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So Thursday was another day for therapy, and the Matrix Therapist wants me to get out of the freaking house more often. And she wants me to make a list of things to do to GET me out of the house. Does she even KNOW me?

Matrix Therapist: What are the benefits of staying in the house all the time?

Me: Well, all my stuff is there.

MT: So you feel safe there.

Me: Yes, though it’s a weird kind of safe that still makes me feel miserable.

MT: So what are the benefits of you leaving the house?

Me: (shiver) I hear sunshine is good for you.

MT: Mmm, what else?

Me: Might distract me from my shitty life.

MT: Right.

Me: May introduce me to new people, though that prospect is kinda  scary, too.

MT: But there’s no pressure.

Me: That’s the whole thing about leaving the house. It’s ALL pressure. I’ll have to socialize.

MT: Yeah, because what you’re doing now is working so well. Listen, you have the depression down. We know that. You don’t need more practice at that.

Me: Finally, I’m good at something!

MT: Maybe you could take a walk around the lake. I did recently.

Me: A walk? Outside? How far is that?

MT: It’s about 9 miles.

Me: 9 MILES? Yeah, that’s gonna happen.

MT: Doesn’t have to be around the lake. You come up with some things that’ll get you out of the house. Make a list.

Me: I’m not great at lists. I’m great at depression, remember?

MT: That’s what we’re trying to fix, remember?

Me: Right. List.

MT: 10 things to get you out of the house.

Me: Number 1…therapy.

MT: Therapy doesn’t count.

Me: That’s not something a patient wants to hear.

Ten things have to go on this list. TEN. And, lest you forget, they must all involve me leaving the house.

1. Make a list of 10 things to get me out of the house.
2. Go to the movies.
3. Go to the bookstore.
4. Go to the gym.
5. Go do karaoke.
6. Go to a coffeeshop.
7. Go to the library.
8. Walk through the park (exercise).
9. Walk through the mall (more exercise).
10. Go to the lawnmower races.
11. Take an art class.
12. Go to church.

Wow, look at that. 12 things…well, minus the first item, of course. 11 things. Not all very exciting things. I mean, bookstore and library? I know, a thrill a minute with me.

Hey, I almost put down “smoking,” since I technically do that outside the house. But I figured the Matrix Therapist would just give me shit over that one, so…

Why does looking at this list strike my heart with fear?

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

Happy Easter to you and yours. Hope it’s a great day.

March’s Resolution for the YOR was exercise…five days a week. I’m saying it was a successful month, despite being sick for the last couple of weeks. I plan to continue on with it, even if the local Y isn’t yet offering Tantric Yoga classes.

I meant for this month to be totally different when it comes to the April Resolution. I’m gonna put that one off till maybe next month. Instead, I’m going with something that the Matrix Therapist mentioned last week in our session.

Reconnecting.

I haven’t yet figured out the metrics portion of this Resolution. Basically, it all comes down to my girls and reestablishing a connection. Long story I’ve alluded to before, but in my really Dark Days, I thought they were better off without me around. A self-fulfilling prophecy. I was very mistaken, it’s plagued me for years, and I’m trying to do something about it. Again.

But there’s more to the reconnecting than my girls. I have quite a few people I need to reconnect with, and this is the month I start making that happen. I have emails to write, blogs to read for the first time in forever, phone calls, texts.

My myopia tends to shove friends and even family to the outskirts of my attention. And the more depressed I get, the more powerful those blinders get. This might make sense somewhere in the dust bunny farm known as my brain, but it’s counterproductive. My support group is largely online. The bulk of my friends are elsewhere, so it’s time to reach out and bring some of these long-lost folks back to the fold.

So don’t be too surprised if you suddenly see me on your blog, or if you get an email from me from out of the blue. Crawling out of this Funk ain’t easy, but I’m still trying to push through it.

In the meantime, here’s to hoping Jesus doesn’t see his shadow today, or there will be six more weeks of Apocalypse.

