Dr. Seuss's Wife

Helen Palmer Geisel, the wife of the famous Dr. Seuss, had a bad run through a series of illnesses, including cancer. Dr. Seuss began a relationship with another woman, which broke Helen down even further. Distraught, she decided on an overdose of barbiturates.

This is her suicide note:

Dear Ted, What has happened to us? I don't know. I feel myself in a spiral, going down down down, into a black hole from which there is no escape, no brightness. And loud in my ears from every side I hear, 'failure, failure, failure...' I love you so much ... I am too old and enmeshed in everything you do and are, that I cannot conceive of life without you ... My going will leave quite a rumor but you can say I was overworked and overwrought. Your reputation with your friends and fans will not be harmed ... Sometimes think of the fun we had all thru the years ...

I just found this out today an needed to share the despair it made blossom inside me.

Although, as I am happy and in love, the very existence of that dedication and passion for someone can be seen as a celebration of the human spirit - if you ignore the horror of the situation. :/

Holidays Remix

And so I'm back, from outer space...

As I mentioned in my last post, we had a bit of a rough holiday. In 4 quick steps:

• I ended up going back to Cleveland early for my godmother's funeral the day before Xmas. Pancreatic cancer is a nasty thing.
• Just after the funeral, my 4 year old niece took a header off a small trampoline to land teeth-first on the edge of the round base of a papasan chair. She needed stitches in the side of her mouth, chipped 3 teeth, fractured the front 2 above the gumline, and bled for over 24 hours. My brother-in-law did not make it to NY where he was planning on spending Xmas with his family.
• My mother-in-law unexpectedly passed away Sunday night, right after Christmas. Service was Wednesday. I don't think it's fully sunk in yet for me, and I'm just planning to be here for Mrs. Shambles when the full gravity hits her.
• Thursday a close friend of the family turned blue and almost choked to death at the dinner table. Luckily my sister's a medic.

At this point, while only symbolic, I'm glad we're done with 2010.

That List - Dig Out of Depression

(NOTE: This is gonna get a little personal, so feel free to skip)

(NOTE2: This will grow. I just added to the DOs. I also just added to the intro notes by writing this. Check back.)

So having gone through a rough down-slope, I recently mentioned I was working on a list of sorts. That list starts with a schedule and has some serious DOs and DONTs. For your approval, though not nearly thorough enough.

The Schedule

If you don't have a schedule, you have nothing. Even if it's rough, write it down. Somewhere. Keep it between your condom that expired 12/95 and your Subway rewards card in your wallet. But do it.

I wake at 5am every morning to make Irish Dancer her lunch and a pot of coffee so Mrs. Shambles can leave before 6:30 with a mug. Here's my roughie:

• 5am: wake, make lunch & coffee
• 5am - 6am: clear emails, catch up on a show
• 6am - 7am: stretch, meditate, exercise
• 7am - 11:30am: work
• 11:30am - 1:30pm: work, eat, take at least 30 minutes to flake/rest
• 1:30pm - 5pm (maybe 7pm): work
• * Stretch at least every hour
• * Nibble healthily

DOs

• Eat! (sometimes I forget)
• Snack healthy
• Exercise at least 30 min a day
• Take breaks to breathe, center
• Drink coffee
• Smoke a cigarette (I know, I know. I rarely smoke, and only when I'm drinking, but if I have at least 1/2 a cig early in the day I tend to ward off apathy)
• Catharsis: Cry. Cry like your dog or cat just died. Watch your favorite cry movie (even if that's your wedding tape or Short Circuit 2) to emote it. No. "Cry" is not right. Weep. Every week or month or two just dig down there and fucking lose it - but only for a few minutes. Let it out. Lose your shit and bang on the pillows (sheet rock is expensive) and scream "WHY!?!?!" Then get it together and understand you're better for it and ACTUALLY be better for it.

DONTs

• Lay on the couch in front of the TV (If I feel like I need to drop out, do it in the bedroom where it's dark and I can talk myself out of my spiral)
• Drink early or much (obvious, right?)
• Keep a messy desk (self-defeating)
• Think blogging, anxiety, or angst are substitutes for work.

