"Be Your Own Hero"

Hey, remember how I originally started this blog to talk about dealing with depression?

. . . Yeah.

So today I went to the doctor (a "normal" doctor, not a "head" doctor; reasons are none of your business), which was somewhat scary -- having anything medical done at any time always seems to convince me that, whoops, I'm Patient Zero for the disease we'll discover if we ever cure cancer -- but then, once I actually got there, something wonderful happened.

You know how, any time you go to the doctor for anything, they can't get down to the reason you're actually there until they've asked a zillion and one preliminary questions about any time you've ever gone to any doctor in your entire life?

This visit was no exception!

DOCTOR: So do you have any other existing health concerns I should know about?
ME: We-ell, yes, I have been diagnosed with depression.
DOCTOR: Are you currently in treatment?
ME: Not at the moment, no, but I did go to therapy last year.

You guys, seriously, she was so proud of me for going to therapy that I half-expected her to jump out of her chair and do a happy dance. That didn't happen, but we did have a fairly excited mini-conversation about how entering therapy meant I had to stop drinking, and I decided to keep up my sobriety after therapy for a grand total of one hundred days. We talked about how I had figured out that, for me personally, not reading anything for more than two weeks is probably a sign that something bad is going on in my brain. And so on and so forth. I'm not describing this very well because I'm still excited (also, I'm so hungry I'm sort of dizzy), but . . .

. . . okay, so my point here is "just" that I'm so proud of myself. I can't even begin to wrap my head around how much my life sucked this time last year, and how awesome it is now, and how that change is entirely my fault.

Imagine how awesome my life will probably be a year from now if I keep this up.

Try not to get dizzy.

"Forward Motion is Harder than It Sounds"

As soon as the sun goes down, I am going to take this and BURN IT.

"He Lives in You"

Every single year (except for last year, which I think we can all agree was just a little bit weird -- although, at the time, it seemed to be weird in a good way), I write my dad a letter for my birthday.

It makes sense in my head, okay?

This year, for the first time in a good long while, the bittersweet exercise is going to be quite a bit less "bitter" and quite a lot more "sweet."

I have this image in my head of him giving me an empty box with a note that says:

Hey, Bud --

24, wow. That makes your mom and me pretty much decrepit! Please be sure to find her a nursing home with a decent cafeteria when the time comes, probably tomorrow.

I couldn't decide what to get you (nothing seemed just right), so I figured I'd just remind you of something yet again because, even though you've finally figured it out, I know it's something you still need to hear occasionally:

IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT.

I hope it fits.

Love,
-- Dad

P.S. Enjoy the empty box, sucker!

That's my dad.

I love him.

The Scariest Things There Are - Part 1

"You are not consumed by the darkness because you are full of light."
- Robin McKinley








I wake up covered in sweat that burns like ice, and everything is dark.
   Dark? No, that doesn't quite cover it. This is beyond the dark you'd get at midnight on the winter solstice, during a thunderstorm with no lightning, or in the middle of an abandoned cemetery on a starless night. This is more than a simple matter of lights and shadows and rods and corneas. This is a dark you can feel.
   You can even taste it.
   Naturally, my first reaction to something so strange and so foreboding is to get out of bed and go for a run.
   So that's what I do.

There's a certain something about running at night that I can't really describe, but it's nothing short of magical. Sure, it's just as exhausting as it is during the day, but . . . I don't know. The night air is colder, crisper, and I can breathe it in and out easier. I am faster and I am stronger than ever when I can't see where I'm going.
   It makes no sense, but who ever heard of magic making sense?

After running and running and running through the forest for who knows how long (this is surely much farther than any of my usual paths, but the thought of stopping hasn't even begun to occur to me), I trip over nothing and skin both knees.
   My glasses go flying as I fall, because of course my glasses go flying. On a night like this, it's a wonder that they haven't already gone flying (not to put too fine a point on it, but I am sweating an awful lot). For a few moments, I madly scramble about, trying to find them by feel . . .
   . . . until it hits me: What's the point? I can't see a thing anyway, not a blessed thing. Besides, I keep a spare pair at home for precisely this purpose. If I can even find my way home tonight.
   Well, golly.
   Isn't that a pleasant thought?

Seriously, though, where in the world am I?

I crawl over to a sturdy tree and lean into it and just breathe.
   Since I left home (running, in retrospect, was a spectacularly stupid idea -- you'd think, at the very least, I might have had the sense to bring my phone), the palpable dark has increased. Tenfold.
   I begin to worry.
   Breathe.
   In. Out. In, out, in again, out again.
   Shut up and breathe.
   Don't panic.

A minute passes, or maybe it's an hour.

Alright, enough of this.
   Calm down.
   I do have four other senses, after all. Taste is fairly useless at this juncture (all I can taste is the dark -- yes, I know how crazy that sounds), but surely the other three can at least point me in the direction of----
   Hey! Direction! I can just turn around and go home!
   . . . No, I can't. I have no idea where I am and no idea how I got here and no idea where home is. I don't even know how much time has passed since I fell. Plus, I'm tired. I'm so very tired.
   (You know, it's weird. Before I fell, I was perfectly content with having no idea where I was or where I was going. I knew I couldn't see anything even when it was right in front of me, but that didn't seem like such a big deal.)
   Okay, focus. Touch, smell, listen. You can figure this out.

