This Too, Shall Pass.

It's really no secret that I am having a tough time emotionally lately. I know Shark Bait and I have been through some major upheaval in the past few months, but I just can't seem to shake this lost feeling.  And, each day I sign into Facebook or watch the news, I'm overwhelmed with who just died from cancer or some other horrible illness or other equally traumatic causes.  It saddens me so.  It scares me. It makes me feel like my world, which is already pretty fragile right now, is falling apart and that I could be next.  I think the Rug Doctor would say this is a rational response.  I think she would say that I won't always feel this way and that today might totally suck, but tomorrow might not.  I might also be dead tomorrow.

In reality, if my glass was half-full, there are a lot of people that didn't die recently.  There are a lot of people out enjoying life and living it. There are also a lot of new lives being created all the time. It's the circle of life, right?  You don't have to watch The Lion King to be familiar with the circle of life, but it helps if you are still unclear.  So, knowing that, why do I allow myself to get into this dark place?  Why do any of us? One might say this is a reminder of how precious life is and how we have to appreciate each day that is given to us, because we never know when it is our last.  I detest it when people say that to me, by the way.  It's insensitive. Those points may very well be true.  It may very well be a good way to look at life.  But it is also completely disregarding how I feel at this moment.  Your inspirational meme is not going to change how I'm feeling right now.  I may see the truth written plain as day in black in white in a beautifully framed picture of the sunlight cutting through the trees over a pond in the wilderness.  Fuck that picture.  Right now, at this moment, I'm telling you, I'm scared.  I'm worried. I'm lost. I'm not so sure I'm not going to get crushed in my building in a mega-quake that is over-due on February 6th.  I get you care. I get you want me to see things the optimistic way.  I get that part.  What you don't get is that I have a lot going on in this head and it cannot be programmed by inspirational memes.  I had a chip installed that prevents it from happening. Okay, that part is a lie, but it feels that way. My bullshit panic alarms go off and I evacuate.

Anyway, next you are going to tell me that worrying never solved anything and that worrying is a waste of energy.  I saw that in a meme, too.  I think it was written over top the picture of two elderly people walking hand in hand through a park on a tree-lined path in the fall and beautiful leaves were falling all around them. Ironically, the falling leaves indicating death and change, but we shouldn't focus on that, right?  The couple pictured had each other through good times and bad and their love saw them through all of it.  Guess what, it doesn't always work out that way.  That is a beautiful dream.  The reality is, your life will be taken when it's time.  And, when it's time, you don't get to decide.  You go.  You go when you are called home, wherever that eternal home is.  Everyone else is left behind to wonder why. Maybe it's Spanky that is wondering, maybe it is Shark Bait, or maybe...maybe it's me.

Anyway, there is another meme that says, "This too, shall pass."  It's probably printed over a rainbow peaking through the clouds.  You know, rainbows mean hope and shit like that.

So, where does that leave me?  I pretty much just want to cry all the time and think about horrible things all the time, like worst case scenario.  I guess I should be grateful for all the positive things, and I am, but it's really hard to focus on that.  I've been starting to consider maybe I need to be on drugs again. I know I've blogged about it before, but I still fight it because every time the doctor puts me on one, the side-effects really frustrate me, so I stop.  What I may be saying is, it's possible I should not go without chemical enhancements.

Let's talk about the side-effects.  Maybe they are the lesser of the two evils. Consider: Crying all the time or sleeping all the time?  Low energy with no hope or low energy and don't care that I don't have hope?  Wish I was in bed sleeping and crying or suddenly can't remember who I am or where I'm going.  Craving ice cream, potato chips and chocolate or craving flannel pjs and wondering how many legs a fly has?  Care deeply about everything or care about nothing, including getting healthy?  An occasional orgasm when Shark Bait is feeling frisky or never have one again, because even your girl parts just don't give a fuck anymore?  Can't control my temper or can't complete an intelligent sentence?

