I came close today, though. I caught Noodle kitten with the pantry door, and she cried out… and I was so afraid that I’d hurt her, I started shaking. But no tears.

She’s fine, by the way. I think I scared her more than anything. She has a bad habit of jumping, as quick as can be, into any open cabinet, the fridge, a closet, the dryer. I live in fear of her trying that with the oven. She’s small and SO fast!

In better news, it seems that the reissue of my beloved Undone by The Lucy Show is now out. Finally, some people realized how good they were – especially THAT album. The title of this post is from “The White Space” but there isn’t a video for that, so I’ll give you a more well-known song, “A Million Things.”

How can people have no feelings
How can they ignore their friends
Easy to be proud, easy to say no

Especially people who care about strangers
Who care about evil and social injustice
Do you only care about bleeding crowd
How about a needing friend, I need a friend

How can people be so heartless
You know I’m hung up on you
Easy to be proud, easy to say no

Especially people who care about strangers
Who care about evil and social injustice
Do you only care about bleeding crowd
How about a needing friend, we all need a friend

How can people be so heartless
How can people be so cruel
Easy to be proud, easy to say no
Easy to be cold, easy to say no
Come, on, easy to give in, easy to say no
Easy to be cold, easy to say no
Much too easy to say no

The results of yesterday’s elections made me sad. I’ve had an overall feeling of frustration with the world and the need of people to push their limited world view on others, but this is almost too much to take. I see my friends, hurting because they are denied the basic rights to openly love who they choose, and I hurt for them. This diminishes us all.

edited to add: Well, there’s this, at least – Chapel Hill, NC elects gay mayor. Something to celebrate, anyway.

Nice face I'm making there.

Sometimes I feel a million years’ worth of distance between the girl that I was, and the woman that I am now. I can look at the photos and see the me that was, but it’s as if I’m looking through a curtain of fog. Then again, there are so many nights that I can’t remember from that time, that it’s hardly surprising that I feel that way!

People who didn’t know me then usually can’t believe that the stories that I tell have anything to do with the me that they know now. People who knew me then often express surprise that I’m where I am. Xiane the enigma, whoop-dee-doo.

I have no idea what I’m trying to say here. I’ve just been lost in thought after stumbling on the above photo in my photos folder. It is always insightful for me to think about how far I’ve come.

In much more pleasant posts…

Several updates are needed to be made! The Wellbutrin seems to be doing its job in keeping me level and energized. I haven’t done much talking to my therapist about the things that won’t keep swirling through my mind, but that will come with time. And of course, I have this space to spill the bits that just need to get the hell out of my brain.

We have a new kitten! She quite literally climbed into our laps and our lives, and has stolen our hearts. She’s a long haired grey and rumpled looking thing, with a sweet face and a spunky attitude – she was very sick and skinny when she came to us, but she got better with liberal application of love and care, and she’s emerged with the best attitude. [and also a great need to chew on my fingers.] We’ve named her Noodle, and the biggest task has been integrating her into our life with the Squeegee Cat. He wants to chase her, she freaks out and hisses and runs, and things escalate from there. She’s growing rapidly, so soon enough she’ll be able to demonstrate how she feels about being chased!

Otherwise, it’s all XianeTime as normal. I keep spinning yarn and teaching classes, talking endlessly about fiber arts, and rolling stray wool off my clothes. I need to take more photos, and I need to get out and get some hiking in now that Autumn is truly here. This time of year is always good to me, so I’m glad that it is here.

Tell me about your favourite thing to do during Autumn! I want to live vicariously through you, my friends.

Please, please, for the love of whatever you hold most dear… put yourself in her place, if only for a moment. What a blow it must be to hear that Roman Polanski should get a free pass because he made some Great Movies… especially when you must go to bed every night knowing that everything changed for you one day in your thirteenth year, and you’ll never be able to completely forget it.

I could just vomit when I read some of the reactions to this news, I really could. In what world should this EVER make sense?

I was supposed to catch y’all up on my status, arg.

This is what happens to me even with the best of intentions – I get sidetracked so easily. This time… well, wait, I’ll tell you the story. It’s a good one. First though, the therapist visit!

I’d scoped out the therapist’s office ahead of time, so I wouldn’t panic about knowing where it was. [always smart] It’s in a quaint part of town, with some older houses, some in disrepair. The actual offices were a bunch of trailers cobbled together to make a building; needless to say, I was a bit worried how that would reflect on the treatment that I would get. O_O

I shouldn’t have worried. The patients there ran the gamut, and there was an office dog, which made me smile… and best of all, my therapist, Anne, was female – something I’d really wanted but hadn’t voiced. I didn’t want to have to tell my story to a man. I didn’t want to feel ashamed or just hope that he really, truly “got” it.

