Web Journal

Tuesday - 8/3/99 - 10:53 AM EDT

I'm in a quandary. I keep two journals going at all times. There's my real journal, a note pad where I record the real me, spill my guts out and say all the horrible things I shouldn't say in public. Then there is this web journal where I edit things a bit, change the names to protect the innocent etc. The problem is in both journals it comes through loud and clear that I'm clinically depressed. So unless I create a third journal, the Happy Jani Journal, where I lie and tell you the sky is always blue and the sun always shines and I always have a big smile on my face, I run the risk of freaking you out. That is not my intention (but I understand why it happens.) So I guess I'm asking for advice here... should I change things around so I don't upset you or should I continue writing what I really think?

Choose one or the other:

[ YES, PLEASE LIE TO US!] or [ NO, KEEP FREAKING US OUT!]

I'll let you know the results of my survey in a few days (unless nobody responds, in which case, guess it doesn't really matter!) I know I didn't include a choice for "STOP WRITING THIS JOURNAL STUFF ALTOGETHER!" You could choose either of the above and just write that in your comments, not that I'm going to listen to you anyway.

Our air conditioner quit running over the weekend. Lucky for us, the 90+ degree temperatures disappeared and we're having gorgeous weather for a change. I'm keeping my ears open, repairman is supposed to show up sometime today. I'm counting on Growlf, that incredibly brave watch dog, to bark should AC Repair Man show up, but that's kind of stupid since an hour ago the Davey Tree Man was here and I heard him, went downstairs and outside, talked to him for a good 10 minutes before Growlf knew anything was going on. (He barked quite a bit then though.)

Have an appointment with the therapist today. Skipped last week, she had to call it off, something came up. Oh-oh. Now I'm going in there with two weeks worth of hate-- could be interesting or ugly or both.

Saw the hand therapist yesterday. She says I'm making great progress. She measured my grip and how far my finger bent and how close it came to being straight. She was all smiles and happiness... perky, that's what I'd call her... all while she was pulling on my finger and twisting it around like she wanted to rip it out of its socket. Even I have to admit, it is improving... on with the torture.

So, I'm a gonna go get ready for this afternoon (it's already 12:20-- where does the time go? I think I saw yesterday hiding down in my junk drawer.) See ya.

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Sunday - August 1, 1999 - 7:05 PM EDT

My brother is a saint. He's written me the nicest letters this past week, says I'm not as crazy as I think. Love you Bill. As a matter of fact, I lucked out all around when it comes to family. They are the most loving and supportive people you'd ever want to meet. Love you Joe, Heather, Marilyn.

I had a good week (!) Guess I was too busy to worry about being nuts and that's always good. Worked for my old boss on Tuesday and Thursday. He had loads for me to do, must have been saving up stuff for months. Kept asking didn't I want to come back and work for him. The thing is half the reason I enjoyed it, is because I don't have to do it very often.

Wednesday I took a class at Pitt's computer place downtown, Graphic Design for the Web... pretty neat stuff. As we broke for lunch, a storm blew in the likes of which I've rarely seen 'round here. The sky had turned an ugly black/green, dark as night. The rain was horizontal. Two newspaper boxes flew out into Grant Street right in the middle of traffic. I was standing under a large covered spot, right outside the door of the building, sucking down as many cigarettes as possible. Normally I would have been scared by a storm like this (they said the winds were only a couple of miles per hour less than a hurricane.) But it's been so hot and the drought has been horrendous, I felt like running out and dancing!

I had painful sessions Monday and Friday with the hand therapist. Have to admit the stuff she has me doing seems to be helping... so on with the torture.

Joe and I (& Growlfadopolis) drove down to the country last evening. Wanted to make sure the hummingbirds had nectar. Good thing we went, the feeders were almost dry. This morning was magical, all misty and muted. Raining nice and easy... the trees looked like they were in a painting by Monet, the green colors running together ever so slightly. We had to go out and run down to look in the creek. The rain wasn't near enough to make any difference. The water is almost as low as I've ever seen it. But I swear during the rain, the fish were rising up out of the water and doing a little dance (jumping for joy?) And those trees-- you could almost hear them sighing as the rain dripped from the leaves and branches. After the rain, the air was fresh and cooler than it's been in days. Loved it, loved it, loved it.

