New House, Old Problems, But a New Outlook, Maybe

Three weeks ago, I moved house, on very short notice.   Understand, I was told a week before this, my housing people told me 'there's nothing available for a while, and we don't know when something will be'.

So, about three weeks ago, this was the conversation

Housing People-We have an apartment.  Come with us to see it, but if you want it, you'll have to tell us right away.

So, I went, and it was a darn sight better from where I was living, so I said I wanted it.

HP-Start packing.

So I packed and threw away tons, and the bottom line is that I've moved into a new place, where I know no one, and all the neighbours hide(or, of course, have loud hip hop parties on the weekends)  but the place itself is gorgeous.  Once I"m entirely unpacked and have some pictures on the walls, I'll show you.

About a week after I moved in, my depression came back.  In spades.  Loud, obnoxious and horrible, it tried to confine me to my bed, and failed(or maybe I just didn't let it win) and worked on distracting myself.  Unpacking helped.  Writing helped.   I was doing alright.

And then, this moring I woke up, feeling like eighteen elephants were sitting on my chest, and seven Mack Trucks had just run over me.   I felt like I couldn't move.   I didn't want to move.  I cried (for no good reason )at least four times.  I went back to bed and slept past eleven.  Woke up, cried again.

And then, I did something different.  Instead of posting a diatribe on Twitter and Facebook about how awful things were, and how my life sucked, I messaged my two closest friends, and instead of being nasty, I said.  "I'm feeling like absolute shit.  I'm scared.  I hate this, and I hate myself." And they responded with such acceptance, and love and warmth and caring and 'we love you no matter whats'.

And my lovely sis sent me the most wonderful video.  

And I realized, once again, I will get through this.

One of my favourite songs by Paul Weller is 'Above the Clouds'.  I loved it the minute I heard it, but when I found out he'd written it at a time when he was feeling low, and worried about his own future, I loved it twenty times more.  

My favourite part of it, is this

♪  As my anger shouts/At my own self doubt/So a sadness creeps/Into my dreams/When you're scared of livin'/But afraid to die/I get scared of giving/But I must find the faith to make it ♪

Those words sum up for me what living with my depression is.   It's a struggle, it's real, but I don't want to give up, ever.  Yesterday, my therapist suggested I take a course on DBT, which is Diadactical Behavior Therapy.  Mindfulness, Distress Tolerance, Emotion Regulation, and Interpersonal Relations.

Of course, my first thought was "What's wrong with me that I would have to take a CLASS about these things..

And then, after talking to the two people I love the most, (other than Mum) I thought --well, it's almost like learning anything else you don't have the skills for, innit?

And, I suppose it is.

So, I'll try.

And hopefully be better for it.

But I need to remind myself also, that my diagnosis and my problems don't define me.

I'm still me

I'm a writer.

I love books.

I'm a good writer.

I will live and die a proud fan-girl and carry my torch for Paul, and Andy, and every member of that band until I'm in the ground.  And admire them, from a respectful distance.

I will always be an introvert.

Some people will never understand.  Some of those are family.  If they don't want to be in my life, that's THEIR loss, and that's the most difficult part of this, accepting that, and finally letting it go.  I need to stop having those people have so much power in my life.

I can do it.

I have people who truly love me.  On my good, and bad days.

Now, I just have to learn to love myself. 

With help, I hope I can.

I'll keep you posted.

And to my sis, and my kid, I love you.  More than you will ever know.  

KTF.

What a Difference a Month Makes

 So, four weeks ago, I went to a concert.

So many things have changed since then, for the better.   I wrote this, and wanted to share.

Standing at an acceptable distance
I send my adoration forward
It hovers
Before joining with more of the same
Given by present company

We wait for acceptance
Until it arrives
Tentative at first
Then fully embraced
And the exchange begins

A rise and fall
Give and take
Swell and ebb of connection
Overwhelming time
And care
Saving the one fact
I'm home.

An Open Letter

To My Wonderful New Followers, as well as People Who've Favourited or Re-Tweeted me in the past three weeks-

First I want to say thank you all for joining me, liking what I had to say, and even decided to stay.  It means so much, and I don't know if I can explain why, so I'll just say that it does.