Listen.
   I don't hear anything other than my own anxious heartbeat.
   Or, rather, I don't hear anything other than my own anxious heartbeat until I think, I don't hear anything other than my own anxious heartbeat. The realization inexplicably perks up my ears, and I hear . . .
   . . . a spooky owl,
   . . . wind rushing through the trees,
   . . . something chuckling in the distance, which is surely just my imagination, and
   . . .
     . . .
       . . . somebody somewhere (everywhere? nowhere?) trying to get my attention.
   "IT'S NOT JUST YOUR IMAGINATION."
   Who the hell was that?

Progress!

A little less than two weeks ago, I had a bad day that I didn't want to talk about.

The way I saw it then, there were six things I needed to do ASAP.

Let's see how I've been doing, shall we?

1. Move.
Literally in the process right now. The cool thing is, I'll be moving to the neighborhood I've had my heart set on for more than two years.

2. Transfer.
My first day at my new store is September 12th - that's right, a mere two weeks from now. Again, the cool thing is, I've had my heart set on this store for more than two years. Not gonna lie, I'm pretty effin' proud of myself.

3. Start hanging out with my friends a thousand times more regularly than I do at the moment.
Yup. Go me.

4. Read without ceasing.
"Without ceasing" is perhaps a bit of a stretch, but I am definitely pulling out of my initial post-therapy book slump.


5. Take pictures. (I may or may not take a photography class just for fun.)
Ahem. I still haven't done any research about the just-for-fun class, but check this out:


http://fake-photography.tumblr.com/

[Note to self: Really? You're gonna make everybody copy and paste? Geez. You need to get a lot more familiar with Blogspot STAT.]

6. Buy some crayons!
I still think this is a wonderful idea, it's just not a priority at the moment.

This Deserves Its Own Post

"When you're alive, people can hurt you. It's easier to crawl into a bone cage or a snowdrift of confusion. It's easier to lock everybody out.
"But it's a lie."
- Laurie Halse Anderson, WINTERGIRLS

Good Months and Bad Months

I've been out of therapy and back at work for a little more than two months.

When I was a freshman in high school (circa 2003), my English teacher had the walls of her classroom covered with "cute" posters. The only one I remember had a picture of Garfield - who, as we all know, is famous for hating Mondays, isn't that just hilarious? - underneath the words, "I HAVE MY GOOD DAYS AND MY BAD WEEKS."

I hated it. (And not just because Garfield has always gotten on my nerves.)

I hate it even more now, because I think it's kind of true.

Sort of.

Despite being introduced to the perfect new roommate and finding the perfect apartment in the perfect location and finally getting approval to transfer to my dream store and successfully confronting my manager at my current store about some stuff that was getting on my nerves (note: she actually thanked me for this), I, Ryan Timothy Bish, have had one "bad day" after another lately. My attitude is great (okay . . . mostly great), my friends are so supportive that it's honestly sort of suffocating sometimes (friends, if you're reading this, PLEASE DO NOT STOP. I promise I will keep demanding that you respect my boundaries and letting you know when I need "me time," so please continue suffocating me. I need you all more than ever right now. Recovery sucks almost as much as depression), things with Mom are as good as they reasonably could be, I have four Laurie Halse Anderson books waiting for me at the library . . . and yet, I am tired all the time (even right after I wake up from a decent night's sleep). And it's not a "being awesome is exhausting" sort of tired, believe me - it's an "I don't give a fuck about anything because I just want to sleep forever because I don't give a fuck about anything; holy cows, is it still Tuesday?" sort of tired.

Which I have not felt since I was still in therapy.

Anyway. The other day, I had a thought: Maybe, while you're still "in recovery" (ugh) (how long does that last, anyway?) (forever?) (longer than forever?) (one day less than forever?) (more or less than six months?), you should stop thinking in terms of "good days" and "bad days." Maybe it would be more - not helpful, exactly, but saying efficient or productive would make you sound like a tool, and I can't think of any other synonyms that aren't pure psychobabble - to start thinking of "good months" and "bad months." After all, last months was pretty much pure awesome from start to finish. This month? Not so much!

Then again, maybe it would be an even better idea to stop thinking in such general terms at all, and just be thankful for the good moments. If you happen to have so many of those that they add up to a good day, well, good for you. If you go through a week or three and you can only remember a tiny handful of good moments, well, oh fucking well. Have some more good moments the next week, or the week after that. Or not.

Either way, don't beat yourself up about anything. Remember, recovery is not easy. It is, in fact, the hardest thing you've ever done. It's so hard that it makes things that seemed like a big deal when you did them (doing stand-up for the first time even though Sho couldn't make it even though she had been the one to push you to do it so soon; coming out to Cara; deciding to ignore how scared you were and just say "yes") feel easy - no, not just easy. It makes them feel mundane. Anybody could do them. Also, when you did them, you were still not doing anything about Depression, so all the hugs and all the kudos to you, bitch!

. . . All of which has been a very, very, very roundabout way of saying that I am just not feeling it today, you guys. I am in a serious funk.

Also! The second I sat down to write this entry, it occurred to me that I have always (?) said, "August is a bad month when bad things happen."

It's nice to know how right I was.

Not.








