Hang in There

I was around 10 years old the first time I had the feeling that I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up.  That was the first time I remember feeling so sad for no good reason.

Most of the time my depressive episodes are manageable.  I try to embrace them and know that this too shall pass.  It can be a blessing to have very temporary emotions, knowing it won't be long before the sadness goes and is replaced with gentler feelings.

At the ages of 19, 25, and 28 I went through my most serious bouts of depression.

Looking back, those were tremendously stressful ages for me.  A lot of life changes were happening, making me much more susceptible to break down.

And I did.  And it was scary.  And it's something I hope I never get used to.

When I was really struggling, someone told me to hang in there.

And I did.

And that became my mantra.

When getting out of bed was too much of a goal for the day.

Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there.

While trying to find the energy to go to work for at least a couple of hours.

Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there.

When I drank to feel better, knowing tomorrow the shine would wear off.

Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there.

While everyone and everything was overwhelming and scary and merciless.

Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there.

When I hurt the people I love most.

Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there.

When I felt I had no purpose being here.

Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there.

Over and over, I would silently recite those three words. 

I remember hanging on like hell to whatever shred of hope I could muster up that day.  And slowly, but oh-so surely, things got better.  And days were brighter.  And life got sweeter.  And I grew happier.  And living became easier.

And when I think of everything I would have missed,

I am so thankful I hung in there.

Lovely

Gillian at A Daft Scots Lass has given to me the Lovely Blog Award.  Awesome.  Thank you very, very much.  I started reading the Lass's blog during the challenge in July and really dig her sense of humor and sass and am a bit envious of her awesome red hair.  She has a great 100 Things About Me that you should probably check out.

Here's the dealy-o:

• Add the "One Lovely Blog Award" image to your post
• Share seven things about you
• Pass the award on to seven nominees
• Thank the person who nominated you and add a short blurb about them
• Inform the nominees by posting on their blogs

Sharing is caring...

1.  I hate scary movies.  I fainted in the movie theater when I saw The Sixth Sense.

2.  I have been a vegetarian for fifteen years.

3.  Most days I leave the house with mismatched socks, I've learned to let that go...

4.  I don't understand the concept of "having a good cry."

5.  I was born with cold in my bones. I am always freezing and have icy hands and feet.

6.  When Bobaloo and I first checked out Colorado I told him I would never move here.

7.  If I am really comfortable around you, I'll bust out my Carlton dance.

I pass this here award onto these peeps*:

Designs by Row

Loonysuse

Itbritt

My 2nd Cup

Peeling an Orange With  a Screwdriver

* I know bloggy awards are not everyone's cup of tea (I love them!), so just know I dig your blog.

Goings On

I have been trying to slow down this August and have been really enjoying being a bit more of a homebody.  Bobaloo has been getting the yard all spiffed up and I put up some blue twinkly lights on the back patio.  Pretty good stuff.

 

Nik helping with yard work.
 

  We went to the Rocky Mountain Folks Festival on Sunday to see one of our favorite music dudes, John Prine.  It was a pretty venue and he played one of my favorite tunes called "Lake Marie."

 

I need to start asking people to take our pic, we never have anything in the background!

A friend and I have started doing Mix Tape Mondays on Monday evenings.  We exchange mix tapes with different themes.  Next week's theme is "Roadtrip." 

What's your favorite roadtrip song?

 

From the Back of my Brain

I lost my faith in a higher power for the first time when I was sixteen.

The summer after, I interned at a visitor center at a national park.  Ministers of different denominations would come into the park and put on services in the amphitheatre.  I worked alongside this older ranger, his name escapes me now.  When visitors would come up and ask him when and where the services were taking place, he would snap his response and get really irritated.

One day I asked him why he was so ornery about visitors going to services at the park.  He responded with something like, "They are here in one of the most beautiful places in the world.  You want God?  Go fucking pray to a tree."

I am not sure why that has stuck with me over the years.

