Monthly Archives: April 2017

Re-Reading

My journaling and blogging are both pretty sporadic even though writing helps my depression a great deal.  I guess I just don’t like to be in a routine for too long and need to change things up regularly.

During my down times, though, I do go back and re-read what I’ve written.  It gives me a new perspective on things which is also helpful.  I consider the re-reading to be an important part of my journal and blog writing.

Last night I re-read most of this blog and was pleased that some of the entries actually seemed to be well-written.  I still think someday I might write a book, but it would have to be a well-written book or it wouldn’t be worth it to me.  So, that dream still lives on for now.

I was also happy to come across an idea I had forgotten about over the past few months from this blog post:

https://pennyplant.wordpress.com/2014/10/30/abracadabra/

In that blog I wrote about asking myself the question, “If I were happy, what would I do right now?” which I then acted on and ended up feeling so much better for some reason. After finding the idea again, I decided to bring it back as a strategy because I have entered into a slump and was out of ideas for how to turn the corner and begin making progress again.

Sometimes we know ourselves better than we realize when we are in the trenches.  You just need some time and distance to be able to see it.  Re-reading my own work is a way to achieve that for myself especially since I don’t have a therapist and rarely confide in other people.

Maybe everybody re-reads their own writing and this is not a new idea for others.  But it helps me a lot and I haven’t seen it addressed in other blogs yet so I figured I’d put it out there just in case.

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Golden Girl

I’ve been watching Orange Is The New Black for a couple weeks now.  When it first came out, I had zero interest in watching it.  I thought it would be exploitative and cliche–oooh, women in prison, oooh.

How wrong I was!  A really well-done show or film is about the only thing that engages my mind fully any more and OITNB is really well-done.  I get so caught up in the characters and story-lines.  I love the way it is filmed.  I love the humor.  I love the complete frustration of the situation, probably because it reminds me of so many times and situations in my own life.  It gives me a lot to think about.

Last night I saw the episode where an evil character escapes the prison grounds only to be run over by the prison van driven by a prisoner dying of ovarian cancer who has also escaped, at least temporarily.  Oh how satisfying that was to see the evil one get her due!

I also like how all of the people in the prison, employee and inmate alike, wonder just what the hell has happened to their lives.  All of them are trapped in some way.  All of them are misunderstood.  Doesn’t everybody feel that way, at least sometimes?  No wonder it’s such a popular show.

Anyway.  Today is the fourth anniversary of quitting the Terrible Job.  I don’t really call it that anymore.  It doesn’t take up as much space in my mind as it did for so long. I will call this progress.

I like the idea of an anniversary, though, because I like being able to measure and assess things.

This year I have realized that as far as I have come since my nearly complete mental and emotional breakdown, I still have a long way to go.  And the way to go is not going to be in the direction I once imagined.  I’m not going to “get back to normal”.  I’m just going to become me, whoever that turns out to be.  I have scads to learn yet.  And I will do most of this learning as an old woman.  And being an old woman will be a surprise too.

Of all the characters on OITNB, it’s the oldest women, the Golden Girls, who are the least three dimensional.  The show does a pretty good job with some of them as individuals.  And I’m only on season two so maybe I will be pleasantly surprised as I watch more episodes.

Probably the relative lack of depth is because the makers of the show just haven’t gotten there yet themselves.  It’s not their story to tell.  It’s really not even mine yet as I am merely peri-menopausal.  But my awakening is occurring much closer to old age than to youth.

It’s a way to go.

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Quiet weekend

Looking out the window to my left, I see that the-neighbors-I-don’t-hate have unfurled a brand-new American flag for their front yard.  Sometimes I think we should unfurl our American flag because we live in such strange times now and it might be better to be seen as more patriotic than not.  But our flag is one that has flown over the capital because that is the kind of flag you receive when you re-enlist in the Navy.  I would just hate to see it get all faded and worn out.  So inside it stays.

I was feeling a little stressed this morning.  Several weeks ago I had responded in the affirmative to a Facebook invite to a Redneck Wine Tasting today that a friend’s daughter was organizing to benefit our local hospice house.  Back then I thought, oh that sounds like fun and it’s a good cause and I will probably want to go.

This morning I weighed my options to see if I could just not show up and not seem like a jerk.

Nearly four years since the big nervous breakdown and I am still not my old self.

I did go, though.

It was harder than it needed to be because I had to go by myself which I hadn’t expected at the time I accepted the invitation.  And there were other concerns that had me second-guessing myself.

My friend is a very conservative, very religious, very enthusiastic, very loyal person.  We were friends from a long time ago when I was a different, more hopeful person and she was maybe not so religious and conservative.

Sometimes I worry that this is a friendship which perhaps should not have made it into this part of my life.

But she keeps reaching out to me and I think maybe I shouldn’t just blow that off.

The wine tasting was held in what I would call a dive bar.  I’ve never actually been inside before, though I drive by quite often.  Back in the day, when the police came to raid it, prostitutes and customers alike could climb out a window and swim away in the nearby creek.  Creeks can be very handy things!

Nowadays, if there is a raid, there probably wouldn’t be any prostitutes.

It was very crowded when I got there half an hour into the thing and they were already running out of raffle tickets and some of the foods.  My friend was all dressed up as a redneck.  She had put her hair in braids and wore some hideous fake teeth and a plaid flannel shirt and gave me a big hug when she saw me.  She was in her element.

I stayed long enough to choose my raffles and then headed for home.  Maybe for the next one, I’ll plan better and bring someone and actually relax a bit and imbibe.

Maybe the next one will find a healthier me and all around better times.

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