Alright, alright, here's something slightly more upbeat, taken from a conversation I had with my friend/older-sister-from-another-mister Kiki on Google+ about an hour ago: "The important thing, though, is that I love you and I love myself. Compared to that, [everything else is] meaningless."

Ryan's Rules to Live By

[Note: These are, specifically, Ryan's rules to live by -- if you're anyone else, your results may and probably will vary.]

1. Just because you can see the future doesn't mean anyone else can (even if it is bloody obvious). This is okay. Take a deep breath and let things play out.

2. Just because you can see the future doesn't mean it has to happen. Even if it is the most wonderful thing ever imagined by anyone. That being said, "Don't stop believin'."

3. When in doubt, wear black.

4. Depression only has as much power as you give him.
   4a. DON'T GIVE HIM ANY.
   4b. Whenever he does start hissing in your general direction, smash him with a really big rock. Every time he starts hissing in your general direction for the rest of your life. You can do it.

5. Ponies make (almost) everything better.

6. SETBACKS HAPPEN. They make you feel worthless and that sucks out loud, but they are a totally natural, completely normal part of recovery.
   Recovery, by the way, is not an easy thing.

7. If patience was easy (refer to Rule 1 and Rule 2), anybody could do it.

8. Never go anywhere without your camera.

9. Knowing what you want and trying to get it is not a bad thing . . . but you do not have to turn into a total dick -- also, turning into a total dick will usually get you the exact opposite of what you want. Duh.

10. When someone gives you a compliment, whether you think you deserve it or not, just smile and say thank you. Particularly if the "someone" in question happens to be a total stranger.

11. You're stronger than you think.

12. Giving or receiving, forgiveness feels good.

13. Your mom is just one person. There are countless people in your life (not to mention all the people you haven't met yet) who either flat-out don't care or love you more because you're gay.
   13a. There are lots of people in the world who think like your mom does, but they are greatly outnumbered by people who . . . know better. It gets better. The future's going to be awesome, because we are all making it that way now.

14. Yes, okay, you screwed up. Big time. That doesn't mean you can't make amends (YOU'VE ALREADY BEEN FORGIVEN, AFTER ALL). That does mean you've learned things since then, and you'll never make the same mistake ever again.
   You're really truly awesome now (finally), and all of your friends are damn lucky to have you in their lives.

15. Depression thinks you're fat.
   This is a great reason to do an inordinate amount of situps and pushups just because it's a day that ends with "y."
   This is a horrible reason to avoid food for days at a time.

16. Try not to take yourself (or anyone else) too seriously.

17. Life is too short to ever be anything but happy.
   You're happier than ever, and good for you -- it was not easy -- but there are a few "simple" ways you could be so happy that people's brains start melting (or, um, something like that). Go get 'em.

18. Listen to your instincts. They're almost always right about everything.

19. Dare to hope.

Spiffy Philosophy

. . . Which reminds me of two quotes from WINTERGIRLS:

"When you're alive, people can hurt you. It's easier to crawl into a bone cage or a snowdrift of confusion. It's easier to lock everybody out.
"But it's a lie."

"The nasty voices are always on call, eager to pull me back down

::Stupid/ugly/stupid/bitch/stupid/fat/
stupid/baby/stupid/loser/stupid/lost::

but I do not let them."

I Didn't Even Ask Her to Say This

"I'm glad [someone] is noticing a change in you. I think everyone is, really. How couldn't they? You're amazing, and all... chipper when you talk. It's weird, but awesomely amazing, or amazingly awesome. Or some other crazy combination of those words and possibly others."
- Leslie Zimmerman

Magic Incantations

"Adrenaline kicks in when you're starving. That's what nobody understands. Except for being hungry and cold, most of the time I feel like I can do anything. It gives me superhuman powers of smell and hearing. I can see what people are thinking, stay two steps ahead of them. I do enough homework to stay off the radar. Every night I climb thousands of steps into the sky to make me so exhausted that when I fall into bed, I don't notice Cassie.
"Then suddenly it's morning and I leap on the hamster wheel and it starts all over again."
- Laurie Halse Anderson,
Wintergirls

NO. No no no no no! I was never this bad, but I came ever so close to beginning to get this bad. I got so good at not eating for days at a time, and weighing myself constantly, and feeling bad for wanting a veggie burger,* because Depression thinks I'm fat.

How did that even happen?

No, stupid question. Meaningless.

The important thing is that I have taught myself how to kick his ass, and I am strong enough to continue kicking his ass for the rest of my life (and maybe even teaching other people how to kick his ass -- 'cause he's a fuckface who'd kill us all if he could, slowly).

The important thing is that I, Ryan Timothy Bish, do not even recognize the person I used to be when he was in control. I am funny, I am brave, I am beautiful, I am intelligent, I am fucking fearless, I am insightful, I am the best big brother Cara or Abigail could ever hope for, I am the little brother Kiki chose as her own even though she already has one, I am confident, I am strong, I am so perceptive I can pretty much see the future, I am a stubbornly loyal friend, I am a total nerd and that is charming, I miss Dad but I'm not stuck in the past, I wish Mom acted like more of a friend but I'm not mad at her (okay . . . not constantly), I know what I want and I'm not afraid to let myself have it, I know what I want and I'm not afraid of not getting it, I read all the time, I pray even though I'm not sure who's listening and rather suspect I'm just talking to myself, I can't sing but that's not stopping me, I lost everything but I'm putting my life back together and it's the most personally enriching thing I've ever done, and he will never have any power over me ever again.

