fixing a hole

My previous post about my mental health was really cathartic, even more so than the usual warm glowing warming glow I feel after getting something off my ample and amazing chest. It was (stupidly) difficult to get the words out, but having my brain laundry dangling all out there in the open (coupled with the support and encouragement lovingly foisted my way) has galvanized me into action. When you’re depressed, Taking Action is the single hardest thing to do – it’s Step One, and if getting there was easy, there wouldn’t be a mental health epidemic.

So, I’m pretty proud of myself for Taking Action. It took too long for me to admit the state of my brain to myself, but I’m glad I did: in an almost unprecedented turnaround, I already feel better. Was it the Taking Action? Is it just psychosemantic? Dunno! It could be all or any of the things I’ve done to fix my depression since Monday:

  • Admit to myself and the internet at large that I was feeling lousy and needed help
  • Made an appointment to speak with a doctor (thanks, Medeo!)
  • Bought myself a present
  • Had a long talk with Ed
  • Cut back a little on my caffeine intake
  • Tried to go to bed at a decent hour
  • Spoke with the aforementioned doctor, who didn’t dismiss my concerns as stupid or tell me to just man up
  • Looked into cognitive behaviour therapy via MoodGYM (which better come with a Pokemon badge)
  • Increased my medication
  • Had a 1v1 with my manager
  • Tacos

Obviously this is a very Kimli-specific list, and one I don’t necessarily recommend you follow for treating your own issues (except for tacos: everyone should always have many tacos). We’re all beautiful unique snowflakes, so what works for me isn’t guaranteed to have any effect whatsoever on you. Blah blah disclaimer blah small print blah butts – all I know is that I’m feeling better, and I’m grateful for it.

One thing I did do that I really don’t recommend for anyone (including myself, but we who write the rules rarely obey) was tinker with my meds. I’m on a particularly low dose of brain pills at the moment, but I had some pills left over from my previous mental escalation. They’re the tiniest of stepladders, but they really help when I need them .. and on Monday, I needed them. I took a tiny stepladder with my regular dose, and the next day I felt markedly better. Was it the additional medication? Was it the fact that I decided it was time to feel better? Tacos? I can’t answer that. While it’s true I arbitrarily decided “MOAR MEDS”, I did talk about it with the doctor (albeit a day after the fact), who agreed to prescribe me the stepladder so I don’t have to horde pills in the future. Increasing my medication, along with the other things listed above, should make things better. I am looking forward to feeling like myself again.

Also, you may be confused at the inclusion of the 1v1 with my manager, but today I got some feedback on my performance to date and it was great and I am awesome and everyone is still super happy they hired me, and that is lovely. I work much better when I get feedback, and positive feedback can make me light up like a teenage boy’s bedroom under blacklight.

ps: anytime you see the wrong word (ie: horde where hoard should be used), it’s on purpose. word play. homonyminal fun. a wizard did it. i’m teaching the world ’bout homonyms!

falling slowly

It’s probably for the best that this post has nothing to do with falling in love with scruffy Irish buskers, even if would be terribly exciting (likely in theory only). Of course, even if that WERE my reality, chances are a) I wouldn’t notice, or b) I wouldn’t feel a thing .. because that’s what this post is really about: my mental health is in a really, really bad state right now.

Things should be awesome here on Planet Kimli – adorable kitten, new job, a trunk full of Diet Coke, fun things to look forward to, excellent scooting weather, my skin is better than it has been in a year – but they’re significantly less than good, for no real reason. I’m tired all the time. Nothing makes me happy. Nothing makes me sad. Nothing makes me anything, actually. I feel utterly detached, and everything is an endless sea of grey. Logically I know I should want to fix this, but the only solution I can come up with is largely based around my crawling into bed and never ever coming out. I’m told this isn’t so much of a fix as it is a terrible idea that will leave me both poor and smelly, but damn if it isn’t the only thing that interests me even a little these days. I am in a Bad Place. I don’t know how to get out.

Help?

Apparently, I can feel two things: shame and disgust. The shame comes from my posting this at all, and the disgust comes from that shame. Isn’t it stupid that I can wax poetry for weeks about my genitals, but when I really need to say something serious about my mental health, my very strong gut feeling is to sit down and shut up and post something meaningless instead so I won’t embarrass myself or others? I know better than that. As a whole, things won’t get better until there’s as little stigma about depression as there is about having a cold. And yet .. it’s taken me ages to post this. I haven’t been feeling like this for a few days or weeks, but months, and I’ve said nothing. I am ashamed of my silence. This is so much more important than what’s going on with my vagina (not much of anything, thanks for asking), but I can’t speak.

Now I am super annoyed at myself, too. I do not like today so much.

oh HELL no

The Ontario Provincial Police released an app this week called “Send This Instead” (iOS|Android), aimed at getting kids to send a snarky response to a request for nude pics instead of the nude pics themselves. While I applaud the sentiment, I’m dubious that this will actually work – but if it even stops one kid from feeling obligated to give up the digital goods, then it’s worth it. I can’t help but look at the app with a critical eye, though:

  • Oh my god that iOS icon is PAINFUL please fire your designer
  • They asked “funny people we knew” for snappy responses, and the best they could come up with included one racial insult (“eskimo” is frowned upon by some), and several prison rape jokes. Great job, funny people.
  • Grammatical and punctuation errors make me want to punch babies and are why we can’t have nice things.
  • Blah blah greater good, they mean well, etc – but there are some things that are just unforgivable: the app, when installed, will take it upon itself to SAVE ALL ITS IMAGES TO YOUR PHOTO ALBUM. It doesn’t ask you, or tell you that this is going to happen – it asks for access to your photos (standard iOS behaviour), then saves over 40 stupid pictures to your device. NO. HELL TO THE FUCKING NO. I’m sure that most people aren’t nearly as anal retentive as I am about their phone space, but you do NOT go saving shit I didn’t approve to my goddamn phone! Just for that, I’m sending naked pictures to anyone who asks or otherwise! That’s right – say hi to me in the hall, and you’re getting a goddamn naked picture. SUCK IT, ONTARIO PROVINCIAL POLICE. YOU GO TOO FAR.

