So. As they tend to do when you have depression built in to your DNA, things got rough for me this spring and I went back into the Booby Hatch for 6 weeks. Big mistake. When I got out, I had a new friend and I had discovered that I am capable of building meaningful relationships with people in the right sort of environment. In fact, I did not have a new friend, I did not have evidence that I could build meaningful relationships, I lost three weeks worth of pay, I’ve got a bill coming eventually for about 10-12 weeks more worth of pay, and I developed a sleep pattern that has me sleeping in until noon or 1 pm every day, which makes it hard to go to work.
I’m finally making headway on the sleeping problem, sort of. I tried the sleep coaching offered by my medical practice, but it turned out not to be coaching. It turned out to be a 12-week course offered in Richmond. Classroom work in a location 2 hours away offered on some set schedule is not the equivalent to one-on-one coaching offered on an online-chat basis, as was advertised, and a set curriculum wastes my time whenever it is not addressing exactly what I need. The problem I needed to address was immediate and acute, so I did what I always end up having to do. I took care of it myself, because I have to. Now, I only sleep in until 10, which isn’t great, but which does allow me some semblance of a functioning life.
I’ve been on my own pretty much since college. I’ve always known this, but now I’m starting to KNOW this. Example: getting divorced means having to show up places to get documents notarized. I show up with my documents, Eric shows up with his, they get notarized, I make copies and send them wherever they need to go. Only Eric shows up without his documents. TWICE. When I told a friend this, she reacted thusly: That tells me that you did everything and he didn’t do anything. Just so. He never did anything so he never had to do anything and a lifetime of just showing up and having everything taken care of for him did not prepare him for the day when he had to do more than just show up. I did everything.
Example: why did Laura get a gigantic tax refund in 2014 and Eric have a gigantic tax bill in 2014? Laura had massive medical expenses in 2014 and it made financial sense to file married filing separately. At the same time, Laura and Eric had a lot of extra tax withholding so they wouldn’t end up with a giant tax bill every year. Laura told Eric this year after year and asked him to increase his federal tax withholding but, like everything else Laura said, Eric promptly flushed it down a memory hole as soon as she stopped speaking, with the end result that Laura ate all the extra tax withholding. In 2014, it came home to roost. Laura’s massive medical deductions, plus the grossly disproportionate tax withholding on her end, led to a giant refund. Eric’s massive under-withholding on his end led to a giant tax bill.
Anyway, I’ve been on my own forever. I have spent probably about a quarter of a million dollars trying to treat my depression. I have short periods when I am better, but on the whole, I am not getting well. I have no one I can count on to provide me with intelligent advice who does not have a financial interest in me continuing to throw money I really don’t have down a rabbit hole of treatment that doesn’t seem to be working. So for a while at least, I’m going to do this myself.
Or at least, I would, but my non-friend friend keeps turning up, as he did yesterday. I was so upset, I scrubbed the bathtub hard, including the enclosure walls, the fixtures, the shower curtain, the caddies, all the little brushes and assorted doodads, all of it. It still smells like fucking bleach in there. However, he is still in my fucking head. And he’s invited me to lunch (don’t get excited–it’s not nearly as promising as it sounds) so I have to respond. I could spend the rest of the day writing the perfect response in my head. Or.
I’ve been watching a lot of Hell’s Kitchen reruns on Amazon Prime, for some reason, and that has made me want real food, so I have been cooking, and my fridge is full of really good ingredients and it’s a cool and rainy day, so I’m going to cook. As soon as my eggs and buttermilk come up to room temperature, I’m going to bake a cake. Then I’m going to roast some chicken and make some sage dressing. And I’m going to make a gelato base and get that chilling so I can out together some vanilla gelato and some strawberry gelato. And I’m going to marinate some sea bass for fish tacos. And I’m going to clean some salad greens. And maybe I’ll make some chocolate fucking chips cookies. And I’ll finish the laundry and clean the rest of the bathroom and finish the front ruffle on the cardigan I’m knitting. And after all of that, I’ll probably still be pissed off at Mr. Not Really My Friend, but I’ll have spent the whole day being the magnificent badass I am so I’ll know better what to say.