I've been house-sitting since Saturday: far removed from my comfort zone. I brought my own sweet angel baby mouse and my computer but home is way more than just those two things, although they are definitely its infrastructure. it's too cold and there's no light in this apartment, despite the mammoth and heat-sucking windows. one of the cats i am watching is apparently in heat and won't be silent. my cat talks a LOT but not like this. there's something so penetrating and alarming about her yowling. it makes it hard to sleep, and my heart starts pounding every time she starts. my own sweet baby sings along, though, and their opera faces are pretty dang cute.


the brain zaps are almost all gone. very very faint. still very moody. I've had a rough couple of weeks dealing with friends. I think being off meds has made me less forgiving, which is actually positive. I don't make as many excuses for people anymore. when I was stuck in bed all winter I was starved for human contact and didn't take very good care of my emotional needs. now I feel like I am separating wheat from chaff.



this is still very hard, and very lonely, and very scary. I hate applying for jobs, I am terrified of the holes in my resume, I seem to have lost a lot of confidence. and I still feel weak as hell.

I wish I could get paid to ride my bike.

I've never gone this long without having any kind of job, and I'm simultaneously terrified, resentful, and exhilarated at the thought of finding work.

I'm afraid that I don't have the damn HP to stay on track for 6-8 hours. let alone dexterity or constitution. It's hard for me to sit still and focus on something mind-numbingly boring when my bones feel like they are made of lava. that, and I'm running out of marketable skills: I'm too sick to cook and I can't clean houses like I used to, not without spending the entire next day in bed recuperating.

I'm hoping to get in at a doula service, because there doesn't really seem to be much out there for semi-cripples like me. my dear old dad is covering my rent next month, so I have a few

I've got three days left of 30 mg Cymbalta capsules, and after that I'll be pharma-free. so far I'm doing fairly well, although the brain zaps just kicked in an hour ago despite the buffer I'd been hoping the weeks of major Omega3/6/9ing would provide. not as bad as I thought, though, and I did have a great acupuncture session yesterday that gave me lovely lovely sleep last night. albeit bizarre dreams featuring Bette Midler.

the nets are in an uproar over that British study on anti-deps' efficacy. I've even seen (hopefully sarcastic) comments calling it a Scientology plant.

I've spent the past 15 years metronoming between "I'm getting MEDS/LIFE tattooed on my knuckles" and "EFF big pharma." I tend to think that meds are only useful in the most extreme of cases and that proper diet, exercise, and supplementation combined with talk therapy or mindfulness training can fix most problems. I'm disgusted that I can obtain 6 weeks of samples (FOR OFF LABEL USE!!!!1!) for ten bucks while the same amount of money will only get me about 2 meals' worth of organic produce, or 5 meals' worth of conventional produce, which may contribute to long term systemic damage. for the typical poverty-limit and under mental patient like myself, our finances just don't allow for the diet required to heal our bodies.

while the idea of national healthcare is so appealing, I'd sure rather see an increase in food stamps. Last time I was on them, I got ten bucks a month, and that was when I made about 750 a month.

my fridge is full now, but after the end of the week it's back to rice and beans until I can find work. I imagine I will end up making some flyers for eco-friendly housekeeping, but it's such painful work I don't know how much I'll actually be able to handle, and then it's back to square one.

I hope once my brain quits churning my posts become more articulate.