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• Yesterday, another mystery ailment for the SecondHand Car. Came out to drive to dinner and the passenger-side window was rolled all the way down. I never touched the damn thing. Won’t roll back up.
• This brings me to the mechanic this morning, of course. Thankfully, no rain last night.
• LIST OF PROBS I GAVE THE MECHANIC. (1) The window, obviously. (2) The Swamp is beginning again. Find the fucking leak. (3) SERVICE ENGINE SOON light is off and on, off and on. Never stays off more than a day.
• There are 3 weeks until Shannon arrives. I need to get my shit together and get the bedrooms ready. Are you coming to SillyBring? April 24 is coming fast. So far, we have seven people, including me.
• There are a lot more Poison fans than I thought. Oddly, some of these people are friends of mine. Oddly, I still like them. The friends, not the fucking band.
• Then again, I like Rick Springfield, so who am I to judge?
• Tomorrow is not only Mom’s birthday, but my twin daughters’ birthday, too. April Fool’s! Mom is still 36 (she swears), yet I’m 43. There may have been a flux capacitor involved, I don’t know.
• Mom is doing well, by the way. This is her second week of physical therapy. Walking around, she even drove from the house to the restaurant last night. “Braking is a bitch.” Um, yeah, Mom. Let’s hold off on the driving, then, for a few more weeks. Braking? Sort of integral to the whole driving thing.
• I’ve had a couple of epiphanies of late. I don’t know what good they do me.
• Been digging “Lost” and its last season. IMAGINARY SPOILER ALERT, BUT ONLY IF I’M RIGHT. My guess for the ending is that Hurley and Sayid will replace Jacob and the Smoke Monster as guardians of the island.
• Almost caught up on “Life,” too. Great series from the same people at Discovery that came up with “Planet Earth” a few years back.
• I’m so woefully behind on virtually every series I watch that there may be no recovery.
• The Sickness. Still coughing and blowing my nose, but I’m relatively better. May start hitting the Y again tomorrow. Just in time for April’s Resolution (announced tomorrow).
• Shit, I really need to come up with April’s Resolution.
• I have the Matrix Therapist this afternoon. Doctor visit tomorrow morning. And a 2-hour drive to get my eyes examined next week. Hoping the car is fixed well before that drive. Having nothing but ordinary terrestrial radio available (should I need to take Mom’s car) is unacceptable.
• Taking mental inventory between now and therapy is gonna be tough. I don’t really KNOW how I’m feeling. Better? Worse? Same? Is the Abilify doing anything? It *might* be giving me more energy (thus, my greatly reduced nappage quotient), but it sure as hell ain’t improving my mood. I don’t think. Then again, the MT did say last time that I seemed “mellower.”
• On second glance, I think I may need to increase the dosage. Feeling like withdrawing from the Net (even like axing accounts) can’t be a good thing. Not for me, anyway. Just. Not. Feeling. It.
• I still get 20-30 “press releases” a day from people trying to get me to write about their celebrities. Hello? No longer doing the celeb thing. Please delete me from your lists. Thanks.
• I also get 10-20 emails a day telling me about Mommy issues. This is also residual ex-job stuff, but probably has some BlogHer mixed in there, as well. Your new nipple cream to help me with my sore nips after feeding my triplets? Thanks, don’t need it.
• After seeing Ben Folds with my friend, Tracy, she got tickets for us to see OK Go in May. She didn’t even ask me first. I’m not bitching. Another band I’ve never seen live. Here’s to hoping they have a giant Rube Goldberg machine set up on stage…or at least treadmills.

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This week has been a total write-off as far as exercise is concerned. I’ve been sick for a week now, and even though I’m pretty sure it’s just a cold, it’s been kicking my ass. Major snot factory, coughing, wheezing, headaches, sore throat, etc. (And yes, I’m keenly aware that smoking isn’t helping…that Resolution will come later this year. Not ready for that one yet.)

Being sick isn’t something I do well. It’s a rarity to begin with, perhaps once a year (twice if it’s a bad year). In this case, it’s been over a year since I was last afflicted with anything. Physical, I mean. Mentally, I’m afflicted many times over, of course.

We’re nearly done with March already, but I’m calling the exercise Resolution successful. I’ll start on it again as soon as I’m up to snuff. Let’s take a look at the Resolutions so far, yeah?