Unfortunately, most of you are across the pond, and I don't know if I will ever meet some of you, although I know some of you I DEFINITELY will meet, and we've already begun to talk about the hows and where's and whens.   I honestly can't wait until that day happens.

So, that all said, there are some things you probably should know about me.
First, I'm  a girl.  My first name is ' Anne.

I live in Upstate NY, in a little city called Poughkeepsie.   Not my favourite place at all.  But, it's where I am right now.  Definitely not Where I Should Be.  But I digress.  I'm single.  Some of you already know my age, so that's unnecessary.  But should you truly want to know, I may tell you if you ask nicely.
We've all made each others' acquaintance because four weeks ago, my dear friend Amanda took me to see Paul Weller for the first time in my life.  As most of you know, I've loved Paul on and off, but mostly on, for the the last 30 years.   The only other things I've loved that long are books and my parents.  It was one of the best nights of my life.  I will never stop thanking you for this, Amanda, so get used to it.  I'm already trying to figure out how I can see him live again.
Living across the pond, it's kinda difficult to strike up a conversation about Paul.  I'm mostly met with blank stares unless I mention The Jam, and then I get "Oh, 'A Town Called Malice".  And yes, I've managed somehow to stay out of jail.  So you have to understand how wonderful it is to talk to people about something I love so ,much.
It honestly means the world to me.

Now the boring stuff, about me.
I've been an Anglophile since I was 9, when my 4th grade English Teacher played a recording of Sir Michael Redgrave in Hamlet.  (Yes, he played it on a turntable, so that gives you an idea of how old I am).  I was intrigued and in love.  I went home and took my grandfather's collected works of Shakespeare from the bookshelf and read it.  And understood much of it.  (Most of my classmates were reading Babysitters Club and Nancy Drew).  I was.....an odd child.  And to be honest, I think my fascination with All Things English began when I watched 'My Fair Lady' and fell in love with Rex Harrison.  I was seven.    The accent, I suppose.  I still have the same problem today.  Someone with a plummy voice could say 'doorknob' and I'd swoon.   It's an issue.
I'm planning to visit in the next three years.  If there's any way I can make it happen, I may wind up moving there.  We'll see.

Other things about me.
I love food and cooking, books, reading and writing.  I am always writing something.  I didn't choose it, it chose me.
I am in love with music and some musicians, the ones who write amazing lyrics are the ones I love most.  Hence, well, you know..
I am an introvert to the extreme.  It's not social phobia, it's the fact I can't relate to people well.  So the internet is safe for me.  I have met absolutely wonderful people here.  Amanda, my dearest friend, the one whom I"ll refer to as my kid, on here, is invaluable to me.  I don't know what I"d do without her.
I do make strong friendships here, and I tend to make my attachments quickly.  It's just the way I've always been.  I am a good, loyal friend to have, I think.
-I am way too honest.   To the point of being blunt sometimes.  If anything I say ever hurts you let me know.  It's more than likely I didn't mean it.
I'm a recovering pessimist inching towards cautious optimism.
I'm not looking for a romantic relationship here.  I have enough of those impossible situations in my RL, thank you very much.
I live with major depression.  I occasionally vent about it here.  The short summation of that is some days, "My Ever-Changing Moods" is my theme song.  Capiche?
Moving on.  Actually,. I think that's it.
Yes, I like Every Song On Saturn's Pattern.  I am a CD homer.  If you don't, that's fine.  If you want to tell me why I shouldn't, have a nice day.
I am quite fond of Andy Crofts' band The Moons.
I like all the members of Paul's current band.
Steve Pilgrim is a great drummer.
I think that's everything.
It's great to meet you all, and I hope we'll be talking for a long time, or at least until The Guv hangs up his Ricky.
Tweet at you all soon,
Until then,
I remain
As ever,
Anne

Different Is Beautiful

This entry is devoted to a write up of one of my favorite places to eat in New York City. In a world where most places are interested in coming up with new gimmicks or  trends or keeping up with existing ones, there are a few that go their own way and succeed because of it.  This is one of them.

