6 amusing things about depression

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In honor of stopping my pills and feeling semi-normal for the first time in a while, here are the things I’ve just embraced about depression, and even find somewhat amusing.

When you know you’re only getting compliments because people don’t know how else to talk to you.

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When your mom says “your self esteem” in reference to your mental illness.

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When someone tries to talk to you while you’re working through an anxiety attack.

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“How are you doing?”

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When someone can relate to your brain.

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When you finally relax and your body handles it by twitching.

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Wedding things that I just don’t understand

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I’m ecstatic to be marrying my person, but there are several things about the wedding itself that are so hyped up, and I can’t wrap my head around why.

1. The date. “Have you set a date?” What is so important about when we’re getting married? Sure, it’ll be the best day ever for us, and the excitement is appreciated, but why is this so important to the rest of the world that it’s the first question from absolutely everyone? Is there this secret pot of gold I’m not aware of that some wizard will give you if you pick the right date? Are we entered as possible tributes for the Hunger Games based on that date? Is there a free cheeseburger involved at all? Because that, actually, would be fabulous, and is information that I need beforehand.

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2. The dress. This has to be the most archaic, sexist obsession I’ve ever been ashamed to be a part of. I have yet to hear anyone ask my fiance if he’s found his tux, how many he tried on, if it’s strapless, etc. If people knew how uninterested I was in finding the perfect dress compared to most brides, they’d have a kiniption the likes of which Britney Spears only grazed back in 2007. I came this close to wearing a white maxi dress and calling it a day.

4318795a-b9bc-4920-8c0a-df2fc6f25ef13. The food. Did you catch the cheeseburger comment above? That is what I want. If we could all meet at a diner after the ceremony, with milkshakes, that’d be the dream. But apparently, everyone wants to be fed chicken or beef, and cake. Ya know, whatever works.

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4. Centerpieces. I have had/been responsible for several tables in my life, believe it or not. Centerpieces? I dunno, put a lamp on it. This is one of those things that makes me appreciate having several more experienced women involved in the planning, because they let me know that not only are lamps a fire hazard, with wires and whatnot, but also that at this modern-day wedding, lighting will not be a problem.

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I’m only in the early stages of planning this thing, but I have a hunch that there will be several other instances where I’m not as concerned as I probably should be, and I have to just smile, shake my head enthusiastically and say, “Yeah, if someone messes that up, I’m gonna lose it.”

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Top five things I think while driving in the snow

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1. Where’d the road go? Am I still on it? I can’t tell if that’s the dotted white line, or if that’s just more snow. I am so glad I’m driving alone right now.

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2. What if I die? I hope the last text I sent out was nice and not something like, “I am going in on that cake tonight.”

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3. To the car infront of me: Alright, we don’t need to drive that slow. You’re in an SUV and you’re going 5 mph right now. Stop. You need to go home and tell your mom what you did.

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4. I’m just going to keep talking to myself, because it makes me feel better. “It’s OK. You’ve got this. Just a little bit further. Almost done. It’s OK. You won’t die.”

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5. All the wine. If I make it home, I’m drinking all the wine tonight.

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I want to work at my new job until I die

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I always found it interesting that the human mind and body can adjust to almost anything to make it seem normal and routine. And I didn’t realize that, even though I actively looked for different jobs, my mind, body and expectations were beginning to accept the conditions of my last job as normal.

They weren’t.

The conditions of my last job didn’t make me feel valuable or appreciated, and resulted in me not taking care of or valuing myself. But here, at my new position, I feel not only valued, but respected, appreciated and included as well.

Obviously, this makes me happy. Like, I’m coming in several hours before my shift starts next week to participate in the holiday party. I’m that happy here.

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I’m so excited to work here that I’ve started wearing makeup and doing my hair again. And, as bad as it sounds, primping myself for 30 minutes each morning has boosted my self-esteem, and even though I haven’t lost any weight, I feel better all over, too.

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And everyone is so nice here! It’s probably my favorite thing about being back in Pa, to be treated like a human, and not like a stink bug. It was so weird to realize I’d actually come to expect to be treated like a stink bug by random people, that coming back here and being treated nicely felt awkward.

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People were even nice when on my first day I brought in this concoction (it sounds gross, but it was oddly good) of mushrooms, mashed potatoes, salmon and corn, which stunk up the break room. I genuinely was not deserving of such kind forgiveness.

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But anywho, I’m going to stay here until I die, so when I do that, I’ll be happy.

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What moving across the country for the second time in a year means to me

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Yes, I am moving back to the state I was so happy to move away from eight months ago when I got the job which allowed it. No, I did not fail. Neither my boyfriend nor I failed at anything while in Oregon, except finding jobs in better areas that would allow us to stay here. The thing about Tillamook–the county to which we moved–is that it mainly consists of people who have family here, or who are looking to slow down after retirement. This makes it difficult for two people looking to have careers full of any growth whatsoever (a.k.a. my boyfriend and I). So, long story short, after deciding we’d want to settle down near our immediate families anyway, we found wonderful–and I do mean wonderful–jobs closer to the end of Pennsylvania where I grew up.

I am over the moon about the opportunity to return home to both our families and promising careers, however, moving back across the country for the second time in a year has presented about 128,785,436,435,960,596 more challenges than the first time we made the trip.