Hank and Peggy

Bobaloo planted sunflowers early in the summer.  I think there are about a dozen that are getting ready to bloom.  These are the two plants in our front yard.  I was doing some reading about plant vibrations and how talking to your plants will help them grow.  While I don't think Bobaloo necessarily talks to his plants, he did name them.  Hank and Peggy.



 

 

Have a great weekend!

America

A couple of years ago, Bobaloo and I went to a small blues jam in Greeley, Colorado that takes place every June.  On our way into town we stopped at a liquor store to stock up on some beer.  We were tailgating in the dusty dirt parking lot when we opened the case of Budweiser to find a new and awesome patriotic beer can design.  Maybe a little over the top design-wise?

I don't know why this can struck us so funny.  Maybe because we were going to a blues festival in a cow-town.  Maybe it was Bobaloo's patriotic farmer tan (red arms, white body, blue jeans).  Maybe a combination of all of this.  Whatever it was, we got the giggles and somewhere I have a picture of Bobaloo tailgating that day that he will be very happy I didn't put on the internet.  Here's a different picture of him:

Back to the beer can.  Ever since then, I have found myself starting quite a collection of very American can koozies.

"Land of the free, courtesy of the brave"

Who Knew?

So, Bobaloo has told me about this thing he did when he was a kid and apparently it's a normal adolescent thing.

 

Do you remember being at a school assembly or a program put on by a different grade and wanting to be the last person who clapped?

 

I have never heard of this.

 

Oh my gosh, I just googled.  It's a thing.

 

According to Urban Dictionary:

	Last-clap contest
	When you're at a performance or assembly and the applaud is just ending, this is the contest when two people both try to get the last clap. Usually lasts about 20 seconds before both people give up.   Cathy: I loved how during the assembly today, there was a last-clap contest between Jeff and Matt.   There's even a Facebook page!   Who knew?  Have you ever heard of this?!

Brain Stuff

I started seeing a therapist again.  He’s actually the first one who officially diagnosed me.  Ah, memories…

Things in the brain are going well.  I’ve had a couple of freak-outs in June and July but I think it’s because everything just got so busy and I’m a gal who needs some downtime and routine.  Going back to the doctor is more of a preventative thing than anything else.  The goal is to keep learning more coping mechanisms and getting in the habit of breaking them out in real life.  Isn’t it a strange thing having to “cope” with life?

But, I gotta keep that snowball from rolling downhill, don’t ya know?

Who spends $36 at McDonald's?

It has been a busy couple of weeks, I tell ya.  Where do I even start?  Yikes.

Bobaloo and I went gold-panning at the end of July. 

After panning, while getting dried off and back into the car my purse must have been left behind in the parking lot.  A minute into the drive I noticed and Bobaloo turned around but it was too late, the purse was gone.  By the time we had made the 40-minute trek home someone had stopped at a gas station to fill up and bought $36 worth of McDonald’s on my debit card.  $36 at McDonald’s?

I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening kicking myself for being so careless, cancelling cards, looking for my birth certificate so I could get new IDs, and being generally pissed off while Bobaloo changed the locks on the doors.  A watch that my grandma gave me was also in the purse and although she probably bought it for $10 at Walgreens, I was still pretty bummed about it.

The next day I was having a beer on the patio after work and Bobaloo was over at a friend’s house.  He and I both started to get strange phone calls and messages from a couple of our bar buddies.  My purse had been found by a fly fisherman! The fisherman’s sister was drying my stuff out and she found the business card that my bar buddy Andy had given me a couple of years ago.  Andy was hanging out with another friend who had Bobaloo’s number and that’s how I was tracked down.  Hooray!

PSA: Get to know people at your local watering hole.

So, Bobaloo and I drove and picked up the purse.  At least the person who had dumped it into the creek was courteous enough to zip it up before throwing it in because while the cards and checkbook were gone, everything else was in there, including my grandma’s watch.

So there we have it.  An emotional rollercoaster was had.