Purge it all Crazy Lady - Purge it all

I have the luxury of working from home when I want.
My co-workers also have the luxury of me working from home when I should.

SAD can make me a little (ahem) grouchy. 

Yesterday I was diligently plugging away at my to do list when I felt the anxiety start to creep in.

SAD can also make me a little (ahem) anxious* 

I ignored it as long as I could and then the next thing you know, I'm outta my chair, I'm looking at all the storage containers in the kitchen cupboard. "Oh ya, there is WAY too much of that!" me thinks. So I purge and pare down, into a box it goes.
Realizing I'm supposed to be working...I plunk myself back down to get some stuff done.

Next thing I know  I'm looking at all the books the bookshelf, "Oh, for pete's sake, if I haven't read this by now...and what the hell am I keeping this for?"  Dozens of books are boxed.
Again, back to my desk, where I think I'm working until I realize I'm sorting through my 'hold all' bowls and launching things (probably important) into the garbage.

Work was not going to happen. So I surrendered.

The Pantry - "why do I keep this pot/pan/cookie sheet?"
The stacks of magazines - casualty
The extending shoe rack - gone
The back door mats - tossed
The extra, extra spare linens - bye bye
Kitchen drawers, bathroom cabinet, dresser drawers and living room hiding spots all filtered and purged.
A pair of bedside tables, mongo serving dishes, hats, slippers, clothes and candlesticks -
All boxed and bagged up and sent to new homes.



I left the house when my nutjob-self starting eyeing up my most awesome shoe collection

Not today Crazy Lady, 

not today. 

*often, my cure for this anxiety is to get rid of clutter or visual mess. the good news hoarding will never be an issue.

And from out of nowhere....

There's a lot of shit information out there about SAD.  Like a LOT.
Tis the time of year that Seasonal Affective Disorder gets attention in the media and ding-dong journalists fill their required space with malarky, half-truths and every once and a while a few correct facts will make it through the cracks.

Hmm - - that's not where I thought this post was going - but what the heck - lets run with it.

SAD is not a mood. It's not a 'snap out of it' situation.

 There are times when I want to pummel those that are just trying to help with their cheery advice. For the record. a fucking pedicure does not make everything better!  Your toes are prettier (which is always good) but your head is still all fuct up.

Holiday blues, seasonal blues and winter blues are not the same effin thing. 

SAD is full blown depression. An annual depression that you can almost date on the calendar in other words it's like being tied to the damn tracks and you can see the train a comin'.  

Though I personally don't like, like, really don't like, being cold,

  cold temperatures are not a cause of SAD. 

 It's the lack of light. In my case, thinking the cold was a depression factor, I even moved countries to try and escape it. And one gloomy subtropical winter and low and behold SAD symptoms appeared  (granted it was short lived *sigh* I miss flowers in February).

It's not new, it's not a fad

and it's not a cake walk -  It got a name in the early 80's but it's been observed  medically for at least 100years.

It is not a whiney woman thing. 

And I'll boy-punch anyone who says so.  It does seem to affect more women then men BUT - I THINK there are two reasons for this  One, women tend to admit how their feeling and Two we are the lucky recipients of PMS - which thanks to SAD tends to get worse in the winter and therefore more pronounced symptoms and side effects (sounds great doesn't it)   My Dad has Seasonal Affective Disorder. He hates to admit it and would be pissed at me for saying so, but I know it when I see it, and I grew up in the house.... (at this point you should feel sorry, very sorry, for my mother with 2 miserable winterists in the house - Christmas was/is a joyride)

For those of you who think it's nothing to worry about - - if you have ever observed your own thoughts, or experienced the 'where did that come from' mental aftershocks, when a concept of  "drive into that pole and it all goes away"  goes screaming through your thoughts - then you know what I'm talking about.  If you haven't, well... you are just going to have to trust me,

it's disturbing, unpleasant and shakes your foundations

Regardless of how cognizant you are of your sub-conscience actions, it is unsettling to have your brain be the aforementioned runaway train that suggests ending it all.   (This is where my extreme empathy kicks in for those with bipolar and extended depression issues)


Ok I think I exhausted myself.
I haven't got the steam to continue ranting about the stupidity of the media and half-ass journalists. How about I just round it out to a check your fucking facts people.

check.

 your.

 fucking.

 facts. 

It really sucks to be friends with me; sometimes.

I have some pretty kick ass friends.  Many have been in my life for close to twenty years.

I am lucky and I know it.  

There are times where not only do I know I'm a handful - but I often wonder WHY they put up with me.

One of my Besties has a birthday in January.
Actually in a couple days from writing this.
She lives two hours away in this great town, with a great family and a great house that is always welcoming, full of laughter, friends, food and fun.  I love being there and would stay forever if I could.

Unfortunately *sigh* I am always a mental mess for her birthday. Always. I hate it.

I feel like such a loser-asshole-waste of skin when I can't muster enough energy, emotion and effort to get in my damn car and visit her and all her wonderfulness.  

I bailed out of her 40th birthday. (Oh trust me, I know I'm an asshole)
My head couldn't do the drive, the party, the people, the whole shooting match.
I just.   Couldn't.    Do it.

People don't understand this.
I've tried to explain. At length. They just don't get it.
So I blamed by bailing on lack of funds. (this was true, just not the whole truth)

She text me yesterday and asked if I was coming to visit this weekend.

Every seasonally defected ounce of me wanted to find an excuse, make a date with my couch and let the chips fall where they may.
I told you, (sometimes) it sucks to be friends with me.

I didn't.
I said I would be there.
I will be.

Seasonal Defectiveness and all