My stomach’s not happy.  Since Wednesday I’ve been having on and off nausea, normally accompanied by sweating.  I was so sick when I got home from work Wednesday night that I just went to sleep.  I took Zofran to get through Thursday but I was still sick when I got home.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t sleep.  I was starving.  I ate a hot dog (something which actually did not turn my stomach, strangely enough), but I was still starving and had a very hard time going to sleep.  I had to go to therapy today and went grocery shopping.  I was able to eat a hot dog this morning, but not the donut I tried.  Even now, I’m fighting it.  And of course, I was so depressed after therapy that I went and had lunch at Long John Silvers.  Not something my digestive system tolerates very well now that I do not have a gall bladder.  I didn’t go out to see people, even though I wanted to.  I don’t know that I’ll go see Mom tomorrow and F Cubed…well, I just don’t know about that.  It’s more than sickness that would keep me away.

Therapy was hard.  We talked about me having to take breaks on time at work.  Someone spoke to my supervisor about me specifically so I have to now.  I don’t know why.  No one wants me around there.  Other people take their breaks at off times.  But I’m not allowed to.  People don’t talk to me, and I don’t think they ever will.  Luckily, for the most part, I can do my job with no assistance.  If I have a problem I go to a lead or a supervisor.  Or I throw the order back so I don’t have to approach anyone else.  No one says hi to me or good morning.  The van drivers talk to me more than my co-workers and I see them for approximately 5 minutes a day.  One person congratulated me on getting my yellow belt.  One.  And that’s only because she was walking by after the presentation.  It hurts.  I’ve been spending over 50 hours a week in that building, though it’s been a little less than that in the past two weeks, and no one talks to me unless they absolutely have to.  It hurts.  The few people I did talk to no longer sit with me.

My heart hurts.  People tend to only contact me when they want something.  Even my parents.  Mom called me at work last week because she needed me to figure out how she had to send her resume to someone on the computer while I was on my 15 minute break.   On a computer that I couldn’t see, on a web page that I was not familiar with.  Dad called me today because both of their cars are out of commission and they wanted me to take them to a book sale.  And get my step sister on the way over there.  Raz called tonight because the Maracuja was concerned when I didn’t show up for the presentation tonight.  I appreciate that.  I do.  I really wish I hadn’t been too sick to go.  It was on an interesting subject and I could have seen Mocha and Mango as well.  I know, I know! I expect too much.  I’m not a very good friend.  I talk about myself too much (although considering that this is *my* blog, I feel okay doing it here).  I have to make all of the effort. I have to take the initiative.  I’ve been trying.  I’ve pestered people into seeing me.  Except for the Pens game last Saturday, I’ve driven all over the place to see people.  And yes, I know that all of my friends are busy people with lives of their own and families of their own.  So, I try to suffer in silence (except on here) and realign my thinking so that it’s more in line with reality.  I post my pains and sorrows and triumphs, and try to focus on supporting and encouraging others.  Because they are the ones who matter.

The other reason my heart hurts today is that I was told I was too rough on Tom.  That I should not have been at all irritated with him asking me questions over and over that I didn’t want him to ask because things weren’t going to change and I didn’t want to think about it while I was on my break (ie how the people at work are treating me or if they are talking to me) and that I specifically asked him not to ask me.  That he listened.  Of course his way of listening was being completely silent while I’m talking so that I start feeling stupid for saying anything or feel like I’m giving a monologue or a lecture, despite the fact that I explained it to him several times.  But he was kind, caring, and did listen so he’s not a bad person.  I never said he was a bad person. But I was too rough on him.  And apparently I’m lying to myself.  It may make me a cold-hearted bitch, but I don’t really miss Tom.  I don’t.  I’m not broken hearted about this.  But M tells me that I’m lying to myself.  Another one of her gems was that the fat lady hadn’t sung on the relationship and that there was no period at the end of it.  Um, excuse me?  You think I’m going back with someone who makes me carry all the weight for the finances, all the burden in conversations going beyond the typical how is work going, who says he loves me but does nothing to show it even when I ask, who can’t remember to do anything that I ask of him that matters to me?  But hey, I’m a bitch so what’s it matter how I feel?

