I can sum up everything I know about life in 3 words…

But that would make a shitty blog entry so I am not going to just yet.  I might post it on Twitter or something, though.  That remains to be seen.

So in one of my last posts, I told you I got laid off at my last job… the last job that I loved (although I didn’t love the CEO boss who was a total douche and ultimately fired me).  But there is a happy ending to that story… sort of.

During my unemployment I stayed afloat with our finances, lost 20 lbs, and spent a TON of time in nature which totally refreshed me.  I found another job 4 weeks after losing my previous job, and then had two weeks of not worrying to really enjoy the forced sabbatical.

I started the new job almost three weeks ago.  I like it, well enough, I suppose.  I’m still not acclimated to the environment, and the new team hasn’t accepted me as one of their own, yet.  I am getting things done, though, and beginning to feel accomplished.

Karma took care to the douche I used to work for.  I found out that he got fired only *days* after I started the new job.  I don’t normally celebrate the misfortune of others, but I have to say that I delighted in karmic retribution.  Because fuck him.

What I didn’t expect is the disappointment and anger I feel, now.  I’ve heard through the grapevine that the other two owners didn’t want to fire me, but couldn’t put their foot down to prevent it because it would jeopardize the proceedings to eject him from the business.  And so now, I’m super pissed because I could still be making better money, working with better people, and kicking ass at the other company that is NOW becoming the environment they were when I was first hired with them.

And then I tell myself to quit being such a puss because really?  Why am I crying in spilled milk?  It’s done and the only option I have is to suck it up and move on because I can’t change it.

Because in the end, life goes on.  And the sun will rise tomorrow.  And I need to remind myself that everything happens for a reason.  And that reason will reveal itself through patience and hard-work.

Sunrise in Denver, CO

Sunrise in Denver, CO – copyright Fusion PDC 2013

So, I leave you with this, one of the amazing images from my recent outings during the sunrise.  It’s amazing.

From the mind of The Flame

BFF #1 and I are generally connected every day on Facebook Messenger. Every day. All day. Lunch breaks and meetings aside, we chat.  Sometimes it’s random.  Sometimes it’s not.  But it’s nice to know that, no matter the distance, I get to work with my best friend every day.

Everyone should be this lucky.

My first message to her, today, went like this:

ME: I kept seeing something out of the corner of my nose.  Then I was like, “Oh…. It’s my nose.” 
ME: Fail.  The corner of my *eye*!  My nose can’t see out of anywhere.

After this one-way exchange, I began to think of all the random things we talk about all day.  For your reading pleasure, I have included it here.  Hope it makes you smile the way it makes me smile.

ME: BFF #3 just posted on FB today, “Does anyone else clean when they are stressed?”
I was like, “I clean when I’m angry. I got that from BFF #1.”  Then it occurs to me that I didn’t get angry-cleaning from you. I got “redirecting” from you.
Her: I’m not angry as much as everything there was so clean (and it was so refreshing).
ME: Lol. Exactly why I didn’t get angry-cleaning from you.  You’re a cleaner. I’m a go-to-sleeper.

Her: What time?
Candle time
ME: What time?  Ice Cream Shake time.  (#thingsfatgirlssay)
Her: Actually the first one was totally separate. What time did dude come in? (Pause) It is an hour necessary for a candle to be burning, for relaxation time.

ME: Grammatically speaking, which is correct:
“Are you *a* Jehovah’s Witness?”
or
“Are you Jehovah’s Witness?”
Her: Yes on the first, the second would apply as a “we are Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
ME: Ahhhh… okay. I’m on board. Not that it matters, in any capacity with regard to anything. It’s just something that crossed my mind.
The world can resume its revolution around the sun, now.
Her: That’s funny. I’m like, weird question.  “Those Jehovahs” is my favorite.
ME: “Those Jehovahs” might actually sound like a racial slur. Like, “those people”. “Those N-words” (I am being kind to your gentle mind by not using the *actual* n-word.)