After the basic introductions and a run-down of my medical history, I went ahead a spilled the whole sordid thing. Trigger warnings galore, folks.

I started with the sexual abuse, going into detail about:

1. how I was afraid to tell because it would ruin my Mom’s happiness
2. how it affected my sleep habits
3. how I tried to block off my room to my stepdad
4. how my Grandmother found out, and what happened when she told Mom
5. how it affected my subsequent actions
6. what happened when I finally told Mom, including my stepdad’s death and the aftermath

This was a really big deal for me. I’ve really only ever told friends and lovers the story, and most of them didn’t get the whole thing. I’ve been working on writing it all out, and if I get that finished, I’ll post it here. It is traumatic and terrible… but if it helps ANYONE to know that they are not alone, and that they too can get through this, it will be COMPLETELY worth it, my friends.

The outcome with the therapist? She added Wellbutrin XL to my Cymbalta, and made an appointment for a check-in for two weeks after, to track the results. She also sent me to get some bloodwork done, to rule out things like thyroid issues and the like being the cause of my lethargy. And she encouraged me to keep my journal going, if I felt like it was helpful – and it is. I left feeling like I’d been heard and understood, and I came away with an official diagnosis of major depression.

The combo of meds seems to really be working. I take the Wellbutrin when I wake up, with Cymbalta pill #1, and I’m full of energy and positive thoughts. Even when I get irritated, it doesn’t last for long, which is definitely more like me. I have been having a little bit of a problem recently with not being able to sleep… Anne gave me a prescription for Ambien to help me on those nights, but I’ve resisted taking it for now. Like I need to add another med to the cocktail! O_O

I go back on Tuesday, and I’m curious to see what will come from that meeting. Oh yes, and I’m still anemic – hemoglobin of 9. Anne says that’s extremely low. I’ve been working to eat more iron-bearing foods, and trying to take my Slow FE when I can stomach it. Overall, I do feel better, and that’s a miracle in my book. *cheer*

Now onto the GOOD stuff – the story I mentioned at the top of the page!

Rob and I had been taking care of a feral kitten, trying to tame it enough to at least Trap-Neuter-Release him – although realistically, I think we were heading toward keeping him. However, about three weeks ago, he just disappeared, much to our dismay. It broke my heart, because I’d become really attached to the little guy.
So when I got a call from Rob as I was driving home from Chicks with Sticks [my weekly knitting circle], the last thing that I was expecting is “The kitten is back!”

I tried to keep from getting too excited for the rest of the drive home, and when I pulled in, I immediately saw Rob sitting there with a kitten that looked very much like our feral friend… but was much too small and skinny to be he. This little grey scraggly mess was content to be held and petted, where our friend had only allowed petting. And this kitten was a she. A very tiny, adorable, dirty, long haired girlcat.

Yes, we took her in.

We kept her separate from Squeegee, both because she was too little and weak to deal with his antics, and because I’m a freak about keeping unscreened cats away from my beloved Fuzz until I know they’re not carrying any terrible illnesses. We took her to the vet the next day, and she was pronounced to have a cold virus, fleas, and ear mites, and we were given meds for all of these. She got some shots and a test for FIV – all clear, but she would have to stay in isolation for at least 2 weeks while the cold was treated. Poor kitten!

Her whole world right now is our office. We’ve named her Noodle, and have already begun to fatten her up a bit. She is four months old and only 2 pounds! She’s already responding well to the meds, although she H-A-T-E-S the antibiotic pills with a fiery passion, and consequently me for giving them to her, at least for the first 15 minutes after we fight over them. Oh well, what’s a Mommy to do? We’re working to get her to bond with Rob, as Squeegee is completely into me and poor Rob is second fiddle. She’s adorable, sassy, squeaky, and a complete doll. She’s totally lit up our lives so far, and I don’t regret adopting her one bit. ♥

How does one find a therapist? That’s my question of late, since I’ve never had need of one. I’m going to see Dr. Naz in the morning, and I’ll be asking her, but really… I’m at a loss. Obviously something more needs to be done, because my issues, my little stupid annoying debilitating isolating painful problem, isn’t getting better.

I’ll report back what I find out from the Good Doc, and elaborate more afterward.

And should I be hugged and tugged down
Through this tiger’s masque?
- Cocteau Twins

I unravel. I sew myself back up. I find a string, dangling, and accidentally [or not] pull at it and find the process renewed. Strings dangle and threads are pulled with needle and patience and old wrinkles in the fabric of me are softened by tears and age and use.