1. Everything went wrong that could go wrong; shipping our additional car involves Russians who like to sleep (long story), things cost money, our pets’ heads are falling off, etc.

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2. We’re traveling on Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving weekend, by car. And since God or Warren Buffett or whoever has decided to take a big white dump on everyone earlier and earlier every year, we’re facing driving home in another Polar Vortex. As if Wyoming didn’t already suck.

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3. We only found a place to live a week before we’re set to leave. Do you know what it’s like, having a job, having the whole world open to you, but not knowing if the world has a Pennsylvanian roof for me and my boyfriend at a reasonable (journalist) price? I should hope you do not. It’s nothing short of adorable. Did you catch the sarcasm there? And, of course, finding a place in the county we’re moving to that’s within our budget and doesn’t have a shooting every other hot second was another fun hoop to jump through.

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4. You cannot do anything on a journalist’s budget with two dogs.  One dog–eh, sure. Two dogs–holy God with a side of crackers, you are screwed. Flying home? Nope, you’re going to pay more for your dogs to fly than Beyonce does for a private jet. A train? Good luck asking the conductor to pull the train over because one of your dogs looks like she has to poop. We’ve tried to tell the dogs how much pain they’ve caused us. We just ended up giving them kisses and contemplating getting a third one.

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5. We’re worried we’ve accumulated more than a mid-size sedan’s worth of belongings. We were only allowed to put 100 pounds in the car we shipped, and how in Sam Hill do you know what 100 pounds looks like when you’re just trying to throw part of your life in a back seat? 100 pounds is nothing. It’s a 12-year-old. We own a 35-year-old Sumo wrestler in training. But then there’s still another car to put things in, and the thought of trying to get everything we own in there without a professional organizer is simply madness.

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But yes, we are very lucky to have this opportunity and grateful that we can finally get started with the life we’ve wanted. We’ll just be happy when this is all over.

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Will you be my friend?

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i have no friends

Downside to moving to a place where no one knows you: You don’t know anyone either.

Here’s a list of people I’ve almost become friends with since moving here.

  1. My banking lady. She’s nice, she’s young, she dresses nice and she has two tiny dogs. She’s the perfect package. Only thing is– she’s my banking lady. I don’t know why, but that just doesn’t seem right. I’d feel like she was keeping track of my checking account balance while we were at the bar. I’d try to buy her a drink and she’d be like, “No, it’s cool, really. You can’t afford it.”
  2. A state official. She’s old, but she’s feisty. She calls once a week, but that’s because she has an obligation to the press. She likes my writing too. But… she’s old. I can’t take that to the bar. That just wouldn’t be fair.
  3. An old man. I met him at a meeting for a town group. He’s funny, he doesn’t take flack, he knows how to spell my name and he called me “a beautiful young lady,” and let’s be real, that’s all that matters. But… he’s old. I can’t take that to the bar. That just wouldn’t be fair.

And really, outside of work, all I’ve wanted to do to this point is just watch “Orange Is The New Black” and pig out on cheap potato chips before passing out for the night.

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I should put an ad out, but I can’t put one in my own paper, because I can’t seem any sadder of a person than I probably already do to the entire staff. Today I ate a pizza sandwich… in my office… by myself… with a pizza sandwich. That’s two pieces of pizza. Put together. To make a sandwich. Made of pizza.

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It’s only been three weeks, right? It’ll get better, right? I’ll eventually be able to stay up later and go find myself a sassy friend at the farmer’s market some weekend. Is that how you make friends? I don’t know, other than supporting local businesses, I can’t see what else a farmer’s market would be good for. I’ll try there.

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I’m Going to Miss My Posse

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The most disconcerting thing about moving far, far away is something that really only hit me about 20 minutes ago. I’m not going to have anyone to relate to as a female all the way out there until I find someone who has my weird sense of humor and who doesn’t have a problem fielding my random texts about food, bodily functions and the ongoing battle with my thighs. I don’t know what I’m going to do without my girls to turn to in the middle of dinner and be able to say without restraint, “My butt’s sweating.”

There are a couple other things, too.

1. Being a complete secret-jerk out in public when people walk by.

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2. Not having to hold back anything, and trusting that you ladies feel the same way around me. I’m going to miss being able to admit out loud, “I’m totally crop-dusting right now.” Now I just have to do it with a straight face. Try it. It’s the worst.

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3. You girls are always on my level, and are always down to get drunk and tell each other, “I love you guys.” When am I going to get to do that again? Not for a long, long time.

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4. I’ll never just randomly run into you ladies and have my whole day brightened up again. I’m going to have to look at my phone background when I’m having a bad day and need an unexpected surprise. You seriously have no idea how excited I was every time I saw you just in time to have dinner together.

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5. I used to just have to wait until ladies nights to vent. Now, I have to try to put it all in a text. Do you know how hard that is? Especially when half of our emotions are expressed through stupid looks to each other.

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6. Our super-cool support system will now be long distance, so I can’t just look at you and be like, “Your boobs look great today, I’m jealous.”

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7. But more than anything, I’m going to miss our honesty policy. Without you, my ass would have hung out of every skirt, and it most definitely would have been six sizes bigger than it currently is.

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Ladies, you’ve been everything a weirdo could want in a wolf pack. I’m honored to have been associated with you, and will miss you so incredibly much. Thank you for everything, and for only judging me a little bit.