Tag Archives: happy

Facing Your Inner Demon

This is terrifyingly awesome.

This is terrifyingly awesome.

 

We all have them, don’t we? Mine is a real bitch sometimes. I imagine she wears fuzzy house slippers, filthy from never taking them off. Maybe an old bath robe too. Curlers in her hair, smeared red lipstick, smoker’s cough, talks like she’s been chewing on rocks…OK so my inner demon is my old next-door-neighbor’s grandmother? Ugh.

I am an extremely sensitive person. I mean just the thought of something emotional is enough to send a tsunami of tears from my eyeballs. When Joe and I were still planning the wedding, the time I spent driving to and from places was used to go over my vows in my noggin and I can’t count how many times I almost broke down behind the wheel. Sometimes I cry watching lame TLC shows. Sometimes I stare at myself in the mirror and cry because I’m just so damn beautiful.

Okay, not really.

ANYWAY – my inner demon enjoys latching on to any new information that enters my ears and twisting it up like silly putty before flinging it into my brain, where whatever was said is now convincing me I’m a horrible person. Without getting into specifics, I’ve managed to convince myself of being quite a few things I’ve been told I’m not. Some really ugly, horrible things. The funny thing? A new tube of lipstick or a new outfit temporarily fixes this – I’ll find myself looking at my reflection, head cocked to one side, a smile on my lips. In those moments I feel powerful and attractive, intelligent, ready to recite poetry or attend a book reading. Put me in sweat pants and smeared eyeliner and suddenly I’m a different person. Let someone question the way my hair lays that day? Forget it. I try to melt into the nearest wall and disappear for good.

Does anyone ever feel like this? That inner voice, like a parasite feeding off any bit of darkness it can find. It tries to keep the light out. It tries as hard as it can. “Happiness doesn’t live here,” it says.

I try every day to battle it, to bring it down once and for all, but the damn thing never dies. It’s invincible, I think. But the best we can do is hold them at bay – do something meaningful every single day, spend time with those who want to spend their time lifting you up. Being born with a demon in your head doesn’t make you hopeless. Perhaps it’s even a blessing in disguise, focusing every day on being the best version of yourself possible.

So I guess I’ll consider myself unique. Beautifully unique. And every day I’ll get to mentally punch my neighbor’s grandmother in the face. She was a real bitch anyway.

xoxo

 

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Living Arrangements

100% safe!

100% safe!

 

 

Well, it’s official. The cat is pissed. As first I thought she was scared. Maybe she is, just a little. But yeah, mostly pissed. I mean, I didn’t expect her to hug the dog as she came barreling through the back door of her new home on Wednesday, but she did react pretty damn weird. Granted I don’t know much about getting cats and dogs to live comfortably together (any animals I had growing up were taken care of by my parents, played with/tortured by me) but Jewel (cat) immediately ran upstairs and slinked across the floor, belly and shoulders low like in hunting stance…and hid in a tight spot behind some boxes we have yet to unpack. Then she was up on my desk, something she never does. No purring, no usual meowing or rubbing her head on every object she comes in contact with.

Blegh.

I was heartbroken. I felt horrible. It’d been about 20 minutes and I was already convinced they’d avoid each other forever. How would we live this way? Forcing Joe and the dog to live in the garage crossed my mind. (Kidding. Not really. Hey, our garage has a loft above it. A loft. It’s pretty epic.) So I immediately took Mr. Calahan’s advice and began treating Jewel like royalty. Of course I played with the dog, pet her, loved her (she’s the sweetest little thing…but I have yet to hear her bark or make anything other than a whimpering noise at the shelter) until she curled up on a blanket in the living room and went to sleep. But then I coaxed the cat out from under the bed and gave her the usual Queen Kitty treatment: snacks, a thorough brushing, some scratches behind the ears, a dollop (Joe’s favorite word) of her chicken flavored anti-hairball stuff. Then she started purring, and I felt a little less like a big jerk.

Jewel did sleep with me that night while Nevada (doggie) slept soundly on her little blanket…but she didn’t bother me so much for drinks from the faucet, and only once she was absolutely sure the little ball on the living room floor wasn’t making any sudden movements did she sneak into the kitchen for some food. Then she’d either hide in the basement for a while, or sneak back upstairs for some more snoozes. (We do have a little kitty hole cut out of the basement door, so she can comfortably go up and down without the door having to be open. And Nevada can’t fit through that hole. Win.)

