Posts Tagged ‘outlet’

So. . . I let myself get into a foul mood yesterday & abandoned the thought of even trying to find & share my thankfuls for the week. . . But, while what upset me is still lingering, I am able to at least set it aside enough to share today. Afterall, this IS a therapeutic task; is it not?

(Image from morgueFile.com)

(Image from morgueFile.com)

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Two years ago, today, was the very first Calculated Chaos post. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing & had absolutely no real vision for this blog. (It is debatable about how much I know what’s going on now either, but that’s beside the point.)

Kinda fun (Image from morgueFile.com)

Kinda fun (Image from morgueFile.com)

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I cry a lot. Like, I mean, A LOT.

I cry anytime my emotions get overwhelming, it seems — which, like I said, is a lot.

I suppose I should learn (somehow) to look at it as a good thing since it obviously isn’t going to change any time soon. . .

It IS quite frustrating, though. . . On so many levels. . .

So many tears. . . (Image from morgeFile.com)

So many tears. . . (Image from morgeFile.com)

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I know I write about things that are sad or depressing. . . Probably more often than I’d like. It is a good outlet, though, to be able to write about it. Some things really shouldn’t take up space in your head for too terribly long; it’s just not healthy. Blogging helps me get my thoughts in order & purge my brain of things that maybe shouldn’t dwell there forever. (Thankful #1) It’s a beautiful thing.

With that said, I want to put some clarification out into the blogosphere, (see, now, Lizzi? This word has caught on with me, apparently. Consider it stolen!). . .

These are NOT Dark Times

Even if things aren’t quite all glitter & rainbows. . . (Image from morgueFile.com)

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I have been saying a lot lately that I am a “words & numbers” kind of gal. . . I have a way with words & I remember numbers fairly easily.

I remember how things look when written on the page, rather than spoken aloud. I even communicate better in written form than any other. (Yet, I can translate how I write into how I speak when given the chance to process it properly.)

The same is true for numbers. Formulas & processes are no problem. (It makes some of the mathematical processes seep into my brain astonishingly quick at times.) Yet anything spacial (such as graphing or shapes or even arranging my living room!) can be quite the struggle for me.

I can practically write “novels” when I have a chance to explain something. (This post is the perfect example; it started as a long-winded Facebook status update!) Yet I can just as easily get lost in a budget spreadsheet.

I am an odd duck, I guess. It has been on my mind a lot lately. . . I’ve chosen finance as my major in going back to school, but I could have just as easily chosen English or communications or, more specifically, something having to do with writing. . . I wonder why I chose the way I did? I am not exactly second-guessing my decision. . . But I am analyzing it. Such a curious thing. . .  (more…)

It’s been mentioned before that I slip into depression from time to time. . . For me, it has never been of the suicidal variety, as you hear about so often. . . Rather, it is the spiraling, emotional, self-destructive, get lost in my own thoughts, want to sleep all the time variety. . . When I was younger, I kept a few journals. I don’t know if depression plagued me then, but I’ve always been an emotional, highly analytical person. . . As I got older, somewhere along the way, journaling fell to the wayside. I don’t know if I just didn’t have the patience for it any longer or if I simply & genuinely forgot all about it.

After my mother died when I was a teenager, & as the years went on, a recurring pattern of depression emerged. It always seemed the worst during the winter months. I never could tell if it was directly related to the decreased amount of sunlight in the Pacific Northwest or if it was simply the time of year — typically from beginning to mid-November all the way through January & a good chunk of February. My mother’s death was on January 11, 1999.

I was 17-years-old & a senior in high school. At the time, I kept myself busy, hanging out with friends, working at my job at the local department store. . . Whatever I could do to keep my mind off the fact that my mother was in & out of the hospital, staying the night a couple of hours away, & coming home on the weekends or whenever her treatment for acute myelogenous leukemia (AML — apparently, one of the most aggressive forms) would allow.

To this day, I haven’t quite figured out which took hold stronger. . . Has it really been the memories of that last holiday season before my mother’s death that has me slipping into a depression every year? Or has it been my lack of sufficient amounts of Vitamin D in the grey winter months in Western Washington? Either way, most years, by the time January would roll around, I was at my worst. Between the anniversary of her death & then her birthday on February 5, I couldn’t resist the feeling of sadness & overwhelming helplessness. It’s hard to explain the feeling to anyone who hasn’t been there. . .

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As I wrote about how pregnancy is not beautiful, I knew that I would, inevitably, have to write a follow-up post soon after. Do not get me wrong. I believe every word of what was written. I feel everything that was talked about there. BUT, I do also think there is room for further discussion — if for no other reason than to satisfy my own desire to show “the other side of the coin.”

I suspect, as with anything that you’re not supposed to say, there’s a certain amount of controversy that can arise. I was horribly aware of this as I hit the button to publish that post. This isn’t necessarily to say that all of these things were brought to my attention. . . But, whether brought up by others or my own subconscious, there were a few questions or issues that I felt compelled to address. . . (more…)