So now I’m hurting all over, basically.  And wondering what the hell is wrong with me.  Maybe that’s one of the reasons why I miss high school and college.  They sheer fact that I was constantly in the same place as people for often extended periods of time made me feel like I actually belonged.  At least from time to time.  But that’s gone now and I’m alone.  I’ll be staying that way, too.  I’ll fill my free hours with books and Facebook games, reading LJ post’s and Plurks.  Maybe I’ll start writing again.  And I’ll work on making that enough to make me happy.

It started out innocently enough.  I though it was my PMS acting up.  You know, getting me down, etc.  It wasn’t all that bad, though it was noticeable.  The next week I got sick.  I mean really sick.  I left work early on Monday, January 4.  I was definitely sick because going home that day cost me my the holiday pay from New Year’s Day.  Medco has a rule that you have to work 9 hours and 55 minutes the day before and the day after a holiday to get the holiday pay.  (Although if you do have the day scheduled off  ahead of time you do get the holiday.  Same if they offer VTO that day.)  I thought that caused the downess (is that a word?  Spell check says no.  Oh well, I’m using it anyways!) that week.  I saw my psychiatrist that week on Thursday and told her things were pretty much okay although we did raise the Celexa (or citalopram, if you prefer the generic name) for the week before and of my period and we added trazodone since the Celexa was causing me to twitch when I tried to go to sleep and wake up several times in the morning.  However, by the end of the time I saw my therapist on Friday I was not doing so great.  The following Monday I saw my psychiatrist again.  We decided try canceling the trazodone and start Ambien.  I saw Melissa again that Friday.  I still wasn’t doing well.  I was cryey (yes, another made up word!), lacked self confidence and self esteem, and was much more sensitive.  I’m generally a sensitive person, but it gets worse when the depression gets worse.  Then I got my period.  Oh God, the pain.  Nothing seem to help but heat.  I was unable to do taxes Saturday night and spent all day Sunday in bed on the heating pad.  I can’t take ibuprofen so no Advil, Aleve, etc.  *sigh*  I tried etodolac, but it didn’t seem to help.  Luckily the worst part was on Saturday and Sunday, both days on which I do not work.  I’m actually thinking of asking for something stronger for next time.  Vicodin, maybe.  Yeah, it’s that bad.  That was the weekend.

Monday was great.  I was feeling fine (okay, I had some residual pain, but nothing like the weekend) and was feeling better.  I never got the Ambien so I figured it wasn’t the trazodone that was causing the problem.  (I had wondered about that, considering how my symptoms disappeared once I stopped taking certain medications on a regular basis.)  Wednesday I saw Melissa and discussed it and we agreed that it didn’t seem to be the problem.  It was a hectic week.  On Monday they made an announcement that overtime was desperately needed and that if they didn’t reach the 20% mark that they would have to mandate overtime.  So I signed up for 11 hours that week during weekdays and was considering working on the weekend, especially Sunday.  Why Sunday?  They give doubletime on Sundays for any week you work 8 hours of overtime Monday through Saturday on.  When I found out that Tom had decided to work that weekend so he could get more money and 2700 miles (a record, legal high for him) i thought great! Extra money!  It would really work out.  It didn’t.

Thursday started out as an okay day.  I was more stressed than usual since I had worked 4 hours of OT already.  Then we had Wow awards.  A lot of people diss the Wow awards but they do mean something to me.  Two people who don’t like me both got awards for something I do all the time.  One of them I do several times a day, even several times a shift.  I, however, don’t have tons of friends so I don’t really get nominated for a Wow unless I ask for it.  I even do more than that to help the customers get what they want.  It kinda made me angry which of course got suppressed and turned into depression.  By my 8:45 pm break, I was starting to stutter.  I’ve stuttered with my depression before so I knew it was that.  All week (and the week before) I had been escaping from my seat to the bathroom to spend a few minutes reading.  No, not the most diligent, but when you’re trying to keep from falling apart on the floor with people who are mean and don’t like you a few seats down, you do whatever works.  After my last break at 11 pm, I went to the bathroom and texted Tom. I basically asked him (okay, begged him) if it would be okay if I didn’t do OT the next day.  My ability to make decisions that may upset someone goes down to almost nil when I’m depressed.  Okay, that might have been before my last break.  Actually, I think it was.  My memory also suffers when my depression gets worse.  I also tend to have problems finding words, although that hasn’t really shown up this time.  After my last break, I started shaking.  I had been jumping, but it got worse.  I was starting to lose it, so I headed to the private bathroom to call Mom.  We decided that I definitely shouldn’t work on Friday and that I shouldn’t work post shift ot that night.  Mom told me to call her when I got home.  Then I called Tom. I was scared and feeling alone and just wanted reassurance and love.  Big mistake that I won’t make again.  He was sleepy and almost immediately told me to go to the hospital.  *sigh*  I didn’t need a hospital.  I needed support.  I managed to get him off the phone, cried a little bit more, and went out to find a lead or supervisor to cancel my ot.  I felt like such a failure.  A complete failure.  I hate it when I can’t do what I said I’d do, but I couldn’t help it.  I really couldn’t.