Guess I'd better go-- the Joe man says dinner is ready-- yeah!) Thanks for reading.

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Still Friday - 7/23/99 - 11:45 AM EDT

Probably shouldn't write this. Don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. I'm not contemplating doing myself in. But they say ("who's they" -- my dad's favorite retort), they say, if you write what's really in your heart, you can't help but do alright. So this is what's in my heart right now...

So scared. Forgot to take my pills this morning & big time anxiety attack is coming, like a freight train and I'm a puppy with my paw caught in the tracks. Don't think there's anyway to get out of this. I'll try to write through it though. We'll see what happens.

My therapist finds it strange that I don't trust my interpretations of reality-- that I am always looking for someone to validate what I think I know. But in this light (or dark is a more apt description), why on earth would I trust myself? Going into a panic, I know it's all in my head, I know I'm okay but it doesn't help because I'm scared to death. I'm scared of almost any and every thing. Most of all I'm terrified of misjudging and misinterpreting what is real and what is not. And isn't that exactly what I'm doing? This isn't idle paranoia... this is what is going on. It's a split in my very being; I'm losing the cohesiveness necessary to live and believe in my very existence.

I had a dream not long ago where I ran head long into this challenge. I experienced something with another person and afterwards felt the compelling need to discuss the situation, so that I might validate my memories, my interpretation of what happened. But when I talked to this person, they gave me a whole different story. The only thing they could validate were my self doubts, my total inability to know what's real and what's not. It was devastating but also half expected. Part of me just shook my head, saying, "See Jan, you don't have a clue as to what's going on. Told you so. You really are a ridiculous woman." [End of dream.]

So now I'm thinking I see what I've been afraid of all this time, the edge of the precipice to which I've been clinging so very long and seem to keep losing hold of, that which I'm falling away from (into that dark, endless abyss.) It's belief in myself, in my judgement, my interpretation, my very reality. It's that which we call sanity. Is it any wonder that I'm panicking and depressed? I'm scared to death because I know that I know nothing. Oh man, it's all circular like every other goddamn thing. Like a carousel but this one is flying backwards, careening sideways, spiraling downward at an incredible rate of speed. It seems there's no way off this ride.

But hey, that's just my interpretation of reality (in my dream) talking. Who's to say it's right? And anyway, who's to say my memories and interpretations of the original event (in the dream) weren't the right ones to begin with? Maybe the other person was misinterpreting things? More circular reasoning, or is it turning triangular? So let me get this straight. I'm insane because I'm panicking and I'm depressed. I'm panicking and depressed because I'm panicking and depressed about being insane??? Whew, this is getting a bit too heavy for me.

Alright, bottom line... it'll be okay. I really believe this. It might take some (more) time (and drugs), but it'll be okay, it'll be okay. I'll be okay. Thanks for reading.

Sandy  -  The Prime of Miss Jean Brody

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Friday - 7/23/99 - 1:37AM EDT

Woodstock 99 starts today. I signed up to get it simulcast on my computer but Counting Crows isn't scheduled to play until Saturday afternoon & I'll probably be at Majorsville by then. Ah well, I missed the original with Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix. Guess I can live without being at this one. Might just have to put on some Janis while I write this though... yes, definitely need to do a little Janis.

Saw the occupational therapist today. She was nice, appeared to know what she was doing. Wasn't too horribly painful but she said she was taking it easy on me since it was my first time. "We'll only take you to pain this time" is how she put it. Wonder what comes after pain? Probably don't want to know. She wants to see me twice a week to start. She gave me a bunch of exercises & shit to do at home. One that I thought sounded relatively easy was to soak my hand in warm water for 4 minutes, then soak it in ice water for 2 minutes, all the time pumping my fingers. I'm supposed to do 4 reps of this, twice a day. Well let me tell you, the ice water part felt like someone was taking the tendons and muscles in my hand and grinding them in one of those old food grinders, the kind you clamped on a counter and turned the handle and the food comes out of little holes in whichever disc you've attached. Marphones used to have one and make the world's best pork salad. Come to think of it, we have one of those too somewhere, I'm just too lazy to ever use it. So anyway I tried something different my second time. Didn't put in as much ice and meditated the whole time... seemed to help. We'll see.