Because I won't give him any.

The power is ALL mine now, and literally anything is possible. Even if I don't actively try to make it happen, awesome stuff just can't stop happening to me.

Who knows what I'll do next?

P.S. Cassie is a ghost. If you want to know what happens to Lia (the narrator), I highly recommend picking up the book. But be careful. The author wrote it "because of the countless readers who wrote and talked to me about their struggles with eating disorders, cutting, and feeling lost." She did a supremely good job (although, um, OF COURSE SHE DID -- this is Laurie Halse Anderson we're talking about), so, even if reading a book about those subjects won't be a trigger for you, it is very . . . heavy. I've read it twice before; even though I know how everything is eventually going to play out, it is extremely difficult to read. Even more difficult than Speak. And that's saying something.

*Yes, I seriously have a "food journal" from November of 2009 where I regularly got mad at myself for wanting and then having a veggie burger. With soy cheese. I wish I were making this up as a really sick joke. But not so much.
I still have it, by the way. No one is allowed to read it, but I keep it to remind myself just how much Depression had encroached his way into every facet of my life -- and to remind myself of just how far I've come.

Lions and Tigers and Metaphors, Oh My

Last night it occurred to me that battling Depression is a bit like The Wizard of Oz (the movie; it's been years and years since I read any of the books): Your entire life gets uprooted by a storm that seems to come out of nowhere, so you have to go on this big long journey -- a journey full of irony and foreshadowing and other such things -- and face your worst fears, and meet all these people who either help you or harm you in some way, just to get home . . . only to discover that, in the end, you had the power to get what you wanted all along.

But you couldn't have taught yourself how to use the power if you hadn't taken the journey.

P.S. Speaking of power, here are two quotes from high school that I've recently gained a new appreciation for.

"You believed you were beautiful and so did the rest of the world." - Sarah Dessen, Keeping the Moon

"There's only one thing on this Earth more powerful than evil . . . and that's us." - Buffy Summers

The Truth

When I was in therapy, I had a lot of anger to deal with (funny how it and depression go together so horribly well) . . . most of which I could not express directly, since confronting my mom is a lot like punching a brick wall (except even more infuriating: if you punch a brick wall, you at least get some bloody knuckles to, you know, show for it) and my dad is dead.

Speaking of my dad being dead, I really believe that that has a lot to do with why I have depression in the first place. I always figured it was my fault that he died. Mom went out of her way to assure me and my sister that it was absolutely not in any way our fault, because she really is a good parent and a fairly stable, capable, competent person in general -- but, you know, depression is a twisted little thing. Even when you've got every possible person silently yelling at you that things are one way, you can very easily convince yourself that they are actually another way. You can very easily believe a lie, no matter how stupid it is.

For sixteen years, if you're me.

Anyway. One (enormously hugely helpful) thing I was able to do to express my anger was write down whatever was pissing me off or making me sad and then BURN IT. Of course, being the anal-retentive dork that I am, I had to first copy it onto my laptop "just in case."

Which is funny, 'cause now I'm glad I did.

This is from June 7th:


It wasn't my fault.
    It wasn't anybody's fault. (If somebody must be blamed -- which is not the case -- it might be a good idea to ask why the fuck he was driving without a seatbelt, or why he took his eyes off the road!)
    It just happened.
    If it hadn't happened that day in that way, it would've happened another way, probably within a week.
    It wasn't my fault that I spent so long thinking it was my fault. The important thing is that I'm learning how to let it go now.
    It wasn't my fault.
    It wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault.
    I was just a little kid then, a harmless little stupid innocent seven-year-old human kid.
    Dad was my hero, and it sucks that he died so horribly, but death and grief are parts of life. They are both totally normal and completely natural.
    Dad died too soon, and that was terrible -- but that does not mean that everyone I love is going to die or abandon me sooner or later. I do not need to push them away to protect my heart from breaking.
    I DESERVE TO BE HAPPY.
    In fact, I deserve to be fucking ecstatic at least once a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY. And also make someone else fucking ecstatic. Once a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY. For the rest of my life.
  
Holy fuck. Realizing this after all these years feels so good. On every possible level.

Sweet & Short

[NOTE: This turned out just a bit longer than I originally planned. Heh.]



You know . . .

I am really, really, really, really, REALLY glad that I didn't kill myself in April. It seemed like a really great idea at the time (and so easy), but some tiny little indomitable part of me -- the only part that was still Ryan at this point -- wouldn't stand for it. He/I yelled "FUCK THIS FOOLISHNESS!" -- which, in retrospect, was the first time I ever punched Depression (even though I didn't teach myself to think of him as someone I could fight until late June) in his stupid face, and I'm so glad.

I just said that, didn't I? Oh well.

My point is that I am slowly -- seriously, s-l-o-w-l-y -- earning my life back, and it feels so amazing. Everything feels amazing. Even when I'm tired (which is a lot of the time, since I work too much) or pissed off (which is more than I would like, since I have to deal with stupid people quite a lot) or whatever, I am supremely grateful for every single second.

