The Cheese Grates It: The Cheesy One's (Gloomy, sorry) Holiday Message for 2017

Happy holidays, People, however you may celebrate them.

Apologies in advance for being a killjoy with a somber PSA. Please keep in mind that the holidays aren't happy for everybody. This doesn't make the unhappy person "bad" or "a Scrooge." It just means the holidays are hard for them.

I am having an extremely blue Christmas, partially for reasons that I'm sure most people could understand at least a bit. The majority of the big losses I've had have come in the Winter months, particularly in November. I jokingly said that I have re-named November Butt Month because nothing good has ever come of it, and people got mad at me. For fuck's sake, I'm not saying that if you have a birthday in November you're worthless. I'm just saying that I've had a lot of losses in November and this was my hyperbolic, snarky, and ultimately worthless and impotent way of striking back.

It was like an extra twist of the knife to have my Star Shower projector stolen. I don't put up a tree because the cats just destroy it. I didn't want to get another cheap string of lights because the instant one burns out, you might as well throw the whole string away. What a waste. So I got the Star Shower for something a little different. Then it got stolen, and I didn't end up getting any other decorations. 

I know it's a small thing, not like that guy whose son is getting a kidney transplant and some lousy porch pirate pilfered $5000 of very important medication that was left on his porch. I know I'm overreacting. Not on the outside, I appear calm and rational. It's all on the inside. I have bipolar disorder. My brain loves to do that shit. 

He once said that the only place he found peace was when he was playing.

I hope he is finding peace now that he is free of his very ill body.

I know people also think I'm stupid for grieving a person whom I didn't know in life. I can't really explain how or why this affected me so strongly, but it has. There is a certain magic gone from the world and the realization has come hard that I had a lot of useless and futile dreams for myself when I was younger. I was a foolish and unrealistic person.

The truth is, I would commit suicide, but I worry greatly about what would happen to my son if I were gone, so I hang on. Aside from my son and his well-being, I have nothing to live for.

Do me a favor and don't whip out the old "but, counseling and meds!" chestnut. I'll be 53 years old in less than two months. I've lived with a mood disorder at least since I hit puberty. I was nine years old when the hormones kicked in and I started growing boobs which I didn't want because I knew the gross way in which men reacted to breasts, and I started to get hair on my bits and pits. I didn't want that either. That bit of WTMI gives you the idea of how long I've lived with this shit. There's nothing new under the sun.

Just believe me that I already know what the options are and they haven't worked. I'm being honest about how I feel. Let's leave it at that.

I once learned a song called "What If A Day." It was written by Thomas Campion in the Elizabethan era. I have a horrible voice not fit to be heard by anything with ears, but I often sing this to myself. For me, it embodies the truth.

What if a day, or a month, or a yeare

Crown thy delights with a thousand sweet contentings?

Cannot a chance of a night or an howre

Crosse thy desires with as many sad tormentings?

          Fortune, honor, beauty, youth

          Are but blossoms dying;

          Wanton pleasure, doating love,

          Are but shadowes flying.

          All our joyes are but toyes,

          Idle thoughts deceiving;

          None have power of an howre

          In their lives bereaving.

Earthes but a point to the world, and a man

Is but a point to the worlds compared centure:

Shall then a point of a point be so vaine

As to triumph in a seely points adventure?

          All is hassard that we have,

          There is nothing biding;

          Dayes of pleasure are like streames

          Through faire meadowes gliding.

          Weale and woe, time doth goe,

          Time is ever turning:

          Secret fates guide our states,

          Both in mirth and mourning.

And there you have it. 

I hope you have a happy holiday. Forgive me if I don't.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

Friendly Fill-Ins December 8 2017

I know that Vinnie Paul is missing his little brother Dimebag Darrell today and always. For those who don't know, Darrell was senselessly gunned down by the very disturbed Nathan Gale on December 8, 2004. He was 38 years old.

Week 83: December 8, 2017:

1. The best part of last week was actually Sunday of this week. My son and I saw Thor Ragnarok at the Alamo Draft House.

2. The worst part of last week was the persistent pain from the tendonitis in my left arm.

3. The 31 Daze of Xmahanukwanzyule is a Winter project that I will be working on.

4. A holiday gift that I always buy for someone is: I doubt I will have money to buy gifts for anyone this year.

The Cheese Grates It: Drawing Parallels

I couldn't find an appropriate picture, so here's a picture of a Babirusa

I know that I'm pretty much the most defensive person in the world and that I likely overreacted to certain things that people said recently. I have a tendency to do that. As a friend pointed out, certain things which got my hackles up were well-intentioned. All I can do is to apologize and to hopefully explain why sometimes well-intentioned statements about developing a brighter outlook can rub a person who lives with a mood disorder the wrong way.

I think the best way to explain it is to draw a parallel to certain other conditions I live with which are strictly physical conditions, but which can also affect my moods.

I have diabetes.

I would like to draw a parallel between my use of insulin to control my blood sugar and my use of dark, sometimes hyperbolic poetry as an outlet for the bleakness that often inundates my mind.

My body produces little if any of its own insulin at this point. Insulin helps the body process sugar in the blood. Without it, the high sugar levels begin to cause damage to the vascular system. 

Now, let's say someone were to say to me "if you'd just act like people who have a normal pancreas, you'd learn to be like people with a normal pancreas."

