Bare with me here, I am trying to see if this works:

 

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We are family, I got all my sisters with me

Sorry, I don't have all my sisters with me. My only sister has been dead for 41 years.

However, I do have my first family here. You know, the one Debbie and I had together. Our one child. All growed up with her own family now.

These pictures are my little girls' family pictures. At least three of them are anyway.

That's my new grandson you are looking at up there. His name is Benjamin. He won't be born for a few more months.

That precious and adorable little girl in the second picture is my beautiful granddaughter Danielle. She's two and a half now. Is she not the most beautiful child you have ever seen? I thought you would think so <grin>.

The third picture is my beautiful daughter and her handsome husband and of course my most adorable grand daughter. Somewhere, lurking in Mommy's tummy is baby brother Ben.

And finally, I had to share a recent pic of me being an idiot grinning. I don't much like to share my recent photos because of the injury to my face from the accident. The scar is very apparent to me and the discoloration on my face bugs the shit outta me. I look like I have a perpetual sun burn on the right side of my face below the eye there. I also still have those extra 20 pounds on that I gained after the accident. Luckily those are gone now. The woman lurking in the background is Luan, she is several belt ranks ahead of me in karate. She is 64, she gives me hope that I too can attain a those higher ranks despite my archaic body.

Ciao for now

In the meadow we can build a snow man, and pretend that it is Parson Brown. He'll say "are you married?" we'll say "No man", but you can do the job while you're in town.....

I have a few minutes before the Fam comes home from karate. I haven't been to karate this week since I blew my knee out Saturday scraping old tile off the shop floor. It doesn't take much for this old war injury to flare up on me. Too much of this or that and it will blow right out on me and I will be down for the count.

It really isn't an old war injury. It's really a 33 year old motorcycle accident. War sounds so much more romantic than motorcycle. When I say it's a war injury to people who do not know me well, they stare at me oddly and I can see the wheels turning in their heads trying to figure out what "war" I might have been in. If they have half a brain in their head they will know I am far too young to have been in the Vietnam War and I am most likely far too old to have been in the Gulf War.

When I finally break down and tell them a motorcycle landed on my leg when I was 19, they go "Oh....". I don't usually get into the details of what actually happened. It seems to be enough to tell them it landed on me to have produced an injury that comes back again and again for 33 years.

This week Alec is off working with the love of her life Jody. I find it rather amusing. She would not be amused that I find it so amusing. In fact, she would be seriously pissed at me if she knew I was chuckling about the whole thing. She is working with Jody because I do not have enough work to actually pay her to work with me. This was her idea, not mine. It's a fine idea too, because I sincerely do not have enough work to pay her for hanging around my house or whatever all week.

That's the breaks of owning your own business. Unfortunately for service businesses like mine, we get pushed to the back of the burner in people's minds this time of year and they tend to not call us unless it's a major emergency.

Ok, I am done, Sue just called and they are on their way home now. Soon the house will be filled with noise, too much noise for me to handle things like writing or thinking or staying in an upright position.

Caio baby......

Life is good and Celexa rocks. I am no longer depressed, just that low grade shit that hangs around the edges. But nothing debilitating. I went back and reread this blog the other day. Back to the very beginning. It appears that depression has been a big theme here for the most part.

I had my astrological chart done some months back and one of the first things the astrologer asked me was if I suffered from depression. I said "not just yeah, but hell yeah". She told me it was because of all the Capricorn in my chart. Apparently Capricorns are depressed a lot. It would make sence why Alec Boi needs to take her Celexa every day. She is after all a Capricorn.

Speaking of Alec Boi, I need to get my ass in gear and get over and pick her up. She is, I am sure, awaiting my arrival patiently. In fact, so patiently, that I am expecting the phone to ring any second now with her screaming about where my ass is at. I like making her wait for me. He he... I can be so evil sometimes.

I am just a little shit sometimes. Can't help myself.

Kyre Beth, you know you are the only Femme on earth that I adore. Thank you for caring about me and loving me despite my bad self. One of these days in the not too terribly distant future, I am going to get my old butt out to SF for a visit (when the Dykes go down in the city, and the sun shines on the bay). I love and miss you guys way too much to be away from you this long. Give the Aud a big smoochers for me, but not one of those tongue ones, ok,one of the tongue ones is fine. And while you are at it, give the Ko a big hug and rub behind the ears for me.