Seems like maybe being an asexual zombie just might make me more tolerable.  I have one friend that wants me to take the stuff she's taking.  Suddenly she is happy and blissful and doesn't seem to let things get her down no matter what.  And she was in a really dark place before starting them.  I mean, sure she was a zombie for a while and has lost her "O" face, but I guess she doesn't care about that anymore.  Nothing is going to bring her down. She smiles all the time and has a joy for life.  She's like a stepford friend.  Like she teeth smiles.  Like, I can see all her teeth she is smiling so big, for no apparent reason.  Freaks me out. I can't do that.  Can you imagine?  People aren't prepared for that.  I'm all walking around at work, no cares in the world.  The toilet in stall one gets plugged, don't care.  D.I.C.K. starts teasing me about something stupid, and I just smile and laugh.  The boss asks me to order pizza for the entire building and I say, "Sure, I LOVE pizza!"  If I decide to try her crazy pills and that starts to happen, and any of you notice it, I need an intervention. STAT.  I'm counting on all of you.

I decided to Google her medication and the side-effects.  I mean, my friend couldn't be happier, which I'm really happy about. Maybe it's right for me? 

 Downsides (Effexor)

• Can cause sexual side effects like low libido and an inability to orgasm or ejaculate. (great news, the drug will make me not care about that, who needs sex anyway, I mean, forget I'm in my sexual prime)
• Not the best option for people with high blood pressure. (Ok, I don't have high blood pressure, I'm good here)
• Overdosing on this medication could be fatal. (woops, my bad, I was so happy, I forgot I took it already and now I'm dead, but I don't care, because I'm medicated!)
• It's more likely to cause nausea and vomiting or make you feel sick if you miss a dose than other antidepressants. Also causes more sleepiness than others. (Great!  I'll be too sick to eat and I'll just sleep my life away...but I'll be in skinny pj's!)
• Like most antidepressants, it can cause a higher risk of suicidal thoughts and behavior for people younger than 24. (Well, that sounds counter productive)
• The first antidepressant you try doesn't always work or it can cause side effects you really don't like. You might need to try a few different medications until you find one that works for you. (No shit.)

So, yeah...I know these are all "normal" warnings, but I don't know...maybe I just need to consider the below meme and become at one with my stretchy pants, accept I'm fat, accept defeat about the musty smell under the bathroom sink we can't pinpoint (or maybe it's a dead animal) and the fact that every freaking weekend at 7:30pm there is a bonfire with really loud music at the neighbors house...and that a portion of my income goes directly to the vet clinic every Saturday from now until I'm dead...or my dogs are.  Just need to accept it.  Give in to the mudslide. Give in to stretch fabrics. Give in to fleece sheets.  Give in to putting my bosses number on speed dial and call out "unfit for duty."  No worries...this too, shall pass. 

 
Sounds like I at least have a plan.  As always, thanks for talking this out with me.

5 Things That Piss Me Off on a Wednesday

So, it's a given I have anger issues.  Things make me crazy. I'm not even going to take the time to write it all fluently and like it is a novella.  Fuck it, let's get to it.

1.) STOP BEING ENTITLED.  YOU are no more important than your co-worker.  Unless your co-worker never comes to work because they'd rather stay home playing some shoot em up video game and smoking pot.  If that is true, you might be more important.  Unless you can't do your job well anyway.  Like, you can't even come close to meeting the job requirement.  If that is the case, it's a dead heat for who sucks more.  Regardless, neither one of you are so special that you require special equipment or special treatment.  That's right, I said it.  You're not that special. I'm just not that into you.

2.) READ AN EMAIL.  If I send an email out stating that the sky is blue, the grass is green and that popcicles are cold, do not reply to that email asking if I am the person that said that sky was blue.  You are replying to the email that provided you the very information you seek.  So, we know you saw the email, because you are responding to it.  You clearly know the content because you have asked a question about the content.  I don't understand.  Your question asking if it is a fact about the fact I stated baffles me.  Stop baffling me.

