Waterproof Make Up is Overrated

Folks, waterproof make up is overrated. This past week has put it to the test, and it failed miserably. Alright, now I’ll fess up with how I know this.

Last year was very up and down for me, I had my good days, I had my bad days and towards the end of the year most of my days were good days. So good they were wonderful. I was branching out with different career opportunities, I wasn’t partying nearly as much, Barrie and I were meeting lots of canine friends, and my ‘not’ relationship was finding itself again.

But I don’t know what happened. It was like 2017 smacked the side of my head and said hey there little lady….new year, same you, you sad sack of shit…. (Insert sad/annoyed emoji). Since January, I’ve been nothing but overthinking, and feeling. And ya’ll know I strongly dislike the idea of feeling, having feelings, caring for things etc. And overthinking brings on anxiety, and anxiety brings on thoughts that may or may not be true, which brings on more anxiety because I don’t know whether they are or not, which brings on sadness and utter defeat. I lose.

I’m not keeping track but I’ve probably cried at least 3 to 4 times a day, everyday since the new year. In the morning I cry, on my way to work I cry (sometimes at work I cry), my drive from work I cry and in bed I cry. I cry, I cry, I cry, like a big baby. I can’t control it. I’ve cried so much I am surprised my tear ducts haven’t dried up. Part of me thinks all this waterworks stuff has to do with me not crying or even having actual feelings for years and years. I was ‘dead’ inside then, now I am alive and it is so not worth it. Not even in the least bit.

I don’t want to be awake. Mostly I don’t want to be awake when I am alone. It’s a sad place to be. Don’t be alarmed, this is not to say I don’t want to exist, but I would rather be sleeping, just get lost in some sort of Slumberland, where I am not a depressed individual. Instead, I am Cait The Lovely! Who rides a unicorn and has a cotton candy bed!!! Unfortunately reality doesn’t allow for such pleasures.

sadpandaLately I have been leaving my house early for work. Sometimes 2 to 3 hours before work. I leave early because I don’t want to be home. I then find a place to grab a coffee, which I may or may not drink, and I drive around. Driving used to make me feel better. In some truth it still does. But I cry folks, I cry and cry and cry and before I know it I look like a panda. Mascara and eyeliner down my face, perhaps I look more like a sad mime, a disgruntled Beetlejuice, Morticia Addams, one of the Kardashians. Fuck, I don’t know, what ever I look like, well I am sure there is a meme out there somewhere for it.

I’m losing myself friends, I’m drowning in tears that are surely falling for ridiculous reasons. I’m lost in all this sappy and mushy shit. Emotions are exhausting, feelings are suffocating, and when they are placed inside my used-to-be hollow self… … …well, maybe I just shouldn’t wear make up anymore.

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Ode To My Shower

Friends, I must let you in on a little secret. Well, fuck… whether it’s a secret or not doesn’t really matter, but ANYWAYS!

So as you guys know, I haven’t been the happiest camper the last while or so. I’ve been riding this wave of depression and severe anxiety for quite some time. Often, when sleeping doesn’t work, when being in the company of others fails to keep my mind occupied, I tend to take off all my clothes and run through the streets WE’RE GOING STREAKING!!! Ha! Only kidding folks, if only I had the gonads to do so.

Nah, what I usually do is put on some Whitney Houston, light a couple candles and hop in the shower….ALRIGHT, alright, this is bogus too. But I do jump in the shower and I often do sing ALL BY MYSELF!!!!!!!!!

For whatever reason I find comfort sitting in my shower, contemplating every possible thing I could ever contemplate. I often cry when I am in the shower, (I know big baby right.) I won’t even shampoo my hair, or shave or think to take advantage of my adjustable shower head (ladies you know what I mean). Instead, I just sit, cry, overthink, sometimes sing, write blogs in my head, overthink some more, cry some more, etc. etc.

The shower is comforting, the hot water soothes my body. Although I am all alone in a shower, butt-ass naked, sitting in the fetal position like a sad, little beefcake, I don’t feel so lonely. I just sit there, hot water tapping on me and before I know it, some time has gone by, and the water is now luke warm.