As I was getting ready to leave for the always dreaded morning shift yesterday I was happy to see the cat in the kitchen, crunchin’ on some food. Then I left the room for a moment and when I returned she was chompin’ on the dog’s food….and before I could control myself I made some sort of disturbing flailing hand motion and told her to knock it off, instead of gently pointing her in the right direction (big jerk), so of course she darted down the basement, once again. Ugh.

So I headed down there, already running late (at 4 AM, mind you), to try and make amends, which I figured she wanted nothing to do with when I reached down to pet her and she said something like “MrrrEeooOWWWWWAaaaa!!!”, cat for “go away, you asshole!”. Sigh.

Thursday afternoon. Enter: Catnip. 

After another tiring morning shift –

Customer: (5:30 AM) Can I get a Heineken?

Me: I’m sorry, we can’t serve alcohol until 7. State law.

Customer: UuuUUuuuggHh! (He sounded much like Jewel did that morning.) ::puts head on bar::

Me: ::stone face:: Sorry.

Customer: Well, can I get an ice water?

Me: I’m sorry, but you have to buy something in order to sit in here. (We. Are. A. Restaurant.)

CustomerI’d still give you the dollar.

(Well golly gee, in that case!)

Customer: Well, can I sit there and get an ice water? ::points to a table behind him, literally 2 feet away::

Me: That’s still inside of the restaurant, sir.

Customer: Ugh. Give me a menu then. ::looks:: Let me get a milk.

– I stopped at the local Acme for some dinner ingredients (seriously, try this recipe…amazingness) – Acme is kinda expensive by the way – and decided to grab the cat a small , over-priced toy as a sort of peace offering. My choice: a little fuzzy mouse that gets stuffed to the brim with catnip. Score. 

I brought it home, filled that baby up, and watched her go absolutely nuts for a while. It was great. It worked so well that while the dog lay sleeping in a ball on that same spot, I was able to coax her downstairs with it. She’d stop every few feet, looking from her kitty drug to the dog, to the kitty drug again. Her need for a fix was much stronger than her fear of the dog so she chased that baby all the way into the kitchen! Then she ate. Then she batted it down the basement and played with it down there. Uuuuuggghhhhh.

So while they aren’t the best of friends yet, napping and plotting my demise together, they did spend a lot of time staring at each other this morning. The cat has been slowly closing the gap between herself and her not-so-little sister, sneaking up more and more basement stairs to get a better look. And I think she dog is more afraid of her than she is of the dog! Nevada’s back legs shake every time the cat stares deep into her soul. Those cat eyes are no joke. So hopefully – while Nevada is a hound – she won’t want to eat the cat. I think she’s afraid the cat might eat her, anyway.

I’m hoping to come home one day to find the cat riding the dog around like a pony. That would be awesome.

Does anyone have any advice in this area?

Regardless, our shelter rescue is healthy and happy, and I’m looking forward to many play dates and movie nights curled up in little balls together.

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Stop…Drop….PAUSE!

Since joining my new gym a few weeks ago, I’ve been getting my behind kicked five days a week in boxing, kickboxing and….ZUMBA!

I never realized how much rhythm I truly lack until I started Zumba-ing; the much older woman next to me definitely has the moves like Jagger…but alas, I do not.

However, it’s still a blast to waves my hands awkwardly around in the air and wiggle my hips to and fro. Because after an hour of jumping up and down and side to side and front to back and so forth, I feel like running a marathon! (or taking a nap.) My point is, Zumba is an amazing workout, and it’s actually FUN, even if I do look pretty silly doing it. (I won’t look so silly showing off the results…I hope.)

As for boxing, the class is taught by an instructor named Wally; his name couldn’t be more perfect. I can imagine him in my corner of the ring, pouring water down my throat and telling me to suck it up, the swelling will go down eventually! You really only need one eye! He shows no mercy on the females of the class, and that’s exactly what I need. I’m actually learning how to defend myself through his class.

Come on, throw a punch! Bet I can duck and weave and give you a nice right uppercut before you even know what’s hit ya’. (Just kidding…don’t really try to punch me.)

