Better Late Than Never: The 2019 Post
Jan. 3rd, 2020 11:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teddy_radiatorI have enjoyed reconnecting with Live Journal a bit more this year. Even though I only posted on the average of twice a month, it was still a lot more than 2018, which was just such a difficult year for me and TheHubs™.
I will start off my saying that I've been quite depressed throughout 2019. More than I can ever remember being in my life. I have felt so worn down, and apathetic, and numb inside. I realise a lot of factors have caused this, and I am truly trying to defeat them, but it's hard. I don't remember ever a time in my life when I've taken so little pleasure in anything. And we've done a lot this year that should have given me a lot of pleasure.
Let me make one thing clear, though: I don't feel suicidal. I am not in any way thinking suicidal thoughts. I want to be alive - I am craving feeling alive again. Being dead is the last thing I want. I am not giving up; I'm just struggling.
I did a lot of things this year that were positive; I published my second novel, The Chine, available in paperback and e-book forms, as well as a tremendously good Audible version, read by my friend Evan Harris. I'm very proud of this novel, as well as the job Evan did on the Audible book. He truly brought the characters to life. We continue to host our podcast, Teddy & The Bassman, although we didn't do many podcasts in 2019. We do hope to increase our numbers this year.
We took our first trip back to the UK since we moved back here in 2008, and while it was a fun trip, we were traveling with friends, and this usually involves compromises. We didn't get to visit a lot of our old haunts, and I felt a little like we really didn't get to visit properly. I did get to see Ireland, especially the Ring of Kerry, which brought the most comfort to my battered old soul this year. I still think of it and feel a measure of peace and contentment.
We had fun, spent money pretty much any old way we wanted, brought back some great swag, and then the bottom promptly fell out of work. The company lost a huge contract, which made up approximately 80% of our work. We had almost no work during Christmas, which meant no Christmas presents this year. And while I know in my head that this isn't the True Meaning of Christmas, it was a bit dispiriting to have literally nothing there to unwrap. What is worse is the feeling of apathy I had during the Christmas season. I'm usually the Christmas Elf around here, and I felt so incredibly blah throughout the entire season.
There were hightlights, though; I entered a really fun writing contest sponsored by The Masque archive and won! My prize is due to arrive tomorrow and I am excited about that, I will freely admit. If you'd like to read it, it's called The Partridge And The Pear Tree, and you can read it along with the other terrific entries HERE. I'm also planning on adding it to my WordPress Blog as well, but I would encourage you to read it at The Masque. And I've received a fantastic gift from the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sshg_giftfest, which is exceptional this year. It's called Imagine The Possibilities (or There's No Such Thing As Normal), and it's gorgeous! I have been blown away by the level of fic and art. We SSHG folks have outdone ourselves this year, and I include myself. I was proud of the gift I submitted as well. I realise it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I felt like I had done a decent job on both it and The Masque entry. In fact, the Masque has another quick contest coming up, and I may just enter again. You might want to check it out - it's only 500 words! You can read about it HERE:.
TheHubs™ and I worked on several projects this year; one was my new writing desk, made from an old Victorian Pump Organ:
Our lovely friend![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sabrebabe sent me an old family sled last year, and we had a great time restoring it and using it as a Christmas decoration. It was in great shape, just needed a bit of cosmetic TLC:
I really enjoyed working on these projects. Our first project for 2020 is to convert the closet in the Steampunk Library to a reading nook, sort of in this style:
It's going to look a little different (no bookshelves in the back, and the interior will be painted more the colour of that seat), but we've already removed the door and have started putting together the idea for it. I needed to clean out that space anyway; it was full of crap and I just kept cramming stuff into it. And we're not great carpenters, so it won't look this polished, but I like the idea of it, and having my own little hidey-hole. I'm sure it won't get used as much as I fantasise it will, but it will be fun to work on.
As you can see, I really don't have that much to be depressed about, and yet, I am, deeply. Writing about it helps. I reminds me that I am not just sitting around wallowing all the time, although a bit of wallowing factors into it. I always feel a bit physically bad this time of year, and I feel old and rather useless. My hips are getting arthritic, and that means that walking is no fun, but I know we need to be active for TheHubs™' sake. And I still worry about his health. His stroke scared me more than anything in my life, and I am still scared a lot of the time. He had a bit of a stomach bug during Christmas, and I was nearly panicking, afraid he was getting ill again. Everything scares me lately. I am afraid all the time, and I feel like I'm always about six breaths away from a panic attack.