Success?

Today I ate, focused, exercised, and rocked out 5 solid hours of work and made almost $800. Success? Yes. Could I have done more? Yes. Should that example be a case in point for myself for creating and following this list? Yes.


I'm prone to depression from my grandfather down, "badges" on my wrists from college, a few of their little sisters on my arms and legs live as reminders as well. Sometimes I like to wrap myself in blankets on a cloudy day and wish the world would just fall apart around me (give me a gun and a zombie apocalypse and I'm good). At least I don't have the passive suicide daydreams of "turning the wheel and going off a cliff" of yore. For that I'm thankful.

I'm past the dangerous stuff. I made it through. I have no pity for whiny bitching - in myself or others. And I think the biggest thing I've learned, the most important thing I can pass along is:

STAY ABOVE IT

It's all in the state of mind and can be changed in a second: Everything we do, everything we deal with, every single part of our lives from joy to chaos to drama to too many people to meeting with expectations is noise. When you're down, when you feel beat, you're looking up at it all, it's covering you, encompassing you, suffocating you like an awful, killing comforter (oxymoron, eh?).

But even though none of that shit, none of that - noise of expectations or the sky's too gray or the sky's too grey or your sister's in prison or you need to make rent or the cat box hasn't been changed in a week or you forgot to put your good shirt in the wash last night or the goddamned dog needs to be boarded and you not only hate taking her but hate missing her - even though none of that shit in your life changes: YOU CAN.

Dig deep, think mentally of how those things are affecting you. They're all above you, stilting you, snuffing you out. NO! They're not! Change that. Change the game. You are above that, literally, mentally floating above it all to deal with it as you please. Yes, it still sucks, but being above it at least you can see the sun. And you might be able to see how you can drive that bus.

Get above it. Own it. Push its nose in the doodie. Drive that bus. Make me proud.

A Bad Case of the Gangster Midgets

(Seriously, internets? I hit Google Image Search for a little person [Yes, I know 'midget' is offensive - the title is in reference to childhood perception.] dressed as a Gangster. You know, pin-striped suit, fedora, tommy gun? But 20 pages of results and the douche from Pit Boss is the closest I can get? [Yes, Pit Boss guy would be a douche at any height - not a slight at size, he's just a dick.] So why nothing in 20 pages of results? Because it was full of "gangsta"s, not gangsters, some little people, some big, all hood rats. [note: always turn GIS safe search back on after searching 'alyson hannigan' and before searching 'gangster midget.' If not? Holy little people ghetto cock party.] So, on to the actual post.)

When I was a kid, I had this strange nightmare that my father was standing on our dining room table trying to fix a stained-glass hanging lamp. I was trying to tell him to be careful but at some point he bumped his head on the lamp and started crying uncontrollably. My stomach dropped and then things got worse. I heard a rumbling and a clatter and turned around to see about a half dozen little people gangsters (You know, pin-striped suit, fedora, tommy gun?) dropping from the chimney into the fireplace, emerging from the sooty entranceway, and advancing on us. I moved back towards the table but it wasn't safe there either because the protectorate that my Dad should've been was wailing and streaming with tears.

I'll never forget that dream or that feeling: hopelessness, despair, acute anxiety, overwhelming desire to disappear.

I bring that up because over the past few weeks I've had a bad case of the gangster midgets. Whenever my depression manifests itself, I get the same feeling I did in that dream, only instead of a quick sampling of it that fades when I wake, it is prolonged and draining and manifests wholly in my conscious hours. I seem to be pulling out of it somewhat, surfacing above the clouds, but it's hard - as lost as I get when I drive through those moods, there's something comforting about darkness and silence and solitude.

So I'm working on a list, a schedule of sorts, to keep me on track to maintain this upswing. I've identified most of the things I should do, things I should avoid. Now I've just got to get it on paper - and stick to it.

And for you? That might just mean me getting back to posting more regularly.