… we need all the hope that we can get.

I’m alive, even though the status of my blog has been questionable at best. Moving it? Yep. It’s coming. I’ve already moved the Threeravens blog/site – this one is next on the list. Keep tuned for updates on how that’s going.

I’ve been sleeping in totally weird bursts of time. It makes me feel disjointed.

Mostly, I’ve been in a self-imposed social blackout, for regrouping and mental health reasons. I’m shuffling back into regular rotation now, never fear.

And one quick hit –

From this amazingly accurate post on Depression and what it does:

Chronic depression is a cancer of the personality. It eats your personality and replaces you with itself; the more you experience intense depression in others, the more you realize that The Depressed Person is always some variant of the same personality; whereas healthy people are infinitely diverse, The Depressed Person is always recognizable. Depression is insidious, so that your loved ones may not realize that you are being slowly erased and replaced by something that is not you.

I recommend reading the whole post, from http://ewin.livejournal.com/1332469.html.

It’s easy to forget.

Sometimes.

Things will be changing.

Under the veneer of my sometimes cheery, sometimes melancholy image, there lies anger.
I don’t talk about it much. Hell, most of the time, I don’t really feel it – even though I know that it seethes in there, shut behind mental doors of steel-like fortitude. But it IS there, and I need to acknowledge that sometimes. Ignoring it doesn’t help the situation.

When I used to get angry [from stress, usually] at work, I would go somewhere away from everyone else and find something harmless to kick, like empty boxes. If there wasn’t anything like an empty box available, sometimes I’d just jump up and down while channeling that anger, until I felt relieved.

Right now, I want to punch things. I’m in a situation where I can’t express what I’m feeling, and I can’t talk about it to anyone, and it makes me angry beyond belief. I’m tired, y’all. I get so tired of caring only to have that taken advantage of, or abused. It isn’t IN me to stop caring, unfortunately, so I’m stuck with feeling this way.

What do *you* do to relieve anger that can’t be dismissed by talking it out?

Before I even start to get wound up, lemme point you to Harriet Jacobs’ excellent dissection of why rape jokes aren’t funny, you jerk: A woman walks into a rape, uh bar.*

As far as I can tell, the “joke” is usually that it wasn’t really rape at all, or it wasn’t a “real” rape, or it was a fun rape, or it was a deserved rape. Which, seeing as how rape victims get to hear that shit, completely seriously (and with completely serious consequences) from their rapist, friends, family, and cops, you might see as how it doesn’t come off as a joke so much as it comes off as same shit, different day.

Yep, she nailed that shit. Read it. I’ll wait.

What’s in my craw tonight? Well, I started talking to a therapist on Tuesday. I get to do this once a week for a while, until we figure out how to make me stop reliving/suffering/fighting the memories. She asked me what I wanted out of therapy. I told her that I wanted two things – for the empty feeling to go away, and for some sort of closure. Carrying around this for 35 years… oh god. That’s so not the way I want to think about this, y’all. I’ve been walking wounded for THIRTY-FIVE years, since the first quiet night that this all started, with me left quivering in my bed, afraid to tell a soul.

I like the therapist. She asked good beginning questions, was appropriately affected by my story [yet still all business when she needed to be], and recognized that I’m a force to be reckoned with, strength-wise. But here’s the rub… I’m strong, yes. I made it so far without telling a soul, working on myself without any other help until recently. Yet coming home from the session, I wanted to cry. I don’t even know why. I guess it’s like picking at a scab over and over and over.

I hope this does what I want it to do. I’m tired of the scars.

*She takes her username from the slave Harriet Jacobs, hence the Blog name “Fugitivus” – please do go check it out.

And hopefully many, many more. I love you, Rob.

Things I should know by now:

I don’t have a good track record with exercises that require me to do something every day. I was amazed by how well I did with The Artist’s Way Morning Pages, but the 365 Photos project… fail. Big ol’ FAIL. Poop.

More sleep = more energy. Now if you’ve known me for any amount of time, you know that I have insomnia. I struggle with it, and I’ve tried really hard to not use sleeping pills to control the issue, even though I have Ambien here if I want it.
I slept for 14 hours last night. Today, I’ve been running around on FIRE getting things done. Amazing.

Can’t sell stuff if you don’t list it. That’s a duh statement, right? But somehow I know it but don’t follow through.

In GOOD news… tomorrow is my and Rob’s 4th anniversary. I managed to get out and buy groceries, so there’s food in the house. My sense of taste is slowly coming back. I’m almost done with my first knitting project in the long queue of “Things What I’m Knitting For Other People.” My sinus infection is GONE and I feel a million times better. I’ve been feeling really creative lately. My kitties love me. *grin*

Yes yes yes. Stressing the positive here, y’all.

365 Day 1 – Ms Fat Face

Originally uploaded by xiane threeravens

So I decided to try doing the 365 challenge again – a photo a day for a whole year. Sometimes it’ll be me, sometimes something I’m seeing or doing.
Today’s shot is all about my sinus infection for the New Year and the swelly-poof face it has delivered. My face here is mostly un-made-up, and you can somewhat see that I’m flushed, too. I checked to see if I have a fever, but I don’t. I’m just flushed. Pink fat face FTW!

If there’s something you’d like to see me show off in my 365 Project, comment and let me know! I’ll take suggestions and inspiration happily.