 A few weeks ago, Jehangir Mehta's East Village restaurant, Graffiti,  was given a twenty-eight(out of thirty) rating for its food.  This is a particularly fantastic occurance, because in all of NYC, only 11 restaurants received such high marks.   I can't say I was surprised by this at all.  I discovered Graffiti two years ago, and have returned many times since.   I can say, quite honestly, I've never been disappointed.  Yes, it's that good, and one of the reasons that's true is because of how different it is. And it's not different in a gimmicky popular sort of way.  Let me try to explain.

The first thing you need to know about Graffiti is that getting there is part of it's charm, especially if you're walking .   East Tenth Street is filled with beautiful brownstones and interesting shops. You'll need to  watch the  building numbers though, or you might walk past Graffiti the first time, like I did.
Once you've stepped inside, however, you know you've arrived somewhere special.
Sure, it's small.   Okay, it's really small.  However, it is an excellent illustration of how good things come in small packages.

From the subdued lighting coming from the hanging chandelier-like lanterns and the soft background music to the lovely pictures and colorful hangings that adorn the walls, you feel as though you've entered a different world.  Chef Mehta himself designed the space himself, and it's evident that everything was selected with great care.

And then, there's the food, which is truly something that has to be experienced. All the appetizers and entrees come on small plates, so they're designed for sharing, but if you go alone, like I often do, two or three of them, along with a dessert are enough for a satisfying meal.   The menu is varied, with something for everyone.  Most of the items are constant but there are a few dishes that change seasonally.  There's also a vegetarian menu along with some gluten free offerings.  If you or your party have any special requirements, they will do their best to accomodate you.

I'm including a link to the menu, which describes the offerings far better than I ever could.
http://www.graffitinyc.com/menu/
Some of my favorites are the scallops, and the Graffiti burger.  I have to admit though, I'm pretty obsessed with the desserts.   Last time I was there, I had something that had just been added to the menu, a pear, poached with spices, and served with home-made marmalade ice cream.  Yes, you read right.  MARMALADE ICE CREAM.   I still think about it.

Finally, I want to talk about what I think is the best thing about Graffiti, and that's the attentiveness of the hosts and the waitstaff.   You are greeted warmly the minute you walk in, and they see to it that your experience there is enjoyable.  They'll answer any questions you may have, and I appreciate the way they explain each dish you are served.   And, if you are lucky to be there when Chef Mehta is in the restaurant, don't be suprised if he actually takes your order, or even brings it out to you.  That's just the kind of person he is.

So, if you have a chance, try to dine at Graffiti at least once before you die.  It's an experience you will long remember.  Maybe I'll see you there .

This is What Depression Is, This is What Depression Does

Last August, when Robin Williams decided(for whatever reason, and truthfully we'll never know because he didn't leave a note to tell us why---at least not  one that the press could glom over) to end his life there was a resurgence of articles, news stories, and all over posts by people on their blogs, and on their Facebook, Twitter, and all other social media speaking of their sadness and confusion over this tragedy. As the story developed and it was made known that he struggled for years with clinical depression as well as alcohol, there were many people who said, or made promises to 'be there for anyone who was hurting' to be more understanding, to always be willing to listen.

