On July 4th, I signed up for Zoom, to keep in touch with family and friends. Like ya’ do. We’re all quarantined, and we haven’t seen each other in a young forever. Most everyone I know is in another city. I suggested we all get together on Zoom once a week and everyone thought it was a good idea. We just need to match up schedules.
I looked at their options. They had a Pro service you could pay for, but I didn’t need that. The free service met my needs, so that’s what I signed up for.
The next day, I noticed a charge hit my bank for $159.80, from Zoom. I also received an email from Zoom thanking me for signing up for a Pro account.
WHAT????It was late in the evening, so I called the next day (Monday). Monday was an observed holiday here in the U.S., but globally? I figured not. Someone must be there. But, due to the Covid-19 crisis, they are short staffed in the billing department. I had to leave an urgent message. I waited two days and no one got back with me, via phone, email, or text. So I tried again today. I signed into the account. I tried chat, but all I could get was a useless bot. No live chat, no options on a refund, no help. I tried calling. I spent an hour just trying to navigate their IVR, trying to get a live person.
I finally called the Sales line. I thought, surely, I can get a live person here. I know they want to make money every day. I was right! Within minutes I was speaking to someone. She couldn’t resolve my problem, though. She opened up another urgent ticket to billing, and this time copied me via email so I have a way to trace it for my bank. I told her if I don’t hear something within 24 hours, I’m reporting them for fraudulent charges and will let my bank handle it.
I know a lot of people use Zoom. If you aren’t using them yet, DON’T. I’ve finally figured out how they make their profits.
I left off with “I hate moving!” You should know what’s behind that story.
In January of this year, I moved a few hours north. Not out of state, but a bit of a drive. I was closer to friends and family that I rarely see, and I thought this would make me happy after all that time of being at the bottom of the dark pit.
I discovered a few things when I got up there, though:
My health took a serious nose dive
Friends and family all have things going on, just like everyone else.
We don’t see each other nearly as often as we used to
We see each other “online”
I kinda’ missed my husband…. Yeah…. I missed him. The good and the bad. Everything.
The part about all of us having our own lives was easy to understand. We grow, life happens, we all change, and we didn’t live as close together as we used to, either. They may call me Duch, but I’ll admit it isn’t all about me, here. But, that’s just between you me, ok? I got a reputation to protect.
But, my health…. Yeah….. my health was getting really bad. I had to move back. I wasn’t happy about it. I hate moving. But it had to be done. We set the date for the beginning of August.
BUT, the best laid plans….
I’m not going to bad mouth my previous apartment complex. The manager was very helpful in trying to make things right when they went drastically wrong that last week I was there. However, as with any business, there is always room for improvement. I will say that he bent over backwards to make the best of a bad situation, especially given my health issues. Let’s just say mold is a horrible thing. My health was bad enough; I didn’t want to add anything else to the list off problems. All this caused me to step up the move date unexpectedly by about 2-3 weeks. No stress here!
I’m at my husband’s now. Remodeling is almost done. Mount Boxmore is in the front room, and I’m trying to find a place for my stuff. Things will gradually fall back into place and normal will happen again.
So…. This is the lengthy version of “I Hate Moving”. You’ll see more from me when Mercury is out of retrograde. Damn, this was hard to write.
If you aren’t familiar with Spoon Theory, go get a copy of Furiously Happy, by Jenny Lawson, right now. Also, start reading her blog. Gods…. if you haven’t been reading The Bloggess, what rock have you been hiding under all these years?
In Furiously Happy, Jenny Lawson explains “Spoon Theory” in detail. I’m giving her full credit for it here because it makes so much sense and explains the whole “I just can’t…” part of Depression. Let me explain.
First, let’s take a young, perfectly healthy person. This person wakes up in the morning with a full set of spoons. All the things they have to do that day require energy. You have a spoon for everything you need to do. You already got out of bed. That’s a spoon. Eating, caring for people, going places, cleaning house, working…. you get the idea. And at the end of the day, this young healthy person has spoons leftover as he or she goes to bed. When they wake up, the Spoon Fairy has arrived with this fresh supply of spoons for the day. Voila! Infinite spoons!
But if you’re sick, that affects the number of spoons you get that day. If you’re battling mental illness, you start to see those spoons dwindle. There will be days you wake up and the fairy only left you 3 or 4 spoons. That’s all you get for the day and you have to make them last. You have to be selective with your spoons.
You haven’t seen a post from me since … oh …. June of last year, because I haven’t had the spoons to write. Today, I sit and write about Spoon Theory. I’m still in my pajamas. I haven’t had a shower or brushed my teeth. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t brushed my hair. If my husband hadn’t called me to ask me a question, I probably wouldn’t have said one word to anyone. By the time this post is complete, I may be out of spoons; I’m not sure yet. I may have a couple more. I hope I do.
You always seem to get 1 spoon. You woke up. You aren’t dead today. But, yes, that requires a spoon, because the energy that comes pouring in when you wake up…. all the mind chatter and the self-talk you have to fight.
