Holiday Season kinda sucks for me now. It hasn’t really sucked in the past, but now that I’m working during holidays again and I’m still pretty alone, it’s hard to go through. It’s harder still for other people to go through, like my divorced coworker who seemed to be in a permanent horrible mood the entire time.
[hey all… no paragraphs today, no matter how much I mess with the HTML code. WordPress keeps erasing it]
Sometimes when you try to separate fact from the fiction inside your head, you can’t tell which is which.
Stream of consciousness rant below:
I’ve known about Chaga for awhile and I’ve refused to buy it ever because I grew up and live amongst birch forests, where they grow. Chaga mushrooms are a parasitic mushroom from the Hymenochaetaceae family.
When I first noticed my dog was dying, really, this time, she seemed asleep, but she wasn’t. She looked up at me with a yearning to rise up and greet me like she used to: tail wagging, eyes twinkling, and sometimes her whole body would shake with a sensation of happiness I may never know myself. Her body had fallen into the crevice between her blanket-covered bed and what could only be described as a poster board.
Depression is a curse.
It’s a feeling, but a being, but something else
all wrapped up into one.
It writhes within and cries terror.
It’s dark, it’s uneasy, it’s what’s at the bottom of the lake.
For the past 13 years of my life, I’ve had an emotional support animal even though she wasn’t ever registered. Her name was Lemon, she was a cockatiel, and she saved me from killing myself when I was a teenager.