Happy Fucking New Year

I’m ready for it. Another new year, all hopeful that it’s going to be a great year, but we all know it’s going to be just as shitty as the last one. Sure there may be some bright spots, and on an individual level, we may not have anything to complain about, me included, but let’s face it, 2017 was a pretty shitty year. Not nearly as shitty as 2016, but still pretty fucking shitty.

For me, it’s all basically the same from one year to the next, from one day to the next. I live my life in a bubble. You see, I’m not like other people. I stay in my lane, which is, indoors, watching tv, playing video games, and minding my own fucking business. You might think that adds up to a shitty life, much less a shitty year, but as for me, I’m content, perhaps even a smidge happy. That seems to piss a lot of people off. People think I’m so sad, and miserable in my little self-imposed prison. People don’t know me very well.

I’m a hermit, an introvert, dare I say, a bit of a misanthrope.

I don’t care that there’s this big wonderful world out there to see and experience. I’ll get there if I want to. There’s no reason I can’t travel if the funds were available to me to travel. I’m not a wealthy person though like a lot of you aren’t. If I were a wealthy person, I could do near about anything I set my mind to. Alas, I am not a wealthy person, as of yet. Time will tell.

Anyway, I don’t think I’m missing much. I’ve seen it all on tv already. It’s beautiful, but fucking dangerous out there, and contrary to popular belief, I do not have a death wish. I love my life, and I have a lot to live for. I’ve got great friends and family. I’m good.

My problem is, I suffer from depression. It’s a big hairy monster that sneaks up on me and wraps it’s big lumbering arms around me for a hug almost every day. I can’t escape it.  It’s my lot in life. I have anxiety too, and a cornucopia of other mental illnesses to contend with. How can a person be on the edge of tears, or feeling like her world is falling apart every single day, say she’s happy?

Those are the questions that plague me going into 2018.

I’d also like to continue my journey to better mobility. It’s slow going, but I’m on the right track. I’m getting better every day, and for that, I’m proud of myself. I guess I am a bit hopeful going into 2018 seeing as I’ve improved quite a bit in 2017 already. I lost upwards of 30 lbs, and I’m walking a lot better than I was.

Perhaps 2018 won’t be so shitty after all. Let’s hope not.
Happy Fucking New Year!

Just thinking out loud

I’m not ready for Christmas. I hate the holidays. I don’t celebrate them. I don’t want anything to do with exchanging gifts, or a tree, or all of that mess. I’ll participate in preparing a meal if that happens, much to my discomfort, but if I plan on eating it’s only fair to help out.

I used to celebrate Christmas, when I was a kid, and when I had my kids and they were little. I’ve not celebrated Christmas since 2003. I don’t miss it. I don’t celebrate birthdays, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving or any of the holidays most people observe each year with joy and fondness. I have no love for it anymore.

That’s what happens when you get older, sometimes. You lose that desire to throw your money away on unnecessary things that promote capitalism and corporate greed, just because it’s wrapped up in a neat little bow and shoved under a shiny tree.