Her: Go home.
ME: Almost. Just finishing one thing.  HEY! You go home, too.
Her: In the car already.
ME: Bragger.

ME: Memes are my hobby.
Her: We should get you a non-digital hobby. It’s better for your soul.

ME: I’m so mentally frazzled that I’m using periods unnecessarily on bullet points. *face palm*

Her: Payroll is due by 10. I sent a note that said I’m leaving town please do payroll at 8. Here it is 3 fricken 24 and there is one person not done. I’m about to curse.
ME: I like your emphasis on three fricken 24.

ME: I like the word burgled.

Her: I’m looking at weeds I put round up on last night. They are green as ever and smiling at me.  ….Jackasses.
Me: Yell at them and express your disappointment. Then threaten to drown them in bleach or fire.
“YOU DISAPPOINT ME WEEDS!!”

Her: I’m eating spoonfuls of peanut butter.
And celery…
ME: I’m chewing gum.

 

So that’s basically it.  Between these random musings is the very best friendship I could ever hope to have.  She’s my rubberband, and keeps me together when I’m falling apart.  And when there isn’t drama, she allows me to be who I am.  And she loves me anyway.  I love her.

My cup runneth over.

Exhaustion and Wardrobe Malfunctions

Long days lead to exhaustion.  Exhaustion leads to poor decisions.  Poor decisions lead to bigger problems.  Sometimes, said problems are hilarious.  Yesterday was one of those days.

My days normally go like this:

Wake up.  Shower.  Leave for work . All done before 6am.

Get to work. By 6:45am.

Work. Until 6:30-ish.

Drive home. Get there about 7:30-ish.

Eat. Try to relax.  Go to bed.  Sometime around 10pm.

Yesterday, I woke up in a bit of a funk.  I was hurting and so tired, despite several hours of sleep.  Getting up at 4:55am can make you think some crazy things.  So a conversation in my head sounded like this:

Me: Gah!  I’m sooooo tired.

Brain: Me, too.  You know what?  Skip the shower.  You took one late last night, anyway.

Me: Good thinking.  Thanks, Brain!

(insert slogging around the house as I determine what the hell I want to wear)

Brain: You know what?  Just wear your pajamas and bring your clothes with you?  That way, you’ll have time to get your body in gear before you put on your business clothes.

Me: Brilliant!

So off I went, into the day.  Wore pajamas to work.  Felt good, striding into the office at 6:45 in yoga pants, an enormous t-shirt and flip-flops.  I was still a little stiff, but warming up into the day.  Got into my office, closed the door, and began to change into something more presentable.  I had tried on the dress only once before, but didn’t zip it all the way up, once I saw that it would easily fit.

That was my first mistake.

I went to zip it up, and with the very last pull of the zipper, the pulley came off and the entire dress split down the side, revealing all my bits and bobbles, from my boobs all the way down to my ass.  Yeah…. not awesome.  So what’s a girl to do?

This girl stayed in her pajamas, in her office (with the door shut), until JC Penney opened.  At 9:45, I donned my flip-flops, and proceeded to return the dress.

Walking in, I felt pretty out of place (and you should know, I almost *never* feel out of place, anywhere, at any time).  The gal at the register was nice enough, and I got the store credit so I could go look for a new dress.

There I am, walking around in some serious hobo-looking pajamas, with hair and makeup totally done.  Then, I get a text from BFF#1, describing how she is trying to explain syllabic emphasis when speaking spanish, to her kiddo.  She’s spelled it out, literally, and I laugh out loud, literally.
I’m sure, at this point, that the good peeps at JCP think I am certifiable.

In the end, I do find a new dress.  And I go back to work, change into it, and work the rest of my day in something more presentable than hobo PJs.

But the lessons are as follows:

  • I need a backup outfit at work.
  • I need to plan my outfits better.
  • I need cuter pajamas.
  • And lastly: Never ever assume that the zipper will zip all the way.

Blog prompt to get me back in the game….

