Mama Bird

Mama birds across the miles

all have big bright smiles

for Thanksgiving week is the best

when all the baby birds all come to gather at the nest.

And that my friends is today’s cheesy attempt at the daily prompt and a Thanksgiving post. Of course I am quite happy to have the oldest baby bird at home with us for a few days.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!



I’ve been thinking lately about what kind of energy I give off and whether or not it is influenced by my episodes of depression.  I think in some way I’ve always been aware of this but it has lately bubbled up to the surface in a more concrete way.

Often I think about the outward face of my depression as a battle between doing something and not doing something.  It is pretty much on autopilot to shower, go to work, make supper, the basics of life.  Other times there might be a lot of self talk in my head before I go out for a walk in the sunshine.  This is a much bigger struggle for me in the winter when it gets cold and snowy than it is in the summer.

Often, to elevate myself I have to think of things I can do to feed my soul..finding a really good book, going to an art museum or listening to live music are good choices.  Being out in the garden is another good choice. I feel at one, inside and outside.

People don’t see the gears turning(or not) in my head. My husband might have an inkling of my thought processes, and there is some frustration I think when I am in a half empty instead of a half full sort of mode.

But besides doing or not doing, I wonder about the energy I am giving off to the world, and try to think about it more consciously.  Of course long ago I made the decision not to vomit out every possible bit of my misery to the outside world, as my mother likes to do.  I don’t know if she ever realizes how soul sucking that is.

I know I have given the impression of being cross or angry at work when I haven’t intended to.  Perhaps I need to cultivate more awareness of what is spinning through my head and how I might be projecting it to the world.  If I am projecting negative energy out into the world and it comes back to me, am I aware of what I have created?


Tears for no reason, or as an overreaction to something.  Lack of control over my emotions.  Felt deeply disrespected at work.  Tears in my eyes at work, had to bite my tongue for half the day to keep the desire to cry away.  If I don’t bite my tongue I’ll dig my nails into my palms to distract myself.

Have no idea what is going on.  The husband doesn’t quite know what to do when these episodes happen.  In the past we would start to fight when these moods would start to creep in.  He doesn’t get the emotions.  I don’t get that he doesn’t get the emotions.

Now I usually keep these emotions under control, and can do some self talk to get through a difficult time.

For the most part antidepressants have helped me immensely with this aspect of my depression.  Not this week though.  Maybe my antidepressants aren’t as effective any more.  Maybe it is the winter blues.  Maybe I am having a breakdown in advance at the thought of spending time over the holidays with dysfunctional family members.

Tears sometimes bring sense of catharsis for me.  Now I just feel hollow.

One more speed bump on the road of depression.

Pour Some Sugar on Me

It was almost quitting time at her dead-end job.  Most everyone claimed to be on the road to something better, this place was just a short pit stop.  He wasn’t her type. They guy with the long blonde hair in a ponytail and the unexpected brown eyes.  He who would play annoying music when the boss left.  His latest kick was old hair metal.

They all sat there, eating cake, cake that was meant for the customers.  She watched him while he ate. Envious she was, he could eat 2 or 3 pieces of cake and still be skinny. Did he have tattoos under his long sleeves? What was his middle name?  She excused her thoughts as just something to break up the monotony of the night.

She thought he was wide open, everything was on the surface, whether it was annoying or interesting or strange.  She felt quiet around him, but wanted him to see her, the good and the bad.

She barely noticed him at first.  They didn’t always work the same shifts.  Slowly something changed.  Her empty spaces seem to expand. Something needed to happen, anything at all.

How did she make it happen, in a way that wasn’t socially awkward.  She had odd thoughts about letting his hair out of the ponytail, still thinking he wasn’t her type, even though she couldn’t stop thinking of him.

If she revealed herself, there was no turning back.  If she was wrong, she couldn’t come back to work.  Rejection, could she deal with it?

She finished her cake and continued to day dream about him as she went about the last tasks of her shift.

She put the concert ticket in his jacket pocket, with a note that said “See you Saturday night”.  She’d either be a total loser on Saturday or she wouldn’t.