I go through phases. As mentioned before, I’ve riding this wave, and sometimes I land along the shore, sometimes I am pulled back out, perhaps in an undertow, I just never know, because I can’t control the ocean.

Lately, I’ve been having a lot of showers. Fack, my hydro bill is going to be huge!

Maybe it means I am psychotic. In fact, I would almost prefer to be psychotic, than be so melancholy all the time.

Today I had two showers. Which believe it or not,seeing as it was a day off for me I should have had about four. Towels flood my house, along with wet foot prints.

My shower is a calmness for me. It tames my love-sick feelings, it keeps my anxieties at bay, and although I still can tend to be sad while showering, my shower lets me. It wipes away my tears, and when I do choose to sing, the acoustics are…FAB U LOUS!!!

Shower, Thankyou.

The Blahs

My friends,

How are all of you today? I must admit, I, myself am not doing so well. Those of you who have read my stories, know very well of my struggles with depression. It’s a love hate relationship I must admit. Depression loves me, and I hate it so. Some days are good, some days are bad, some days are just okay, and some days are just…some days, I guess.

I strongly dislike opening up about my feelings. I strongly dislike showcasing my weakness. I strongly dislike being vulnerable. And alas, I strongly dislike sitting in the shit and feeling the blahs. I hate depression so.

Friends, I want to open up a bit. Just a little. I want to share what I go through on a not so good day. I want to share, because there are so many misconceptions about depression. It truly is one of those things, that you couldn’t possibly understand until you are there, until you and sadness are hand in hand, until depression keeps poking at you, until melancholy is the only shirt that wears you. Even at that, those who have gone through this funk or are currently battling the blahs, well, lets just say every story is different.

When I first was diagnosed with depression I was in both denial and acceptance. Make sense, I thought. I had gotten out of a long term relationship, I lost my grandma, I lost my best friend, I lost cousins, I was homesick, and not where I thought I would be in life. I was in denial to my diagnoses because, I didn’t want people to look at me differently. I am one strong, mother fucking tough cookie, and for some Doc to come in spend 10 minutes with me, and send me on the way with one fucking terrible symptom and loads of fun prescriptions, well…fuck.

So it has been a roller coaster. This, my friends, is not a ride I can easily get off. I can’t just snap my fingers and not be depressed anymore. (Although I wish this were the case). It’s a bummer, I know.

Alas, lets turn my feelings on.

On a not so good day I go through…

  • I cry. Here is the thing. I never cry. But on these days, I just can’t help myself. I cry because of all these feelings and thoughts that run through my heads. I will admit though, I do cry quite beautifully. I have often thought of taking a selfie and instragaming the shit out of it with whispers of ‘so sad today’, ‘hard knock’, ‘#loveme’.
  • I create scenarios in my head. Some are reasonable like; ‘what if there is a zombie apocalypse and no one wants to save me, and then I realize that this scenario is not realistic at all and that none of the scenarios are reasonable. NONE OF THEM! And then I start panicking and then…
  • ANXIETY. I get so anxious about everything. I will constantly text or call people who are dear to me, people who I love and care for, AND when they don’t text back or take too long to respond, I keep texting and calling AND start crying because they don’t love me anymore, AND all these thoughts keep building AND stacking AND everything is closing in AND my chest begins to hurt, AND my heart begins to hurt, AND I can’t breathe and all I want is to….

End it.

  • I lose control and then all of a sudden it stops. (but not really). You see friends, I get so worked up inside my head, I can’t get a grip on anything. My footing is lost, and it’s not that I have fallen, it is that I am falling, and falling and I keep falling.

This isn’t fun for me. And although dejection is enjoying every fucking minute of my sadness, I am not.

  • I get upset with myself. I beat myself up. I self sabotage. I don’t mean too. At least I don’t think I do, but I don’t know much of anything anymore.

Recently, I tried opening up to another. He was kind, genuine, and wonderful. I loved him. But as I opened up more about my struggle with being a sad sack of shit, it seemed to push him further away. Although he was quite insightful, seemed to understand and told me of his stories with similar battles, it must of not been what he wanted in someone else. He fell further back, and I fell further down. I thought He doesn’t love me anymore, but misery is company and loves me so.