The process, to me, is familiar… but I keep it close when I can, because I am embarrassed to show the repetitive rends and mends to the outside world – both for fear of being judged, and from my own pride. Admitting that something’s wrong acknowledges the issue. Of course, not addressing the problem will never be helpful, because those on the outside have no way to know that behind my smile, I’m hiding pain. Yet admitting the pain is potentially giving away a weakness. Catch-22, around and around, just like my emotions and my thoughts.

The worst of all is conceding that I can’t do as much as I used to do, that my attention and my determination and my concentration and all my other -tions are undermined… by my depression. Too bad that I can’t shun that one. Dun dun.

Sometimes I want to start bashing my head into the wall. It isn’t from frustration [look, another -tion] but more from a desire to control SOME of the pain myself. At least if I smack myself around, I’ll have overrode the annoying phantom ache in my chest/heart/brain. That ache is the hardest thing to explain to people – that it just feels like someone is squeezing my chest, but not in a physical way, exactly. And my heart physically feels heavy. So do my hands, legs, even head sometimes. When I hang my head, it’s because I literally just can’t bear to hold it up anymore, it’s too hard. When it gets that bad, sometimes I just go to sleep for as long as I can stand. [That is, when the insomnia isn't in control.]

But I don’t want to sound complainy, because honestly? I’m working on trying to find solutions, and as hard as it can be sometimes, I still consider myself lucky, and happier than many people probably are. These blog posts serve as explanation of my inner workings, as a history of my struggle, as an update, as an education. I could talk about the joy that the local feral kittens that I’m working to tame brings me, and maybe I will in the next post… but getting this update out first was MOST important, because these things need to be said.

My silence is equal to my lack of passion. I am adrift in a sea of “I don’t care” and “I’m too tired” and “It doesn’t matter” – but it does matter and I do care, I’m just too tired and pained to admit it or do anything about it.

Depression is embarrassing. It’s humiliating to admit that I don’t have the drive to finish anything, that all I do seems to be sit around on my ass and think of nothing, or dream wistfully about the things I’d like to be accomplishing, if only I had the passion, the energy, the stamina, the will.

And people look at me and see a “healthy” person, which I can’t blame them for – and they wonder why I can’t just shake this off and get to doing… obviously it should be that easy. Just make yourself motivate, Xi.

It isn’t. I wish it was.

I went to NYC recently. For most of the time I was there, I was energized, more than I have been in ages. I came home full of hope, ideas, thoughts.
I know that living here takes away some of that zest for life… no sidewalks, no bustling creative energies, no ever-changing wall of humanity to observe. I barely even have friends here. And of course, I’ve been becoming more isolated again, but that’s a side effect of the depression, too, that need to cut myself off from everything. It hurts me to be open like that – physically hurts. That stupid Cymbalta commercial about depression hurting? I really wish it wasn’t true. I get an ache inside, like someone was slowly squeezing my heart and lungs. My bones ache. I feel weak and ineffective.

What’s worse is that I hate hate hate talking about it, admitting it, telling people just what’s going on and how I feel. Like I said, it’s embarrassing… and I know that so many people discount these feelings. I understand it, and I wish I didn’t sound so whiny and weak. But I guess the only other options would be to either fake that everything is fine, or stop talking again. And I am tired of not communicating. I know that hurts my friends and family, too… and there’s enough hurt going on already without that.

And you might tell me the truth
And I might be reminded of you
In everything I see and that I feel
You might be…

It was a day out. [A day in!] Rob and I decided that we needed an adventure, so we wandered to NoDa and wandered around for a while… we had a quick and light meal at Cabo’s Fish Tacos [they have lots of other stuff too, and a great atmosphere!] and then went to the Boulevard Gallery for a quick gander… then of course wound up at Amelie’s French Bakery. I’m writing this entry from there while sipping on some excellent coffee and recovering from the chocolate mousse cup pictured above. Seriously… a 24/7 bakery? Sign me up. I love this place.

We also managed to just miss a TORNADO that hit Cleveland County on our way out… wow. Hopefully our apartment will still be there on our return. *meep*
The weather’s been steady-on rainy, Springtime-a-riffic lately, and my freshly seeded balcony garden seems appreciative. I already have some mesclun mix seeds a-sproutin’ and my small herb plants look healthy and happy. I love being a gardener, and I’m really hoping that I do well this year, so that we can add the veggies of my labour into our meals.

To add a little depth to this post, I have been both riddled with Deep Thoughts about my direction in life, and driven with the desire to fine tune some slacker aspects of day to day existence. I will elaborate more as I firm up plans, but let’s just say that there will be more cooking at home and Xiane care-taking to come. It’s something that I’ve been neglecting severely, and I deserve better! I’m the only Xiane that I’ve got, after all.

Have you made new plans for your future lately? Anything that you’ve been wanting to improve in your life? I’d love to hear all about it!
*thank you, Talk Talk!