The thought that I came so close to never seeing my little sisters again is seriously scary -- but, at the same time, it just gives me even more inspiration to keep getting better. I want to be awesome for myself, obviously, but I also want them to be proud of me, even though I'm kind of a spaz. I'm always going to be kind of a spaz, honestly.

Also, I dunno. I have three best friends. (Actually, I have a handful -- but there are three in particular who I used to see more than anyone else.) My relationship with all three of them was just sort of spiraling out of control and I couldn't fix it and none of them had any idea how to deal with me -- DEPRESSION IS A STUPID FUCKFACE AND KICKING HIM FEELS GOOD -- and I am so goddamn proud of myself for choosing to stick around and try to fix that. (I'm doing a really great job so far, by the way.)

ALSO, I started seeing the future -- which is a good thing, 'cause when you're suicidally depressed you can't even deal with the thought of, you know, later the same day -- and it's slightly different every time, but it's always bright. I could go to culinary school. I could start writing full-time. I could pursue comedy professionally. I could take some photography classes. I could volunteer with some adult literacy program or other.

I could go to culinary school AND start writing full-time AND pursue comedy professionally AND take some photography classes AND volunteer with some adult literacy program or other.

Whatever I do, it's gonna be awesome.

Because I'm awesome!

I'm doing such a good job at this whole "choosing to be happy, choosing to make other people happy, choosing to telekinetically blow up Depression whenever he starts to whisper in my general direction" thing that, honestly, awesome stuff cannot stop happening to me.

Watch me shine, bitches.

P.S. Thanks, Dad. I love you.

Remember:

Setbacks happen. They're no fun at all, but they are a natural, normal part of recovery (which, by the way, is not an easy thing).

Sometimes they happen every single day for almost a week.

This does not, in any way, make you a total failure, or somehow magically undermine all the progress you made while you were in treatment -- which, again, was a lot. Of progress, that is. You made an extraordinary amount of progress in an extraordinarily short amount of time. That's not just your own opinion, either. People who have said something to the same effect, without being asked, include, but are not limited to, three different therapists, pretty much everyone who was in group with you, one person who left group before you did (good job staying in touch with her), two of your three best friends in the world, and the big sister who is not actually technically related to you.

Also.

You know how you've been working so hard to be fucking ecstatic every single day, and make at least one other person fucking ecstatic every single day? You know how you've been working so hard to take care of yourself? You know how you've been working so hard to be as awesome as you've finally seen yourself to be? (You know how you've been making it look easy, even though it's not?)

You know how you've been doing such a good job that awesome stuff just can't stop happening to you even when you aren't trying?

The fact that you've had such a crappy week IS NOT GOING TO CHANGE THAT.

P.S. I'm really proud of you for what you did yesterday. Pretty much everyone in the whole world sucks at expressing anger in a constructive way, but you proved that it's actually fairly easy. That was spiffy.

Recovery

I'm still not entirely sure what that means (and I really am sorry about that, but seriously: RESEARCHING DEPRESSION IS DEPRESSING), but hey, why in the world should that stop me? This is, after all, my blog.

A few days ago, I had the chance to explain to a very dear friend of mine that I seem to be doing so well right now because I really am doing so well right now, and I really am doing so well right now because I am taking excellent emotional care of myself right now. It's not even a little bit easy to be fucking ecstatic every single day, but I am letting myself be tired -- and, when I'm tired, I back off and, you know, rest. I'm still 100% sober, so I very rarely put myself in situations where I would be tempted to drink.

And so on and so on and so forth.

*** I know I keep saying this (actually, I just said it a few seconds ago), but the whole "choosing to be happy" thing is not easy, but I am clearly doing a great job of it. Which is perhaps best exemplified at, well, my job, where coworkers (one of whom is my manager) have said things like this to me since I've been back from group:
   "You have a great attitude that's helping the store environment."
   "Well, I mean, there's actually a pretty good chance that the general improvement of morale at the store has a lot to do with you being back."
    "You have been so bright, shiny & new since you came back! I love the positive attitude & your customer connections."

*** Obviously, this blog is hugely helpful. Instead of just feeling my feelings and hoping for the best, I am talking about my feelings. That makes it so much easier to deal with them when they're less than pleasant. Especially considering all of the positive feedback I've received so far. People really seem to think this is an awesome idea.

*** As I said, I'm still 100% sober.
   There are occasionally moments where I think "You know, I could potentially keep this up indefinitely (as long as all the vodka in the world evaporated right now)." There are also moments where I think "Oh my God, he's still talking. Oh my God, he's still talking. Oh my God, HE'S STILL TALKING AND HE STILL HASN'T ACTUALLY SAID ANYTHING. I need a fucking drink." Mostly, though, there are moments where I think about how nice it would be to go out with Kristine and Sarah and Tuesday (or whoever, but those three pop into my head the most consistently) and eat a lot of Mexican food and have a margarita and/or some Dos Equis.
    The thing is, even though I made it through group and I'd personally be okay with drinking again, I'm going to stick it out for a while longer (not really sure exactly how long -- three months is coming up, and after that it's just ten days to 100, and after that it's just eleven days to 111, and I've always liked palindromes) because it just feels so great to know that whatever I'm feeling is nothing more and nothing less than exactly what I'm feeling. Which means that, if I feel something I don't like, I can change it. Whereas, before, my response to feeling something I didn't like would've been, "Let's drink until we can't feel feelings anymore!"

