Somewhere Over The Rainbow

"Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me..."

"Well... if I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with! Is that right?"


Buckaroo Bonzai:"Wherever you go, there you are."

Well, it's been three weeks since my last post. We finally entered a more typical summer weather pattern here in the U.P. which meant that the dreadful heat finally went away taking the humidity with it. Today, however, is about as miserable as it's been all summer. It started up again yesterday and will quit, hopefully, in just another day or so. I simply loathe hot weather and it contributes heavily to my state of mind.

A number of readers/friends commented on my last post to see if I was "ok." The warmth and friendship were greatly appreciated, even when there appeared to be a genuine lack of understanding of depression. I am happy to report that the cloud is lifting a bit.

This, despite the fact that my employer has once again stripped us of yet another benefit that made putting up with no raises tolerable. Which in turn lead to another evening of checking out property listings in Fairbanks, Alaska, and the job board at Banner Health who operate the hospital up there.

In the end, the facts brought me down to earth. This is not the time to be trying to sell a house - even if it is a lovely log cabin in the woods. My present state of health prevents me from working as a nurse in most situations (my hands are far from functional). I would be sacrificing my local friendships and contacts to start over in a place where I know no one at a time when I am clearly not in the mood to be social. Most of what I would be looking for in a new home I already have in this home. Finally, wherever you go, there you are.

That last bit is the kicker. If I have learned anything in my 47 years it would have to be that drifting into grass-is-always-greener thinking is a delusion. My friend Maria strongly asserted that she thinks I still have a few great leaps in me yet (see previous post and comments). Perhaps she's right, but I am thinking those leaps will have to be more internal leaps right here where I am.

Anyway, signs that I am feeling better. Despite all the usual reservations I create before a gathering, I drove 50 miles yesterday to Tom and Dave's "camp" and had a lovely visit with friends I don't see very often. A number of those sweet people gave me an extra hug or hand squeeze to let me know how I am valued. Tom in particular made a point to tell me that it's always wonderful when I show given how often I tend to hermit instead (I paraphrase, of course).

There was a young man there who stirred a bit of interest--got me thinking. I may never take it further or pursue it - the point is that taking notice is an indicator that I'm pulling out of the nose dive.

I continue to have problems with my hands. The burning aches and stiffness in my joints continues to plague me. The doctors still don't seem to really know what is going on. Yet I had a good appointment today with a neurologist who has some ideas and is starting me on a new medication. This, of course, will be $40.00 more dollars a month out of my pocket since we have no real drug coverage in any traditional sense at work. However, if I do follow through and cancel my wireless service with Verizon I will be saving $60 a month and so will still come out ahead. Of course, the pills may not make any difference either and won't end up an expense.

And yet I received a telephone call from a woman from the Diocese who, though not a regular blog reader, read my last post and wanted to check in with me. She shared some good information about her congregation and I may finally take her up on the invite to join them for church. Despite enjoying my Sunday mornings in bed, I think reconnecting with my faith and celebrating the Eucharist would be a good thing right about now. I think I miss it more than I let myself realize.

Lastly, and this is a bit odd, but I watched the final episode of Winds of War last night. I got weepy (as I usually do) during the Pearl Harbor attack sequence. I don't quite understand why visual representations of December 7, 1941, affect me that way, but they do. It must be the sailor in me after all these years. In any case, experiencing the emotion in that way was also an indicator that the depression is lessening a bit. I was moved. Three weeks ago I was numb.

Me. Me. Me. I really hate the personal quality of all this. In the past I have tried to flip my personal experiences into something more universal so that other folks may be able to take something away from them. I loathe the quality exemplified by Bette Midler's character in Beaches: "Enough of me talking about myself, what do YOU think of me?"

Given the state of my hands and that typing tends to aggravate the condition, I won't say how often I will post here. Thank you for staying with me though.

As Robert DeNiro as Harry Tuttle in Brazil said, "Listen, kid, we're all in it together." Peace.

One Reason I Have My Animals...

For those of you who have checked in over the past few weeks, you will have no doubt wondered why there has been nothing forthcoming. To put it simply, I've been in a funk. In fact, I continue to be in a funk. Of course, as someone who has been on an anti-depressant medication for a number of years now, my funks are a tad more serious than just feeling blue.

I had my six month check in with my doctor. We did not feel the need to adjust my medication and he is content with seeing me again in six months. Our understanding is that I will contact him if things get particularly bleak.

The following is a bit of a post that I put up at a private blog: "I wish I knew why, but I have been slowly sinking into something much worse than a black pit of despair - it is more like a black hole of nothingness - where layer upon layer of my life loses its value and meaning for me. The result being the strongest desire yet to just simply vanish - evaporate - fade into the ether. I lay in bed with the dogs yesterday for hours. The dogs are the last layer."

I've never been one to have grand ambitions. In school, my abilities carried me along with little or no work needed. I bounced from one thing to the next continually landing on my feet. I joined the Navy to get myself out in the world. I applied for a scholarship while in the Navy and got out of my enlistment. Junior year my sexuality got me out of my Naval commitment. I moved to Florida to get myself out of a dead end job. I entered nursing school to get out of poor employment. I got out of Chicago to get out of my broken heart. I got out of Marquette and into the woods to get out of town...

My whole adult life has been a series of shrewd choices to escape something else. I was always moving away from something rather than moving towards something. Granted there were accidental benefits. Via the Navy and my scholarship, I was able to attend Northwestern University. Nursing is a rather solid if deteriorating career. (there's a reason that so many nurses continue to leave the field and it is tied closely to the unraveling of health care) I live in a beautiful log home in the woods.

Along the way I was able to count on the support of my parents, who put me up twice in the midst of all that chaos.

However, now at mid life I feel as though I've made this long journey to a destination that is empty and void. It's a bit like the ending of The Graduate...or for that matter like the apparently "happy ending" of most movies. The action has ended and now what?

Perhaps this is a continuation of my own personal "mid life crisis" to the strains of Miss Peggy Lee singing "Is That All There Is?" (of course, without the boozing and dancing)

My youngest brother who is attempting to craft the perfect life would scornfully snort and tell me to "stop being a drama queen and get over it." If it were only that simple, eh? I can look back at the root cause of so much of my brokenness and play what if? games with myself. However, those games are dangerous and they lead to a denial of key aspects of who I am.

What is one to do then? Climb in bed with the dogs and sleep.

The dogs really are what have kept me going over the past few years. Folks that feared I was becoming an animal hoarder...little did they realize. They provide me with a family to care for that does not have all the complications and needs that a human family would require - complications and needs that I don't think I would be able to manage emotionally. They provide unconditional canine love and respect. The canine qualifier is very important.

They are not little four legged human substitutes; rather I am a big two legged Alpha substitute. By keeping the canine in our relationship, I am reminded to live as the dogs live -- in the moment. All of this emotional baggage that weighs me down is not a part of their lives. Lola doesn't have what if moments over her bum leg - she just runs as fast and as hard as she can and every week she makes progress in her recovery. Thirteen year old Frankie just keeps plugging along without thoughts about getting old.

I tend to write mainly about the dogs, but the cats are working their way into all of this as well.

I had hoped this post would work it's way around into something useful for folks, but I fear it is just my own personal stuff.

Peace.