I’ve been stuttering on and off all weekend.  Sometimes I can force myself to not stutter, but it takes a lot of work.  I’ve never stuttered this bad before.  I was hoping a weekend of relaxation would cure the stuttering and I would just have to get through another week.  Hasn’t happened.  I’ve done a couple things to make me happier.  I got nails put on with a really cool prismatic purple polish.  I also got a haircut. I want to get contacts, but I chickened out on Friday.  I’ll have to try again next week.  I don’t see either Melissa or Dr. Cutlip next week.  I will be calling Dr. Cutlip.  The downward turn might have been caused be the cessation of the risperidone.  The doc told me it takes about 3 months to get stuff out of your system.  I stopped it in the middle of November.   It’s about 2 and 1/2 months now.  That could definitely be it, but I don’t want to go back on it if I don’t have to.  I lost between 15 and 20 pounds in about a month when I went off of it.  It took all summer to lose the other 15 or so pounds, just as a comparison.  I don’t know what we’ll put me on or I’ll get just an antidepressant or both an antidepressant and an anti-anxiety medication.  I’m scared. I don’t think I’ll talk to anyone at work until I stop stuttering.  Well, if I can help it.  I’m miserable.  I’m lonely.  I’m not very fond of life right now.  I hope this improves. Quickly.

+I survived my sister’s wedding. It was beautiful and went well (except for the helicoptors).  She had a wonderfully choreographed first dance, a perfect cake cutting, and wonderful food.  And my 92 year-old grandfather has some great moves!

-I ended up in the er afterwards with pains in my side.  Diagnosis – musculoskeletal pain.  Go see your doctor.

+/-We were over an hour early for the wedding.  We saw both my mother and my sister arrive, along with my mother’s family.  But we did get to talk.

-I had a breakdown after the wedding (at 3 am) and was crying for an hour.  I upset Tom, too.  I also forgot to take one of my pills.

+I skipped work and went to my sister’s picnic on Friday and got to see a bunch of people.

-I skipped work and went to my sister’s picnic on Friday and got to see a bunch of people.

-I got sick at the picnic on Sunday.

-I didn’t feel very good for dinner at Cooky’s.

-Tom hasn’t gotten many miles this week.

+I survived two days of work and we didn’t have VTO.

+We get a bonus this week which should make up for the VTO that was called last week.

-I’ve had reviewer access at work for three weeks and have yet to be trained in it.

+I got a dress from my mother that I wore to the wedding.

+We got Tom an outfit cheaply.

+I got to slow dance with Tom.

-We were both feeling too poorly to dance otherwise.

-I don’t know how I’ll ever have a wedding that can compare to my sister’s wedding.

-I don’t think I do anything anymore to make someone proud.  Unless you count going to work, and, well really, I don’t.

-I had to get up early on my day off for my appt with Melissa.

+I had a good appt with Melissa.

-Tom’s not planning on coming home this weekend.

+I don’t have to work tomorrow.

-I have to work on Saturday and have to get up at 3:30 am to do so.

+I love Mouse Hunt on Facebook.

+I’m planning on taking part in NaNoWriMo in November.

-I have to come up with a new story.

Here is a bit of the story that I’m writing.  It’s an excerpt from the middle, so there’s not a lot of background here.  I hope you enjoy it.