The therapist did say she did say she thought it would take a year to heal. A YEAR?? I guess as long as I don't injure it again and it keeps getting a little better, I'd better not complain. A YEAR???? Does this shit ever end or do I have to pay for my sins indefinitely? No, just for A YEAR. Guess I should be glad it wasn't fractured but who would have thought a stupid little dislocation would end up lasting A YEAR???????

I can't listen to Janis without seeing her up on a stage, dancing and jumping, screaming, making love to the microphone and everyone in the audience...was she too much or what? I remember the day I heard she was dead. My friend Terry was a Janis Joplin freak. He painted oil paintings of her, and practically had an orgasm every time he heard her sing (even though he was gay.) We were walking up Chestnut Street from College Street, walking to my house from uptown. Somebody drove by and told us about Janis overdosing. Terry literally fell on the sidewalk sobbing. He told me he would die before he turned 28 because she was 27 when she died. Terry is one of those people I lost contact with years and years ago. Still miss him even after all this time. Hope he's alive, well and happy wherever he might be.

Saw my regular (head) therapist yesterday. At least she doesn't have me coming home and soaking my head in a bowl of warm water, then a bowl of ice water. Hey, maybe she should though. Seems to me I'd have to get better real fast or else! As I said before, she's very supportive, encouraging me to do things I might feel uncomfortable about and cheering me on. That's cool when it works out but when it backfires totally, the cheers don't mean much. I want to blame it on someone and she's the logical choice... "if only she hadn't told me to do such & such, then I wouldn't be in this mess today" that kind of stuff. On the other hand, she seems ready to blame my family for most of my problems. Makes me mad-- ("because honey, you know that ain't right." -- Papa Was A Rolling Stone - The Temptations.) She probably really isn't blaming them. But anyway, she doesn't know enough about me yet to be making any kind of judgement. Hell, we haven't even touched the surface (of my craziness) yet. I was telling her about the movies I rented last week (finally remembered the other one's title: Fallen.) She said she didn't understand why I would choose those kind of movies, as opposed to comedies. Said she would think I'd want to laugh. I laughed at her statement. Wanted to reply "Duh--- Hello--- Might have something to do with me being depressed."

It's getting late; guess I should go. Because it's late & it's not getting any earlier & besides, it's late. See ya.

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Tuesday - July 20, 1999 - 8:14PM EDT

Having difficulty writing in here. The crap I write is so depressing-- I'm sure no one needs to read it. I try to think of happier things to say. It's not like there aren't any happy things going on in my life; it's just that I'm totally focused on the negative. So I'll try to write about other things rather than myself.

The Joe man is out cutting back our pyracantha bush this evening. Might as well be playing with razor blades-- he'll come in all scratched up I'm sure. Pyracantha would be the perfect thing to plant around your yard if you wanted to keep burglars (or neighbors) out.

The John John thing is devastating-- can't go there.

Leaving Majorsville Sunday night was hard. It looked absolutely perfect, like a country club, as my dad used to say. Joe really outdid himself mowing and cleaning up around the yard. Our hummingbirds increased their appetites-- were drinking four cups of nectar a day. Guess I'll have to take a ride down this week to refill the feeders. We had both vehicles down there since Joe had been commuting. I left before him. The drive home was fun, like a bad video game... baby bunnies hopping out in every direction. Luckily I scored zero. (I was saying Hail Marys.)

My friend Deb is back from Canada (yeah!!!) We've made a date to have lunch on Thursday, the usual time and place. Unfortunately, she tells me she had a perfectly dreadful time-- "the vacation from Hell" was how she put it. Haven't we all had a few of those? You have to be very careful when choosing people you'd like to spend a week with. It can get ugly so fast. Maybe it's best to go on your own?