*** Another thing I'm not doing right now is dating. There are two reasons, one of which is that . . . well, it's like this: I've seen the future, and I'm gonna be fine when I do start dating again. There were things I did in the past, very very stupid things, that I won't do anymore because I know I'm stronger than Depression now. But I've been suffering from depression for a lot longer than I've been dealing with it, and I'd like to be able to look at just a little bit of the PAST and honestly say, "Oh hey, you know, yeah, I'm exponentially more level-headed now. We can totally date. I'll be fine (even if you do eventually start to, gasp, act like a boy). OH, AND ALSO, YOU'RE LUCKY TO HAVE ME 'CAUSE I'M FUCKING AWESOME."
   It'll happen when it happens, y'all.

*** When customers ask me where I've been, I tell them I had to take some time off to deal with family issues. Which isn't the complete truth, obviously, but it is also not, in any way, a lie.

*** I've gotten into this habit of doing 250 pushups a day. And also a varying number of situps. (I have embarrassing workout music. I'm not going to tell you what it is.)
   Because, you know, Depression thinks I'm fat.
   Fuckface.

*** According to Wikipedia, there are seven "elements of recovery," one of which, self, is defined as: "Recovery of a durable sense of self (if it had been lost or taken away) has been proposed as an important element. A research review suggested that people sometimes achieve this by "positive withdrawal"—regulating social involvement and negotiating public space in order to only move towards others in a way that feels safe yet meaningful; and nurturing personal psychological space that allows room for developing understanding and a broad sense of self, interests, spirituality, etc. It was suggested that the process is usually greatly facilitated by experiences of interpersonal acceptance, mutuality, and a sense of social belonging; and is often challenging in the face of the typical barrage of overt and covert negative messages that come from the broader social context."
   Clearly, I've pretty much got this down.

*** One thing I've been doing a lot is listening to music that encourages me in some way or another. There's one song (which I discovered during music therapy at group) that, possibly, encourages me more than any other.
   That song is this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9U-Ul5qnLeQ&ob=av2n

Ponies I Want

YES, I am writing about Ponies tonight. I really should be writing about recovery, since I have been back at work for a month and a day now . . . but I'm not entirely sure exactly what recovery even means! Which I could, you know, write about (who cares what it officially means? This is MY blog), but it's just a tad overwhelming. Actually, even the thought of writing a list of Ponies I'd like to add to my collection (which, let's face it, I could do at the -- it's 11:11 -- drop of a hat) seems just a tad overwhelming.

I could be annoyed with myself for feeling overwhelmed by something as simple as my own thoughts (riiight, "simple" -- shut up, I could really use a Pensieve), but I'm gonna go ahead and choose to . . . not be annoyed. 'Cause this process is, well, a process, and sometimes it's less easy than it is at other times. The important thing is that recovery is happening. And that's not just my own personal opinion; people literally cannot shut up about how much happier I've been since I went to group, how awesome I am at my job, how awesome I am at life in general, how amazing it is that I was able to make so much progress in such a short time, what a great listener I've become, etc. etc. etc. I've even been told that the improved morale at my store probably has a lot to do with me being back (um, the coworker who said so also happens to be one of my best friends in the entire world, buuut).

Eurgh. I'm rambling, and who knows if it's making a lick of sense?

Anyway. Ponies!

I want -- nay, I must have -- the following basic figures from the current Friendship is Magic line:

APPLEJACK
PINKIE PIE
LILY BLOSSOM*
CHEERILEE
SNOWCATCHER (probably won't get her unless I can find her for way cheaper than $31, which is her current asking price on eBay -- and that would be fine, since finding her on eBay for $31 was the first I've ever heard of her)
LUNA

There are also a ton of other characters from the show I would happily snatch up if they were turned into toys, chiefly Zecora, Nightmare Moon, Big Macintosh, Granny Smith, Lyra, Bon Bon, THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE, Gilda, Little Strong Heart, Derpy Hooves, and the Cutie Mark Crusaders.

Especially the Cutie Mark Crusaders! Why they haven't been released as a three-pack (for which I would gladly give Hasbro close to $30 of my hard-earned monies) is a mystery that may never get solved. I know you can get Sweetie Belle in a gift pack with Pinkie Pie, but having her without Apple Bloom and Scootaloo would just be sad.

One character from the show who HAS been turned into a toy that I DON'T want? Princess Celestia! When little girls are complaining that she's not supposed to be pink, you are doing something wrong. Take note, Hasbro.
   That being said, I will eventually buy the gift set, which unfortunately includes her, for Spike. Despite not being a Pony, he may be my favorite character.

Also, I currently have three different versions of Rainbow Dash -- FiM basic, Ponyville, and pre-FiM basic (back when she was an Earth Pony who needed an umbrella). I'd like to eventually have at least six of her. Not that I'm a tad obsessed with her or anything.

The only non-FiM Pony I really want at the moment is the very first Pony I ever owned, who I have found on eBay in FANTASTIC condition. The good news there is that I am currently the highest bidder; the bad news there is that the auction lasts for another six days, so some jerkface could totally outbid me at the last possible second, and in the meantime I have to wait.