January: Diabetes. This is still going strong, mostly. I’ve been a bit lax on checking sugar this past week. Getting on the horse again, though. My sugar this morning (before meds or breakfast) was 211. High, yes, but again…haven’t been great about everything this past week. Sugar the last week has averaged 146.

I’ll be filling my weekly pillboxes when I finish here. Doing really good taking my meds most of the time, too.

February: Work. Meh. Not so great here. Plan to get to work today, as well. Gotta write a story. And I haven’t even begun looking for another writing gig, though I’m totally open to more.

March: Exercise. Already mentioned. I plan on continuing with this. I’ve seen how it affects (positively) my blood sugar…knocks it down quite a bit. And that’s a good thing. That was part of the idea behind the Year of Resolutions: that they’d interplay in various ways, all to make me feel better physically and mentally.

Now it’s time to think about April. We’re only days away from it and I need to come up with another Resolution. I have it narrowed down to a few ideas, but am open to more suggestions. I’m leaning toward something spiritual at the moment. We’ll see.

I’ll be announcing the winner(s) of the Funniest Sex Story contest tomorrow. Got some really good entries.

Lordy, I need a new computer. Finally fixed my problematic mouse by getting a new wireless mouse. Works fine now…must have been the old mouse’s receiver that was the problem. But my 4-yr-old Dell laptop is just sluggish. Takes nearly 7 or 8 minutes to fully boot. Maxed on RAM, dependent on an external hard drive.

Oh, Apple, why can’t you send me a shiny new MacBook Pro on a scholarship or something?

In the good news department, I’m mending things with a friend, and that feels nice. The last few months have been a whirlwind of a roller coaster ride. The Matrix Therapist noted that I seem “different” at our last session. Not sure what that means, exactly, but she said I seem “mellower.”

The new meds seem to be doing something, I’m just not sure what, exactly. My energy levels seem higher (this past week notwithstanding). My mood? Perhaps better, but not markedly so.

The new 2HT design is coming along. Not on the schedule I was hoping for, but then that’s what happens when your designer has sick kiddos. Fucking priorities…ugh. The development site is up and running. I’m thinking it should only be a couple of weeks, but can’t be sure. In the meantime, the runner-up from the Funniest Sex Story contest is getting a sneak-peek at the new design with a specially-made item from the 2HT store.

Speaking of which, there’s a new shirt for the dudes. I already had a girl’s shirt made up. Now the guys are free to tell it like it is, too.

Seriously, It’s Not Me. It’s You. MEN SHIRT by karlerikson

Naturally, you can customize the color and style of shirt.

Lastly, I decided to end my relationship with my ad network. I love BlogHer, don’t get me wrong. I just got tired of being suspended for the occasionally offensive post, or for running a giveaway. If I was pulling in hundreds of dollars in revenue, that’d be one thing, but I’m not. I barely cover my monthly hosting costs. Just not worth it any more.

So that’s what’s going on with me at the moment. How about you?

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Had a scare yesterday where I didn’t completely read a letter I got from the VA. Thought they were cutting me out of the VA system, but actually, they were denying my emergency room claim from January. Y’know, where I did the faceplant on my kitchen floor?

Paying $170 for the damn E.R. visit is much better than having to switch all of my doctors, I have to say. Lesson learned…read EVERYTHING. Then panic.

Doctor visit this morning. My blood sugar readings are highest in the mornings, generally always above 200. So we’re moving back to an evening dose of long-acting insulin. Just a small dose, so I don’t feel all that panicked. Not too worried about crashing – my sugars are fairly under control. I haven’t had a low-sugar event in a couple of months or so.

I go back in a couple of weeks for another follow-up. New lab tests in a month, right after Shannon gets here.

The YOR exercising? Going well. I’m doing the 5-days-a-week thing. And though I haven’t yet found something that trips my trigger, I’m still sticking with it.  This week, the Zumba class starts, and even though I’m told it will kick my ass, I’m going to try it. I figure if I can get in on the ground floor, maybe I have a shot. Then again, if it kicks my ass the very first class?