It’s been a while since I blogged and it was (quite politely) brought to my attention that I needed to blog again.  The last one was sad.  So…. here I am.  Blogging again.  I’ll update on things in another post (I’m working on it, but not quite done) – the short answer: I am well. 🙂

I chose a blog prompt and this one was perfect because it’s been on my mind *a lot* lately.

If you are to do one thing for free for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Holy moly.  Like, how easy is this one?  I would photograph.  I have restrictions – I wouldn’t work in a portrait studio for free.  That’s work, because it’s conditional.  But I’d take my camera everywhere, and photograph every thing, and give away the images for free.  Photography is a passion.  It’s a driving force in my life.  It helps me to visualize beauty in places where most people miss it.

Copyright Fusion Photography & Design 2011

Copyright Fusion Photography & Design 2011

That old, run down barn at the end of my block?  I photographed it and it was beautifully flawed.  The lake you’ve driven by a million times?  I stood outside for 3 minutes in -20 degree weather to capture the stunning beauty that I saw.  The woman who thinks she is ugly and fat and unsightly?  I can photograph her and show her the true beauty that shines from within her.  The trees you see every day on your drive to work?  I can get an image that is so full of color that you’d be amazed that it is the same trees you’ve been looking at for years.

It’s about moments.  Not events.  Not days.  Moments.

I have an image in my head, because I didn’t have a camera with me at the time.  I was running a race with BFF #1 and I was really struggling with pain and breathing.  We were at a difficult point in the route, where it was all uphill for about a mile.  She was ahead of me, giving me a path as we moved in between other walkers and runners.  The image I can see, to this very moment, is her hand, to the side and behind her, reaching out for me to hold.  That’s it.  Just her hand.  It’s become an anchor for me, that image.  Because when I feel unable to continue, and it is all uphill… I know her hand will be there for me, to pull me up.

You see, photography isn’t just a matter of pictures.  It’s moments.  I can keep them in my head… but my God… when I’m lucky enough to get them on camera, they take my breath away.  Seeing something so powerful reflected in an image is most certainly what God intended when He made film.  And it isn’t just my images.  I see others’ images and I see the beauty they might miss.  I can fiddle with it and change it so that it brings out what they were really looking at when they took it.

I saw, on a photograph once, “If I were a rich girl, I’d do this job for free.”  And it holds as true today, as it was 15 years ago when I first saw it.

Photography feeds my soul.  I need to remember that.

I’m sorry: An open letter to my loved ones

Dear family and friends,

First and foremost, I’m sorry.  I feel like I’ve let you down in many, many ways.  And there is nothing to say, except, “I’m sorry.”

I can honestly say that I don’t have a handle on what’s happening with me, lately.  At one point in the not-so-distant past, I was lively and energetic.  That girl is…. well, she’s gone now.  And I don’t know where she went.

I feel like I can never get enough sleep.  Never.  I’m exhausted.  During the week, I force myself to get out of bed and carry on with my day.  I get up at 5:30 am, drive to work, work all day (most of the time without a lunch break), drive home and finally take my shoes off at 6:00 pm-ish. I. Am. Exhausted.  I make dinner (which, admittedly, isn’t all that exciting these days), and I collapse on the couch, too exhausted to do anything else.  By the weekend, I lie around the house, unmotivated to do anything but sleep.

And then, there’s the pain.  I don’t know that you would ever understand, unless you have been where I am right now.  Miserable doesn’t even begin to describe it.  Imagine, if you can, the last time you were really sick.  Then, imagine the last time you were really sore.  Like… for me?  It’s like the time I had walking pneumonia, combined with feeling like I had just done a half-marathon.  I dread waking up, because moving in the morning is like trying to break out of an invisible cast.  I’m stiff.  It hurts.  And I don’t know if it’s just a morning thing, or if I’ll be suffering all day.  Once I get going, random things will bother me.  My hips will hurt.  Or my toes will burn.  Or my back will ache.  Or I’ll be itchy.  Or my legs will cramp.  Or I’ll have a headache.