Sigh.

Tomorrow is gonna be great, and I swear I'm not just saying that.





*Purple Pegasus Pony with yellow hair. SHE IS SO GORGEOUS THAT I CAN'T STAND IT.

I Can't Say This Enough

In the end, you have to save yourself.

I did.

Life is Awesome: Two Weeks of Journaling

Tuesday, July 5th
Life is awesome because I did one hundred situps today. And then, since it felt so good, I did another fifty (because why not?).
    Before dawn, by the way.

Life is awesome because Mignon and I are about to start an ongoing game of Find the Pony. Shockingly enough, the whole thing was her suggestion.

Life is awesome because I love myself.

Life is awesome because this chai is fantastic.

Life is awesome because a total stranger found me on Facebook (through Aunt Mary Lou, but hey) and sent me a message to say that she knew Mom and Dad when they lived in South Carolina and tell me that I look almost exactly like him (and her, to a lesser extent) and have clearly inherited his love of life.
    I don't even know why that made me so happy (this is the first, and often the only, thing that people who knew him have to say when they meet me, literally every single time; Cara, on the other hand, gets a lot of "Well, aren't you just your mother!"), but I'mma just go with it.

Life is awesome because I'm tired and hungry all the time. Which is such a wonderful change from when Depression was at his most crafty, so I could never ever sleep and my appetite was on a permanent vacation.

Life is awesome because some people are just boring and that's all there is to it.
    The awesome part? Ryan Timothy Bish is not one of those people.

Life is awesome because the future just jumped a little bit closer. Which only happened because I have the best friends ever. Really, that could take up this whole book: "Life is awesome because I have the best friends ever, life is awesome because I have the best friends ever, life is awesome because I have the best friends ever," over and over and over, until I run out of paper.
    HAHAHAHA. That sounds like something Pinkie Pie might say. Except, you know, she would use cutesier words. And make up a song. Because she's Pinkie Pie and she can't help herself.

Life is awesome because I successfully fought off the first panic attack that's tried to strike since I went to therapy. I can do that now because I've learned things and I'm stronger than ever. Pretty cool, huh?


Wednesday, July 6th
Life is awesome because I can't seem to do enough situps or pushups lately. Not only do they feel great physically (in a "hurts so good" sort of way), but they also do wonders for my mental well-being, since DEPRESSION THINKS I'M FAT. He is, obviously, wrong.
   And a fuckface.

Life is awesome because Vanessa sent me a message while I was on my way to work. She had a dream about Dad last night. Seems he's very proud of me.
    (It's been a few hours less than a week, and that whole "Depression is a jerk; here's how to kick his ass" piece has already been so great for me, and affected so many more people than I ever thought would even give a shit. Just imagine what it could do if, for example, I had a blog with a decent readership. No, really: THINK ABOUT THAT. Think very carefully. And do some research.)

Life is awesome because I am great at my job.
    Not bragging, just the truth.

Life is awesome because caffeine is tasty.

"Life is awesome because caffeine is tasty"? Hahahahaha. Life is awesome because I AM HILARIOUS. (With or without, you know, trying.)

Life is awesome because my dad is proud of me. Whether or not you believe that Vanessa can talk to spirits, I know he is.

Life is awesome because I am going through an emotional growth spurt. Or something. Which is a bit crazy when you break it down, because I already feel unstoppable . . . so how much power will I have when it's over? "A lot" doesn't seem to cover it.

Life is awesome because I can see the future and it is very, very, very pretty; it could very, very, very easily not happen, but I'm taking steps to make sure it does, and my friends are helping (sometimes without even knowing), and I have such a great feeling about everything that it's a wonder I still remember how to walk.
    Did that make sense?

Thursday, July 7th
Life is awesome because Sarah is going to hang out with me sometime in the next two weeks even if I have to knock her out and drag her around. Kristine has expressed her willingness to help me out with this.

Life is awesome because IT WASN'T MY FAULT. Also, I am getting much better at not blaming myself for everything. It feels nice.

Life is awesome because I actually (eventually) wanted to get out of bed today. A normal person might not think twice about something so simple, but I really had to work at it (last night sort of sucked). Depression is not normal.
    Yeah, I just said that. Is it way more common than we realize? Absolutely. But is it even a little bit normal? FUCK NO. It's not normal, and it's not healthy. It must be stopped. Preferably with (imaginary) violence.

Life is awesome because my gaydar is always right.

Life is awesome because it's summer.

Life is awesome because we talked.

Friday, July 8th
Life is awesome because Adam and I played putt putt golf today. I'd like to tell you who won, but we didn't have a scorecard.
   [NOTE FROM THE FUTURE: This is, technically, totally and completely true.]

Saturday, July 9th: I didn't write down any reasons on this day . . . but I DID start this here "Depression sucks, so KICK HIS ASS INTO THE GROUND AND THEN SET HIM ON FIRE" blog, sooo that's fairly awesome, yes?

Sunday, July 10th
Life is awesome because, as of yesterday, I've officially been sober for two months. I am "allowed" to start drinking again (Thursday was a really great day), but I'm gonna put it off for a while longer.

Life is awesome because I have quite a good feeling about my new apartment. Which is not mine yet, obviously, but you know what I mean.
    Actually . . .