  • I get desperate. (Yup, pretty much just sums that up.
  • I shut off. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Friends and family will call, I won’t pick up, they’ll message, I won’t answer. I have great people in my life. I really do. But I am not there for them anymore. I guess I just can’t be bothered.
  • I tell myself, I’m too tired for this…

It’s hard. I work at a job where we are told a smile is part of our uniform. {Side Note: Lamest fucking slogan EVER!} My smile, is just a facade. Seriously friends, it hurts to fake smile for fucking 8 hours. Sucks even more once you begin to loathe the place you work.

  • I tell myself I am Batman. But then I get sad because I realize I am not Batman. Not even close, not even 1%. I’m just me. A soon to be 30 year old, spinster, who is lonely as fuck.

Loneliness is a shitty feeling. The other day I had a good friend over. He and I had our traditional Sunday Night Special. We watched a movie and ordered in. I was lonely the entire time. Not because he wasn’t good company, but because I knew after the movie, he would go home. I would be left here, alone.

Going to bed at night is probably the hardest for me. For a little while, I had someone who slept over quite often. Although we were intimate, it was the cuddles and sleeping side by side I really enjoyed. It was peaceful. I felt at peace with myself.

When he wasn’t there I would try to have sleepovers with other men. It wasn’t the same. The cuddles were different, the intent behind the cuddles was different. There was no comfort. I wasn’t at peace with myself.

On a not so good day, sleeping aides help.

Friends, I am sad. This whole ordeal, this funk I am in, these blahs I am battling are, well … I feel as though it is breaking my heart. Maybe it’s because my heart has cracked recently, maybe not…but I am so sad.

  • I look in the mirror. I realize, I am not the girl my parents raised me to be. I realize I am not the person my grandma would be proud of. I realize I am a shitty, terrible, selfish cunt and I shouldn’t even be here. I shouldn’t be a functioning human being. I shouldn’t exist. I didn’t choose to be born…why the fuck am I still here?

My thoughts get darker.

Suicide is something that I am familiar with. I’ve lost family members and friends to this. Before, I used to think, how selfish. Don’t these people know who they are hurting? But then I realized something. Once you get into the world of melancholia, you get to a point where one option arises. And although there are other options out there, the longer you are entrapped by that world, the more that option is the only choice for you. At least this is how your mind sees it. I will admit, I have thought of that. I have yet to get to that point to just choose that. But that thought is always there.

  • I get homesick.

My entire family is back in Ontario. Back in a place they call their home. I have nieces and nephews, who hardly know me, some I haven’t meant. I see photos and videos on Facebook of ‘family times’. And well, it’s just a ray of sunshine over there.

I haven’t seen my family in just under 2 years. Although they constantly reach out and ask me to come visit. It just isn’t that easy for me. In fact, most times it makes me feel terrible. I feel bad I can’t be there. Sometimes I get annoyed with them and I want them to stop. My life is out here, I want to be out here, I want to have a family out here in this beautiful city, why make me feel guilty about leaving yours!?!

  • DRUGS!

Drugs don’t help. In the beginning of this phase, I was heavily medicated. Prozac, Zoloft, Paxil, Lexapro, Doxepin, you name it, I had it. Basically, in the unlikely scenario of a zombie apocalypse happening, I could dope a whole city up on happy pills and suddenly zombies become fun!!!

Before the summer, the Doc, decided to stop it all. Stop all my fun stuff. Stop me not feeling. (I like not feeling.) 

Introducing, coke! No, I am not referring to Santa’s favourite beverage. I’m referring to the the lil’ sniff’sniff ya know… My whole summer was spent snorting cocaine. I won’t lie I enjoyed it. It made me more social. I was euphoric, I felt on top of the world, but I tell ya, coming of that stuff is the worst feeling. Killing kittens would be easier. Coming off this high and getting smacked with reality I was sad, I was in agony, I hated my life, my anxiety was full throttle and I couldn’t fucking sleep. I didn’t want to be awake a feel.