I hate to burden people with my little miseries. I don't like talking about how much I feel sorry for myself. I realise folks get tired of that pretty quickly. But you are the only people who understand, whom I can actually talk to, who don't look at me and say, "How can you feel depressed? Look at all the cool stuff going on in your life!"
That really only adds to the sense of failure. I don't feel like I deserve to be this apathetic and down. I am writing in my journal a lot, and I have writting more in the last year than in a long while. I have goals, and I intend to achieve them, and I am determined to crawl out of this depression. I am trying to keep my health intact; now I just need to get my head in good shape.
One of the things I think will help is participating in life here again. Two years ago, I couldn't. All I could think about was taking care of TheHubs and making sure he was alright. He is doing well, and determined to stay healthy, and I am proud of how far he has come along. I showed him the letter his speech therapist wrote him when he was discharged from the hospital, and he read it as if he'd never seen it before. He told me that, while he remembered the letter well, the last time he read it (ie, about a month after the stroke), he was still having problems comprehending what he was reading. It makes my blood run cold to this day, remembering how this erudite, glib man was reduced to struggling over the difference between "M" and "N" and naming the days of the week and months of the year. We talk about it alot. I wish I didn't think about it so much, but it's hard not to.
I saw the coolest little piece about Talliston House. If you are not aware of it, please go to the website on it. Not only is each room based on a different look, but a different point in time or feeling. Each room has it's own time period, even scent. I especially love the Watchtower, which is set in the days leading up to Christmas, Wednesday 14 December 1887 05:11:23, to be exact. I adore the idea that a room, home, moment in time can capture that feeling of quiet, magical anticipation I have always found in the week leading up to Christmas. I am happy to know that someone totally understands that, and was able to create that in a place like Talliston. On January 18, the owner, is leaving for the last time, and bequeathing Talliston to someone else. What a fascinating story.
Tomorrow we're taking the Christmas decs down. It's close enough to Twelfth Night, and I'm ready. I like them to go up early; I enjoy the build-up to Christmas. Afterward, I'm sort of ready to put it away. Unfortunately, I cannot capture time in a bottle like Talliston, and I'll have to wait until next year, but every year, I hope I will be able to make a little magic of my own at Christmas. It's always sad to pack it all away.
I will start off my saying that I've been quite depressed throughout 2019. More than I can ever remember being in my life. I have felt so worn down, and apathetic, and numb inside. I realise a lot of factors have caused this, and I am truly trying to defeat them, but it's hard. I don't remember ever a time in my life when I've taken so little pleasure in anything. And we've done a lot this year that should have given me a lot of pleasure.
Let me make one thing clear, though: I don't feel suicidal. I am not in any way thinking suicidal thoughts. I want to be alive - I am craving feeling alive again. Being dead is the last thing I want. I am not giving up; I'm just struggling.
I did a lot of things this year that were positive; I published my second novel, The Chine, available in paperback and e-book forms, as well as a tremendously good Audible version, read by my friend Evan Harris. I'm very proud of this novel, as well as the job Evan did on the Audible book. He truly brought the characters to life. We continue to host our podcast, Teddy & The Bassman, although we didn't do many podcasts in 2019. We do hope to increase our numbers this year.
We took our first trip back to the UK since we moved back here in 2008, and while it was a fun trip, we were traveling with friends, and this usually involves compromises. We didn't get to visit a lot of our old haunts, and I felt a little like we really didn't get to visit properly. I did get to see Ireland, especially the Ring of Kerry, which brought the most comfort to my battered old soul this year. I still think of it and feel a measure of peace and contentment.
We had fun, spent money pretty much any old way we wanted, brought back some great swag, and then the bottom promptly fell out of work. The company lost a huge contract, which made up approximately 80% of our work. We had almost no work during Christmas, which meant no Christmas presents this year. And while I know in my head that this isn't the True Meaning of Christmas, it was a bit dispiriting to have literally nothing there to unwrap. What is worse is the feeling of apathy I had during the Christmas season. I'm usually the Christmas Elf around here, and I felt so incredibly blah throughout the entire season.