Life is awesome because there's nothing going on right now that I don't have a good feeling about.
    Yep, I just ended a sentence with a preposition. Apologies to Yorick Brown.

Life is awesome because MY LITTLE PONY: FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC is badass.
    For example, how 'bout that time Fluttershy stared down a cockatrice and shrugged off the whole "being turned to stone right now" thing?

Life is awesome because I have an idea or two about what's going to happen, but I'm still totally open to some surprises.

Monday, July 11th
Life is awesome because Bre brought me a cheeseburger (which she also bought) for lunch. Which I don't even feel bad about eating, since I've been doing so many situps lately that there is flat-out no goddamn way I'm fat (despite what Depression might try to tell you -- he's such a jerk).

Life is awesome because my face is (finally) visible again.

Life is awesome because I've had "Giggle at the Ghosties" and "Winter Wrap Up" stuck in my head all day.

Life is awesome because I saw Heather today. Seems she's hearing good things about me. Also, I made her try some Iced Via with vanilla bean. She loved it.

Life is awesome because I'm not afraid of anything or anyone anymore.

Life is awesome because I haven't had Taco Bell in at least two weeks.

Life is awesome because, seriously, work has been so much fun lately.

Life is awesome because my next day off is Harry Potter Day!

Life is awesome because, right around the time I move into my new apartment, I'm gonna treat myself to some new combat boots.

Life is awesome because I'm making a difference. Or, you know, trying my hardest.

Life is awesome because I have stopped blaming myself for everything.

Life is awesome because I am already planning what to do when Depression tries to strike this winter.
    Let's face it: He'll be back. (Pssst! When he returns, he'll be in for a world of hurt. The least violent thing I'll do is ward him off with Ponies.)

Life is awesome because The Lion King is coming back to theaters in September!

Tuesday, July 12th
Life is awesome because Theresa called me out of nowhere and we went to Tijuana Flats.

Life is awesome because an LW snippet fell into my head as I was walking to work today!

Life is awesome because it's 6:53 pm and I can barely keep my eyes open.

LIFE IS AWESOME BECAUSE I'M RIGHT ABOUT THE FUTURE.

Wednesday, July 13th
Life is awesome because Theresa and I have plans to finally go get French food as soon as my shift ends. Let's hope she doesn't cancel on me! Oh snap, did I just jinx it?
   [NOTE FROM THE FUTURE: No, I did not jinx it.]

Life is awesome because, in about twenty-six hours, I'll be going home to take a nap so I can stay awake for Harry Potter. Which I'll be seeing with one of my best friends in the entire damn world and one of his oldest friends.

Life is awesome because April Miles showed up just as I was going outside for my lunch. We're gonna chat as soon as she gets her drink.

Life is awesome because I am fucking unstoppable.

Thursday, July 14th: I didn't write down any reasons on this day because I was too excited to sit still because I was so looking forward to seeing Harry Potter at midnight. Adam is my hero.

Friday, July 15th
Life is awesome because my blog, which I only started last Saturday, has already received 131 pageviews! Including 3 from the UK, 2 from France, and 2 from Germany! PEOPLE WHO DON'T EVEN KNOW ME ARE ACTUALLY READING IT!

Life is awesome because I found Boysenberry Pie, my very first Pony ever, on eBay. In FANTASTIC condition! There are eight days left in the auction, but I am currently the only bidder.


Saturday, July 16th
Life is awesome because Jesse and I went to Chipotle. With Candra.

Life is awesome because I can't wait until next Sunday. Which is the 24th. Which is a date that I deserve so hard.

Sunday, July 17th
Life is awesome because I bought Twilight Sparkle today. Only four more to go until I have the entire Mane Six!

Life is awesome because I ate an avocado for lunch.

Life is awesome because I am so tired that it sort of hurts. Which means I am going to sleep like a rock tonight (you know, if rocks slept . . . which, um, they don't). Depression is a snivelly little BITCH.

Monday, July 18th: I love y'all very very much (seriously, it's more than just a little bit), but today's one reason was too personal to share.

Tuesday, July 19th
Life is awesome because my store manager is planning to brag about me to our district manager. Or maybe she already has. Their meetings always take so long.

Must Be Doing Something Right

Believe it or not, but . . . it's getting to the point that I might have to start writing down nice things that other people have to say about me. Which would take quite a lot of paper.

I feel like I had a lot more to talk about tonight, but I'm too exhausted to make any attempt at coherency. Actually, I'm not even entirely sure if "coherency" is a word right now.

Yes, I'm this tired at 7:32 pm.

I have been getting this tired this early for the past few weeks. In fact, I am more or less always tired (and hungry), and have been ever since I left group and went back to work.

This is a good thing. Partly because I'm working so early that I usually have to be at work at least an hour before the sun is even thinking about waking up, so going to bed early and getting some sleep is kind of a decent idea. Mostly, though . . .

This is a good thing because, when Depression was at his -- not his strongest, but his most confusing, I guess; around this time, I knew that I was ready to learn to fight him, but I hadn't even begun to figure out how to do that, and I'm sorry that didn't make very much sense written down -- I could never sleep, ever (and my appetite rather rudely went on a quasi-permanent vacation).

So, hey, proof that I'm getting better!