(The idea for this blog is satisfying a therapy assignment. I failed the first assignment and was given the assignment to do again. I disagree that I didn't do this assignment right the first time but I can't stand up for myself. If she doesn't like what I've done this time, I'll switch to a haiku that might tell her in seventeen syllables what I think of therapy. So anyway, here's my assignment.)
My alarm during the school week goes off at 5:10am. I don't need that much time to primp in the morning. I need the extra time because I never know when I wake up if it's one of those days where I have to talk myself out of bed. When my depression is hitting me hard, I don't want to leave the comfort of my bed. But if I don't leave the bed, I don't get paid and I've got cats to feed so no matter how much I don't want to go to work, it's got to happen. I'll be honest; it's rough when I have to go in when I'm so low but the world still turns regardless of how I feel.
So my first alarm goes off at 5:10 and I turn it off. The second alarm goes off at 5:15 and I get out of bed and fetch my bottled coffee and get back in the bed. Alarms continue to go off at 5:20, 5:25, and 5:30 while I read the morning news and check Facebook, Twitter and email. By this time the cats, who are usually on my bed, are awake and need a cuddle. This happens separately since Joey hates Bootsie and doesn't approve of simultaneous cuddling. I give them about seven and a half minutes a piece and finally get out of bed for the final time at 5:45.
I turn the kitchen lights on, frown at my scale that I refuse to get on anymore, and then go to the bathroom. I do 'bathroom stuff' and then sweep up cat litter. Joey stares at me as I do this because he's mad I'm cleaning up his mess. He then starts meowing at me as I get my shower ready. Me showering pisses him off. He's spent a full day marking me as his territory by rubbing his cheeks all over me and I wash off his scent which makes me A BAD CAT MOM. Joey's meow is a problem right now as he no longer meows; he sort of makes a quack/goose honk sound.
It started Labor Day weekend and was cute until I stupidly started googling cat throat problems. I had a previous cat - Dillie - who had laryingitis once and she got over it fine. I don't remember how long it lasted but Joey has a voice. It's just that he honks. Even Boots looks at him weird. So as he's quacking at me, I have my first crying fit of the day because I'm a BAD FINANCIAL MANAGER and have no money to take him to the vet which makes me a BAD CAT MOM again. I feel like I shouldn't be spending $15 a week on stupid therapy plus the money on the various pills they've put me on becuase I have a cat that sounds like water fowl. The money should go to him and not me. He's fixable and I don't think I'm fixable at all or even worth fixing. I'm worried that something is wrong with him but then I realize he's eating, drinking, raising hell, and trying to kill Boots. You know, his normal routine. More than likely, he's fine but just in case, I got him some hairball medicine.
So I shower, Q-tip my ears because I can't have waxy ears, and then comb my hair. I go to the kitchen for breakfast. I'm having kitchen isssues and can't manage to cook anything from scratch so I have Frosted Cheerios and a banana. I wasn't hungry. I don't know if it's the anti-depressant or the depression but my appetite has been hit and miss lately. Joey sits next to my cereal bowl (a paper bowl because I can't even deal with dishes right now). He loves cereal milk but he doesn't comprehend the fact that he's lactose intolerant. When he sneaks cereal milk, it ends up with me giving him a butt bath because, well, you get the point.
So I'm guarding the bowl with my life as I eat and check Twitter and Facebook again. Much to Joey's chagrin, I dump my milk down the sink and the bowl and plastic spoon in the garbage. I brush my teeth, comb my hair again and try to ignore the fact that I need a haircut again. I don't really care much about my looks and even spending $10 at Cost Cutters on Tuesdays seems like it's too much to spend on myself.
Bootsie is still in bed so I give her another cuddle while Joey's getting high on a catnip toy and doesn't notice me. Bootsie's all cute and trying to grab at my wet hair which she wants to eat. I realize I've spent too much time dinkin' around and am going to miss my scheduled 6:45 leave the apartment time which sends me in a panic. I quickly get dressed - it's a fall like day so I go with long sleeves - put on my chunky silver ring, Star of David necklace, and Daughtry bracelet. I realize I forgot to say the Sh'ma when I got up and I've now become a BAD JEW. My Jewish friend FB hates when I refer to myself as a BAD JEW because I mess stuff up. He says I shouldn't label myself that and and just do better next time. He says it's important to try and make the world a little better and I do try and do that. I then make a mental note to say the Sh'ma at bedtime.