To which my reply would be "I will literally never be like people with a normal pancreas because my pancreas doesn't work normally."

"Yes, but if you behave like people with a normal pancreas, your pancreas will start to behave normally."

"No. It literally will not. If I try to behave like people with a normal pancreas, my elevated blood sugar will start to damage my body fairly quickly."

"Really, though, Positive Pancreatic Thinking will heal your faulty pancreas!"

At this point, somebody might be getting stabbed with an insulin needle, and it isn't going to be me.

Most people can see that the above scenario is a bit ridiculous (although anyone with diabetes can tell you that we've heard a million and one tales of "miracle cures" for our condition.) However, a lot of people can't see that they're doing a very similar thing when telling someone who lives with a mood disorder that if they just practice positive thinking they'll become a normal, happy person. It literally doesn't work that way.

I'll be 53 years old in February. 

I had my first mixed episode when I was ten. I didn't know that's what it was then, but with the knowledge I've gained, I now know that's exactly what it was.

I had my first severe depressive episode when I was twelve. I also became bulimic and made my first half-assed suicide attempt by swallowing a bunch of aspirin, which made me sick. 

I was labeled as overly dramatic and attention seeking and told countless times to just stop thinking and acting as I did.

I've learned a lot of coping techniques over the years. One of the ways I channel the darkness rather than cutting myself or self-medicating is by writing.

I've been through a lot of undesired changes this year.

I live with chronic pain and am not sure how long I'll be able to keep working. My situation is precarious. 

I would never tell someone who tends to have a positive outlook on things that they need to create things that are dark and gloomy. However, people don't think twice about telling me that I need to write things that are more cheerful and that I need to have a brighter outlook.

It also minimizes and belittles my struggles when people say things which imply that what I'm going through is some sort of a phase. If it's a phase, it's a damn long one. It's lasted most of my life.

Sometimes I write funny stuff. I actually do have a sense of humor, which most people don't get.

Perhaps people like me do serve a purpose. We often have high levels of empathy. Perhaps by pointing out the hurtful things in the world we can teach others to be kinder.

Hell, I don't know. I haven't figured it out yet and I rather doubt I'm going to.

I do know that I like German chocolate cake. That much I've figured out for certain. I wish I had some right now.

My mind doesn't work like yours. I know most of you can't understand a mind like mine, but I ask you to please try to respect that maybe people like me do know our own minds and maybe it would be nice to be treated not as broken half-people who need to be fixed, but as whole and worthy of consideration exactly as we are.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

This is my Always Keep Fighting tattoo.

It's a real, permanent tattoo.

Some days its easier to keep fighting than others.

This is a reminder for me to keep fighting on those days too.

It's also a tribute to me and those like me.

OctPoWriMo 2017: Day 28: LONE

Copyright: grandfailure / 123RF Stock Photo

LONE

Lonely

Lonely me

I feel unwanted

I feel undeserving

I fear I'm fatally flawed

LONE, lonely me, fatally flawed

~Cie and Pepper~

Notes:

Here is another work which is autobiographical to the author and also descriptive of Fetch's female protagonist, Pepper Baiij.

I desperately want to get back to working on stories again. I am lost without them.

At least I met Gem on the astral plane while in a troubled sleep that I hoped never to wake from.

In a world that wants sunshine, flowers, chirping birds, and unicorn farts, I bring you depressing poetry. Hence, I walk alone through this life.

~Cie~

OctPoWriMo 2017: Day 18: Everyone Went On Eating

My life is a mess

She said, grieving her lost dreams

Feeling dead inside

At the family table

Everyone went on eating

~Cie~

Note:

This is autobiographical.

I didn't feel up to trying the Palindrome poem today and thought it would be most effective to keep my work brief.

30 Days of Haiga 2017: Day 11: End of Story

Background Image Copyright: tomertu / 123RF Stock Photo

Text manipulation by The Real Cie

Notes:

Without going into too much detail, which would detract from the viewing of the image, I have had a difficult year. I have changed jobs six times and eventually ended up changing careers entirely. 

There are aspects of my current job which I really appreciate, but it is not an easy job and I do not make as much money as I did in my previous profession, which there are several reasons I can't go back to, the biggest one being changes in my diabetes which lead to fatigue and weakness if I don't pace myself.

I feel like I have lost the things that made me who I am: my imagination and my ability to enter other worlds astrally and psychically. My heart is heavy and I feel broken. I feel that I am constantly being punished and that there is no need for external hells when all the hell I need is here in the loss of that which made me who I am.

Cross-posted to:

Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp

Dark Hearts Love Too

Dream About Me Sweet Brother

Encyclopedia Netherworld

Esoteric Escape

Fetch

Netherworld Writer's Guild

One Love

Starry Demons

Strands of Eternity

Fiendly Fill-Ins

https://mcguffysreader.blogspot.com/2017/07/fill-in-statements-week-62.html

Week 62: July 14, 2017

 

1. My inner child really and truly hates me. This part of my psyche does not understand the concept of doing what you have to do to survive, and most of the time that doesn't involve creativity.

2. My favorite month is probably October.

3. My favourite commercial is I avoid commercials.

4. Personally, I don't care for the way this life has turned out. I want a do-over. Or maybe I don't. Perhaps I just want to fade.