Cheers <grin>

I ran out of Celexa day before yesterday. I totally forgot to go get my prescription this week between all the shit that passes for my daily routine of late. And then it iced and snowed and still I couldn't go get my prescription.

The result was, two days without Celexa and the depression came slamming back hard at my door. The need to rid myself of this life came rushing through me like a freight train.

Alec had given me an old prescription that she had for "just in case". It expired 2/04. It was also 40MGs and not the 20 I take daily. I took it this afternoon because I couldn't take the feelings I was having anymore. If I get depressed enough, there is no amount of self talk that is going to take away the desire to leave this planet that resides inside of me.

I seriously do not want to die yet. And I sincerely do not want to die at my own hand because I can see no other way out of what I feel is a horrible life. I hate the fact that taking this fucking drug is the only thing that gets me through each day.

I am not sure if this old prescription is working or not yet. That self chatter inside me that plans elaborate ways to take care of business and then leave gracefully without a trace is still going on right now. I am not sure what else to do right now except let time tell if the drug is working. Hopefully I will be able to get my prescription filled tomorrow and get back on track.

I don't usually tell people when I am feeling this way. If they don't suffer from depression then they have no clue what you are going through inside. They want to give you all these pep talks about how life is worth it, blah, blah, blah Ginger. What they don't know is that it only makes you more depressed and even more suicidal. They mean well and I understand their desire to help. I know they feel kind of helpless because they can't get through to you and make you see their point of view. They don't understand that they can't get through, and so they become frustrated in their attempts. Which is why I do not share how I feel with others. It will only frustrate them. Better they don't have to deal with it at all.

I know you have all seen those anti-depression commercials on TV. The ones that say "Who does depression hurt?". Those commercials kind of make me chuckle inside. Like some fucking drug is going to change the circumstances of your existence and make everything all better. The drug does nothing to make the circumstances of your life better. The shit that depresses you is still there, drug or no drug. All the drug does is help you cope with your fucked up world as it falls down around you.

There is nothing so bad in my world right now that 10 or 20 thousand dollars wouldn't fix for me. A hundred thousand would be the ultimate fix. It would rid me of the majority of my debt and free me to pursue the rest of life with a little more breathing room. As it is, right now, I barely make it from week to week financially. This week, I didn't even do that thanks to this little ice/snow thing that happened. I am about $600 bucks behind where I should be in order to make it through the month. And that doesn't even include Christmas expenses.

Alec loves Christmas. It's her favorite holiday. She goes to elaborate measures to decorate and buy presents for her family. I get depressed as hell because I do not have the energy to make Christmas special, let alone the money to buy the kind of presents I want to buy my loved ones. When I was in my 20s and 30s, I had the energy and eventually the money to make Christmas a most special time of year. I went crazy decorating and putting up the tree. Now I don't even have the energy to clean out a corner in my house to put the tree in let alone put the damn thing up. It's all become this hideous chore of major magnitude to me. But then anything surrounding this house has become a major chore of major magnitude to me.

The worse things get around here, the worse my depression gets. My home was always my refuge from the world. A place where I could come to for peace and solace. It is anything but that to me. It, in fact, is everything but that to me. It has nearly become my greatest source of grief. And I am not blaming anyone for the way this makes me feel. I know I made this bed I lie in here. I know who is responsible for everything I live with daily. I know who made these choices. I have only myself to blame for everything in my life. No one did this to me. I built this little world here that grieves me so.....

Because I appear to be so Scroogish, people think I do not care about Christmas. On the contrary, once upon a time, I loved Christmas beyond measure. I couldn't wait for Christmas to come every year. I reveled in the joy of Christmas. Even as an adult, I was like a kid on Christmas morning, only this time, instead of being the kid opening presents, I was the parent joyously watching as my children shrieked with joy as they opened their presents. Christmas became to me a time to show the depth of my love to friends and family. On that special holiday, it was a time of joyous giving for me, a time to say to all those who meant so much to me just how much they really did mean to me.

It wasn't because I couldn't tell them or show them at other times how much they meant to me, I am actually very demonstrative with those I hold dear. It was because Christmas is a magical time of year. It's because it's that one holiday where you can just let it all out and go for broke lavishing gifts on people without them having to feel like they owe you something back. It's a time where all your senses are involved. Sight, smell, sound, touch, what an incredible holiday. The music, the lights, the foods, the incredible smells... what a wonderful holiday. No, I actually am not Scrooge at all.