“OMG, can’t I just lay here?”
“No. you have to get out of bed. How can you tell your kid he can’t stay in bed all day if you just stay in bed all day?”
So by the time you guilt trip yourself, you’ve spent a spoon just waking up.
If you only have 3-4 spoons that day, you decide how to spend them. Personal hygiene may have to be put off until the next day. Or the next. Or the next. Some day when you have enough spoons or until you just can’t take it anymore.
You start valuing relationships on a whole new level. Friendships change. Long-term depression will do that to people. But it comes down to talking about what’s wrong and why you don’t feel like this person doesn’t have your back. You tell yourself that this person just has too much going on right now and it isn’t the right time to talk, but in reality, you just don’t have enough spoons to have a conversation.
There are days when I wake up with one spoon and I just want to cry. I know I have to get out of bed anyway and I don’t have the spoons to do it. Those are the days I have to fake it. I have to put up a façade. I become Duch.
Duch is smart, confident, outgoing. She’s anything but depressed. She can damn sure get out of bed in the morning. I put the face on. Oh, and Duch would want to dress up pretty. But, damn… does she have to wear those uncomfortable shoes? So what if they’re pretty? Ok, but she does tell me I look good.
She drags me outside & we go somewhere. Anywhere. Even if it’s to a freakin’ coffee shop. Although, recently, she made the mistake of dragging me to the grocery store (trying to accomplish getting something done while getting me out of the house), but that only resulted in me having a panic attack. Too many people, too crowded. So Duch and I went home with just a few items, got back into the pajamas and drank beer. I was now at negative spoons.
Negative spoons is not a good thing. This doesn’t go away the next day. There is no magickal reset to zero. When the fairy brings your spoons the next day, she subtracts the spoons you “borrowed” against… you know, those spoons that took you into the negative? If you don’t have enough, she leaves you one. She carries the balance over to the following day.
If there is a way to earn spoons, I’d like to know.
But that is Spoon Theory, in a nutshell. Now go read Jenny Lawson’s book. But if you haven’t read her first book, Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, go read that first. And, for chrissakes! Get out from under that damned rock!
I didn’t realize just how long it’s been since I’ve posted here. Yes, I’ve been AWOL. Trying to get my head together kinda’ does that. As in any journey through recovery, we always make new discoveries. Yesterday I didn’t just stumble across one; no… it was a brick wall I ran into at full speed – and it wasn’t about me. It was about my kid.
A few days ago, a good friend of mine wrote a post about her own experiences with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, not for attention, but to help others. It took a lot of courage for her to write her post.
Her strength and courage inspired me to do the same with my own issue that arises from long-term depression and anxiety; something I’ve kept to myself for about a month or so. Continue reading “Self-Harm”→
I spent my day off yesterday wondering how I would go back to work today. I was dreading it. I was wavering back and forth between panic and tears. Mr. Magick Man had his own list of things he wanted me to follow-up on for an upcoming trip he’s taking, too. I decided that was it. I can’t start my business, be someone’s personal assistant, cook dinner, and stand on my feet all day. But I wasn’t going to quit on Friday. I’d at least talk to the manager so they could find coverage for Saturday.
I went in and started my shift. I wasn’t happy to be there. All I could think about was how slow I was compared to everyone else. The store was opening and people started coming in. The Friday hoard invaded.
No one understands that you’re new on Friday. Everyone is in a hurry.
This one older guy walked in. He was probably no more than 10 years older than me, but his face really showed his age, y’know? He had a smile on his face and said he’d been looking for a bakery all morning. Considering it was only about 8:15am, he couldn’t have been looking very long… He seemed like a nice guy. He ordered a mixture of pastries and a few cinnamon rolls. These needed a larger box. The box I pulled would have fit, but I’d need to stack some of the pastries. Suddenly, Dr. Nice Customer turns into Mr. Hyde and says in this snippy voice, “Don’t stack them all in one box! Put them all in one layer. I don’t want them messed up!” So I get the longest box we have, which won’t hold all of them in one layer, btw, and start to box the pastries. I have 4 left over, and I start to get another box. Mr. Hyde then says, “Don’t you know anything?! Do I have to come back there and do it myself? Put them all in that box!” I then replied, “You said not to stack them. If I put them all in one layer, they won’t fit.” And he says, “Just put them all in that box. Do I have to come back there myself?”
That was the last straw. I asked one of the other employees to help him, because I was about to tell him I would love to see him behind that counter all day, on his feet, doing my job. I’d pay good money to see him working just one of my shifts while I bitched at him.
Pride is a quiet being that lurks inside of all of us. It sneaks out sometimes, in the form of judgment, and we don’t even notice it. It stings. It makes us feel ashamed; make us hide things. It can bring us down and make us cry. We can even hate ourselves because of our own pride and mixed emotions we don’t understand. Continue reading “Pride”→