The Covers Hog

Boi is a Covers Hog. He likes to mess up our bed sheets/covers and then pull them all onto him and off of me.

Or he'll mess them all up and, when rearranging, pulls the warm covers off of me and onto him.

Last night I woke up at 3am and Boi had every stitch of the covers (king size mind you). I was shivering and gently repositioned the covers and snuggled up close to Boi...only to discover that he was covered in sweat. Does that strike anyone else as ironic?


Boi says that I take up all the bed. I disagree. I have created, for your viewing pleasure, a few diagrams illustrating my point. I submit into evidence Item A:

As illustrated in picture labeled Item A, there is a post in the middle of the bed. This post divides the bed into two parts. The post is shown in said Item A above in red.

If it pleases the court, I will now submit Item B into evidence:

As shown in Item B, I clearly sleep on side A (my side) of the bed. Boi clearly sleeps on his side (side B). He just takes up more space which is not my fault. Blame it on hormones, blame it on God, but don't blame it on me.

I now submit Item C into evidence if it pleases the court:

I rest my case, Your Honor.

Boi states that I am trying to prejudice y'all with all my fancy pictures. He also says that I'm elaborating this all out of proportions. I disagree. I believe that this is incredibly important and stand by the fact that I clearly stay on my side of the bed. And usually with less covers than he has (silly Covers Hog).

Depression

As my title indicates, today I'm going to write about depression. If the topic will dishearten you, please feel free to skip this post.

You've been warned. It took me a lot of courage to write this to admit to the world, but I felt like I need to put this out there.

The Depression Monster: Here to Ruin My Day

I once had a conversation with someone who is very important to me about depression. She told me that depression isn't something that needs medication. She pretty much indicated that if someone is depressed, they should get over it.

It's not that easy. I suffer from major depression. And yes, I mean suffer. It hurts just as much as physical pain. For me personally, I'd rather have physical pain. I can understand people who hurt themselves to forget. I don't hurt myself, but I can understand.

My depression doesn't need a reason to surface. My life can be perfectly fine with no stress or worries and suddenly BAM! There It rears its ugly head.

How do you just 'get over' that? When there's nothing to 'get over', what can you do?

For me, I write. Or draw. Just like I normally do for y'all, but sad instead of happy. I usually either delete those writings or post them on Facebook. Today it isn't enough.

I'm not telling y'all about my depression to be an attention whore or for your sympathy. In fact, one of the reasons I feel that I can post this here, is that most of you I don't know. I know that there is at least one fellow blogger that reads my blog that suffers from depression. She's never come out and admitted it, but I can sometimes see it seeping through into her writing.

Dear friends, the reason that I'm sharing this with you is so that you are aware. Know that you can never really know what's going on with people around you. Be mindful of others.

Most of my friends don't know about my mental health. I've been on medications (which definitely do help!) and in therapy. For the most part though, this is very personal for me.

I don't talk about it much. For anyone who wanted to pay close enough attention though, there are markers.

When I get really depressed, I suffer bad insomnia. I stay awake (sometimes for days on end). But then once my body finally lets me sleep, I can sleep up to 24+ hours. My sleep is like a crazy roller coaster when I'm depressed.

Sometimes I get headaches that I would swear come from my neck and radiate pain upwards. Other times, my bowels get really upset.

My extremities get cold when usually I'm like a furnace; I actually run 99 degrees on a normal basis. But my fingers and toes will go so cold that they go numb.

When I finalized my plans for how I wanted to commit suicide, I knew I needed help. The psychiatrist and therapist both helped tremendously.

When I knew I was going to lose my health insurance, I worked with my psychiatrist to titrate myself off my medications. My therapist helped prepare me for times like now.

Boi is my rock. He knows all of me and loves me just the way I am. He knows the right things to do to help. He listens. He can sit with me and just be quiet. He holds me. God gave me the perfect partner.

Most people who find out I am depressed are incredibly surprised. They're all like, "You? But you're so happy all the time!" But happiness is my shield. If no one can ever tell that there's something wrong, I won't have to admit it.

Depression can affect anyone. Qualities in people such as rudeness, loudness, being angry, quiet, happy, etc can hiding things you'll never know.

You never know when your words will make or break someone.

Thank you for listening dear reader. Sometimes I just need a good ear. I already feel lighter than I did when I sat down.

And a special thank you to My Boi who always loves and supports me in all I do.

The Witching Hour

I have no idea but for some reason, I'm only inspired to write in the middle of the night. Lately I have been keeping more 'normal' hours...and it sucks. I've missed writing!

I'm still working on my 'Goodnight Moon' spoof post but none of y'all responded to having read the book so I may not post it...we shall see.

I think I'm getting old. I swear that my memory is disappearing. I do all sorts of puzzles and word problems to keep my brain young but...I think that my short term memory has had a spell put on it. What type of spell you ask? Well, if I had to guess, I'd say that some wizard turned it into a goldfish. But that's just a guess.

So I've started to text message myself little reminders of things I'd like to blog about. I'll type it in and send it to myself...and by the time (like 2 seconds later) my phone chimes to let me know I have a text, I've forgotten already that I sent the text, and I get all excited thinking that someone actually wants to convey a message to me...only to realize that it was me. It happens every time.

So the Boi and I went out to dinner the other night. I excused myself to go to the restroom and took a while before I came back. Boi looked at me as I sat down and asked, "Do you feel better?"  I looked at him a little weird before I realized what he was thinking.

I laughed as I explained to him that the reason I was gone so long was because a song came on while I was in the restroom. I didn't know the song but it was pretty (I texted myself some of the lyrics to check out later...) and I wanted to listen to the whole song, and I could hear it better in the bathroom so I stayed in there until it was done. He looked at me with his 'you are so strange/that deserves blog space' look.

Gabe gave me a magnet with a picture of her older son on it the other day. I handed it to The Boi for safe keeping. I asked Boi for it to put on the fridge when we got home. He looked at me a little blankly for a few moments and then started to laugh.

He explained that he had put it in his pocket and realized that it was getting bent while we were at his parents house. So he pulled it out and stuck it to their fridge with the intention of getting it before we left. Now his parents have a picture magnet on their fridge of a child they don't know. Way to go Boi.

The Boi and I spent part of our Christmas with Gabe and her family. When we were getting our food (buffet style Christmas = awesome), I laughed at Gabe because she was making chocolate milk to drink with her food. I looked at her and asked, "Really?"

We all sat down to eat together, and (I'm not kidding) unprovoked, her family and friends started one by one (as they sat down) asking her if that was actually chocolate milk she was drinking with dinner. Her face kept turning pink, and it was really funny. It turned extremely funny when her 3 year old yells across the room, "Are you drinking chocolate milk, mommy?"

So while The Boi and I were at that restaurant the other night, an elderly couple sat down at the table next to us. When the waitress came to take their drink orders, the sweet looking little old lady requested chocolate milk. Boi and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.




Random info: I always try to spell check my work before posting it (so I don't look like a total idiot). Today, it doesn't like 'texted'. I got to thinking about it and realized that it probably wasn't right so I googled 'past tense of text'. Turns out to be a really huge debate because text is a noun not a verb. Except that recently we've kind of turned it into a verb. So I'm leaving it there and to all my grammar friends, sorry if I've offended y'all.