Henry watched the moon glow and saw the beams falling from the sky. He never tired of watching them fall down like rain. He could see tiny faeries, pixies really, darting to and fro to gather them up. How he wished he could dart around on the air like that! Sticking his hands in the pockets of his dark blue parka, he continued down the dark trail. Being able to see in low light areas certainly helped him as he walked the twisted path without the aid of a flash light. Resisting the urge to change into owl shape he watched as the elves danced in the grove. Lying at the end of an overgrown and twisty path, the grove had always felt like home to him. He could feel the air humming there, ripe with magic. Heading for the low stump on the far side Henry nearly missed the arrival of the night faeries. As he had told Dr. Turnet, it was the last night to see the moon for the year and all the fey were celebrating. Henry would have joined in the dancing and flirted with the faeries, but even after three months he was still considered an outcast.

Rian watched as Henry sat down and placed his chin in his hands. She knew the loneliness he felt. Even though her mother had been one of the night faeries who called Rhodes home, she too was considered an outcast. She at least, was accepted and even welcomed, depending on who was in charge. Tonight she was welcomed. Seeing the bemused look in Henry’s eyes she was drawn to him. How could one of them be drawn here, yet not included? Because the thought rankled, she started towards him. He deserved to dance tonight as well.

Henry watched the night faerie approach and was in shock. Golden ringlets framed a face with freckles and an upturned nose. Her amber dress of silk danced in the still air letting one and all know that this gown was made of the rare spider silk from India. A citrine rose hung on a brown velvet cord around her long slim neck. As she came closer he realized that she was not a night faerie. Well, at least not a full night faerie. Her wings shimmered with iridescence however her skin was soft and pale – that of a human instead of fey. Her eyes were a rich deep brown that had him thinking of brandy. He thought he could drown in those eyes.

Unnerved by his staring and feeling a bit awkward she held out her hand.

“I am called Rian. Be welcome here young owl. Come and join us as we feast and dance in the light of the waning moon.”

“I am Henry Stoven. I am from Yorkshire. Although I’ve watched for several months, I did not believe the fey of Rhodes would approach me. You surprise me Rian, for I see that you are welcomed, yet are not fully of the fey. Why have they sent you as an emissary?” Henry frowned, not liking the way her eyes widened at his chilly tone.

“I am nobody’s emissary!” She glared at him, her eyes lighting with fire. “I wanted to welcome one not welcomed, to share this glorious night with one far from home. Forgive me Henry that I had assumed welcome was what you wanted.” She turned and would have stomped off when Henry grabbed her arm.

“No, it’s you who should forgive me. Watching all these months, knowing that you know I’m here – it’s been hard on me. I wasn’t expecting to ever be welcomed. Please, join me, and tell me of yourself.” He gave her a charming smiled as he released his hold on her arm. Sitting back down he slid over to make room for the lovely girl. With a start, that’s what Henry realized she was. She couldn’t be much older than he was. He wondered where she studied, and blushed. Certain she would go, he watched her.

Rian stood there for a moment, regaining control of her temper. It always flared to life so quickly! What he must think of her! She considered simply walking away, but the loneliness in his eyes made her pause. Sighing, she sat down next to him.

“The fey here are kind, but clannish. They don’t welcome outsiders easily. At least, not since my mother…” she trailed off, not know what to say next. She watched her cousins, the pixies, catch the falling moon beams. She watched the faeries and elves dance. She wondered why she even bothered trying to explain.

“I see.” There was something vulnerable about Rian. Her eyes were sad, even on this joyous night. “Tell me something about your clan, Rian.”

Frustrated, she grabbed a daisy and began picking off the petals. “The clan of Rhodes started in Ireland before the Potato Famine. Our ancestors came to Rhodes to escape the violence of Swoardscape. They searched Rhodes until they found this grove and then settled. The magic is strong here.” She shrugged, not exactly knowing what to say. The clan’s secrets weren’t for her to tell. Especially to an owl, no matter how handsome or charming he was. “What brings you to Rhodes?”

“Scholarship, I’m afraid. I’m the stereotypical owl, smart and quiet. My parents died in the Swallow Bane’s fire. My grandmother has been raising me. She sent me here to learn more of the world. To look at examining the world and finding out the roots of magic. She writes to me.” I miss her was the unsaid statement, but Rian could hear it. If she tried hard enough, or if there was enough emotion involved, she could hear thoughts. Part of her father, she thought bitterly.