I talked to my old boss yesterday. I'm going in next week a couple of days to fill in for his secretary. Told him I wasn't going to be setting any speed records typing and he assured me that was okay. Also told him I was looking forward to it. Strange, but I am. Starting to think I just get myself in trouble not working, not having some sort of schedule I must adhere to, not having to pretend I'm normal, etc. etc.

Watched some great movies last week.... of course I can't remember any of the names. Yes, I can, just give me a minute... One Flew Over the Coocoo's Nest (just love that scene where he tries to strangle Nurse Ratchet), Just Cause (Sean Connery), Siege (even though I hate Bruce Willis) and, I can't for the life of me remember the other one, but it was good. Had Denzel Washington as a detective and was about evil passing from one person to another, you probably remember the name.

Also re-read two of my favorite books... In Watermelon Sugar and A Confederate General From Big Sur both by Brautigan. That man was a genius.

Better go make Joe dinner. I'm sure he's starving by about now. Keep cool, if possible.

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Wednesday - 7/14/99 - 1:26PM EDT

I'm between doctor appointments. Saw my PCP this morning about my finger. He said, "Um" and referred me to an occupational therapist.

Later I have to see my shrink for a med check. He's switching offices and affiliations in a few weeks. I'm hoping his new affiliation will be covered under our insurance. Right now I'm paying out of pocket-- $80.00 for 15 minutes. All he does is eat pizza and keep his eyes closed while he asks "how ya doin?" Sometimes I'm tempted to say something like, "Oh fine but I was abducted by aliens last night." I swear he wouldn't have any reaction! I shouldn't say that. He's been very helpful (or at least the the medications he prescribed have been helpful, in the past anyway.) Right now I think the only thing that would really help is for me to disappear for a bit, until I can figure out what the problem is & how to fix it or how to handle it if it's not fixable.

Somebody once told me I was the biggest mistake in their life. I didn't have any response at the time, but, as is often the case, later I thought of a bunch:

Or, as Dylan once wrote...

Don't you hate when that happens? Guess that's why I prefer writing to speaking-- at least with writing you get a chance or two to go back and edit before it's actually over with. (I know someone out there is saying... "you need to edit more!"

No more appointments this week. I guess I can go back and stay at Majorsville until Sunday if I so desire.

Strange things happening down there. I put out some fresh DeCon (sp?) a few days ago, including a box in the tool room between the hot water heater and the furnace. Yesterday when I got back down there, Growlf start barking at something in the (dark) toolroom. I investigated (took a big stick and turned on the light) but didn't see anything. Ok, I didn't look too hard, like not behind the furnace or between the walls. I did notice that the box of DeCon was out in the middle of the floor. I picked the box up and put it back. Told myself it had just been knocked out of its place inadvertently. When Joe got there, I made him check it out anyway. He didn't see anything but Growlf was still very interested in sniffing around. This morning after Joe left but before I came back to town, I went in there to get my vacuum cleaner. This time the box was gone. I called Joe to see if he had moved it as a (not-so-funny) joke. He swears he didn't. So, I guess I'm supposed to believe a mouse took the box with him or snakey has been visiting or something horrible like that. Makes me shudder to think.

Talked to Heather last night. She told me "Aunt Maggie" was taking Lauren out of daycare and to the zoo today. Neat.... Lauren will love it. I'll have to play that Simon & Garfunkle song for her sometime...

"The monkeys stand for honesty, giraffes are insincere
and the elephants are kindly but they're dumb.

Orangutans are skeptical of changes in their cages
and the zookeeper is very fond of rum.

Zebras are reactionaries, antelopes are missionaries,
pigeons flock in secrecy and hamsters turn on frequently

What a gas.... at the zoo!

My cousin Eddie from Ireland signed my guestbook... thanks, Eddie. I got an email from a woman in Inverness, Nova Scotia, Canada. Turns out she's a cousin of Joe's. They've never met but she found us on the web, looking at the Ravoira Roots page I did. This is the third relative of his who has found us this way. Too cool. I'm way behind on my own roots page, keep meaning to update it but...

Oops, getting late. Gotta go get my fifteen minutes worth (have my head shrunk.) Next time I write in here, maybe I'll be Jani the Pinhead. Thanks for reading.

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