Good God… the headaches.  They’re not to be underestimated.  It could be a dull, constant headache.  Or Satan can be gripping my brain with his red-hot, pokey fingers.  They can last a few hours, or for days.

I get tired of taking medications.  Side effects from them mean that I have to take other things to try to feel better.  For example, the Tramadol makes me itchy.  So I have to take Bendryl to alleviate the itchiness.  But Benedryl makes me sleepy.  So I have to take an energy pill.  The energy pill makes the pain worse (not sure why).  So I have to take Tramadol.  And so it begins, again.

……I carry guilt with me.  All the time.  I feel guilty because I am tired.  I feel guilty because I am lazy.  I feel guilty because I am crabby.  I feel guilty because I am distant.  I feel guilty because I’m weak.  I feel guilty because I’m losing the battle.

I don’t have the answer.  But it isn’t for lack of asking the question.  Please, don’t stop loving me.  Don’t leave.  Don’t close your ears and your heart.  I’m trying.

Maybe, someday, the girl that you used to know will come back.  Until then, just keep loving the girl that I am, now. Hug me.  Tell me that I’ll be okay.  Hold my hand.  Talk with me.  Let me vent.  Help me forgive myself.

With unparalleled love,

me

Well… that only took…. 34 days

34 days later and things are…. different now.

Let’s start just after that post:

I loved my job but I didn’t love who I worked for.  Nice guy with some serious control issues.  I don’t do well in that environment.  I was making things happen and feeling pretty good about it, but it was never enough.  No matter what I did, it was never enough to make him happy.  So, I took control of the situation and began to look for a new job.  Found one that read “part-time” but ended up being full-time.  More on that later.

Still no Lyrica.  Pain = *way* worse.  I’m currently in the middle of a flare that is a rival to any of the others.  Over the weekend I was pretty much useless.  Which sucks.  I’ll elaborate on that later.

Depression is better and worse, depending on the day.  Overall, I’d say I’ve climbed out of the hole a little.  Which is great.  Somedays, though, it sucks me back down.   I just take it one day at a time… kinda like an alcoholic.  More on *that*…. you guessed it…….later.

Later…

New job.  It’s pretty awesome.  I’m making more money, have more leeway, and have a ton of professional respect for what I do.  Plus, I have my very own office, with a door and everything.  For those of you who have lived (or still do) in Cube-City, you can appreciate the magnitude of having your own space.  I am the Director of Marketing.  I am learning new things and utilizing my skills to make a positive impact, and that makes me a happy girl.

I was going to go back to the doctor in September, but didn’t.  Like a dummy, I figured that the pain would pass and I’d be okay.  Welp….it didn’t.  So the joke’s on me.  The flare I am experiencing is seriously some of the very worst I can imagine.  I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.  Thankfully, the hubs and the kiddo have been indispensable and have been taking very good care of me.  In the very worst times, I can see how lucky I am.

And….the depression.  I would say that right about when I wrote that last post I had hit rock bottom.  I sat on the floor of my bedroom with a bottle of Xanax and a bottle of booze and knew I could end it all.  Obviously… I didn’t.  But the thought was there and it was an overwhelming. I would say that Fear is a companion of Depression.  And you know why Depression can sell Fear so well?  Because Depression talks to you in your own voice.  It whispers all those awful things about your worst fears in a voice that sounds *just. like. you* which makes it easy to listen.  And it almost got me.  By God’s Grace, I was able to hold on and get through.  I’m trying, now, to rebuild myself.  It’s much more difficult than you’d think.

So where am I now?  Here……  I guess I’m here.  And that’s no place spectacular, but it is alive.  And that’s enough, for now.

I caution those who may be reading this and feeling the same empty weight that I was….. reach out and talk with someone.  Accept that you may need help.   Remember, Depression is a lying bastard.  And Fear is his evil companion.  Don’t let them in.  You can get through it.

I’ll get back to more interesting posts…  Lord knows we have enough darkness in the world.  I’m going to get back to shining my light.

Love you all.  Thank you for reading.  xoxo