Mood, mood, go away

At this point I really can’t pinpoint what is causing my moods or my attitude so I pretty much have to blame my unique mental capabilities. There should be a song for it, like when you’re younger and you sing for the rain to go away but in stead of rain, rain, go away it could go like this:

Mood, mood, go away

Come back another day

This attitude throws too much shade

Mood, mood go away

I guess since the rain version didn’t work in making rain disappear, I’ll still be stuck with my own personal rain cloud until I drown in my own mental bullshit.

Giving Thanks

It’s that time of the year where many of us ask ourselves “what am I thankful for?” while consuming a surplus of food. Personally, I’m just looking forward to the sweet potatoe pie a family friend brings down from Albany every year.

  
Look at the prefection! It’s because of this woman and her blessed hands that I even like pie. Hold on while I get a napkin for this drool.

Back to the question; what am I thankful for?

For the first time my answer is simple. I’m thankful for Life. For someone who has struggled with depression it feels ironic when most of the time I want the complete opposite of that. Right now though, at this moment, that is exactly what I’m thankful for. 

Life gives me the opportunity to love the people around me, to hug my daughter and watch her grow, to snuggle my face in my dogs furry neck when I’m down, to experience beauty in the form of art, and cherish all the other unlimited small things. To live, even when I can’t find the strength to get out of bed or the motivation to progress, this struggle is a gift because to not be living is to not experience the things on the other side of the struggle. The days when the sun actually shines and the future seems promising and I actually feel like I can be something. This is life, and I’m so fucking thankful for that. 

Now hopefully I can remember this next week.

Death is a Bitch

Today makes 5 months since my mom died. It’s like the farther away in time I get since the last time I saw her the harder it gets. Which I guess makes sense since absence makes the heart grow fonder and shit. 

I suppose I expected it to be harder the moment it happened. The way I felt when I realized she was no longer breathing and her hand was getting colder, I always expected that to be the hardest. I mean seriously, how could it get any harder than the actual witnessing of someone dying? 

I may have been numb for a while. The last few days were certainly a mental overload and it must’ve taken me months to truly grasp the not coming back part of death. It’s also the closer we get to the holiday season the more I realize she won’t be around to get on my nerves. It’s funny how a person can miss being annoyed.

I know I’m not suppose to dwell on the what ifs and wishing I could change the past because really I’m only torturing myself since the past can’t be changed but if I could go back I would tell myself to stop hating her so much before it’s too late. Before you know it she’ll be gone. Cherish every stupid fucking phone call. Every stupid argument. Hug her dammit!

She was only 48. How is that even fair?

As she would’ve told me; life isn’t fair.

A good friend of mine told me it’s bullshit – the saying that it gets easier with time. She says it never gets easier, you just learn to carry it better.

I hope so, because right now this luggage is hurting my back.

When you listen and don’t watch (comedy ensues)

Avia puts on an episode of the muppets and although I’m listening I’m not actually watching the tv:

“Wow very impressive!”

“You should see me in the shower. 10 seconds. In, out, everything is clean.”

Me: See somebody gets me.

Avia: Mom, that was a roach.

Me: 😐

After some thought I realized he’s really more of a prawn which doesn’t really make me feel any better since shrimp are like the roaches of ocean. I suppose I set myself up for that one…

In Another Life (A poem)

In another life

We would be friends

Turn up on the weekends

And tell each other secrets

Get high, recover, rewind

And never have any regrets

In another life 

I would understand why you did

Everything you chose to do

To hide all your misery behind cheap vodka and cigarettes 

Leave your kids in front of the TV set

And dream away your problems

In another life 

I wouldn’t have thrown against you every chance I got 

And I would’ve given you all the love you wanted

Needed

Deserved.

In another life.

Meeting Snack: A Hummus Story

At my current internship there are short hour long meetings held weekly in which one person on the team is responsible to buy snacks. These snacks should be in the $20 range as we are reimbursed. It’s sort of like the Secret Santa version of snacks, you have a fiscal limit, the element of surprise, and everyone involved participates and get something in return. Sometimes something you don’t like, depending on the buyer. 

At this point we’ve had maybe ten meetings all of which have included gluten free, lactose limited, healthy(ish) snacks which to me is also associated with upper-class people. White people. In my world upper-class is pretty much exclusively white which is really a problem in itself. Now I’m a 27-year-old Hispanic female who’s idea of healthy means I’ll eat 5 chips ahoy cookies instead of the whole pack (and yes I’m slightly overweight, thank you very much). In my local supermarket, growing up there weren’t many options of organic foods and gluten free didn’t exist in my world, so imagine the kind of anxiety I had when it was my turn to buy snacks. Buying for a specific audience I wasn’t accostomed to buying for while also being on a budget felt like social suicide. I was going to fail, my snack was going to suck and everyone was going to hate me. I tried Trader Joes as that seemed appropriate and I’d noticed previous snack buyers bringing in snacks in bags marked with the famous Trader Joes logo but when I arrived (around noon on a week day) there was a line just to get in the store and the line to check out wrapped around the store inside practically ending at the entrance. I didn’t have enough time. So now added to the stress of buying food I knew nothing about, limited by a budget now I was also running low on time. I’m crashing and burning here people! Crashing and burning!

