Random thoughts

Why Am I awake at 1:30 in the morning?

Why do so many people wish to make sure I get Ashes even though I am not religious?

Why doesn't girl scout cookie season last longer?

Why do I have too many cats?

What happens when you un friend someone on Facebook? Do they get a huge note saying I hate them?

Who will make it through to the next phase of American Idol?

What will happen at the next counseling session--I hate the work, but I know it is necessary.

To the guy at the drugstore--

Good for you on the protection, but yes, I did snicker to myself when I saw you buying two packs of Starbursts and a box of condoms.

This blogging thing is a bit weird

I was so diligent for a while, and then not so much. I was actually glad to see it had been just over a month since I blogged. FOr all I knew it could have been three months. I hope a few of you are still out there. If not, I fthink it's good for me to write anyway.

You see, I have hit something of a rock bottom lately, and I haven't been wanting to work, blog, brush my teeth or get out of bed lately. I have been working with a psychiatrist on medication for my anxiety/depression for 2 1/2 years now, and we just can't seem to find the right cocktail.

Lately I have reached a conclusion of some sorts. I am so homesick for Atlanta that I am having trouble functioning. I very willingly and happily left Atlanta to move to Houston to be with my Sweetheart. I left a job I adored, my Poppa. my brother and sister, nieces and nephews who are now doubled in number from the time that I left. I'm not saying this to be a hero--I WANTED to do this--so I did.

I came to a city that feels so conservative to me. I came to a city that I didn't know, and it didn't know me. I have still not made any real friends. I have nobody to have a drink and see a chick movie with. My job is a job not a home-away-from-home. I think on the way to work that having a fender bender would be better than having to show up. I came to a job of Stepmother that has been so much harder than I ever thought it would (and I swear, I knew it would be hard).

Sweetheart knows that I am feeling this way, and couldn't be more supportive. He wants me to be happy--no matter what that means. He is trying so hard to deal with a wife who doesn't want to get out of bed (and not in a good way). However, it is too much responsibility for him to be my only lifeline. He shouldn't be having to figure out how to sell the house to free up money for me to move (even temporarily) back to Atlanta.

I went to a counselor Saturday, and despite not wanting to like her, I did. She had the look of an aging hippie and took off her shoes during the session. She asked questions that seemed pertinent and reasonable to this therapy wise patient. She recognizes that this is the kind of spiral that is tough to pull out of and she laid off the platitudes. She wants to try EMDR--Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. It is different that the cognitive talk therapy I have done in the past, and I think that's a good thing. She thinks I have triggered a bunch of feelings from my childhood that have made everything worse. Since I started sobbing when she said that, I have to believe there is some truth there.

So, here I go. On a journey that is not going to be fun, but will result in a wiser, saner Sophie in the end. If you guys are still around, I'd love to know it. I'm going to read some blogs for the first time in ages--for all I know you could have been gone just as long as I have. I'm sure my sister has.

Well, so I suck as a blogger

My poor puppy...

...and my poorer bank account.

Spencer went to the vet today to have his leg examined. He had to have surgery on his right leg a couple of years ago, and now it is his left ACL.

Since Spencer is a bit (meaning very) neurotic, he freaks out when we go to the vet. He whines, he cries, he paces in circles. He growls at the dog who comes up to him (off leash even though the signs says to keep your dog on a leash).

Then, we go into the small room where he tries unsuccessfully to climb into my lap in a very small chair. His vet comes out and has grown a beard since last we visited. He takes a quick look at Spencer and agrees with my at home diagnosis. Yes, he should still have surgery even though he is getting up in age. Yes, it is expensive ($1400). No, we don't have a budgeted billing option. All of these things are said with the voice of Joel Osteen the Giant Church pastor here in Houston.

All I can think is "Oh, holy fucking shit." We totally cannot afford this, but what do you do when you have a pet?

In order to take x-rays of my neurotic dog, sedatives were required. Domitor is evidently the drug of choice. I picked up my pooch an hour and a half later, and he was still drugged up. He wobbled to the car, and I had to lift him up into the back seat. He laid his head in the girls' laps (which is another sign of the apocalypse) and fell asleep. I carried him into the house and placed him gently on his bed. He was drooling and his mouth was hanging open. If I hadn't had the girls with me, I swear I would have sat down and cried. I knew he was going to be okay, but it was too much like he was really sick and weak.

He has since perked up, had a drink and a milk bone, and will soon be back to his fucked-up-can-I-go-out-can-I-come-in-can-I-come-in-can-I-go-out insanity. I guess we'll figure something out about the money.

I knew I didn't like those commercials

Yesterday, Brownie and Sweetheart were sitting on the couch and a drug commercial came on.

Brownie: I think I figured out what the "Viva _____" commercial is talking about.
Sweetheart: (slight groan) What do you think it means?
Brownie: Well, they put the "Do Not Disturb" sign up and they start kissing, so you know.
Sweetheart: Well, I guess we do know.

I still think the girls are between knowing and KNOWING, but it certainly makes for a diversion from watching a football game.

Well, things look about the same as when I left them....

...way too many days ago.

I never know what to say when it has been a while since I blogged, and this is the longest absence ever.

I guess it could be said that I wasn't doing very well for a while there. I was swimming up a very strong stream just to manage to get my ass to work and home again. I didn't really care much about anything that was going on around me except for how it was preventing me from sleeping. And not just any kind of sleep, but the kind of sleep where you pull the covers over your head and stay there. It is so strange this depression. To the best of my knowledge there were no external events or stressors that started me into the spiral. It seems that a hole so deep should have something to mark its beginning. I think it would have been much easier to identify that things were getting darker if an event had heralded that the sun was setting in my head.

I must say that I feel quite frustrated at times about this. I find myself thinking that it must be someone else's turn to play this game, but I wouldn't wish this on anyone else.


I have been on my new medication Deplin and an increased dose of Effexor for a month now, and I am doing so much better. I have much more energy (though afternoon naps and early bedtimes are still in effect). I have actually fixed dinner a few times lately. The new med is a super duper folate not even covered by insurance. It seems that I am one of some number of people who need the folate in order to allow the antidepressants to work. I was a bit skeptical about the concept that a vitamin would help, but it has. Sweetheart said yesterday that I was 110% better than I was a month ago. I still have a ways to go, but it's good to be on the way up.