Sigh

I have had nothing to say in over a month.

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It's Holy Week and I am feeling neither holy nor hopeful. The depression has been heavy like an anvil. I haven't wanted to take care of myself. I haven't wanted to reach out and communicate. I've just hidden away. Every now and then I poked my head out and posted on Facebook, but I'm so down that the tiniest comments in the negative cause bouts of crying.

I bought a new rose bush. It's supposed to be very dark roses. It's called "black rose", but even I can see it's a dark red. 

I got new gnomes.

I turned 29 and Charlie turned 2.

I'm still alive.

Watching "homeward bound"

Charlie post bath

Playtime, momma!! I'm faster than lightning! I can leap tall buildings....or sofa chairs in a single bound! Let's do this!

I hope Grandma isn't disappointed in me.

I've got insomnia and anxiety tonight. When I get way overtired like this, I feel completely ruled by my OCD impulses. This past week I have had a very hard mental health week, and I've not done my household stuff like I should. For the past twenty minutes I've fought the urge to clean the windows and light switches. I know. I'm crazy. I know they're fine. I know as much as I clean them they are fine. But I'm sad and anxious and my brain is telling me that will fix it, when I know a good cry and sleep will actually fix it. So instead I'm in a cycle of telling myself to and not to clean the windows and light switches again.

I admire my grandma very much. People always relied on her, dropped in without warning, ate at her table and she was always ready. The house always looked and felt so clean! I don't know how she fed all of Aiken with her pantry, but she seemed to do it. She canned from her garden, shelled oodles of pecans from her tree, baked cakes for everybody and their mother, and she never seemed down or tired. 

I'm down and tired. 

Her shortcoming? Her cabinets and drawers were not as clean and perfect as the rest of the house. My best effort? My closets and cupboards are neat. My failing? Everything else is jumbled up.

I feel like my kitchen sink would make her disappointed. But it's midnight, so I have to be quiet for my husband, who has to be at work in six hours. Why don't I have the drive she did to do the tasks I hate with a smile like she did? I miss her so much. She had all these little shelves in her kitchen windows, and a bunch of little African violets sprouting on them. She would literally wax her linoleum. I can barely stand to mop mine due to the pain it brings, but I can remember her buffing her floor on her hands and knees. I miss her. I miss her so badly it aches like someone stabbed me, but there's no blood showing anywhere. She never sat still, and right now I just want to sit still. Instead, I've gotten up and cleaned light switches, refolded towels, cleaned the bathroom and cleaned the hallway light switch again.

I miss her. I'm tired and I'm sad, and I miss her and will never live up to her.

Visiting the shelter

Today we stopped by the shelter that we adopted Charlie from. He was nervous, and didn't want to go through the door. The man who brought him to me that long ago day in December of 2013'opened the door and was shocked to see us. Charlie had a very hard time staying calm as soon as he saw him. I told him to give him kisses and love and Charlie about wet the floor in his excitement to knock the gentleman over. Kisses exchanged and a few tears shed. I know Charlie was bit worried I was going to take him there to abandon him, but as soon as he saw that man, he knew everything was okay.

Charlie and I both know if it wasn't for him, Charlie would have died of a broken heart while at the pound. He's such a sensitive dog, and he was depressed when he was incarcerated. The staff were so excited to see and hear how well Charlie is now. They took our picture and posted it as a before and after on their Facebook page.

From adoption day to today. <3

Christmas time photos 2014

Library knit group December 2014

Charlie's new winter coat, thanks to Heather and Rachel. <3

Le sigh

Charlie likes to hop in bed after my husband leaves for work in the morning. Usually to snuggle.

He's doing well, is back on duty. I'm doing okay too. Just trying to keep my head above water and fight my mental illness. I've knit a few washcloths, baked a few treats, gained a few pounds, cleaned a few piles that have been hanging around the house since we moved in. In other words, there's nothing interesting to say, but we're okay. Love.