Archive for the ‘Depression’ Category

And here’s why: https://bit.ly/2S9lXwW

Donald Trump, in his eternal ass-licking of the fascist Evangelical Christian movement, seeks to deny my existence. Not content with stripping minorities of their civil rights, he is now attempting to define me out of existence.

What next? Is he going to round us up and put us in ghettoes, as the Nazis did in the 1930s and ‘40s? Or maybe the same detention facilities concentration camps he’s using to house immigrant children?

People have been saying for years that “it can’t happen here.” But it is happening here, and has been, ever since the Great Pumpkin (aka Trumplethinskin) and his cronies stole the election with the help of Russia.

Trump wasn’t elected: he was Putin office.

Who’s next? Atheists? Gays and lesbians? Minority races? And even “minority races” is a joke, since collectively they outnumber the so-called White majority.

I’m so angry right now that I have to save this as a draft and walk away until I can think more clearly.


Much Later

The news keeps getting worse. With the Rethuglican party firmly in control of the Senate, it’s probably going to sanction these new policies. And since they’ve managed to stack the deck in their favor on the Supreme Court, any legal challenges to these unconstitutional policies will also be denied, even the the Constitution plainly states in Article 14:

All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

I’m pretty sure that denying people their civil rights by executive dictatorial decree does not constitute “due process,” but I could be wrong. After all, I’m no lawyer: my parents preferred that I pursue an honest career instead.

But it Ain’t Over ‘til it’s Over

As a wise man once said. Perhaps this latest indignity will wake up the sleeping masses and fire them with sufficient zeal to overturn this dictatorship.

But I doubt it. Most likely they’ll just go back to Netflix & Chill.

It’s Been a Long Time…

Posted: 18 September, 2018 in Aging, Depression
Tags:

…Since I last wrote

But I’m catching up now, after spending 6 days in hospital. 3 nights in the Emergency Department because there were no open beds on any of the medical floors, and then 3 nights in my own room.

Now that I’m home I’m looking forward to getting some actual rest. Being woken up every 4 hours to have my vitals checked and blood drawn is not conducive to a restful, healing sleep.

Then again, here at home I sometimes need to get the cat off my blanket in the middle of the night so I don’t freeze.

Yes, it’s that time of year again. Two weeks ago we were sweltering in 90+ heat, and last night it was 53. And today is supposed to hit 88. Rochester has weird weather in the early autumn.

I guess I’m finally Officially Old. Every single member of my medical team was at least 20 years younger than me. And now I’m getting home visits from a nurse and a physical therapist.

Getting old: it ain’t for sissies!

Still, however uncomfortable it may be, it still beats the hell out of the alternative. I have a grandson I’m hoping to see marry and perhaps raise a family. I have two others I want to be around when they graduate high school. So I do the exercises and watch my diet and do whatever I need to do to “age with grace.”

Whatever the hell that means. Dylan Thomas was right: I am definitely not going gentle into that good night.

Thought for the day:

And that, dear reader, sums up my attitude toward old age…

…and other assorted assholes.

But Life Goes On

As it tends to do. And it reminds me of a little tune Mason Williams wrote and which the Smothers Brothers recorded many, many years ago:

Isn’t life beautiful?
Isn’t life gay?
Isn’t life the perfect thing
To pass the time away!

And so, dear reader, I also go on.

And it’s driving me crazy

Some background

It’s not really new…just new to me. See, when my ex and I were together and I was getting a decent monthly check, we (me, my ex, and her daughter) each got new iPhones. Then her daughter got stupid and ended up in a situation where she’s not going to need her phone for a very long time.

So about 3 months ago, my ex gave it back to me so I could cancel the line and return the phone. Which I still haven’t done.

(I’m not making any excuses, but if you’ve ever suffered the Dementor known as clinical depression, you’ll understand why I haven’t brought myself to return it.)

So all 3 devices were pretty much the same: iPhone 6S Plus. The only difference? I got the one with 16 gigs of memory, while the other two got 32 gigs.

As a result, I’m constantly removing and reinstalling apps from my device.

Then The Lightbulb Lit!

Yesterday I had the brilliant idea of switching phones! I’ll switch to the 32 Gb model!

Before doing so, I figured I’d check the battery level on it. But plugging it into the charger–and since I had already wiped the phone clean and reset it to the original factory settings–as soon as I plugged it in, it went into its start-up mode.

Once I was done with that, it then (automagically) downloaded and installed the latest IOS version…

…which took up the better part of an hour.

If you’re setting up a new iPhone and you already have one, a screen comes up on the new phone. All you have to do is activate the camera on the old one and holding it so that the image on the new one completely fills the screen on the old one.