There were hightlights, though; I entered a really fun writing contest sponsored by The Masque archive and won! My prize is due to arrive tomorrow and I am excited about that, I will freely admit. If you'd like to read it, it's called The Partridge And The Pear Tree, and you can read it along with the other terrific entries HERE. I'm also planning on adding it to my WordPress Blog as well, but I would encourage you to read it at The Masque. And I've received a fantastic gift from the
sshg_giftfest, which is exceptional this year. It's called Imagine The Possibilities (or There's No Such Thing As Normal), and it's gorgeous! I have been blown away by the level of fic and art. We SSHG folks have outdone ourselves this year, and I include myself. I was proud of the gift I submitted as well. I realise it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I felt like I had done a decent job on both it and The Masque entry. In fact, the Masque has another quick contest coming up, and I may just enter again. You might want to check it out - it's only 500 words! You can read about it HERE:.TheHubs™ and I worked on several projects this year; one was my new writing desk, made from an old Victorian Pump Organ:
Our lovely friend
sabrebabe sent me an old family sled last year, and we had a great time restoring it and using it as a Christmas decoration. It was in great shape, just needed a bit of cosmetic TLC: I really enjoyed working on these projects. Our first project for 2020 is to convert the closet in the Steampunk Library to a reading nook, sort of in this style:
It's going to look a little different (no bookshelves in the back, and the interior will be painted more the colour of that seat), but we've already removed the door and have started putting together the idea for it. I needed to clean out that space anyway; it was full of crap and I just kept cramming stuff into it. And we're not great carpenters, so it won't look this polished, but I like the idea of it, and having my own little hidey-hole. I'm sure it won't get used as much as I fantasise it will, but it will be fun to work on.
As you can see, I really don't have that much to be depressed about, and yet, I am, deeply. Writing about it helps. I reminds me that I am not just sitting around wallowing all the time, although a bit of wallowing factors into it. I always feel a bit physically bad this time of year, and I feel old and rather useless. My hips are getting arthritic, and that means that walking is no fun, but I know we need to be active for TheHubs™' sake. And I still worry about his health. His stroke scared me more than anything in my life, and I am still scared a lot of the time. He had a bit of a stomach bug during Christmas, and I was nearly panicking, afraid he was getting ill again. Everything scares me lately. I am afraid all the time, and I feel like I'm always about six breaths away from a panic attack.
I hate to burden people with my little miseries. I don't like talking about how much I feel sorry for myself. I realise folks get tired of that pretty quickly. But you are the only people who understand, whom I can actually talk to, who don't look at me and say, "How can you feel depressed? Look at all the cool stuff going on in your life!"
That really only adds to the sense of failure. I don't feel like I deserve to be this apathetic and down. I am writing in my journal a lot, and I have writting more in the last year than in a long while. I have goals, and I intend to achieve them, and I am determined to crawl out of this depression. I am trying to keep my health intact; now I just need to get my head in good shape.
One of the things I think will help is participating in life here again. Two years ago, I couldn't. All I could think about was taking care of TheHubs and making sure he was alright. He is doing well, and determined to stay healthy, and I am proud of how far he has come along. I showed him the letter his speech therapist wrote him when he was discharged from the hospital, and he read it as if he'd never seen it before. He told me that, while he remembered the letter well, the last time he read it (ie, about a month after the stroke), he was still having problems comprehending what he was reading. It makes my blood run cold to this day, remembering how this erudite, glib man was reduced to struggling over the difference between "M" and "N" and naming the days of the week and months of the year. We talk about it alot. I wish I didn't think about it so much, but it's hard not to.
I saw the coolest little piece about Talliston House. If you are not aware of it, please go to the website on it. Not only is each room based on a different look, but a different point in time or feeling. Each room has it's own time period, even scent. I especially love the Watchtower, which is set in the days leading up to Christmas, Wednesday 14 December 1887 05:11:23, to be exact. I adore the idea that a room, home, moment in time can capture that feeling of quiet, magical anticipation I have always found in the week leading up to Christmas. I am happy to know that someone totally understands that, and was able to create that in a place like Talliston. On January 18, the owner, is leaving for the last time, and bequeathing Talliston to someone else. What a fascinating story.
Tomorrow we're taking the Christmas decs down. It's close enough to Twelfth Night, and I'm ready. I like them to go up early; I enjoy the build-up to Christmas. Afterward, I'm sort of ready to put it away. Unfortunately, I cannot capture time in a bottle like Talliston, and I'll have to wait until next year, but every year, I hope I will be able to make a little magic of my own at Christmas. It's always sad to pack it all away.