You know, I think I am a fairly sensitive person. I know I am an incredibly loving person that's for sure. I am pretty sure that my real problem is that I am too sensitive. Which is why I appear so hard to others. I am so fucking sensitive that I have to hide behind a gruff exterior to protect what is so tender inside. In the last 15 years or so, I have learned to let that sensitive side out, let others see me in a vulnerable state and still feel safe and protected to a point. It's because I learned to take care of me emotionally over the years. Still, I get wounded when I become that vulnerable and open with others. I tend to be extremely selective with whom I choose to share that inner being with. Luckily most people can't and don't want to deal with seeing other people's sensitive sides, so it's not been a major issue having to make selective choices in whom to share all that with. There aren't that many people out there who want to go that far with another human being to begin with.

Sometimes my thirst to share my being with others is so great that the pain of not having someone to share my inner being with overwhelms me. Last night, as the depression was taking hold of me deeply I beganto weep openly laying there in my lonely bed. Alone, always alone, the story of my life. No one to share life with. And there never will be anyone. I was meant to be alone, it's in the cards, it's in my chart. Alone, alone for the rest of this life.  In my desire to stay alive, I began to think on how I could survive being alone for the rest of my life with no one to share my being with. I haven't come up with an answer yet.

I have done enough inner work on myself that I sincerely like and love me. Which is what has probably kept me alive all these lonely years. I do love me unconditionally. But there is something about this need for human companionship that I can't seem to shake or get over. Why can't I just let it go and not have this aching desire, so overwhelming in it's crying out with in me, be inside of me? Why can't I learn to just be happy with in my own little world of self love, why the aching need for human companionship? Why do I want someone to share my life with? I have lived for so long now without it, you would think I was over the need.

My mother was married to my father for almost 18 years. Although the last 3 years of that marriage he was not around to share life with her. She has spent the rest of her life alone. She has her god and her church friends, and now Scott to be there for her, but she has no one to share her inner being with. No one to share life with.  She basically has been alone for almost half of her life. I am wondering what laying there night after night alone in bed must feel like after 41 years. I am assuming you just get used to it. After 9 years, I haven't really gotten used to it. I sort of have, but every once in a while I realize that I haven't really gotten used to being alone. I still want to make love with someone I love deeply. I remember how sweet it is to hold someone tenderly in your arms as you fall asleep, fitting perfectly around them as you hold their warm body and know that they love you beyond measure as you love them.

That, I think, is what is really bothering me lately. The knowledge that I will be alone like this until the end of my days. If I had chosen to be a monk in this lifetime, this would not matter. I would never have known that kind of human love and relationship. But unfortunately for me, I am not a monk. I can be monkish occasionally, but to live a lifetime without human love and relationship is not something I have ever really desired. I want to be held and loved and cherished by another human being. I want someone who can share their heart with me as I share mine. I didn't pick someone who has that same need. Hence the situation I find myself living with daily. Alone, depressed, feeling like the unwanted stepchild of life.

The drugs, the drugs make me capable of living with the life I have created. Without them, I feel utterly hopeless. I don't feel hopeless right now, I just feel intense grief and incredible pain and loneliness.

Glen says he would marry me if I only had a real dick in my pants. I love Glenny so much. I would marry him if only he didn't have a dick in his pants. Glen's going through his own depression right now. He doesn't use doctor prescribed drugs to alleviate his pain. He uses other stuff. Mostly alcohol. They call that self medication in AA. He's a sensitive, artistic soul and a lot like me in many ways.

I just listen when he talks about suicide. I know that telling him that there is a way out will do no good. He is lonely, so very lonely. He wants so much to find a kindred spirit that will love him and allow him to love them in return. But he has a bad picker just like I do. The difference is, while he is still young, he has figured out how to not become encumbered with his bad picks. He dumps them now rather than letting them suck the life out of him. He has no patience. I on the other hand have the ability to wait patiently almost forever for someone to come around.

The problem is, no one truly ever does come around. I figure it this way, if you have chosen someone you have to wait for to come around, the you have most probably chosen in error. They either want to be with you or they don't. Why should you be waiting in the first place? There is however something in this Taurean nature of mine that makes me wait patiently for people to come around. That truly has gotten me no where in life. It has gotten me a lonely bed to sleep in every night, and so deeply in debt that I can't dig my way out of where I find myself.

