Tag Archives: mental health

Deep Dark Depression

I have been very limited for over a week in the amount of time I have to spend on writing and blog posting.  The start of a new novel has been delayed.  My posts have been short… and hopefully also sweet.  I have relied some on re-blogging old posts.  Depression is a demanding illness.  It requires the sacrifice of time, the sacrifice of energy, and even the sacrifice of self.  It can go so far as to demand the sacrifice of a human life.  And it can require you to offer up those things even when you are not the one depressed yourself.  Though I must admit, my health and mood have suffered through hospital visits, business arrangements made without money to spend, only mortifying promises of doing whatever you can.  And then doing those things.  And at the same time I have earned zero dollars from Uber.

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Ghosts from the past, long dead emotions, and ancient regrets all arise from crypts you have been keeping them in to remind you that you are mortal after all and subject to the slings and arrows that flesh is heir to.  And you must become a ghost-buster.  How do you do it?  How do you defeat the phantoms of past deeds and devilments?

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Dr. Pinkenstein and Pinkenstein’s Monster Mickenstein

Of course, Science can help.  You need professional help from a real psychiatrist, especially if you can find a good one.  The doctor we found is one who saved our family from darkness once before.  This time a mood drug called Lexipro and vitamin D supplements helped.  Before it was too much cortisol, the stress chemical, and lack of serotonin that threw things out of balance.  Better life through proper medication is actually a thing.

And a sense of humor doesn’t hurt.  Dr. Pinkenstein was not our psychiatrist.  But if he makes us laugh about things… well, laughter really is good medicine.

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And I have sailed these waters and fought these devils before.  My little boat was easier to navigate this time because I had a map through the labyrinth that I drew for myself before.  Experience and the wisdom to learn from it is seriously a super power.

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Up, up, and away, me!  We have come out of the darkness again, and it is time to get our lives back on track.

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Filed under battling depression, colored pencil, humor, illness, mental health, monsters, Paffooney

The Man is Mad

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Mad can mean angry.

It can also mean crazy.

It is also a magazine.  He should be happy.  He made the cover.

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Mickey made fun of me… sad!  A very sick man!

Do we really understand why the man is mad?

Could it be that too many steaks from Mar-a-Lago have given him permanent heartburn?

Something in his diet is making him have Sith eyes all the time.

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There has to be a reason he tells so many lies,

And breaks wind on Twitter to give us all the gas,

To fuel explosions…

The man really is an… Biblical word for donkey.

It must be sad to be him.

Anger… dyspepsia… battling bubbling bile…

He’s really never happy, not even when he smiles.

He made a thirteen year old girl cry recently, sitting in the back of the car,

Watching ICE cart her father away to detention and eventual deportation.

If that doesn’t make him happy, I really don’t know what will.

He is planning to issue a new travel ban.

It will make life miserable for many Muslims…

Including those coming to this country with visas to get life-saving surgery.

Surely allowing something like that, life-saving surgery,  is not worth making the man mad.

He deserves to have his fun.

After all, he won the most amazing election in history…

Without the help of Russian Putin, pudding, and pie…

On a platform of making sure that poor people don’t get affordable healthcare…

The issue the Republican non-silent majority care the most about in life…

Just ask Ted Cruz.

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Such a lovely man… to be mad all the time.  I only wish he knew that peace of mind and a quiet stomach come from doing good, eating right, and sleeping soundly at night…even during the Twitter hour.  My life is a physical mess because I don’t have affordable healthcare even with Obamacare… something that will only get worse when the mad man gets his way.  But I am not mad.  I have done good with my life.  I eat right.  And I don’t sleep very well, but that is not my conscience bothering me… especially now that I have given up on tweeting with the twit-wits on Twitter.

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Filed under angry rant, feeling sorry for myself, grumpiness, humor, medical issues, politics, strange and wonderful ideas about life

Page-Filler Friday

I have had a monumentally horrible week.  And one of the hardest things about it, is that I cannot tell you about most of it and make fun of it for the sake of healing by humor because, after all, real mental health issues are a very private thing.  So, I am left with a mish-mash of free-associations and brainstorming to fill up a page with random and unthinkable thoughts.  (When I brainstorm, sometimes it is more like a brain-hurricane.)

