Tree Of Hope

Sorry that it’s been such a long time since I’ve written anything. (I tell this to myself.)

I’ve been busy getting accustomed to living with a mostly non-depressed brain, you see. It’s like being a tourist in a strange, far away land where you know the language just enough to order yourself a cup of coffee and perhaps a crumpet.

According to the numbers from the weekly scales that I filled out during my treatments, my depression and OCD are in remission. Personally, I’d give it a solid 80%. You don’t live 47 years and not have some residual ickiness. The suicidal thoughts have been vanquished for now, though. That is damn fucking groovy.

My physical health hasn’t gotten better, not like I really expected that it would. I had a shred of hope that the magnetic pulses would do more than just wake up the malfunctioning part of my brain that rules the mood roost; alas, no such luck.

We had a massive cold front come in a few days ago here in Northeast Ohio. We went from having the air on to thinking about putting the furnace on. Nah, man. Not yet. It’s not even October for fuck sake. But a weather shake-up like that always sends me into a fibro flare, so I’ve been doing a shit ton of resting, sleeping and babying myself.

I miss having a place to be each day, although it was extremely difficult most days to get myself out of the door. The technician made the entire experience more enjoyable because we got along well and I miss our chats. But it’s part of the journey, I guess. We meet people that are kindred spirits, those who give us hope that there are still decent, caring people left in this everchanging, craptacular world. But often circumstances make it so that we are unable to keep them in our life.

See? I’m still a melancholy baby. Always was, always will be.

Today would’ve been my 12th wedding anniversary. It doesn’t matter, I just wanted to share that tidbit.

I’ve been thinking so much about my mom lately. She was always my mental health advocate and the one person who could (usually) talk me down. I wish with my grieving heart and soul that she could’ve been alive to see me like this, the way I should’ve been without a malfunctioning prefrontal cortex.

On a bit of a whim, I got a tattoo.

That was right after the guy was finished. It’s now in the itchy, I wanna scratch the shit out of it phase. I decided to put it on my forearm because I want to be able to look at it easily.

Here’s my leaf on the Tree of Hope.

My handwriting! I can’t even.

My mom is with me, I know that she is. But it’s just not the same. It never will be. I have a song that I plan on posting soon that one of my friends shared with me that brought tears to my eyes.

I hope everyone is doing well out there. Take good care of yourself.

Um, drink some water?


    • I’m also amazed! It doesn’t do much for situational depression but that’s a whole different matter!
      I try to drink as much water as I can. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  1. I’m so thrilled the treatments have worked so well for you! I’m a skeptic by nature, but your progress is fucking awesome! Just as long as it doesn’t affect the fucked up humor part of your brain….

    And drinking some water finally got my stone dislodged, so yay for the sage advice!


    • I was also a skeptic but I figured why not at least try it. And don’t worry…my fucked up sense of humor is still intact.
      Ouch! You’re welcome. Stay away from that pop, ES. Bad for ya.


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