After the summer, I decided no more doing lines off some whores ass crack {Side Note: My coffee table is such a whore). Just in time for the Doc to load me back up again, this time with Marplan and Celexa. (I haven’t touched these guys yet).

Friends, it’s really hard. Like I said, I am one tough motherfucking cookie, but fuck. I know this too shall pass. I know at some point I will get to my happy place, but right now, its really fucking hard. I’m down in the dumps, battling the blahs, but I will see you guys on the other side.

This may have not been a good day for me. But I know there will be a good day eventually.

Let The Lonely In

So here is the deal.

I guess you could say, I am still ‘newly’ single, I haven’t been on any dates or bumped naughty bits with a stranger….yet… One of my pups is now with the ex, while I kept the other one and the cat. The ex’s stuff is mostly moved out, a few  random ef2009e3be3fc465artifacts still floating around, which will soon be on eBay if he doesn’t collect. Oddly, enough, my feelings didn’t truly hit me until the ex took away my friend, the Xbox 360. This my friends was a sad, sad day because I ultimately realized, I am lonely as fuck.

Am I depressed? Nah, but the herbs and potions help me out with that. They are all just rainbows and unicorns to me.

Do I listen to Whitney Houston’s All By Myself and cry myself to sleep? Yes, however I have cut it back to Sunday’s since the neighbours that I was harboring puppies under my stairs.

Now that I am single, it feels like everyone has someone. Before when I was in a relationship it seemed like everyone was single and living in the golden days. Clearly, nothing gold can stay, thank you Ponyboy.

I have friends and I also have ‘friends’, But in all honesty it just doesn’t feel like it is enough. Sure, I go out from time to time and force myself to socialize. But really, all I am thinking about is going home, lying in bed and feeling sorry for myself. I even find myself pushing my friends away which makes me feel even more shittier and lonelier. Cait, The Littlest Hobo.

Although being out and among the Plebeians is probably what is best for me. Sometimes I would rather just not exist. I would rather go home, sit my ass on the couch and play vids. Which reminds me, Goodbye XboX.

Lara-Croft-SadSo I chose to be single. I didn’t choose to be lonely. But here is the thing. When I was in a relationship, I wasn’t alone, but I indeed was lonely. I felt like I lost a core group of friends in the early years of the relationship. My new friends, were his friends, which then became our ‘friends’, which now is back to the way it started, his friends. Don’t get me wrong, he didn’t steal them or call dibs, sometimes that is just the way it goes. I also do have my own friends, although few and far between. But that is the way I like it.

Siri by the way, is the worst friend ever. All she does is lead me down dark alleys and on roads that don’t exist. She makes fun of my still ever present Ontarian accent and has since stopped talking to me. Siri=worst friend ever.

I noticed I play Solitaire a lot. That is a true story.pokemon dark pikachu sad lonely realistic drawn stylized 1280x800 wallpaper_www.wall321.com_83

I’m tired of hugging myself.

I wish my pillow would cuddle me back.

I’ve created multiple personalities just to keep me company. Though half the time they make fun of me.

I’ve started turning to resources to help me. I  was looking up on the good ol’ internet How to Cure Loneliness. It was suggested that I go on a date….hold on wait for it….with myself. Like seriously, just no. If anything I will feel more sad, more lonely and the restaurant will run out of liquor. Straight up.

It also suggested to seek out other lonely people. Um, I don’t know about you but that really just sounds like the saddest party ever. I would probably have better luck at AA.

The internet also suggested I should stop using my cat as my shrink. All I’m wondering is how did it know that.

I will say that through all of this. I do find that I am doing more with myself and learning more about myself. For instance, I’m usually in bed around 10 or so (that is of course when I am not working). I wake up before my alarm around 7. Barrie (my pup) and I cuddle in bed. We now fit it more walks with each other. My house, is my house. And just the way I like it.

I know that this is a process. And right now I may be feeling down in the dumps, but I know or at least can hope that it will get better. It will get easier. So that being said, I’m okay with letting the lonely in.