Tag Archives: skittles

Depression…what a bitch!

20 Apr

I hate to whine and make people listen to my problems. You know its bad when I can’t find an appropriate level of positivity to hold up a conversation. I have to admit that even I, with ability to always find the silver lining and snap myself out of a funk within a day or two, have hit a great big wall that’s making it hard to get out of bed.

Feeling that you are one heartbeat away from failing is a hard feeling to fight. You start at the top of this spiral where confidence is high and your determination is strong. Then with each road block your confidence and determination are slowly chipped away at. When one decreases the other falls with it. Then what fills up the space that is left is fear and hopelessness. Once the equilibrium is more fear/hopelessness than confidence/determination, its hard to get out of bed and do anything to help yourself out of the hole.

This my friends is depression at its finest. We all get there at some point in our lives, some more intensely than others, but if you’ve ever had a day it felt better to stay in bed with the blinds closed sleeping and having hours long marathons of tv shows you don’t even care about, than get up, take a shower, and do even the slightest thing to make the situation better, you know what I’m talking about.

I meant to start this post days ago, but instead wallowed, watched A LOT of netflix, and considered buying a plane ticket home. Of course the concept of living with my parents and abandoning all my things was enough of a deterrent, so now, days later, or like a week, I have almost come to terms with where I’m at and begun making a new plan.

How did I get here? Well it all started with the death of Skittles. Not having a car has made getting a job hard, which led me in an act of desperation to buy a car at a car auction with half of my remaining savings. The car is, and I’m being nice when I say this, a dirty whore bitch with more problems than I can even consider.

Hind sight is 20/20 and mine is crystal clear. I know exactly what I would do to not have ended up here, but none the less, here I am and I can either continue to wallow until I am left with no choices at all, or rebuild. Its still hard and I’m still struggling, and part of me wants to cry pretty much every second of the day, but life doesn’t work that way. Sometimes you have to get off your privileged high horse and  take a very large bite of reality, knowing that in the end it will make you a better, stronger person.

Saying this out loud helps. I repeat it to myself constantly. There is always someone who has it worse off than you do. I am not in a good place necessarily, but I have all my basic needs met and still enough audacity to have some self-pity. I’m sure in the months to come it will continue to be hard and I’ll still have days that I want to swallow a handful of vicodin. However, I am blessed with a vast support group of friends and family, who, even from thousands of miles away for the most part, still manage to make me feel loved and reassured. THAT is what keeps me going, THAT is how I get out of bed everyday, and no matter how bad things get, I will forever be thankful for those people.

Side note: as I was writing this it reminded me of another blog I had read a while back. The entire things is great, she’s freaking hilarious, until the last post and I haven’t seen anything new since *sadface* Check it out – Adventures in Depression 

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The Wardrobe

3 Mar

Funny story, I wrote the title to this blog and then laughed because our nic name for our apartment is “Narnia.” Someone named it that on foursquare and it kind of just stuck since its so maze-like.

Anyway, sidetrack (I feel like that may happen again), but the goal here is to tell the story of my wardrobe adventure. However, being slightly drunk and having skrillex playing in the background is not helping my concentration at all.

Lets attempt this though. My story begins a few weeks ago when one of my roommates decided to move out. It is customary in our apartment to offer up your room to the other roommates when you leave. We all pay the same amount, but the rooms are not equally sized. The one leaving had been there the longest and, therefore, had the largest room, while I still had the smallest room. No one else wanted the now vacant bedroom, but, being fairly lazy, I debated the decision to leave my accustomed habitat. Plus, now empty room’s closet was in the hallway…I’m a girl, clothes are important!

After much deliberation, I finally moved. That in itself is not an entertaining story, but amusing to envision since it took me the majority of a Tuesday night. Twirly hallway+weak white girl+key heavy objects begin pushed down the hall=one hell of a show+obscenities.

This happened a couple weeks ago. I decided I could manage having the hall closet if I could find a wardrobe for my room which could hold necessities. Being broke made this more of a challenge so there has been LOTS of craigslist surfing.

FINALLY I found THE PERFECT wardrobe. It had a bar, shelves, drawers, and it was only $30!! PLUS, the girl said she could break it down into pieces so it could fit in my car instead of me having to bribe someone with a larger vehicle. (Skittles=great for mpg, bad for transport of large objects).

Then it got tricky.

I went to Brookline (LOVE BOSTON!), the girl was nice enough to help me load it into my car, and I drove off with a smile on my face…SO EXCITED!!! I was farily confident I could do this on my own being the strong independent young girl that I am. Hell, I did P90X biotches!

Getting home took some of the fire out of my determination, rush hour traffic can do that to you. But I made it and I even found a spot in 15 minute parking in front of my door. The plan was to get all the pieces in the lobby and then drag them up the four loooooong flights of stairs to my apartment. This worked out well until about the third trip, My biceps were ON FIRE! Particle board is fucking heavy! However, I was DETERMINED DAMN IT!!! Finally, with muscles screaming and head spinning (since I’m so out of shape and 5 trips up and down four flights it exhausting), every last bit was in my room and waiting for construction.

Too bad I had to go.

I scarfed the quickest dinner I could find and then was out the door because I promised a client I would go see her play. For middle schoolers, they did pretty good, but the whole time I was dreaming of the finished product.

Around 10:30 I was finally home, armed with a box of wine (yeah we’re broke enough for the boxes), and determined as a fat kid waiting for cake to get this done. That’s when the mayhem ensued.

Building a wardrobe reckless-style:

Step 1: Pour first glass of wine.

Step 2: organize pieces (and thank God previous owner was as addicted to sticky notes as you are)

Step 3: screw on bottom thingies.

Step 4: have a dance party for accomplishing so much!!

Step 5: get back to work and spend 17 minutes getting next piece attached (begin wondering why you didn’t ask someone to help)

Step 6: finish glass of wine

Step 7: stare at project, wonder if it will ever be done

Step 8-10: somehow get two sides and top together (during this process it may be helpful to scream obscenities and curse your roommates for having lives and not being around on a Friday night to help you put together this shit)

Step 11: pour more wine, drink

Step 12: debate whether a back is really necessary, decide it is, but decide to move on to the next step anyway

Step 13: shelves? really!? Fuck screws

Step 14: drink more wine

Step 15: DON’T HAMMER YOUR FINGER!!!!!!!

Step 16: Fuck step 16

Step 17: Aren’t we done yet??

Step 18: Ok somehow you have gotten most of the piece of shit together, except the door, you’ve gotten this far, time to ge this shit done!

Step 19: drop door on foot

Step 20: google how to put Ikea hinges together…realize this is a pointless task that is just leading to further frustration

Step 21: get on knees, praise God for the creation of alcohol

Step 22: give up on door, OBVIOUSLY this task is intended for a sober person, more than one drunk person, or a person with seven arms and telekinesis

Step 23: cry a little then deny it to anyone who asks

Step 24: give up, push wardrobe into corner, forget door until morning

Step 25: drink more wine so your failure matters less

And that has been my night. With the addition of random video chats with Vermont peeps more drunk than me.

Updates to come later….maybe.