Kickboxing is familiar, the same type of workout I received at another place I frequented last summer, further from home. I slinked into class this past Monday morning to find I was the only one (besides the instructor, of course) to show up. Great! A one-on-one session.

My start to the morning? “Alright, we’re going to start with a workout that will let us burn 200 calories in 10 minutes!”

I’m pretty sure I was able to burn all 200.

It’s true what they say, you know, that exercise gets your blood pumping and gets all those “happy” chemicals flowing. My mood has continued to increase with every building block of stamina I’m taking back – you know, the ones that were stolen from me some time between November 25th and now.

If you’re still in the dark, put all of that energy into something that makes you feel alive. I’m happy to say I’ve caught the “exercise bug” again.

Happy Thursday! Zumba at 6.

One of my favorite Zumba songs. Our dance pretty much goes like this, too…except I don’t get to wear stilettos or dance in front of a huge fan on a lighted stage..or anything cool like that…

 

 

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Filed under Fitness, Uncategorized

Going nowhere fast; What makes me happy.

This pretty much sums it up.

I’d hate for this post to be depressing or too focused on “self-hating” as I recently read about in another blogger’s post, but I have spent the past week or so moping around, lying in bed for an extra hour, going back for seconds, crying at the drop of a dime, things that aren’t normal (or too becoming) of me.

It seems I’ve hit some sort of obstacle and I can’t figure out how to get around it, without having to jump through the ring of fire or swim through the lake of piranhas. I’m stuck. Stuck, stuck, stuck.

I’ve tried to focus all of that negative energy into something worthwhile, like my writing, but every time I flop into a chair and stare into my 45 pages of writing, I’m clueless. This is no good.

So – more for myself, I suppose, but hopefully to encourage a few others that are feeling rather “blah” lately, too – here are a few things that always manage to make me feel better. I’ll be referring to this list later, I’m sure.

1.)

The best $8 bottle of red around.

The delicousness speaks for itself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These two things never disappoint. Nothing cures a bout of depression like a large glass of dry red wine and some fresh mozzarella topped with balsamic and a Jersey tomato. (At least Jersey is good for something, right?)

I enjoyed a pick-me-up late Wednesday night with drink, mozzarella, a best friend, and…. another…. friend:

E.T. wanted a piece of the action!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2.) Reading. When I read, I can forget about my crappy day for a moment and focus on the crappy day of someone else. Or else I can delve directly into an exciting moment, a love story, a murder, a scene of violence or sex or adventure. It takes my mind off of what is going on around me or in my crazy head.

Current read:

Exciting. Depressing. Compelling. You know the story.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3.) Working out! This used to be something that made me even more depressed; who wants to sweat and hurt for an hour when there’s a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough in the freezer? (Still sounds tempting.) BUT – nowadays (most of the time) I’d rather grind out my frustrations on a bag or a treadmill. FYI: A pulled muscle is sexier than an ice-cream gut.

4.) Anything on ID. This is my favorite channel; plenty of blood, guts and…more blood and guts. Murder, murder, murder. Hey, I am a writer of horror. I’m sure if Poe was here, he’d be making the popcorn before another episode of 48 Hours…

 

 

 

 

 

 

5.)

So inviting.

So this queen may look a little more inviting than ours, but ours is still a big comfy mess. When I’m being a negative nancy, just shove one of these under me and I’m good to go. Sometimes hiding under the covers for an extended period of time truly does the trick.

 

 

6.) Pretty much any movie from the 1980’s can cheer me up. Doesn’t the same go for everyone else?

Who doesn't enjoy the story of an awkward teenage girl, forgotten by everyone but the hottest guy in school on her birthday?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7.)

Love.

This man right here. But especially the image of this man right here, in all his ’90s, grungy, long-haired hotness. So his hair is short and spiky now, but I couldn’t resist posting a picture of his former look. Either way, he’s hot. And he takes good care of me. And looking at this picture makes me laugh. And smile. (And I’ll probably get in trouble once he notices I posted it. Oops.)

Ending on #7 – it’s supposedly good luck, so let’s just stick with that. These things help pull me out of my ruts (although once in a while, only time can pull me out completely).

What makes you happy when you’re feeling convinced that the world is about to end?

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