I quickly speed walk to another supermarket, Gristedes, which should really have the subline: extremely expensive groceries you can get half price in a different borough. Here I grabbed grapes because grapes felt like safe food. That was a little over $8. Eight dollars for grapes!?! This is why the minority people are so unhealthy. We can’t afford $8 for grapes when $8 can buy a meal of rice, beans and chicken for a small family. Granted in my neighborhood on sale I could probably get the same amount of grapes for $4. So now I have $12 left and I’m at a complete fucking panic walking back and forth in the same aisle cause I have no clue what to do. Some type of chips. And dip. Dip dip dip into my sanity because I can’t buy Tostitos here! And they would not like Tostitos cause I doubt that’s gluten free or healthy. Hummus! I think white people like hummus. So I grab hummus and now I have to find something to dip in the hummus so I grab these flat pretzel chips (that scream healthy snack) in 2 different flavor and I’m at $20. 

Failure. All I managed is 2 bags of chips, hummus and grapes. And the only thing I know I like is grapes because I’ve never in my life tried hummus and those chips look like they could quiet possibly taste like cardboard. I’ve set myself up for failure! So I go to Duane Reade and throw in some sea salt cheesecake caramel cookies that are like a sweet orgasm in a cookie and also very fattening and unhealthy I’m sure cause they taste too damn good to be otherwise.

Purchasing done I head back with some time to spare. Absolutely dreading every moment and wishing I could quit life every breath of the way I walk in and set up and pray. Watching everyone’s reaction I am fearful someone is going to spit up the crap I put in front of them and that’s exactly the opposite of what happened. The pretzel chips were amazing in the hummus. Oh my god is hummus a nice dip! I am very much disappointing I have been neglected this secret pleasure. Anxiety alleviated I felt like I could pass out across the meeting table. Thank god we had snacks to keep me awake.

Now to go buy myself some hummus.

Also, everyone loved my fatty cookies so ha! Stupid anxiety.

Sorry, not Sorry

I was supposed to say I’m sorry to someone for being a total bitch. But I don’t want to apologize for something I didn’t do. It’s not my fault there are days where there’s no filter and no patience and no understanding. Don’t worry though, it’s not only external. It doesn’t only effect those around me, its internal too. Imagine getting those fuck you’s thrown right back at you.

I’ve suffered from mild to severe depression in the past and while I’m not exactly sure if what I have is a variety of the depression I’m pretty sure I have PMDD which is PreMenstrual Dysphoric Dysorder or what I would like to refer to it as Pretty Much be Douche for Days. It’s like a nice big mental awakening that Mother Nature is about to visit. As if I need a warning. As if she couldn’t just have sent a crow or something instead I go bat shit crazy for a week and texting me something as innocent as “I need salt” causes me to have Incredible Hulk sized anger because “what the fuck?! Do I look like the grocery store. Why are you telling me..”

Yet, had that same text been received outside of my PMDD window I would’ve replied something like “oh I hate when that happens, would you like me to send you over some?”

But no. That person isn’t here for that week (give or take a day or so). That person is stuffed into a box somewhere in my body and Evil Me is just causing havoc being a douchebag at every available opportunity. Here are more examples of Me versus PMDD-Me

*”That shirt doesn’t really go well with that outfit it would be better with tights or jeans”*

Me: you’re right. I see your point I look like I’m wearing a giant pillow case

P-Me: what are you trying to say?! That I don’t know how to dress myself? I know what I look like and I’m comfortable and I don’t give a shit what people think!

*Staff member who frequents my library often asks for second book that day*

Me: I get up and get the book, no problem.

P-Me: “you know I really have to show you how to locate books in this library because you’re not even really a patron so you need to learn how to do things for yourself.”

*student who takes time out of most days to add a little pain in the ass to my day stops by*

Me: Hey, M what’s up?

P-Me: Go to class!!!

So yeah, you get the picture. P-Me is rude and unforgiving and really doesn’t want to deal with anyone’s shit but her own because she’s tired and everything sucks and she just wants to be in bed watching Hulu or Netflix. She’s too overwhelmed with dealing with the stuff regular me leaves for her to sort through. More than anything though she is so tired. Physically, mentally, spiritually. Just so tired to the point where it feels like an accomplishment that she even got me out of bed and to work that day. Even if she was a bitch to all my friends.

It does seem to me that PMDD-Me is really me. The Me that I have to restrain and keep in check every day, but when pms comes it’s like there’s a big imbalance and these tamed part of me becomes untamable. 

So yeah, I’m sorry. Sort of but not really. It’s not exactly my fault. I can’t exactly make my brain stop going haywire when it wants. Also, if you can’t accept P-Me once a week just learn to avoid me that week and everyone wins. And if you’re not sure what week it is just ask or observe. Me eyes tell it all.