Grumble. This entire user experience is just fucking awful.

seriously though, this is fucking hideous. doesn't look like this on android, either.

seriously though, this is fucking hideous. doesn’t look like this on android, either.

horde and purge

We’ve been doing some purging, for Reasons. It’s a wholesale get rid of shit throw down, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t still things that don’t give us pause when playing Keep, Donate, Toss (the boring old person version of Fuck, Marry, Kill): a tiny shirt I wore in grade 1 (go Hampton Hawks!) (kept), freebie gaming shirts (how will people know I’m a nerd if I don’t wear this Titanfall shirt?!) (donated), the Fertility Blanket (tossed).

I feel really guilty about tossing the Fertility Blanket, but I didn’t have a choice. Some history: Ed and I received it for our wedding from my Auntie Grandma Cousin Lady (an elderly relative on my mom’s side – we’re apparently related, but I don’t know how). She crocheted it for us in the babibest of blue and pink, leaving no question that the blanket was intended to encourage (or perhaps cause) procreation on a biblical scale. The blanket was lovely (if kind of hideous), and I really appreciated the gesture – crocheting something of that size must have taken ages. Auntie Grandma Cousin Lady knew nothing about me, and had no reason not to think that Ed and my first goal would be to have ALL THE BABIES .. so, very touching gift. Even if I was terrified of it.

We decided to hang onto the blanket in case we ever needed a covering that would fertilize eggs when no one was looking. We moved it from Edmonton to Calgary to East Van to North Van and back to East Van, never once using it for its intended purpose because why on earth would we. I may have even worn gloves while handling it, just in case (I am nothing if not paranoid of conception). We didn’t really give it much thought until last night, during the Purge Part 1 – I had to pull it out from under the dresser so we could vacuum up the dust chunks that had accumulated and become sentient. It was then that I realized:

  • moths!
  • cat hair!
  • cat hork!
  • scorch marks!

In the frigid depths of last winter, we turned the bedroom heater on to stave off the worst of the cold. It wasn’t on a lot, but it was evidently enough to burn a fucking hole into the blanket and melt fibres and char things up a little. While I’m very glad things didn’t burst into flame and become a baby-making ball of fire, I’m kind of freaked out at how easily things could gotten very bad, very quickly. We disposed of the Fertility Blanket once and for all, vowed to keep the baseboards free from any and all obstructions, and moved large pieces of furniture around because our neighbours suck.

Tonight, more of the same. I am so very excited about it and definitely do not want to punch or kick anyone.

on the way home

on the way home

hello world

hai!

hai!

Piccadilly Circus officially joined our family yesterday afternoon. She’s camping out in my bathroom for a couple days, and then we’ll start introducing her to the others. Everyone has seen/smelled each other from afar, but with the exception of a couple of startled hisses (Lemon barged into my bathroom and scared himself and Picca) it’s been very civilized around here. Her first 24 hours in our house have been full of play time and non-stop purring, and she’s so friggin’ cute I could just melt (and given the temperature in here, melting is pretty damn likely). Just look at this face:

eeeee kitten belly

eeeee kitten belly

DSC_5939

the only time she hasn’t been purring is when she’s deep sleeping

DSC_5940

srsly i can’t even

 

drum roll

Last night we signed the papers, checked off a lot of boxes, agreed not to eat any kittens, and handed over the adoption fee. On Sunday evening, Piccadilly Circus will be joining our family and will undoubtedly reign supreme over Hobbes and Lemon.

Thank you to all who voted on the name! The results were surprisingly close:

  • Piccadilly Circus: 17 votes
  • Marzipan: 15 votes
  • Freddie Mercury: 13 votes
  • Other: 9 votes
  • Zuul: 9 votes
  • Quinoa: 7 votes
  • Swinton: 7 votes
  • “Other” Answers:
    • Bohemian Tuesday Chlamydia Watson
    • Renesmee
    • Hildegard von Bingen
    • Princess Bubblegum or Marceline
    • Cthulhu: 2 votes
    • Gary
    • Tildy
    • Mornington Crescent
    • Rosalind Franklin
    • Kimchi/Kitchi

Piccadilly Circus won fair and square, but we were definitely leaning in that direction anyway. It was Ed’s idea, and of the 5 cats that have shared our household, I suppose it’s only fair that he gets a say in ONE of their names .. plus, there are so many nicknames that will come out of it.

Also, stickers!

this was a happy coincidence: i didn't even know i had a piccadilly circus sticker until i went looking for something new to put on lola!

this was a happy coincidence: i didn’t even know i had a piccadilly circus sticker until i went looking for something new to put on lola!

My Instagram is gonna be SO FLUFFY.

answer the call of duty

Help me name my kitten!

After meeting a hundred squirmy kittens and falling in love with them all, we’ve decided to adopt a tiny tortie girl currently named Mathilda. I am not crazy about this name for a variety of reasons, but in order to change it I have to make a decision before tomorrow at 5pm so the name can be forged into the Vast Kitten Database for all eternity. The pressure is on, and I am no good under pressure when it comes to naming things. Help ensure my kitten doesn’t end up with a name like Bohemian Tuesday Chlamydia Watson: vote now!

A million kitten pictures forthcoming!

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