Hallway to Nowhere

  • Standing On The Edge Of A Cliff

    This entry won’t get posted to any of my other social media. I’ve learned that no-one wants to hear about depression. I don’t blame them. People have their own IRL problems-illness, family things, plumbing, what have you, that they are dealing with. So I’m just going to keep it here. If someone reads it, fine. IF not, that’s cool too. I’m writing b/c I have no fucking mental health care any longer and this is now my outlet.

    I am dealing with major depression. Whaleshit depression, we used to call it back on a site I used to frequent that is no longer extant. That’s the worst kind, when you are in the darkest depths of depression. You aren’t suicidal, b/c that takes TOO MUCH ENERGY. I mean, yeah, it would be NICE IF IT HAPPENED, but I ain’t gonna do anything about it at this point. I can hardly do ADLS right now. Besides, I have the lovely Miss P, who does depend on me. She is currently my tether to this world. (A big burden to place upon a 26 pound whippet, I know.) But if something were to happen to her, I would be MUCH more motivated to finally jump. I’m just SO tired of this.

    What has triggered this latest round? Well, aside from usual odd seasonal SAD-related depression that comes on with springtime and the lengthening days (yep-you read that correctly), I’ve had some erstwhile friends do unfortunate acts that have triggered reverberations. Through a series of mishaps involving cracked ribs on my part and me being out of touch for a bit, I evidently offended one and then the other, so that now both are no longer friends with me. Neither would accept my apology or believe this had been anything other than intentional. At least that’s what I THINK occurred. They both ghosted me at the same time, won’t talk to me, so I’m left to conjecture. But this has been very hurtful for me. And I have to encounter one of these dudes on a regular basis at the FM twice a week. Goodness knows what he’s said to other folks about me. Luckily, I’ve been here a LOT longer than HE has. But this has me re-thinking my whole “make new friends” policy. Ugh.

    In case anyone is thinking of telling me I need to talk to someone, I know. I’VE TRIED TO FIND MENTAL HEALTH HELP. My doc, who is truly a wonder among physicians, has been trying for several years to find me help. But the problem is: I don’t have Medicaid. OR great private insurance or resources. All I have is Medicare and a very limited income. Which effectively cuts me out being  of able to -FIND PDoc; GET to Pdoc, if s/he’s out of town (don’t drive due to seizures); FIND therapist; AFFORD therapist, even if I could find one.

    I don’t want to talk to someone who is waaay younger than I am. IF I’ve had more therapy in my lifetime than you’ve been alive (and could probably teach you a thing or two), then really, what’s the point? No offense to millennials or GenZ folk intended here. I just want to talk to someone who’s been around the block. Of course, this narrows an already small field. Fuck. Who am I kidding? There IS no field. I’ve knocked my head against brick walls in this place til it’s bloody. There comes a point where you say, “Enough.” And just give up. That’s what this blog represents. This is me giving  up seeking help. I’m not trying anymore. I see that, given my (lack of) resources, I do not GET TO HAVE MENTAL HEALTH CARE HERE.  So thank you, insurance company (United Health Care) for making it a fucking “specialist” visit EVERY single time I want to see a therapist. (I tried to appeal this. HAH! Do they not understand how mental health care WORKS???) Thank you, mass transit, for not making transit available for those who need to go to docs outside of this town. (Hello, ADA?) And finally, not being sarcastic here, thank you everyone who HAS tried to help. I appreciate it more than you know.

    Standing On The Edge Of A Cliff

  • Cursing In Latin

    I was a Classics Major back in the day as an undergrad. When Cheeto Jesus got elected, I amused myself by hurling imprecations at him in Latin and Greek and the occasional Shakespearean reference for good measure. STILL didn’t manage to get banned from his Twitterfeed. A friend pointed out that I was totally batting over his head-the fool probably thought I was COMPLIMENTING him. Sigh. I miss having a literate POTUS.