I pack my lunch even though the thought of food is making me feel not so good. I pack a cheese stick and small can of V8 for my morning snack and for lunch a turkey sandwich on rye, bag of plain potato chips and a 100 calorie bag of Lorna Doone's along with a Diet Coke. Time is ticking away and I still have to pack my stuff up. I get my iPad into my nifty WHS bag, make sure I have my keys to my classroom in my purse and then realize I haven't paid my car payment. To make a long story short, I can only pay it by automated phone. I've actually been trying since Friday to pay it but had no Verizon service on Friday and said screw it on Saturday and Sunday and so why not try and pay it when I'm running late and panicking?
The reception was horrible this morning and the automated system keeps reading back the wrong numbers and I give up. I grab a bottle of water to take my morning meds (blood pressure, thyroid, diabetes and anxiety), give the kitties goodbye kisses, and walk out the door. I kiss my mazuzah after locking the door and then halfway down three flights of stairs I realize I forgot to check the cats' kibble bowl. I go back to the apartment, fill it up, lock the door, and kiss the mazuzah again. It's 7:00am and I'm in full panic mode.
My contract states that I am to be at work at 7:35 and I live 15 minutes away. In my mind, that means I should leave for work at 6:45 and be in my classroom by 7:05. The hills are alive with a gazillion deer and I have to dodge six of them on my way to school. The parking spot I prefer to park in is still available (OCD) and I make it to my room by 7:20 but only 15 minutes before I have to be there and now I am BAD TEACHER. I turn the ringer on on my cell phone in case my two co-workers need anything from me before school and set up my work laptop.
I left Friday with everything set for today because that's the way I have to have it so maybe I'm an OKAY TEACHER but then again, the school day hasn't started. Here's where things will get a little fuzzy because I don't believe it's okay to discuss my students on the internet even when they do outstanding things. If it's in the paper, that's one thing but I am NOT one of those teachers that talks about his or her students and things that happen. I'll tell you how I feel from moments but won't tell you the moments themselves. I've had a moment that's been going on since day one and that has caused me to cry BUCKETS at school but for the now, the moment is dealt with but has left me exhausted and I still cry about it.
The morning goes fine and I have my snack by the end of first block. I felt a little iffy but thought maybe some acidy veggie juice would help. Not. But the puky feeling passes and the morning moves on. My 3rd block is a split block - I have a duty the first half and plan the second half. Duty went fine so when I went back to my room, I decided to eat my lunch. I was feeling down and I checked Twitter as I ate and became even sadder. The news of another freak with a gun killing innocent people didn't help but then there were some other tweets that made me sad and I couldn't even get excited about Daughtry's new single that we're hours away from. So now I'm a BAD DAUGHTRY FAN. Oh, and I'm a BAD JEW again. I thought my lunch was all kosher like with parve rye bread for my turkey but after eating my Lorna Doone's, I realized they were dairy. I frown. I check to see if anymore people read my blog from yesterday (the number still stands at 2) and see if I've had anyone visit my author website but just see the usual goose egg.
I have the next several days planned already and it was nearly my actualy lunchtime so I pull out my iPad to do some writing but once again, after a few good days of writing, I'm struggling again. I type a little, get a little weepy, and type some more. I don't have a full blown crying fit which is actually a minor miracle since I've been doing a lot of crying at school lately. Weepy is a win. My mood, however, is getting lower and lower. I receive an email rejection from a literary agency (still waiting on the one that asked for a partial manuscript but really, that was over four months ago so why I even have any hope left there is beyond me). This doesn't help my mood. My last block of the day is fine but it was exhausting putting my 'I'm okay' facade on.
On Mondays, the kids get out an hour early so teachers can have Professional Development. Thankfully, we only had to stay until 3:15 and I was so ready to leave because I just needed to get home. I needed the safety and security of my little apartment. More deer dodging happened on the way home (just 3 this time) and I couldn't wait to see my cats who always greet me at the door.
Except today no one was at my door.
