notemily: (buffy - willow&tara sad)
Sigh. I missed the wedding ceremony. I felt so stupid, because I'm always late for everything but not usually THIS late, but everything just kept going wrong. I really should have started getting ready much earlier, but then the kittens didn't want to take their medication and kept hiding from me, and then I forgot the present and had to go back, and THEN when I finally got to the park, I couldn't find the wedding. There was no sign saying "wedding" or anything so I walked up and down the road, first in high heels and then in my bare feet, which wasn't really better because the asphalt was broiling hot. When I finally found them, it was over.

I felt really bad and went and hid in the basement of the building for a while, because I couldn't bear facing everybody and putting on a happy face, since I had just missed two of my favorite people getting married. But of course there were a lot of people I knew there and they kept coming up to me and asking what was wrong. (Nic: "You're here for the celebration, that's what's important." Art: "Don't worry, you're supposed to cry at weddings.") Benny was there and he talked to me about cats and I showed him kitten photos, and that helped me calm down enough that I could go out and join the reception.

The food was Middle Eastern, which I really appreciated because that meant I could eat a lot of it (no dairy). I had delicious rice/lentil mix and delicious chicken shish kebab. There was soft classical music playing throughout the dinner, but then at some point it changed to dance music. I wasn't sure whether we were allowed to dance or not since I thought the bride and groom had to do a first dance, but I asked Nathan and he said no, go dance. The wedding in general was like that--very laid back. What I saw of it anyway. :P

My feet were still in blistered agony from the walk, but I danced a lot anyway. Some of N&B's friends knew how to swing dance and other social dances, which is like Christmas for me, so I danced with one of them. He tried to teach me foxtrot and I sucked, and then we did a waltz which was a little better. I wanted to do East Coast with him but there were no more swing songs after that.

There was also less-formal dancing with adorable children. Kate's niece, Rose, was a really awesome dancer, making up her own moves and generally being fearless. Nathan's nieces were also there, as well as Kate's little cousin Lola (who will soon have twin siblings!), and everyone danced and had an awesome time. Kate's nephew Dillon sat there reading a book. They have raised him well.

A bunch of my parents' friends were there (Nathan's parents and my parents were friends since before we were born), so I had to do the whole "I'm still working at Shorewood library, my life is boring" thing a bunch of times, but now I can add "also I foster kittens from the Humane Society," so that was nice. Better than telling everyone I dropped out of grad school, anyway.

Nathan and Bridget finally did dance, to the Dixie Chicks' "Lullaby," which is a really sweet song, and they looked so happy. ♥.

Depression tastes like sawdust.

  • Oct. 18th, 2009 at 9:41 PM
notemily: Photo of me, a white girl in her mid-20s, wearing glasses, smiling, looking up and to the right (firefly - river/bird)
Everything I eat turns to ash in my mouth some days.

Reading FWD/Forward, the new feminists with disabilities blog, and feeling sorry for myself because my disabilities aren't visible enough, or severe enough, for anyone but me and a few people close to me to give a shit. Because sometimes--too often--days like these happen, where everything seems to be behind a dull gray fog, and I take three naps in one day, and I'm lonely and my stomach hurts and I lie there thinking about things I could/should be doing and just thinking about them is exhausting me, so I take another nap. And then the real world comes crashing back in, and I have to go to work, and go to school, and explain why I still haven't done my late assignments, and I don't have an excuse. "I lay around my house all day" isn't an excuse. So I keep going, and hope the next day is better.

Depression is a chronic condition now. Part of my life. Better some days and worse others. Might always be that way, might not. I'm a lot better than I used to be. But I still have bad days, bad weeks. And honestly, I don't know how to explain them to other people without sounding whiny as fuck.

(I think I should start using my Happylite again. It might not help that much, but it can't hurt. Attack depression on multiple fronts, that's my strategy. Medication, therapy, mindfulness, simulated sunlight, kittens...)

IBS makes my life difficult in other ways. But IBS is easier. If I say, I had an IBS attack and I was in physical pain and had to lie down, that's understandable. Something people can relate to. Everyone knows what pain is. (That's not to say I would feel comfortable asking to lie down in the middle of, say, my work shift.) From the outside, depression can look like laziness. Which I already have a reputation for since I'm chronically late and a constant procrastinator. But I think those are more often a consequence of my depression/anxiety than a comorbidity, and they've just been a part of my life for so long that I don't know what's an illness and what's a personal failing anymore.

Anyway, I really like that blog and I admire the courage of the writers there. But I have trouble claiming the title of disabled for myself. Even though the spoon theory applies perfectly to me, the facts that (a) in my case it's not usually physical pain taking away all my spoons and (b) I'm not in an acute state of depression and anxiety like I was three years ago, usually keep me from saying out loud that I am disabled. I'd rather say I have mental illnesses, or I have chronic depression, or something like that.

I guess what I'm trying to say is I feel like I often straddle the border between able-bodied (or -minded) and disabled, if there is such a thing. I'm not sure where I stand. Where I deserve to stand.

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I don't know what you want from me, stomach

  • Oct. 17th, 2009 at 12:05 AM
notemily: Photo of me, a white girl in her mid-20s, wearing glasses, smiling, looking up and to the right (vm - white chair)
Ever since I got IBS, I've gotten to know pretty well the feeling of being hungry and sick at the same time. Is there a word for that? When you have hunger pangs but you also feel kind of woozy and nauseated? I used to feel like that all the time when I first got sick and couldn't eat anything ever.

It's a really mixed signal, especially for an emetophobe. I wish I didn't feel it so often.

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