    My favorite Latin curse: Te odeo. Interface te cochleare! (I hate you. Kill yourself with a spoon!) Appeals to my morbid sense of whimsy. My second fav: Initam te  coniutarati in foro interficiant! (May conspirators assassinate you in the mall!) My third fav (b/c it is so useful): Futue te ipsum! (Go fuck yourself!)

    So. The next time I’m out in public, on transit or at a WaCoDems meeting and you see me muttering to myself? I’m probably cursing someone out….in Latin. There are many more useful phrases that I’ve not listed here. Latin, though technically a dead language, turns out to be extremely useful for venting one’s ire. Who knew? (The ancient Romans!)

    Cursing In Latin

  • Falling Hard

    via Falling Hard

  • Falling Hard

    I’m 57, going to be 58 soon. I don’t bounce back like I did in  my 20s 0r 30s. Recently I had a REALLY bad fall, due to a seizure in the wee hours of the morning. Just in case you ever wondered, if you decide to fight with a sturdy barn table, the barn table is guaranteed to win. I ended up with a couple of cracked ribs and some weeks of hobbling around. And one of those “help I’ve fallen and can’t get up buttons” from my insurance company, b/c I live alone and my whippet doesn’t have the capacity to dial 911.  (My NEXT dog will, however, as I am going to go through the American Epilepsy Foundation and apply for a service animal-not an “emotional support dog-ugh”-a dog who is certified as a seizure dog and who has been though extensive training.)

    I’m going through a rough patch right now. I’m struggling with my old nemesis the black dog. Funny, I do better emotionally in the winter and fall. Spring starts to appear and depression rears it ugly head with me. All the coming sunshine just makes me want to cry. Been that way ever since I was a kid, even back in Mississippi. Dad used to tease me about it, then he gave me a boat so I could get away by myself.

    Everyone I know is having a time right now, though. I’ve had two friends die in the past winter. A friend lost her father. Three other friends, my own age, have been diagnosed with life-changing diagnoses. I know others who are emigrating or are considering such. And I’ve friends just vanish from my life for no reason I can discern. I’m learning again to tread lightly with (new) people. Unfortunately, my prevailing sense is that, by and large, folks are just not to be depended upon these days. ALWAYS have a back-up plan and a book in your bag.

  • Unsteadiness

    I have a sense of …unsteadiness these days, regarding the world around me in all sorts of ways. Physically, in that I’m getting older and more easily apt to fall or be knocked down by some mishap; politically, for sure, as I live in the Commonwealth of Virginia where I’ve seen a three-ring circus starring our top three elected officials lately (and may I say, Mark Herring in particular broke my heart); but what I especially want to address is INTERPERSONAL transience.  I’m not talking about the change that occurs when a loved one moves, falls ill, or even dies; these are life-events that are normal in the course of a friendship and something that I take into account. What I am referring to is relationship instability and unreliability.

    Two examples: I had a friend (NOT a millennial) who was supposed to pick me up from the grocery.  He had sent me a text offering to do so. I replied saying I would take him up on his offer and told him I was waiting outside the grocery. I waited and waited AND WAITED. He didn’t show. Finally, luckily some other friends came along to offer me a ride, otherwise I would had to wait another hour, b/c I had missed transit. He never replied to a text I sent telling him I was going home. I’m unsure now if he’s getting my texts or what, and calling is no good historically with this particular person. But okay, whatever. Maybe he had an emergency or we had a failure to communicate somehow.  But I’m left with having to process this. Ugh. Today I sent him a text asking what he was doing for lunch. No answer again.

    I had a friend tell me yesterday that SHE had a good long-term friend IRL just drop her and not tell her why. She said she has no idea WHY the friend did this-they had had no argument, fight, disagreement or anything resembling anything that should cause such a move. I told her that I think it most likely had nothing to do with HER. But something these days is causing people to lose their ability to make friends, keep friends, or just to plain BE friends. The simple things that I was taught:   Communicate (listen; talk); show up when you say you will; let someone know if you CAN’T; keep in touch (preferably via some human method) regularly; BE THERE…..I just don’t think people can do these  that much anymore. They’re either forgetting how, if they were taught (like people of my gen-and I gotta say, I’m picking up some BAD HABITS from some of my younger friends) or they’ve never learned in the first place. It’s like DEEP READING…it’s something I try to keep doing and sadly fear I fail to do very well any more.