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Under the general heading of; Things a relatively sane older man who is battling hoarding disorder should probably not do is the new collection I started of Sparkling Disney Princesses.  As you can see above, I unfortunately acquired some of the more recent Disney Princesses in sparkle form within the rules for collecting (not costing more than $20 and not spending more than $50 in any one month).  I even added a rule to slow down the collecting mania.  (No buying sparkle princesses of characters I already have in my Disney Princess collection.)  Tiana, Merida, and Elsa add up to only $30 over the last three months.

This is actually Cowboy Mickey in the middle of the bedroom he shares with about 500 dolls and action figures, 1000 books, and the fairy in the foreground who is real.

This is actually Cowboy Mickey in the middle of the bedroom he shares with about 500 dolls and action figures, 1000 books, and the fairy in the foreground who is real.

The thing about the relentless doll collecting is more the space it fills than the money it burns.  A few years back I completed a five year stint of buying, selling, and trading action figures in which I learned how to make the obsessive-compulsive-disorder part of it turn out to be profitable.  I ran a used-toy and collectible E-Bay store that helped me pay for my mental health issue.  Of course, I did not get ahead, as all the profits are tied up in the dolls, action figures, and stuffed toys that I have kept.  Still, I learned how to do the thing effectively enough to believe I can effectively do that again if I need to, in spite of the fact that E-Bay got wise and raised their fees to make a $5 and $10 business far less profitable.

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I should note that I gave up toy-selling on E-Bay after an irate Barbie collector teed off on me in the comments section over a misidentified 80’s Barbie.  (Heck, how was I to know that the date on her neck was a copyright date only and not an indicator that she was sold in the 1970’s?)  Lady Godiva Barbie on the wingless Pegasus from the Goodwill store is a new project I put on the project table.  There is at least a month’s worth of hair-combing necessary and clearly visible in the picture.  Mane and tail alone will take weeks.

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And I am not yet done with the notion of collecting beautiful sunrises.  The recent rains and cloudiness of Texas wild weather have provided some interesting color and variety to the skyline of the park next to our house.  It all helps to keep my mind off of troubling issues that developed from dental pain and attendance woes.  This has been a very rough week, but the sunrises keep coming, and I look forward to a new day.

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Filed under doll collecting, humor, photo paffoonies

Panic

Centaur1Sometimes the Greek god Pan attacks with darts of fear and suffering.  Sometimes what has happened in the past comes back to bite us in the rear for no other reason than the bulldog of horrible past experiences does not know how to let go once his jaw is clamped tight to the seat of your pants.

Mental illness is not taken seriously enough in American society.  We tend to think that every man, woman, and child ought to always be in control of themselves and never subject to bouts of craziness for which they can not be held responsible.  I joke a lot about being crazy.  I am not normal in any sense of the word.  But my own real mental challenges are no worse than depression caused by diabetes.  I get blue a lot.  But that is nothing compared to what blew up in my face today.  Have you ever seen somebody who is catatonic?  Curled up in a ball and unable sit up and stop shaking?  And what are you supposed to say to that poor sufferer?  What can you do to help?  Especially when they are no longer able to communicate with you, hear what you say, or even look at you.  It is frightening.

And I can’t even tell more than this.  The way we view this kind of problem in our society is a problem in itself.  Depression and irrational fear can destroy the entire day for everyone involved.  And the persons involved are shamed by what has happened.  The solutions to this kind of problem always involve talking about it and discussion.  But our society does not want to talk about these things.  We are all afraid of slipping into the horror of the Oregon shooter, even though that is not even remotely connected to the problem and the things that happened today.  The stigma is crippling.  People don’t tend to face this kind of problem until it happens to them or to somebody they love.

The word panic is derived from the Greek god Pan.  In mythology, Pan was a god of the forest and wild things, especially herd animals.  He was generally a jovial and fun-loving sort, but if you happened on him while he was sleeping, he would awake with a sudden shout, and that shout caused forest animals to stampede.  Thus the Greek word “panikon” meaning sudden fear became the word panic.  Apparently I stumbled on Pan today and suffered the consequences.  I am feeling trampled at present.  Don’t worry, though.  I have survived.  And things that don;t kill us make us stronger.  That is what convinced me that I am really Superman, and have only forgotten that fact because of some unfortunate kryptonite exposure.

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Filed under medical issues, mental health, Paffooney