And the sad part is, I have absolutely no one to blame but myself. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to say it was this person's fault or that person's fault? Sorry Charlie, you made the choices that got your ass where you are and now you have to live with it forever. Or, you can kill yourself. Which is why depression is so fucking dangerous. Depression allows you the freedom to take all that inner self chatter to the next level. Depression tells you that the only way out is death. Death starts to become this dream of freedom, it almost makes you euphoric when you realize that there is a way out of your fucked up world. It might seem drastic to an outsider, but to the truly depressed person, it's freedom from the pain. Permanent freedom. Death stops being some scary unknown and becomes the freedom from the pain you have been searching for.

So when Glen talks about it, I so completely understand. And I know that once you have reached that place where death is the only solution you can find to stop the pain, there is nothing anyone can say that will change your decision. As long as you remain in the depression, there will be no other answer. The only thing that stops the desire to die is if something comes along to divert your attention momentarily. Like a passionate love affair or some such other drivel. Glen does that, he finds someone and clings to them for a few short weeks. Once he discovers they are not Prince Charming, he dumps them and goes back to his thoughts and plans to relieve the pain.

Glen's family members think he is selfish. They think suicide is a selfish thing to do. They think it's selfish because it will make them feel bad when he is gone. Yeah, well, their selfish not wanting to go through the pain of his loss. It's life, get over it. I told Glenny that I will just leave, just go away, no one will ever know I am dead or alive. I will just disappear one day, never to be seen again. Everyone will just think I went somewhere and never contacted them again. The truth is, I will not be just merely dead, I'll really be most sincerely dead. Sorry, you tend to make jokes when you are depressed. So choosing words from songs from the Wizard of Oz is a way to make light of such a serious thing as your own personal death.

I won't be killing myself today. I can't. I just can't leave Sue and K with no where to go and no way to live, especially in winter here in Eureka. It's one of the reasons the accident was so frightening. They would lose the house if I died right now. I don't have the money to buy the kind of insurance that would pay off the mortgage if I died. If I had died in that accident, they would have lost the house. And I can't die because I promised Marty I would take care of Sue and K for him. A hefty responsibility I have on my shoulders. Taking care of two children for the rest of my life. Hopefully K will grow up and become a responsible adult and move out of the house and into a life of her own.  Sue, well, Sue will always be Sue. Hopefully I will win the lottery and that will take care of my Sue responsibility for the rest of my life.

Atlas, I am Atlas. It's all so very Taurean. This overwhelming need to take care and be responsible for others. I hate it. I hate feeling this way. I hate feeling like I must do something because it's the right and moral thing to do. Keeping a promise to an old man I love. Wow, I never thought it would become such a deep pain in my heart. It's not like I didn't know I was taking on a major responsibility when I gave Sue the child she had always wanted. I knew it was a commitment for at least the next 18 years. What I didn't know was that in my patient waiting for her, that she would never really come around. At least not to what I need from a partner anyway. I didn't know she was incapable of being a real life partner to another person. It's not me, she would be like this with anyone she was with. I just happen to be the lucky fellow that fell in love with her and got the prize.

Don't get me wrong, Sue is not a bad person at all. On the contrary, she is a very wonderful and incredible person, I would never have fallen in love with her if she wasn't. She just is incapable of having a serious and deeply emotional personal relationship with another human being. I am not sure how she got that way, I just know she is that way and I live with the repercussions of her pathos daily. And truly, I am so very wounded by all that has happened over the last 9 years that I feel incapable myself of ever letting her or anyone in again. Not that she was ever really inside me, she never wanted to go there anyway, but I did open my heart and gave it to her as much as she would take only to have it thrown back in my face far too many times to ever be able to go back there with her again.

The last time she threw my heart back at me, well, I knew that would be the last time. I could no longer take the pain of my broken heart with her again. And so I closedmy heart off and hid it away forever that day. Too much pain, too much grief, too much longing for something that would never be.

And so I sit here, raising our child with her, trying to pay the bills and deal with all the shit that comes at me daily in this home, in my work, in my life period. And I fight the depression as best I can. Knowing that my choices in life have created my mental and emotional state. Celexa is good. Celexa keeps the shotgun out of my mouth and under the bed where it belongs.

I am off to my very lonely bed filled with enough pillows to make my sleeping body believe that there is another body laying next to me that loves me. I didn't mean to stay up this late. I just started writing and the next thing I knew 3 hours had gone by. Three hours and almost a pack of smokes. That's really bad.

Oh well, that's life. Suck it up and go on old boy and take your fucking drugs......