It's November now.  The weather is colder, the  new school year is close to a third over..  Football and hockey season are in full swing, and dear god, it is a mere 52 days until Christmas.
And, as I predicted, the attention about the devastating effects of clinical depression have, for the most part faded away.  I do understand why-sort of.  It's not easy to talk about.  Not many people want to talk about it.  And, there is a lack of understanding about what depression actually is.
Unfortunately, 'depression' is a word that's bandied about easily.  It's become a catch-all word for so many things that clinical depression is not.
Still, as a person who's lived with Major Depression-Recurrent for the past thirty-six years, it's troubling.  Major, or clinical depression is different than---see, here's the tricky part---it's hard to explain without sounding like you're being condescending.  It's a little more though than waking up on the wrong side of the bed, feeling blah, having the blues, having a bad day.   It's a legitimate, physical problem.  Your brain either doesn't make enough of certain mood elevating chemicals, or your neuro-receptors(and yeah, I know I've spelled that wrong) don't pick them up, or absorb them.  I'll admit I'm not EXACTLY sure on all the technical reasons why I have what I have.
All I know is how it affects me.   All I know is that over the past two months it's been a struggle to do anything.
-Get out of bed
-Eat
-Have interest in most of the things I love
-Be pleasant
People say, "But you were laughing the other day."  Yeah.  Every now and then something's funny.  Rarely.  Most days I can't find much to laugh at, except maybe myself.  Which, believe me, I do.
And when I do force myself to get up, get out of my head and go out, I look decent.  My hair's combed, I'm clean.  Truly, if you didn't know me well, or I hadn't told you, there's a good chance you wouldn't know.
But I'm tired of feeling like I have to hide it.
When I do talk about it, most people avoid me like the plague.  And I wonder, is it me, or is it who I am?  Which of course is a question that does wonders for my self esteem.
Chris Martin whines his depressing lyrics and everyone wets their pants at his 'brilliance'.
Sylvia Plath wrote some of the most self indulgent self-pitying doggerel ever, and she's revered.
And there's Dylan Thomas, and Poe, and well Kurt Cobain--and Hemmingway.   Oh, wait.  They all offed themselves, didn't they.  Yeah.  ANYWAY.
*Sigh*  I had a point when I started writing this.
The truth is over the past year my clinical depression has gotten worse.  I've been on eight different meds, and none have worked.   I have to wait until Dec 2nd, to see the shrink because the hospital where I go just went through a major reorganization.
And I'm lonely.  I've lost friends because of this disease, and yeah, that is my fault.
And basically I'm just scared.
I know I'm better than this, and honestly, I just want myself back.

Yet Another Open Letter

Dear-

I debated writing this for a long time, but then figured I might as well, as I had to get it 

The First Few Days, An Apology, and The Ugly Truth

Alright.  Many of you have asked me NOT to refer to Partial as "Summer Camp for Feebs and Losers" I think it's a perfectly acceptable name, but apparently it offends some people who continue to insist that I am not a loser, despite the fact that I am
-jobless
-friendless(at least locally)
-disowned by most of my family
-childless
-husbandless
I don't understand where the non-loser component is in all that, I truly don't.
Let's be frank.  I spend WAY to much time on Facebook and Twitter.  Too much time when I should be doing other, more profitable things.
However, in my time there, I can tell you this much.
If you tweet or status update that you are
-getting divorced
-have lost a family member
-are sick(even if it's just a bad cold)
-injured yourself physically
-or are trying to lose weight, quit smoking, drinking, drugs, what have you
The likelihood is that you'll get a million supportive responses.
However, tweet or status report that you are depressed, hating yourself, feeling hopeless, and if you're lucky, you'll get one or two.

Because the truth is, if you're like me, if you have what I have, it's almost inevitable you've pissed off or alienated your friends to the extent, they don't know what to do, or they are afraid to say anything to you, for fear it is the wrong thing.   And I'm sorry for all the times I've done that.
  That said, I've got to be honest. I can't guarantee that I won't do it again in the next few weeks.  I need a lot of support, and a lot of patience, as I continue to work on myself and, more importantly, take care of myself.   I'd like to say that means I'm going on vacation from social media, but I'm not that strong, or disciplined.   What it will mean, is I'll be more sensitive, more needy, and more likely to get irritated.    Rest assured, I don't like this any more than you do, or will.  I'm doing my best to get better, to talk myself off the ledge for the eleventy-sixth time.
I've agreed to try yet another med, Prozac this time, to see if it will help  with my depression.  This is the 7th drug I've tried.  It brings up a myriad of feelings.   I'm worried, I'm sad, I feel like a failure.
But, I suppose, for all the times I've said I give up, something tells me you never know.
So, here we go again.  That's really all I have to say right now.
To all of you who are still reading, still here, and love me for some strange reason, TYESM.
I love you back.
As the little girl on the Tide commercial says,
You are free to go. :)
To be continued...