There’s other stuff I haven’t yet tried, but am already convinced it’ll be too hard. A Pilates/Yoga class. Belly dancing. Hatha yoga. So far, most of my activity at the Y is treadmill (still). I tried a stationery bike thing yesterday, and that was cool. May go with that one some more. If it weren’t for my iPod, I’d be bored out of my skull. I’m still bored, but at least I have tunes. And sometimes Adam Carolla’s podcast.

Tomorrow, I go to see Ben Folds in concert. Woo hoo! Never seen him live before, and I can’t wait. Tickets were a reasonable $34. Now, if I could just cough up $70 or so to see Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers (with Joe Cocker as an opener!), that’d rock even more.

Poppy recently wrote about filling up the self-worth tank. Good post, great idea, but no surprise, considering the source.

Soooooo, here’s the challenge: Fill up someone else’s self worth tank. Let’s say nice things about how awesome each other is so that we feel like our existence on this planet is not a waste of space, time, and energy. If you’re strong enough to say nice things about yourself, then do that too.

I’m gonna start today with the hardest part…saying nice things about ME. That shit gives me the heebie jeebies, but bear with me. I’m not well-versed at this stuff.

I’m smart. I mentioned this briefly in my 100 Things list, but my I.Q. only rarely manifests in obvious ways. Just because I’m smart doesn’t mean I don’t make plenty of bonehead moves. Oh, right…NICE things. See? Told you I’m not so great at this.

On occasion, my brilliance does shine. Case in point:

When I was a little kid, around 9 or so, my parents were both working. I had a babysitter, of course, who was a teenager and more interested in boys and cranking Queen records than keeping up with my sister and I.

My father had this amazing smutty magazine collection, which I’d recently been perusing whenever I had the chance. There were a handful of neighborhood kids over at my house and I told them I had something to show them.

We go into my parents’ bedroom and close the door. I slide open the closet door and point to the shelf up top. STACKS and STACKS of mags, each complete with naked women in lots of odd positions with naked men.

Ages of the kids ranged from 14 down to around 6 or 7. Johnny, the teen, pulled down a couple of stacks for us to look through. We all got on my folks’ bed and started paging through the mags.

Oh my God. GROSS! She has his thing in her mouth!

Why would anyone want a thing in their mouth?

Look at this! His thing is in HER thing!

She looks like she’s in a LOT of pain!

Do you think that’s what ALL policemen do with women?

Our burgeoning education of naked things came to a sudden halt, however, when I heard my father’s car pull up in front of the house.

“Oh no! It’s my DAD!”

And five boys started freaking the fuck out, gathering all the dirty magazines in a heartbeat. Most of them ran from my parents’ bedroom, not heeding my pleas for help to restore the bedroom to its proper working order.

My life was flashing before my eyes. I stacked the mags, and shoved them back up onto the closet shelf.

It was then that God decided to have me killed.

The shelf came toppling down inside the closet. And approximately 847,000 porn mags crashed to the floor, spilling everywhere.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaah!

I was dead meat. My father would be coming in at any moment. All my friends had run out the back door, retreating to leave me to my execution.

Then…a flash of brilliance. Little Karl saw what had to be done.

I shoved all the magazines back inside the confines of the closet, grabbed Midnight (my black cat), tossed her inside the closet, and closed the door. And I ran from the bedroom, just in time to greet my father at the front entryway. I was damn proud of that maneuver, proof that I could think fast on my feet and avoid certain death.

I finally admitted to my father that Midnight wasn’t the culprit…y’know, around 20 years later. Naturally, he and my stepmother both laughed and acknowledged what a smart move I’d made.

Perhaps I’m just a porn-savant, I don’t know. But either way, I’m smart.

I even understand why it’s not such a bad experience to have my thing in her mouth. And that the reason why she looks like she’s in such pain when my thing is in HER thing is because I forgot to pack my lubed shoehorn.

Photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/36498826@N02/ / CC BY-NC 2.0

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Got nothing done today. My brain sometimes acquiesces and let’s me sleep, but not for long. It’s not a manic thing, either. Not having the luxury of naps to escape…*sigh*

I wonder how long it’s going to take. For lots of things. Meds. Mood. Me. How long does it take to gain a grip?