    So, for those of you out there reading this. I hope YOU are faring better than I these days! Maybe if you have a family or a partner, you are not experiencing such a sense of precariousness and impermanence. And I’m not saying that most of my friends have exhibited such behavior. But I’m saying that in general  people are less reliable than PUBLIC TRANSIT……and that’s a sad commentary on the state of affairs.

  • Religious Holidays/Non-religious Folx

    This was written over the Xmas season on another site. By me.

    It’s Xmas season. Everywhere you turn, you are besieged with messages wishing you “Merry Xmas!” B/c as our POTUS has said, MERRY XMAS is now BACK…with a vengeance! But, as more and more folx ID as atheist, agnostic, non-religious, or even just some other religion other  than Xian, where does than leave US? We grin and bear it, give our  Xian friends appropriate gifts, try to enjoy the good things about the season….but

    Really. I find this all very difficult. After a while, the red and green everywhere, the tinsel and the unending Xmas carols become maddening. I dislike Xmas even more than pumpkin spice lattes…and I HATE those with a passion. I find myself on the verge of informing random strangers that Jesus was most likely born in the spring (if he existed at all, which I doubt).  OR maybe the autumn or the summer. We don’t REALLY know. The whole Dec. 25th thing was set by the R. C. Church back in the day to co-opt Saturnalia. And Bethlehem? Another guess. Wise men? Total fabrication.

    But I don’t do this. I attend parties and even church services with good grace. I wish everyone MERRY XMAS. I sing along. But inside I’m madly plotting to blow up the whole Xmas thing….even though I know it will tick on year after dreary year after year. Rant over.

     

     

  • Christianity And Girl Scout Cookies

    Recently the death of John Chau has been in the news. He is the foolish individual who ventured onto the North Sentinel Island in the Andaman Sea in a misguided attempt to convert the people living there to Christianity. He was killed. We do not know why-perhaps for his fashion choice: he was wearing only a pair of black underwear at the time of his approach, as he thought this would make him seem less threatening. Perhaps b/c he came bearing the gift of religion, and these folks had read Christopher Hitchens. Or perhaps because he was inordinately blinded and/or arrogant enough in his Western mentality to ignore the danger and think HE could be the savior who brings JESUS to these people.

    Ok, look. These islanders had BIG “NO TRESPASSING” signs up.  They were pretty much  “NOT EVEN GIRL SCOUTS SELLING COOKIES!!!” There was a backstory here: in 1880, a British Naval officer kidnapped several tribal members and took them to nearby Port Blair, home to a large prison. The islanders since then no longer traded or communicated with the other islands in the island chain and indeed have resisted contact for as long as there have been written records.

    So what does our bright Christian Girl Scout do? He thinks, “Hmmm, these people REALLY need cookies! I’m going to make sure they get them!” So off he traipses against best advice to this island. Once he gets there, he encounters the BIG SIGNS. But does he care? Nope! He’s got COOKIES!!! And the islanders, to give them their due, didn’t kill him straight away. They gave him warning shots and attempted to get him to leave. But, no. He had his COOKIES to sell!!! The rest, well….it’s been written up in article after article.

    Christians don’t appear to be sorry about this . Is there a sense that this is wrong? (Answer: Of course not.) Here are some quotes:  “I don’t question his motivation. I question his methods,” said Richard Albert Mohler, Jr., then the president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Ky.  “He Had a higher calling that he was following. I don’t have any regrets.”-John Ramsey, best friend from college.  And finally, I will let John Chau speak: “Remember, the first one to heaven wins.” Guess he got his (death)wish.  Hope you get to enjoy your cookies now, John!

