Let’s try to end this on a medium note

I’m standing in the kitchen shoveling seconds into my empty bowl when I hear my son tell my father:

“I found a $900 calf”.


I quickly realized he had said cab. Like the cab of a truck. Which makes a lot more sense.

And is a great way to open this mish mash of a post.

(…but on a side note, a calf in the backyard wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s happened around here).

I want to know why there aren’t medium sized Sharpies. We have fine points. The standard stubbies. Then the super extra large marker you could almost give someone a concussion with. But nothing between fine point and standard.

As I was driving to work Tuesday morning, I asked myself what vegetable I was most like. It was a no brainer- I am the humble potato. However, this is when things became dark because as soon as I said, “Potato”, I thought, “Because you can eat them so many different ways“.

…which led me to think about all the different ways a cannibalistic serial killer might want to portion up my body before eating me (would they cook me using a recipe from The Great British Bake Off?!). I decided it was probably best to halt this train before it got too far down the tracks. It was early in the morning and I didn’t want to think about being slathered up and slapped on a platter with an apple or two shoved in God knows which orifice.

But I did bring this up at work.

Because I knew my coworkers would provide important feedback.

They did not disappoint (we are an HR nightmare waiting to happen). Neither did my friend, Jessica, when I asked her if humans were red, white, or dark meat. Before you judge me, it was a genuinely curious question. Her response was incredibly full of science (which is why I love asking her questions) but the take away was we might be all of the meats.

You’re welcome.

These have all been nice little reprieves from the depression that set in Saturday night and is still hanging out like that friend who stays way too late after everyone else has gone home. This is a great reminder as to why I should never, ever host a party.

Depression is an old hat- popping up here and there ever since I was around 14. While it’s never fun spending time together, I’m able to manage it. However, the past few years I’ve noticed a change- depression makes me incredibly irritable.

So I’m basically kind of a sad asshole…or would I be more of a hemorrhoid because I’m irritable? …I think I’m going to stop right there.

Things that usually don’t bother me cause me to complain or get snappy. Like this morning when the nurse told me they won’t refill my antibiotics because they want me to come in. Even though I was just there in December. I wasn’t awful, but she could tell I was super annoyed.

…that isn’t me.

I know the providers do things the way they do for a reason. I called back when I was done being irrationally pissed off, made an appointment, and had the front desk tell the nurse I was sorry for being a brat. Normally, I’d be a little frustrated with having to come back in- who wants to go to the doctor? But I wouldn’t have let it show.

Then I got a little grumpy with a coworker (I’m sorry!). Ugh. Work is where it’s been the worst. I think if I can at least make sure I’m reframing all the shitty thoughts that pop in my head, that would help tremendously. Truth be told, I haven’t been taking the best care of myself

Except for sleep. Because I definitely still enjoy doing that.

But how I know it’s really bad is when I want to slightly yell at people who want to spend time with me. I LOVE YOU BUT STOP BEING SELFISH BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE THE ENERGY FOR YOU RIGHT NOW! LET ME WALLOW IN MY BED WHILE WATCHING NETFLIX! THIS IS WHY WE HAVE TEXTING!

I don’t yell, though, because I love my people very much even when this mental illness is turning me into overly tired, selfish toddler. And it’s just fucking mean. However, I find it kind of funny depressed Amber gets mad that people want to spend time with her. Which, in all honesty, is probably what I need most right now- being around people who love me, even when I’m a sad, angry asshole.

I love you all so, so much. Especially when I’m a sad, angry asshole. Like right now.

I cried on the way home and felt better. I know how I feel isn’t my fault, but I do need to get back to taking better care of myself. And tend carefully to my thoughts. And my sass mouth. Definitely need to get that in check.

My cousin has been checking on me lately, though, which has helped tremendously. In fact, she made me give her three positive things about my day.

And because I said we’d end this post on a medium note (or what I consider a medium note) here they are:

  • Dad baked cookies (the chocolate peanut butter ones from Schwan’s! I’m totally stealing one for breakfast tomorrow)
  • I was able to come straight home after work
  • We have soft toilet paper

…I definitely appreciate that toilet paper.

More socially awkward posts to come 😉

Published by amberalice

I’m not sure how to summarize myself properly (I struggle with simply being human). But let’s give it a try! Spiritual witchy hippie who dreams of three day weekends and human rights for all. Lunch lady to the neighborhood birbs (white breasted nut hatches are the best!). Adore my jumping spiders. Oh, there are also 50 or so plants we share our home with. And some rogue lady bugs. It’s always interesting to see where they show up. Like on toilet paper. This is where I add a heavy dash of queer, neurodivergency, and vegetarianism. Am big on hugs- I give them most generously.

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