3.) BE AMAZING.  Look, if you wanted a job really bad, and then you finally got that job, how about doing that job?  You know, you went on and on about how you wanted it.  You furthermore said you were qualified, so...why aren't you doing your job?  You still say you are amazing.  You still think you are amazing.  YOU ARE NOT Amazing.  Do we need an intervention?  Like, if I got 10 people together that say you suck, will you listen then?  Will you change your ways?  Will you attempt to give a flying fuck about your job?  Just curious.  Stop screwing up your opportunity that directly impacts others.  Stop. Then commence being amazing.  Please.

4.) YOU NEED HELP.  If you are going to meander on over to my desk and ask me a question, maybe do your research first.  Like, maybe check your emails to see if your question can be answered first.  Maybe check with one of your peers, but there is NO REASON to torture innocent people that have their heads clearly far above, and free and clear of, their asshole.  Try to be a problem solver.  And, no, it isn't really funny that you have no clue what's going on.  It isn't.

5.) MY NAME IS CASSONDRA.  I've said it before, I'll say it again, there is no "A" in the middle of my name.  I'm NOT CassAndra.  You just wrote me an email and addressed me as CassAndra, but my email clearly shows the correct spelling of my name.  I will purposely spell your name wrong every time.  I will not go down without a fight.  I will not stand by and be subjected to such injustice.  I will passive-aggressively torture you back.  Except maybe you don't care if I spell your name wrong but I DO.  If you just started working with me, it's forgivable.  If we've worked together for YEARS, don't play me like that.  I have feelings.  I have a lot of feelings.  I have a lot of voices.  I'm not medicated or under a doctor's supervision, unless you count the Rug Doctor and she, quite frankly, enjoys the voices to a certain extent, I believe.

So, in conclusion, stop being a dick, read your email, do your job, don't depend on others to do it for you and finally, say my name, bitch!  It's Cassondra!

Bathroom Boundaries

Today marks a full ten days we have lived in our newest home.  It doesn't really feel like home to me yet, but it is mostly unpacked and we are living here full time.  I'm assuming I probably felt like this at most other places I've lived when I moved in. It just takes time, I guess.  I think part of my problem is that I keep second-guessing whether or not this place was the right place and if the timing was right.  I don't know why I torture myself like this, but I do. It's that over analytical mind that I have yet to learn to control.  As Shark Bait said today, "It's done, so it doesn't really matter.  We did what we needed to do."  I just keep thinking about it.  I need to stop.  I need to embrace it is what it is and go from there.  I just wonder how long it will be before I stop thinking I hear the horses in the barn and how long it will be before I stop almost getting up to go out and feed them.  Clearly, ten days is not enough time for that to stop.

Something that happened today, however, may help me through this transition. Today, Shark Bait and I returned home after running errands.  We both had to go to the bathroom.  Now, normally, when we lived at the cabin, when this situation arose, we immediately went into negotiations.  You know, like, "Ok, so do you just have to pee or are you going to camp?"  "I'm going to be a while, you go first."  Or, if we were both in a jam of sorts, we'd say, "Ok, do you just have to camp or do you actually have a peeker? Like, how close to shitting your pants are you?"  "I can probably hold it, but hurry up."  This was our life.  There were no secrets.  When you essentially have one big room and then a bathroom contained in it's own room in the corner, you really don't have a lot of mystery about what's going on. At our prior home, and the one before that, and the one before that, we also just had one bathroom. We were fortunate for a long time that we had different get ready for work schedules, so we could kind of avoid some overlap. 