    Source for quotes: WaPo article: John Chau Aced Missionary Bootcamp.

  • A Stranger Here

    I’m feeling high anxiety these days, I confess. Under attack, even. Existentially threatened.  Let me count the ways: I’m AFAB (assigned female at birth), so there’s that. I’m trans* (FtN, female to neutrois, a nonbinary gender, which is REALLY pushing buttons for folks in the culture wars); I’m Jewish; I’m atheist (yes, you CAN be both at the same time, unlike Xtianity); I’m extremely liberal politically-Democratic Socialist. I sometimes joke that the only box I fail to tick to be every conservative walking nightmare is person-of-color. Now, though I’d have to add “immigrant” to that. Though, of course, I’m the grandchild of -gasp-RUSSIAN JEWISH IMMIGRANTS.

    Recent developments have been contributing to this. I’m sure you are familiar with them, unless you have been living under a rock: the recent spate of pipe-bombs sent to prominent liberals; Trump & co.’s continued attacks on the LGBTQ community including the newest proposal to literally define folks like me out of the lexicon. (Just another reason I <3 ACLU.) And now the shooting at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh. (As an aside. Will people please stop saying JEWISH SYNAGOGUES? A synagogue is de facto Jewish. There are no other kinds! Public service announcement, and you’re welcome!)

    I’m trying hard not to give in and succumb to despair. I regularly get a diagnosis now of “major depressive disorder” from my internist, but because I don’t qualify for Medicaid (even the expanded version, though I helped get it passed here in VA and so happy for Virginians it was), I can’t afford regular counseling for this. The local mental health center turns me down again and again. I do the best I can. I work to get candidates who do not support such heinous policies elected-ANTHONY FLACCAVENTO for Congress! and keep them in office-TIM KAINE for Senate! I work with organizations that promote goals that will help Virginians on a grassroots level-VIRGINIA ORGANIZING and APPALACHIAN PEACE EDUCATION CENTER.

    Friends help immensely. Last night two came and took me out, so that I would not be alone after the synagogue shooting. That helped so much! There was one surreal moment, though. We were at a local microbrewery listening to a local band that I quite like. I do have to wonder at the choice of music, though. There were two songs that drove me outside for a break: The Night they Drove Old Dixie Down followed by Hillbilly Nation. I just couldn’t listen to these two songs sang back to back. I felt such a sense of being a stranger in a strange land at that instance….I mean no offence here, but these two songs? What I thought outside was that when Bowers said that “I can’t sit by and let my people get slaughtered….”, well, THESE were probably HIS people in his mind. I felt so out of place and then immediately felt worse for feeling that because people here in Abingdon HAVE been kind and welcoming to me, a great many of you. So.

    I’m listening to Jason Isbell a LOT these days….this is for everyone who like me might be struggling:

     

     

  • Hard Times

    Somehow I’ve become one of those people I used to run from-those whose life seems to be a train wreck…..Why is my life like this? I’ve got complicated health problems. Given the current health care system in the U.S., this does not make my life easy. My living situation is problematic-I rent from a private landlord and live on his personal property, in a small apartment built into his his garage. Before this election we had coexisted peacefully, despite vast political and religious and cultural differences. He is a conservative Evangelical Xian though probably not as conservative as his wife and relatives. I know that he himself dislikes Trump and the mess in Washington. But we have clashed b/c he does not understand my concern over environmental conditions ( I discovered mold in my AC) nor share them. And I fear that if I push TOO much, I’ll be asked to move. My apartment is affordable (for now, though he’s recently raised my rent) and is in a very convenient location (Historic District) in town.  And then there’s the recent breakdown of several pieces of my electronica…my Iphone died (dead, defunct, deceased); my vacuum cleaner also died, and as I mentioned earlier my AC has mold in it though that’s my landlord’s to replace, not mine, and he’s NOT replacing it-I scrubbed it out for several hours after I discovered this and now spray it with hydrogen peroxide every week, but I fear that’s the bolting the barn door after the horses have escaped, sigh.