I’m tired of having very little to get excited about. Tired of being tired.

I want to feel better. I want to BE better. I want to not feel so damn lonely. I want…what I can’t have.

And that’s not frustrating in the least.

Blogged via iPhone

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I’ve gained 7 pounds. Not sure why. I have been exercising. Isn’t that the point of moving, to LOSE weight? Or at least not gain any?

Sigh.

Waiting. I hate it. Yesterday, I waited with Mom at the doctor’s. Almost an hour. With weak Edge, at best.

Visit went well. Mom is now officially without both her leg brace and the thumb brace. We should hear from PT this week to schedule her therapy. You couldn’t pay me to be in that room when they start working her knee. I’m not ready to hear my Mom talk like Hilly.

Fucking cocksnuggling sonofaWHORE! Touch that knee again and I’ll rip off your head and shit down your neck, you festering pool of donkey piss!

Today, we went to Social Security to ask a few questions. They have a brilliant system. If you go into Social Security at, say, 15 years old…then, by the time you get to the window, you’re probably eligible for Medicare.

They also tell you to turn your cell phone off before entering. Whatever. Listen, I’m barely convinced that my cell phone is a threat on a plane 33,000 feet in the air. I’m certainly not shutting it off in the Social Security office. I did, however, mute it.

What? I’ve got to get my Moxie on.

Patience. I don’t have much of it. I quit asking God to give me patience, because it inevitably means He provides me a shitton of situations in which I HAVE to be patient. Screw that. I don’t have the patience to gain patience legitimately.

I don’t like waiting, especially when the ball is totally not in my court. I chomp at the bit, grasping at something to do while I sit around and do, well, nothing. Waiting on YOU. Ugh.

Waiting on friends. Waiting on doctors. Waiting on the assclown in front of me in the checkout line at the grocery store to pay with all coins. Waiting on my meds in the mail. Waiting on 2HT to be finished. Waiting on April to get here so I can see Shannon. Hate it all.

SecondHand Radio Returns

One thing I have been waiting for is SecondHand Radio to return. It’s been months since Mom broke her kneecap. I tried one show after that and it didn’t go over well. I needed a break while Mom healed from her break. Well, she’s walking around now – slowly, but steadily – without a splint, so that’s good.

Thursday at 10pm Eastern, 2HRadio comes back. My guest is the lovely Maria, aka Mommy Melee.

Please mark your calendars, tell your friends. We’re back. I’m returning to one show a week, though. Thursday nights. Twice a week was too much.

Live chatroom to play in while the show is on. You’re all welcome to call in and talk to Maria, say hi, ask questions, whatever. Go to the SecondHand Radio page and get all the info.

Looking forward to it. I’ve missed my show. Thankfully, the waiting for that is nearly over.

I haven’t lined up any other guests. If you know of someone you’d like to hear as a guest, let me know. Even if it’s you.

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Finally went to Tai Chi this morning, and it’s a good thing I missed Tuesday and Thursday. Saturday is the beginner class. I followed along pretty well…having a full mirrored wall really helped. No idea what the hell I’m doing, but everyone says I did great.

There’s a lot of pointing fingers in the right direction, choreographed moves in slow motion that make me feel like I’m in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon or some such shit. Breathing in while squeezing imaginary balls of energy. I don’t get it, but it was calming and that’s not a bad thing.

I’ll squeeze in some Wii Fit today, too. This week has been a total success. I exercised Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and today. Not a big fan of the water aerobics, and haven’t yet tried the Zumba, but I will when they start a new class in a couple of weeks.

How do I feel? Meh. Emotionally, still down in the dumps. I still feel exercise is boring, but I’ll keep it up. There are only 22 days left, after all. Physically, I still wind very easily, and hate sweating or pushing myself. On the treadmill, I stay in the “weight loss zone” and never make it to “cardio zone,” but hey…baby steps.

I may set up a date with a personal trainer, though I don’t have a lot of money to drop. There are a lot of machines in that gym and I should be using them. I just don’t know how, so a trainer would be most helpful. Though they’ll probably kick my ever-loving ass.