At any rate, today was different.  Today we were able to go to different ends of the house in our own space.  Our own bathrooms.  I mean, I didn't know how long Shark Bait was going to be, I didn't ask. I didn't need to know.  It was amazing.  I couldn't hear him doing anything.  He couldn't hear me. I didn't rush.  I may have lingered an extra 30 seconds and I took my time washing my hands and assessing what was going on with my hair in the mirror.  I mean, my pants were zipped and buttoned and I didn't look disshelved like I was recently a victim of a crime in a hurry leaving the scene when I walked out of the bathroom.  Now, this is a work in progress situation, because I did leave the door open.  I mean, when you don't have any boundaries, why shut the door?  In a pee situation, there isn't really any need to shut the door.  If your taking the Browns to the Superbowl, yeah, shut the door.

This brings up a valid question.  Because all boundaries are down, can boundaries be re-established?  Should they be?  I don't know.  Out of habit, we are still sharing the bathroom in the morning.  Like, I'm in the shower and there is Shark Bait, sitting on the toilet.  Is that going to stop?  Is the habit so ingrained that it cannot be unlearned?  Is there any reason to unlearn it?  I mean, we are okay with it.  He poops.  I poop.  We know each other poops. I mean, we don't rejoice in the experience and purposely engage in the process if not required, but you know, we are used to it. 

I have seen this debate unfold on Facebook and other places and it seems there is a definite opinion to be had on this.  "You'll ruin the romance in your relationship!"  Well, first of all, Shark Bait isn't super romantic anyway. He's mushy, but I wouldn't say romantic.  For example, the day we got the keys to this new house, Shark Bait was starting to bring things over and I was at work.  The first thing he brought was a pony refrigerator magnet and a stuffed pony. He took a picture of them in the new house and texted it to me.  That's pretty sweet.  That's the stuff Shark Bait does.  We don't do candles, wine and music and any of that Fifty Shades of Grey stuff.  So, I would say, we haven't ruined the romance.  I mean, do we joke about poop far more that is probably necessary?  Sure.  When you live in place where there are no secrets, there are times when you have to say, "So, you're gonna want to stay out of there for a while..."  Or, all the sudden you get a whiff of something and you are like, "Oh Em Gee...what the hell happened in there?  Did something DIE???" And, I'm not going to lie, the words, "I think I just pooped something the size of a baby's arm...I think I need to drink more water..." have been said in our home.  Shit happens.

Some people are like, "As far as my spouse knows, I don't poop and they don't poop."  Like, there is water running or excuses or lengths people go to so that they can avoid their partner knowing that they are pooping.  Maybe it is just a personality thing, I don't know.  Maybe I am just an over-sharer that managed to hook up to someone that could care less.  We were the perfect storm and now we are one perfect storm of pooping perfection.  Like, I don't have to pretend that I had a make-up crisis and that's what took so long, or that I got something in my eye.  I was pooping. Period.  I might even have done things in there that created a disturbance in the force.  I don't know.  I'm just saying, I left the fan on and yes, I sprayed.  None of this is lady-like.  None of this is delicate.  I think I've been broken from this one bathroom situation that has gone on for far too long.  It didn't help that I used to have IBS when Shark Bait and I first met, so pooping pretty much ruled my life.  Luckily I don't anymore, but the walls are down.  We can't unknow that I poop, or that Shark Bait poops.  Look, I get that it is private and it's gross, but it's necessary. 

So, if you are reading this and you didn't know your significant other poops, I'm sorry I just ruined it for you. Let me just come clean and let you know also that Santa...fraud.  Easter Bunny? Nope.  Tooth Fairy? If you moved out of your parents home, dead.  The Great Pumpkin?  Jury is out on that one, I don't know for sure.

I'm sorry.  Someone had to tell you.

So, I don't know if we are going to try and re-create any boundaries, but the foundation is here if we decide to embark on such a journey.  2016 is going to be an interesting year.  The possibilities are endless.  The poop...also endless, but now, it might just be none of anyone's business.  I might be able to add some mystery to my persona.  I mean, I probably won't because I'm an over-sharer, but if I wanted to...I can.

Look at me really reaching for the stars...and it's only January 1st. 

More to come, my friends...more to come (I wasn't even meaning poop when I just said that, look at me already creating boundaries).