That triggers the mechanism that copies your settings to the new phone. And once that was done, the new phone asked me if I wanted to restore everything from the recent backup made on the old phone.

Which is what I did, only to discover that only the icons for all the applications and not the apps themselves were restored. So yet another hour was spent as the new phone automatically downloaded the applications (and their data) from the cloud.

Except not all of the data and settings were restored. Several apps required me to go into them and enter my login data. I don’t have an issue with that: after all, it’s a question of account security and they’re just making sure I’m who I say I am.

The problem is that several apps didn’t copy over my settings and preferences to the new phone. So now I’ve got to spend a couple of hours trying to get those apps to function correctly.

Sometimes Technology Sucks

Especially when “upgrading” to a new device. But no worries: I’ve already been singing.

STFU

When it’s umpteen degrees in my bedroom, I’ll take my laptop downstairs to write. Most of the time, it works…but there’s a problem: our house is often the unwilling host to freeloaders, moochers, and other disreputable sorts.

They’re not really bad people, but they insist on trying to talk to me when it’s obvious that I’m working. I really don’t need to get a blow-by-blow description of whatever television show you watched last night.

I’m probably better-informed about local news than you are, so I don’t need to repeating half-truths and rumors.

And while my landlord is perfectly content to have you here—and it should be a clue to how welcome you really are when he disappears into his upstairs bedroom whenever you overstay your welcome (usually 10 minutes after you get here)—neither one of us appreciate you blasting out your crappy taste in music on his computer.

I’m 30 years older than you are and I don’t enjoy the same taste in music as y0u do. That’s why you have a fucking smart-phone. USE IT.

In short, pull your heads out of your collective asses and realize that you are not the only people in the house. Have some consideration for others—especially since it’s NOT YOUR HOUSE!

And why don’t I copy the landlord and retreat to my bedroom? A couple of reasons:

  1. I pay rent to live here. You don’t.
  2. Then there is the matter of things disappearing whenever you’re left unattended in the house. I just don’t feel safe with you here.
  3. The two of us who live here do things a certain way for certain reasons: we DO NOT need you coming in and changing things. If there’s a window closed, LEAVE IT CLOSED! I know this is a difficult concept, but THIS IS NOT YOUR HOUSE!
  4. I get $15 a month in food stamps, so please don’t eat my food!

But The Really Big Thing is This

I am trying to deal with several mental issues. Among them are social anxiety disorder and agoraphobia. It’s hard for me to be around people. THIS HOUSE IS MY SANCTUARY, my safe space. You have invaded it, and I no longer feel safe in my own house!

So I’m going to propose a solution: I’m going to have a serious discussion with my landlord about your freeloading ways and how they are affecting my health and well-being.

And on another note: STOP STORING YOUR WHOLE WATERMELON IN THE REFRIGERATOR!  It doesn’t need to be refrigerated, and it takes up space that I—who actually pay money to be here—desperately need for my own food.

This is going to piss off a lot of readers, but I don’t care. The people it will piss off are the ones who have already pissed me off by their uneducated, ignorant claim in the first place.

The first thing I’m going to say that will piss them off is this:

If you have never been plagued by depression, or never watched a loved one crippled by this disease, kindly shut the fuck up.

I can’t state this enough. You have no business pontificating on a subject about which you know nothing. And by making your statement, all I hear is, “I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I’m going to give you my opinion anyway, because I know more about it than you do.”

I hate to burst your bubble, but here’s an uncomfortable truth: People with depression don’t want to die!

People with depression don’t want to die!

Here’s the thing: on both occasions I tried suicide, it wasn’t because I wanted to die; I simply wanted the pain to stop. I was in a place where I could no longer think rationally. After all, do you really think that if I could see any other solution I wouldn’t have chosen it instead?

And that, dear friends and critics, is the difference between my depression and your “sanity:” the inability to think clearly and rationally. Did I really want to die? Did I consider how my death would affect my family? My friends?

Of course I didn’t: I was so overwhelmed by my depression and its pain and agony that I was incapable of any thought at all, much less rational thought.

Was I a coward? Or was I in a state where suicide was my only rational choice?

Do you see the contradiction here? That I was in such pain that I was incapable of clear, rational thought that to me, suicide seemed to be the only rational solution.

Unless you’ve been there, you won’t understand. And being there, you don’t see any other solution. Which is why depression can so often be a fatal disease.

So before you call suicide “Cowardly,” or “The easy way out,” or any other stupid thing, stop and think: what would you do if you saw no other way out of a soul-deadening, horrifying life of agony, with no hope of improvement?

One more thing: there’s a reason J. K. Rowling modeled the Dementors on her own depression.