Panacea: a magic bullet, a cure-all.  Many of us are searching for that secret remedy, perhaps to the fountain of youth or instant wealth. If only we could cure just that one problem, how much better our life would be.

I found myself watching some late night infomercials recently. Not able to fall asleep but still in a drowsy haze I was almost entranced.  Hair volumizing products, airbrush makeup, rare and valuable coins and cooking products galore.  Now I just need to make 3 easy payments of $29.99, and my life will be forever changed.

Halloween, under the tag of feminism

I often scroll through the wordpress tag of feminism to see if I find anything interesting. Sometimes the opinions of other women will surprise you.

This post has various thoughts on Halloween.

Costume suggestions suggest emulating accomplished women “be a doctor, not a nurse, it  isn’t like their scrubs or stethoscopes are different”.

I’m nurse.  I just found out I’m not accomplished. Nor am I a quality inspiration for a Halloween costume.  Who knew?

Public Speaking

Public speaking has never been my thing.  I had to do it the other day at work.  It was something I had been dreading for a while.

I’d made the task so overwhelming.  No one else in the room seemed to be so distressed.

Part of it was my fault.  I’d been telling myself for days that I would stay up late or wake up early to get my project done.  Last minute pressure would make my brain work better.  Well those sort of strategies may have worked when I was 20, but not so much now.  Having rushed through preparing the information I was to speak about obviously didn’t help at all.

I can only make it better next time though by getting my information together in plenty of time, and perhaps even rehearsing at home.  Why does this whole experience make me feel like I am in school again.

I feel like I have a defective part of my brain.  Others seem to do these things so easily.

Waiting until the last minute made me a hair late.  Normally I am punctual.  I could see my supervisor glare at me momentarily as I entered the room.  Time to do better next time.

My Cold, Cold Heart

The dark is beginning to squeeze out the light.  It is pitch dark as I get ready for work.  October rains bring a cold dampness indoors.

I love fall, but then there is the looming threat of winter.  Winter, where the urge to close the curtains, and take a mental health day(or 4 or 5) is ever so strong.  The bed calls my name.  I probably would take a mental health day off, but the health care industry isn’t super compassionate about people missing work…..or at least all the jobs I have ever had.

Just a couple months ago I’d thought about talking to my doctor about decreasing my antidepressants, partly because of the expense.  I feel like that would be a huge mistake. It feels like a switch has been flipped, how I can feel my mood plummeting.

If I were stronger, or more self disciplined, maybe I could handle this better.  I know the dip in my mood is coming, surely there is some way I could be better prepared.

It is probably time to turn off the TV and stay away from the more controversial parts of the internet, that would be helpful.

If this is October what will I do when it gets really cold and that hellish thing called snow comes calling.

Rule Book

When I was a child I remember having very strict notions about what was FAIR.  I think I also had some strict notions about what was just, even if I couldn’t have articulated the concept.  Of course fair as a child might center on trivial issues like each child at the birthday party getting the EXACT same sized piece of cake.

When I was a child I had the notion of an invisible rule book everyone followed, because that would be FAIR. One person would receive the same penalty for a crime as another.  The teacher would step in when she saw someone bullied.

Going to Catholic schools growing up I believed our leaders tried their best to ensure the public school system ensured equality of opportunity for all who passed through its doors.  When my own kids started public school, I saw that wasn’t quite so.

I believed my Catholic public school neighbor would stand up for me when his friend shouted “Dirty Catholic” across the street, when he saw me walking home in my Catholic school uniform.  I believed my parents would intervene somehow in the situation.

I believed that people wouldn’t selectively turn their heads away at the injustices of the world.

Of course little by little I realized my rule book was an imaginary work of fiction in my own brain.  If I got myself in a tizzy every time someone didn’t follow my rule book, I’d go crazy.

Recent events in the US from Charlottesville to the Las Vegas shootings to Harvey Weinstein make me sad.  That rule book in my head just won’t stay quiet.  No answers, just sadness.

I remember after 9/11, crying all the time when I watched the news.  Eventually I had to stop watching TV for a while.  Turning off the TV might be okay, but someday we need to pay enough attention to get our problems figured out.