and accompanied every parting.  It also was often blurted out during sex and at random moments when I said or did something they greatly appreciated.  Diego, on the other hand, does not say it that often.  While it bothered me at first, I think I prefer it this way.  That way, when I do hear it, it means more.  I think with overuse, the phrase loses it’s meaning.

Today I gave up the need to finish my to do list and worked on something that might give me personal satisfaction instead.

Today I’m grateful for getting things done, my cats, and my friends.

I decided that instead of making money off of a book, that I would help people by giving away the information for free.

I spent no time in nature today.

I spent $10 on food and $2 on tolls

I slept for about 8 hours last night.

I did not meditate today.

I did not exercise today.

I did not follow my diet today.

I did not clean or straighten today.

I was showered but did nor brush my teeth today.

I was mostly in a good mood today, excepting my afternoon depression due to foods I shouldn’t have eaten. My temperament was good.


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