8 hours and counting

I made it back to work today. Dragging my depressed body out of bed this morning was perhaps the hardest thing I've had to do in the last six months. And that includes the knee surgery and physical therapy that followed.

I knew all the arguments for getting out of bed and getting myself dressed. "Going to work gives you purpose!" "Normal routines will help you feel normal!" "Shower because no one wants to smell you!" And yet I still was on the verge of tears while brushing my hair. And while eating breakfast. And while trying to find my socks. But it was my husband's kiss that almost undid me. He kissed me goodbye and said "You'll be fine. Call me if you need me" and I almost broke down. All I could do was nod and rush out the door before I lost it. He has that affect on me. When I feel like this, I can be coping just fine, holding my shit together, and all he has to do is ask what's wrong and I lose it. And I mean lose it. The shit hit-eth the fan-eth and all I can do is curl into his arms while he tells me it's alright. He's my hero and my security blanket. Most days I wish I could fold him up and keep him in my pocket as I go about my daily tasks.

But today I've made it 8 hours without crying. So far, so good.

why i love you

You rubbed my feet even though I didn't ask you to......even when you knew I hadn't showered yet.

today's PSA

If you don't watch what you're doing while making a tasty treat you may wind up with Jell-O fingers......and they are quite delicious.

broken

It began about two years ago. We had just arrived home from our honeymoon that very day when I received a call. It was work and they weren't happy. No, that's not right. They were fine, I was the one who wouldn't be happy. They fired me - over the phone! On the day back from my honeymoon! I won't go into the reasons here but needless to say I felt ambushed. The world stopped and I saw triple. All I could think to say was "Thank you." I hung up the phone and bawled. It too a good three minutes for my husband to finally understand what I was saying through the tears and sobs.

Fired. Me. I'd never been fired from anything in my life. That was September. By January, I knew something else wasn't right.

I was still unemployed but I was working on it. I was sending out resumes and filling out applications. I even had interviews. The problems came when they asked about previous employment. I couldn't lie, so I told the truth. Then they never called back.

Unemployment can be hard on newlyweds. But the depression was even worse.

I didn't know it was depression at first. I thought I was just upset because no one would hire me. And I was worried a lot. OK, I was worried all the time. I worried about everything. Money mostly but that wasn't all. I worried every time Jason left the house. I became co-dependent. If he wasn't at my side, I was not alright.

Then all of the shit hit the fan one night. I had just been hired as a temp receptionist at an agency in town. I had completed my first day although my lunch break consisted of crying in the car then trying to fix what the tears had wrecked. My mantra all day was "I can do this. I can do this." I kept telling myself this was a good job. I could handle it. I had jobs much worse than this. It was good money too - more than I'd been making at my previous job even. But that night all hell broke loose. I couldn't sleep so I crept into the closet in our other bedroom and cried all night. The next morning I was exhausted and my face was so swollen I could hardly see out of either eye. And I was still crying.

That did it for Jason. He called my day-old job and told them thank you, but no thank you and then he took me to the doctor. I was depressed with an acute form of anxiety attached.
Through a great doctor, medication and my wonderful, sweet and handsome husband, I finally began to feel better.

Until recently.

I have known something was building lately. I felt like a bulldog snapping at the wind. Everything irritates me. I couldn't sit still at my desk for more than a few minutes at a time. I want to scream at everyone around me to stop being idiots so I can work. But I don't even want to go to work. I have been forcing myself to start getting ready before I'm even fully awake so that I'm out the door and on my way before I realize it. Because if I lay in bed for even a few minutes longer, I'll have talked myself out of going. And the tears, Oh Hell, the tears. I can't stop crying. It's like the world is ending and I have to save it with my tears.

I left work early on Friday after my third trip to the restroom to cry. I knew I had to leave or there would eventually be a scene. The doctor's office was willing to work me in and, thankfully, the doctor decided to put me back on the meds.

But that doesn't mean everything is Super Dooper today. Oh no! My anxiety was crippling this morning. I made to from the bathroom back to bed and I was done. Work was not even going to be an option today. After a nap (which I can't really call a nap since it consisted of me lying there listing in my head all of the people I need to buy Christmas presents for) I had to make a decision about lunch and that about set me over the edge. Should I make something here? Should I go out? What if I choose poorly? The world might stop spinning if I decided on peanut butter and jelly when really I should have chosen the Quarter Pounder. Then I remembered I had to go to the bank sometime this week. Ha ha! I could do both - make one errand into two - because that would lessen the probability of one being wrong. Ha! They can't both be wrong! In your face, Anxiety!

But while I was sitting in line at the bank it came to me - what if they were both wrong? I hurried and got my lunch hoping that fate wouldn't smite me if I was quick about it.

So here I sit, with my super sized lunch, thoughts of Stephen King, British accents and that calculus class I took in college running through my head. Because those are the things you think about when you're broken.

oh the humanity!

I didn't plan it, and I never in my life expected it to happen, but somehow it did. I have been sucked into the Twilight books.

I know, I know! Please don't judge me. Like I said, I never wanted this to happen. But somewhere between the second and fourth horribly written chapters of the first book I became intrigued. I even became, gasp!, emotionally involved! It is poorly written, with the author telling you over and over again how clutzy her poor protagonist is, instead of just providing examples like a normal storyteller would. It's full of sentence structures that would make a 5th grader wince. AND I CAN'T STOP READING! I can feel it. And I want to know how it ends! And I want to throttle the author every time she uses the phrase "I gulped"! Heaven restrain me! It causes me physical pain when I read that. And she uses that phrase A LOT! Like once every three pages.