I freaked. What if Joey's throat thing killed him? HE'S ALWAYS AT THE DOOR BECAUSE I ALWAYS HAVE TO FIGHT HIM TO KEEP HIM FROM ESCAPING DOWN THE HALLWAY! WHERE THE HELL IS HE? I drop my shit and start running down the hallway in my apartment calling for him. I see Bootsie jump off the bed and all I could envision was poor Joey dead on my bed because I can't afford to take him to the vet.
The little fucker was sitting prim and proper on my pillow.
So crying fit number two ensues and I hold him and cry into his fur as he quacks at me. He gives me a big honk and I realize I'm squeezing him too hard and let him go. I have apparently offended him and he leaves the bedroom. In all honestly, he's probably tired of seeing me cry. It's seems to be all I do anymore. My therapist thinks it's my anti-depressant. Who the flip creates an anti-depressent that makes depressed people cry even more? I want off that med because of the crying and the making me feel sick all the time and I don't think it's doing anything as far as helping me.
I stop crying but feel like a fool. I change into a pair of ratty shorts and a t-shirt. I pee while Joey stares at me next to the pile of cat litter on the bathroom floor. I realize I will never win the litter war with him.
My students are working on author's purpose projects for me and I promised them they could email me two pics for their brochures that I would print out on my color printer. I realize I need to do this as soon as possible because the moment I hit the couch, I may not move off of it until it's time for bed so I go into my den and crank up my three year old laptop. I need a new one but that's not financially happening for a while. I can only print from my laptop and I pray I have enough color ink to get the pictures printed. My printer has taken a beating from Joey who used to think it was fun at night to jump from the top of my bookcase onto the top of the scanner/printer. I have issues when I have to put in new print cartridges because of a black eleven pound cat. I ruined his fun earlier this summer by shutting the door at night.
While I'm downloading pictures and making sure there's not boobies or weed in them (I teach teens, remember?), Joey decides he's a baby and must be held so I have to do all the computer work with one hand. I'm slightly offended at having to download pictures of Justin Beiber and wonder who some of these artists are that I don't know and then I open one of the documents from a student and see this staring back at me -
I completely forgot that one of my students is doing a Daughtry song for her project. This made me smile for a few moments but then I remembered my worry over Daughtry 2.0 (see yesterday's blog).
Anyway, I had enough ink for those students who sent me pics. I left my laptop on to see if any more are sent tonight. Joey was done being a baby and let me put him down. I headed to get some water and to start working on this blog. Bootsie hauled her fluffy butt up to sit at my feet while Joey sits behind me and tries to pull the ponytail holder from my hair. I swear he's reading over my shoulder now. Having a black cat is so reassuring sometimes.
It's dinner time but I don't know what I want to eat. I have to eat something for my evening meds (stupid anti-depressent and another diabetes pill). I can't eat too much because I need to take my third round of meds on an empty stomach when I go to bed (anxiety and the heavenly Ambien). There's new TV tonight. Sleepy Hollow looks good and the Steelers are playing but I'm not feeling that game because it's against the Bangels. I hope to do some fiction writing but more than likely I'll just be staring at the blinking cursor and, more than likely, crying.
There's less than five hours to go before I can download the new Daughtry song from iTunes but if I wait until then to take my sleeping pill I'm afraid I won't be able to wake up on time in the morning so I might just wait until then to download it. A little of the excitement is gone for me because of the Daughtry 2.0 thing and Chris said that the song was "inspired by real life experiences of incredible women." I think this is great acknowledgement for women but then I start to think of myself and how unincredible I am.
I have so many issues from so many bad life experiences that it's not even funny. I'm almost a month away from being 42 and I don't have much to show for it at all. I cry at the littlest things anymore and worry about so many things including things I have no control over. My family hardly gives me a thought anymore and I just feel like a burden to the couple of co-workers and friends who know what I'm going through. When I need just a hug, I have no one to give me one. I'm not a hugger in general but over the last couple of weeks I have really needed one. I just see all the wrong that has gone on in my life because all the wrongs far outweigh the very few rights.
I have a feeling I have failed at my therapy assignment again. I'm not even sure of the point of it anymore. I guess I should be prepared to write a haiku.
Dana
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