On to another topic. Men. And women. As a dude with 95% female friends, I find myself in a unique position much of the time. First of all, the Drama Quotient with mostly women buds is far higher than it is with mostly males. It’s just a fact. My male friends never ask me if their ass looks big in these jeans. They never drop gossip on my lap. “Did you hear what Joe did? He told his wife to ’shush’ while the game was on, and she was all, ‘Oh no you din’t!’” Or maybe, “Shenaynay looked at me weird at BlogHer. She better watch her back.”

No.

I have adjusted to the occasional Drama flare-ups and, honestly, it doesn’t bother me. Mostly. I still relate better to women, thanks to all my therapizing.

The other thing about having all these girlie friends is that someone is always going through relationship troubles. Mostly because men are (mostly) douchebags. I get that. Commitment issues, breakups via text, men are generally clueless dicks who wouldn’t know how to communicate if they absorbed every Rosetta Stone course there is.

I’m not here to defend the men. It’s a maturity thing, as far as I’m concerned. And let’s face facts: women usually trump men in maturity hands-down.

What I don’t understand is why so many women put up with shitty men/relationships to begin with. Insecurity, I guess? It’s perhaps the only explanation I can think of. Why else would you stay somewhere you’re not happy?

I’m not even talking about abusive men, necessarily, though there’s a lot of that, too. But if a guy is a rude ass, why stay with him? Because you think you can change him? Because you think you can’t get anyone better? Bullshit.

Listen, if a guy shows you no respect – the woman he purports to love – then you need to either have a heart-to-heart or get the fuck out of Dodge. If he doesn’t want to spend time with you. If he talks down to you, belittles you. If the only time he looks at you is when he’s hungry or horny. There are a million ways to show someone you love them, and a million ways to show you don’t think shit of them.

It’s frustrating, especially when some women give the prunts third, fourth, tenth chances…only to come crying about him again weeks or months later. Because he doesn’t change. Douchebags rarely do. Oh, sure, for  a little while, perhaps. He’ll be all flowers and taking out the trash for a time. Then it’s back to business as usual. And the older the guy is, the more likely it is he’s not changing. Especially for you.

Believe me, if you’re in a bad relationship, you can do better. A friend gave me advice once about judging a person’s character. Watch how they treat a waitress. If they’re rude to her, they’ll be rude to you. If they ogle her and flirt with her and treat her like a blow-up doll, you can be sure that’s gonna happen frequently both with you and with people that aren’t you. And if they tip shoddily, they’re cheap bastards.

Other little things. Does he open your door for you? Does he actually listen and pay attention when you’re talking, look you in the eye and engage with you? Does he do special little things for you?

This seems common sense to me, but it must not be because I see women putting up with utter bullshit all the time. Women that have settled. Ugh. It’s nauseating.

You deserve better. And sometimes better is all by yourself.

Photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/mikebaird/ / CC BY 2.0

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First off, I’m honored to have been included in today’s edition of Five Star Friday. It’s my first time there and, naturally, it’s my post about suicidal thoughts that got me there. Not the funny, no…it’s all this emo shit that seems to be hitting home with some people. Go figure. Thanks for thinking of me, means a lot.

CONTEST

Next, here’s your chance to win a $25 gift certificate from Eden Fantasies. Go over to Shannon’s blog here. Read the post/rules. Email her your biggest sex disaster story, and you could win. I’m one of the judges, so make it good. Contest closes at midnight on Sunday (Central time).

Go. NOW. ENTER.

I keep skipping the Tai Chi class, but tomorrow at 9:15 I’m hitting it. Did another 30 minutes on treadmill today. So many machines in the Y, and that’s the one I’m comfortable with. I’m so out of shape, I could probably hit nothing but the treadmill every day and be good.

That’s it for today. Not feeling very creative. Not feeling very anything, really, except lazy and like sleeping the day away. But sleep isn’t coming easily.

Later. Have a good weekend.

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Went to the Y yesterday. Did 30 minutes treadmill time. Forgot my headphones. Sucked.

Gotta work tomorrow. MUST.

I’m really missing the way things used to be a lot right now.

Bed. Tai chi in morning. Wasn’t feeling going the other day.

Written on my iPhone.

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