I'm disgusted with myself. My husband is disgusted with me. I feel the whole world is judging me. DON'T JUDGE ME!

I may have no choice but to throw myself out a window.

But not before I read Every. Last. F***ing. Page!

conversations from dallas

I just received an email from my sister-in-law who was recently laid off. She and about 14 of her co-workers went into work last week and were notified that they were being let go. She was optimistic in the face of disaster and started doing all she could to obtain new employment. She had a promising interview earlier this week in which they told her she was exactly what they were looking for.

Today she was told they would be hiring internally.

Sometimes I don’t understand how businesses can function on a day to day basis. My sister-in-law is an intelligent, creative and brilliant woman with a college degree! And experience! And talent! And fantastic hair! Why is she having to look for work? Why aren’t all the businesses in Dallas running down the street after her, chasing her car like overeager puppies? How are these businesses operating without her?

All I can think to say is I’m sorry. I’m here if you want to talk. And I’d be willing to fly to Dallas to help egg any company you want.

grounds for divorce

- eating the last of the peanut butter

- stealing all the covers

- calling our bunny a “rodent”, even in the most technical of terms

- teasing me when I’m entirely too tired to realize you’re teasing

- looking anything other than shocked when I’ve walked into the wall for the 3rd time that night

- telling me, no, we can't watch The Goonies every time it rains

- not just picking a damn place to eat when I’m about to faint from hunger

- continuing to talk to me from the other room when I’ve already said “I can’t hear you!”

- insinuating that the bunny would choose you if we ever divorced

wascally wabbit

After my wonderful husband and I had been married for about a year and a half we decided that three might be better than two. Now, most couples would have immediately began a fun-filled stimulating activity that allows two people to bring a third, albeit much smaller, person into their lives. Not us. We got ourselves a bunny.

We reasoned that if we were capable of keeping a small, helpless, adorable little creature alive, we might be capable of having a child. So we adopted Zoe Washburne (That's her complete geek name. It's Zoe for those who don't live in the Firefly universe.), our Holland Lop, who has the most munchable ears you could imagine. And trust me, I munch on them obsessively!

We consulted the online ads in the local paper and I must have emailed a dozen people over the course of 3 weeks. There seemed to be as many obstacles as there were rabbits. The most common problems were that the babies in the litter weren’t old enough to be away from their mother or the ones available had already found homes.

Finally I found a very nice lady who still had 3 out of 4 sisters available for adoption. Not wanting this opportunity to elude us, though not convinced we would end up with one that night, Jason and I set out. The trip was short and to the point. I only had to see the enormous yet somehow dainty feet on the only Siamese-colored bunny to know that she was meant to be ours. Forget that she had a THOUSAND TIMES more fur that I thought my allergies could handle or that there were two other equally cute bunnies nestled beside her. I held her in my arms and stroked her feet and was utterly twitterpated. When Jason realized I wasn’t going to allow her to be put back in the cage, he kindly paid the nice lady who orchestrated her existence into this world so that I might have a pet.

Then we left - with a bunny.

today's PSA

If you don’t stop laughing like a hyena right now, SO HELP ME, I will come over there and give you something to.....laugh about?

Wait, that doesn't work as well as I thought it would.

rather than a double d

Some days I am ever so glad that I have a bigger brain instead of bigger boobs.

wondering

Exactly how many mini Snickers I can fit in my mouth at the same time.

irritating

Stop answering when someone asks ME a question. If they wanted the answer from YOU they would have asked you.

apropos of nothing

I'm completely water-logged. Maybe trying to drink my weight in water wasn't such a good idea.

green-eyed monster?

I’ve had a certain topic on my mind for quite awhile now. It’s a normal enough topic for a girl my age and situation to have. I’m seven and twenty (as Austen would say) and have been married for two years now. It has never been a great topic of concern or relevance until recently. Somehow this subject slipped in between the cracks of my mind a few months ago and now I am unable to rid myself of it. I honestly don’t know if it’s caused by envy or desire.

I have babies on the brain. Hello, my name is Jamie and I want a baby.

It’s not just the thought that I’d like to have a family someday. No, it’s a constant driving force. It’s almost the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning - after killing the alarm and using the bathroom. I even start thinking about it before I make my way over to kiss my husband. It’s persistent and constant. And annoying. Mainly because I don’t know if these thoughts are motivated by an actual desire to have a baby or by some secret hidden jealousy over those around me who got knocked-up before I decided to join the club.

I have two sisters-in-law who are currently pregnant. One is due the beginning of November. The other, the end of January. One is having her first child. The other, her third. There has been a steady stream of baby related talk and topics swirling around my domain lately. I have never believed in the so-called “biological clock” but lately I’m beginning to wonder. Could it be possible that my body knows I want to have children before my brain does? Or am I just envious that these women are accomplishing something before I could? Or am I just hormonal?

It better be my biological clock, because if I get pregnant out of jealousy, I’ll never forgive my hormones.

irritating

Stand there, blaming the fax machine when it doesn’t work. It’s not the fax machine, lady, that has the problem.

why i love you

Start saying everything with a British accent just because we’ve been watching all of the UK version of The Office.

Twat. Wanker.

missing moments

My day so far has been made up of a thousand little moments where I’ve been (surfing the web) hard at work and, suddenly, I forget what it was I was doing. My mind becomes a complete and utter blank as I stare confusedly at the scribbled on Post-its stuck around my computer.

Was it important? Was it urgent?

I hope not because, like Keyser Söze, poof, it's gone.

Maybe it's time to lay off the decongestant.

you're my snack pack

Dear Hubby,

Thank you for the tasty and nutritious lunch you made me. You may choose a cookie or sex as your thank you.

Choose wisely.