Remember this November

It’s been a pretty interesting month for me, and I’ve had a lot of firsts. If I was the anniversary type, I’d get an awful lot of cards next year. Luckily for me, I only remember birthdays, so yeah *sheepish grin*

I lost two special people this month. The pain was so bad I couldn’t make myself cry. Then I found one special person, and sometimes, when I think about it, it makes me want to cry too. I guess that’s pretty weird.

For part of October and most of November, I’ve had a bad case of depression. It shook me to my core, and I did some pretty crazy things. It affected my work and my baby, and I even took some tranquilizers. Also, pink-slash-yellow tablets.

[Random trivia: Did you know you can get high and/or black out on cough medicine? It’s all about proportion.]

I’ve been reading up on depression, and was amazed to realize a few things. Like, for example, there’s no such thing as ‘the real me’ because my shape is constantly changing. And, more importantly, when you’re a person that’s depressive, ‘the real you’ is grossly distorted. It’s just that you get really good at convincing people, and they start to see the ‘real you’ in the way that you describe it. That scares people.

I’m dealing with some heavy ish right now, and I’ve had someone come into my life. He hasn’t been around very long, so his image is untainted. He doesn’t see me as I see me. He sees me as I am. And when I look at myself that way, through his eyes, I feel loved and beautiful. I’ve trained myself to see my faults, but he looks at me unclouded. He points out things I never knew, and when I think about it, I’m like ‘Duh! How did I not notice that?’ It’s beautiful.

I’m glad h came into my life when he did, when I needed him most. There are lots of people who love me, and I value each one. But they’ve known me too long. They’ve heard all the lies I can tell, and they believe them because  I believe them. It’s amazing how much you can change when you just shift your perspective.

So today I say thank you to the-one-who-knows-himself, and I’m glad I went as low as I could go, because if I hadn’t, I may not have bounced back. I bless him a thousand times, and I hope he never goes away.

Flowers, chocolate, and black eyes

Picture this scenario. Your boy is away at wherever, and conveniently remembers it’s his girlfriend’s birthday. Or maybe he’s been watching Alejandro and figured that chocolate and flowers earn brownie points. He calls you, his closest pal, and asks you to deliver said flowers. He knows he can trust you not to hit on the girl, and he knows the thanksgiving will be totally worth your grumbles.

So, being the nice guy you are, you walk into the florist and select the flowers. You have no idea what flowers are, so you spend hours looking clueless as you get hints from attendants. That done, you go off and buy chocolate, then you make your way over to the girl’s house.

The girl is completely surprised. She’s never seen you in her life, so at first, she just stares blankly. Then, once you explain you errand, she’s so overwhelmed that she jumps up and hugs you since, you know, the guy she really wants to hug is far away. It’s pretty hot outside, so she invites in for … oh … I don’t know … juice. You sit there politely and drink the juice while she gushes and giggles about the guy who sent the flowers. You empty your glass, get up and leave, perhaps getting a thank you hug at the door.

Now, here’s what you don’t know. Your girl has a nosy friend who just happens to work at the flower shop. Or was walking past the shop. Or has made it her life mission to get dirt on guys in shops. Or happens to be named Shiko Busted. So, the girl’s friend observes your behaviour and snaps a documentary, complete with time stamps of how long you stayed in the house. She then presents this evidence to your girl as Exhibit A.


Now, if this scenario played out among guys, they’d just sit for a beer and ask each other straight out.

‘I hear you sent flowers to my girl. What’s up with that?’

Or maybe the guy would ask his girl why she was tying a bow for some dude in a shop. Or he would call Agnes Shiko Busted to smoke the girl out. The story would be quickly resolved.

But noooo. When it’s girls involved, we have to be complicated. We have interrogate without interrogating. We have to make you admit guilt without actually asking about it. So your girl sets up a romantic dinner, wears a really hot dress, makes pleasant small talk and serves the first two courses.

Then out of the blue she asks:

‘Do you know anyone who lives on XYZ street?’ or

‘I need some flowers for my mother. What do you suggest?’ or

‘Do you know where I can get DFG flowers in town?’

Of course, poor dude has been numbed by good food, wine, and a virtually edible little black dress, so he has no idea what’s coming. And if he does, he’s so deer- in- the-headlights that he can’t beat it off with a stick.

The conversation will go on for another half hour before she screeches and shows you the pictures. By then you’ll have dug yourself so deep there’ll be no getting out.You’ll need the specialists at Lie Like A Guy to deliver you, because the truth will earn a crotch full of soup and a black eye.

Meanwhile, somewhere in a dark corner, a homebreaker with a camera will be stalking some other poor dude in the wrong part of town, just for holding chocolates in a flower shop.

Trust is a decision, and the truth is almost always stranger than fiction. You can choose to believe what someone says, and they can choose to take advantage of that fact, but sometimes, the dog really did eat your homework. And sometimes, like when your girl busts you giving chocolate to some stranger, it’s better to just lie.

Cashewnuts, coconuts and stuff like that

I hear there are two kinds of chocolate eaters – those that chew and those that suck. Me, I’m the type that chews. I grind the bars and let the taste explode, so I can feel it everywhere at once. Yesterday, I bumped into this.

I’d never heard of the flavour before, but I love nuts, so it had to be good. When I put a piece in my mouth, I swear I felt the earth move. I thought it might just be my mood, so I left a few pieces for today. When I nibbled on one for breakfast, I started jumping up and down and I couldn’t stop giggling. I spent about five seconds squealing oooooooooooooh!

My chocolate bar is over now, and I’m pretty near tears. *sniff sniff* Oh well. We’ll always have Tuskys. I meant to explain this far more eloquently, but I still have that dreamy look in my eyes, my brain is all fogged up, and my mind keeps grinning. God bless Cadburys.

In other news, I had a good day yesterday. I spent it with a not-so-new friend, and I surprised myself. A lot. I spent the whole day laughing, and I had to keep reminding myself to act depressive. It didn’t work.

At first, I thought it was my friend. I thought he’d brought out the best in me, and decided to see as much of him as possible. But in retrospect, the change is in my mind. I’ve been reading about destructive thought patterns and how to change them, and I noticed that everytime I made a statement, I’d stop myself and mentally correct it, which made me a lot less sad.

The book I’ve been reading is Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy. I get so upset by what people think of me, but the good doc says only my thoughts can affect me. He demonstrates by spending five seconds thinking bad thoughts about the patient, then spends five more seconds thinking good thoughts. The patient didn’t know when the doc was thinking good and when he was thinking bad, so, of course, she felt nothing at all.

When someone says something mean to you, you mentally respond them. So it’s not the person upsetting you. It’s your reaction to their words. It wasn’t my friend affecting me. It was my response to his what he said and did. Of course, I should still give him credit for being that way in the first place. Either way, it was a good day, so I thank my friend and raise my glass to time well spent, sharp knives and all.

Moving along. I’ve been depressed for a few weeks, and now I think I might be manic. I just tried to fry minji without boiling them, I’ve spent the last few nights dag dancing to strange songs, and today, I’ve got the radio on at full volume as I do the food and dishes. Please note that I do not dance, so the resultant scene is … interesting. Thank heavens for dark curtains and soundproof flats. And at least the dishes are clean.

I was asked a basic question yesterday. He asked what I do when I’m not working. I didn’t have any answers. Reading, writing, music, sleep, baby? Also, scrabble and brick game, though I didn’t mention those ones. I think I should try out new things. It’s in-something to go blank when you’re asked about your hobbies. And no, cashew and coconut chocolate doesn’t count.