A pixie dashed over and hovered at the level of her head. The sculpted silver hair tucked behind pointed ears glowed in the moonlight. Her necklace was a raindrop strung on spider silk and her outfit that of a parrot tulip. She paused so that both young fey could admire her, then spoke to Rian.

“Elvenia says that since you broke the silence and talked to the stranger-owl, you might as well bring him to the court to be presented. It’s about time, too. He’s been moping around here long enough.” Before either one of the youngsters could react she flitted away, grabbing a moon beam on her way.

“Well, I guess we should go. Please be careful about what you say, they are far more easily offended than I am.”

“Are they?” he asked, remembering her reaction to his cool words. “I shall watch what I say. My grandmother did teach me about the fey and their pride.”

Elves gowned in spider silk and cobweb net parted as Rian and Henry approached. Conversation stilled as they walked towards the front. An elf, as ancient as the stones and as young as the dew sat on what could only be described as a throne of oak and chestnut carved with scenes of the fey. Henry could tell she was tall despite the fact that she sat. Her hair of gold was swept up in a twist with the ends trailing around her face. Silver cat eyes lent an exotic air to the sculpted cheekbones and small mouth. She wore a gown of midnight blue kafta, a fabric made only by the elves. The embroidery was the color of her eyes and at her throat was the biggest and clearest moonstone Henry had ever seen. Her left eyebrow winged up as the young owl approached.

“Good evening to you Henry Stoven. I see Rian has brought you into our gathering.” He made no reply. She smiled at his caution and stood. I am Elvenia, Carar of the Rhodes fey. Be welcome at our table, at our feast, and at our hearth. May those of Yorkshire be friends with us of Rhodes.”

Henry bowed deeply. “I am honored Carar. I bring good tidings from the Pinelene of Yorkshire.”

Elvenia looked at him sharply. “The Pinelene of Yorkshire? Autumn Skies? Tell me how you know of her.” As she stood, Henry took a step back. What was this?

“Pinelene Autumn Skies is my grandmother. She sent me to Rhodes for study. In her last letter, she begged pardon for sending me unannounced.” Not sure of what her reaction would be, Henry stood his kept his eyes downcast. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her!

Laughter rang out through the glade. Henry’s eyes whipped up as Elvenia came down the steps of the dias to approach him. Rian looked on in astonishment as the Carar embraced Henry.

“Autumn Skies’ grandson! Once I knew you were of Yorkshire I should have known you were kin of hers. Only those in whom the power runs strongly can find the magic hidden in Rhodes unaided. Tell me, how does she fair?” Leaving Rian standing in the audience chamber Elvenia guided Henry to the feasting table. Rian sighed, though she did not know if it was in relief or frustration. While she obviously was no longer in trouble with the Carar, she hadn’t expected to be completely ignored! As frustration won out Rian stamped a foot clad in golden ice shoes and crossed her arms. She was the one who had offered greeting to the owl. What did it matter that she did it more out of loneliness than out of a knowledge of his ancestry? She had made first contact. Mumbling under her breath, Rian followed the crowd to the feasting tables. She would have to move quickly in order to find a seat at the low tables. After the welcome he received, she doubted that Henry would be down with the children.

With a shrug she flew through the glen to the tables. Her favorite part of last moon night was the feast. The fey cooks had definitely out done themselves this year. The banqueting table was covered in cocoon bowls filled with goodies. She could see sautéed mushrooms in a dew sauce, Hickory-smoked salmon steaks, and her favorite – air bread. She could almost taste the fluffy bread melting in her mouth. A dish of asparagus wrapped bacon was nestled next to a pan of breaded pork chops. Obviously, they had made the necessary trades with the humans to get such a variety of food! Squirrel pot pies and barbeque rabbit was sitting next to trays of dainty ham salad and egg salad sandwiches. And on and on. She only hoped that there would be some of the best left for her.

“Rian. Rian, child, where are you? You must join Henry and me.” Elvenia’s golden voice echoed throughout the feasting hall. “Ah, there you are. We must reward one who was brave enough to approach a stranger.” Rian eagerly hurried over to the Carar’s side. Third in line! How was she going to carry all that food back to the tables? Maybe tonight wasn’t going to be so bad after all!