    I console myself somewhat with the fact that I’m not the only one experiencing a breakdown of daily structure-many I know are experiencing similar struggles. A friend who lives in a different state and who has a good job with decent insurance recounted a problem getting a prescription filled lately. It took multiple phone calls to the pharmacy AND to her physician. This was not an out of the ordinary med but something she took on a routine basis and was generic.  And the tales I hear on transit from bus denizens who doesn’t have really ANY resources are truly harrowing, not to mention some of the stories I get told from the folks I “meet” whilst phonebanking….they break my heart, they do. So a lot of us are hurting out here.

    I find myself chasing my tail and playing catch-up from one month to the next. I keep telling myself that myself that things will get better but I think I’m going to stop that. Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over expecting different results. I guess that life now is just going to be fucked up for an indefinite time. I’ve tried to seek help from different sources, to no avail. So I’ll just do the best I can, and if my best isn’t good enough?  Well….

    I grew up in Mississippi. When things get tough, you turn to the blues. I’m posting this video of Son House doing Walking Blues, b/c one, he was a phenomenal musician and two, I got to hear him and meet him before he died.

    https://youtu.be/Wl5BiHw74xU

  • The Tipping Point

    WARNING: This blog contains possible triggering content, if you have mental health issues. Or maybe even if you don’t. Idk. Heavy seas ahead, just sayin….

    I’ve been alarming my internist this past year. She’s sent the roving social worker to check on mental health state. I now have a diagnosis of “recurrent major depression” on her books. We’ve discussed this. BUT….here’s the thing, and why a trip that is upcoming to my pdoc is unlikely to prove much good:

    Depression that is REALITY-based is not actual depression, far as I can see. That is more an accurate assessment of the lay of the land. And from where I sit, I have some legit claims to being a tad morose: Complicated health concerns that are painful, ongoing, getting worse; harassment in my community b/c of gender/orientation/religious beliefs; problematic living conditions; financial concerns that are unlikely to abate, as getting older brings more costs (see the “complicated health concerns”. The current political environment doesn’t help, as it fosters anxiety AND encourages those who like to bully those are different, i.e. people like ME. Ever been the target of a drive-by-Trump rant (PRO)? I have, and it’s not a pleasant thing. No idea WHY I was chosen-was wearing no political gear that day, reading no political book. Maybe I just give off “progressive vibes” or something.

    My pdoc is of NO help. The last time I saw him was around the first of the year. His suggestions were to avoid politics and not read the news. Yeah, doc. How’s THAT working out for you? When I go to his office, his secretary is always playing a Christian station. Don’t know if this is HER or if HE is like this also, and that’s why he is telling me such stupid stuff. He’s the best with meds I’ve ever found, the reason I stick with him. But as a therapist, he sorta sucks.His WIFE was much better-old school, listened, AND knew her meds. But she isn’t available. He keeps this up, I might be looking for a new doc. It’s not like I need complicated meds any longer-I value his opinion on psych meds and neuro meds, and he does know his stuff. But his advice on what to do is really off base. I find it SO useless and SO offensive that I’m going to ask him for a referral when I go see him next week. As the kids say, ain’t nobody got time for that!

    What I’m wondering is: when do you reach the tipping point? When you finally say on a personal level, “Enough is enough!” So far I keep telling myself I can go on. But everyday, it seems like I have to make this decision anew. It’s not a given anymore. Do most people take life for granted? I don’t. I wake up and and think about it.  Right now the balance of this is still on the LIVE side. But that might very well change. I don’t know what would cause it to tip. The death of Miss P? I could see that doing it. A bad election? Another new diagnosis?

    By the way, I’ve found a home for Miss P, should something untoward happen to me (the flu, pneumonia, etc.) Thank you all, everyone, who was kind enough to consider being her new home!

    The Tipping Point