Archive for February, 2011

Homeopathy update

I didn’t take the silicea on Monday, and I started back taking it daily on Tuesday.  So far, so good.  No dramatic shift in emotional well-being or anything, but nothing crappy like last Sunday.  So that’s good.

I don’t really feel like writing here today.  Bye.



So I went and saw a homeopathic “doctor” on Wednesday.  She advised me to get some probiotics for my GI stuff and to start taking something called “silicea” and see if that helps with anything.  I’m a little cynical about the process but she seems like a nice lady and mom claims to have had some success with homeopathic remedies so we shall see.  I’m supposed to go back in 6 weeks to check back in.

Feeling kind of crummy this morning so not exactly off to a good start.  I’d probably feel better if I didn’t have so much crap lying around… I’ve had a pile of clothes that I need to iron sitting on the table by my desk for like 2 weeks.  A pile of coupons I clipped but will probably never use, a pile of receipts from the post office I need to add to my work log/invoice for Si.  A zippered up compacted duffel bag that I got free from Staples by ordering $150+ for the office.  It’s all a mess and I’m ashamed of it.

I went to have dinner at my oldest sister’s house because my niece, who just turned 9, was celebrating her birthday and asked me to come.  It was loud and raucous and, as usual, things got broken, children screamed and cried and I couldn’t understand a thing anyone was saying because everyone was talking at once.

I took home a big Rubbermaid tub of papers, mostly correspondence, that belonged to dad.  I had this crazy idea that I wanted to read them and try to get a better picture of who dad was.  I think just having them in the house has had  negative influence on me.  Since I brought them home on Thursday I have been kind of mopey, mildly depressive.  I looked through a lot of it, but I specifically avoided the pile that I knew had the “intense” stuff in it — old journals from back when he and mom were in a rough spot.  Most of the rest is stuff about family genealogy from various siblings and a great-great-great aunt that I never knew but I knew she had been a schoolteacher and lived in Hawa’ii before she died.  That’s not really relevant but I’m in a weird mood so I said it anyway.


I have to poo and, as usual, I’m pretending to ignore it.


I feel uncomfortable with BF in the house, especially since he is cleaning everything and I am back here being weird and depressive and surrounded by all this mess which is a physical symbol of my depression.

He got me a new keyboard because my cat threw up all over my old one.  That was nice of him.

My cat is just back from getting a radioactive iodine treatment for hyperthyroidism.  She seems to be acting pretty much the same as before except the other night when she was vomiting all over the place.  I hope she starts to put some weight back on because she is really skinny.  When she was younger the vets would always warn me that she might get diabetes because she was so fat.  Now she weighs less than Annabel who has a much smaller frame.


I should do something physical to get myself out of this funk.  But I don’t wanna.  That’s the crux of the problem right there.  When you’re depressed you feel like crap, and I’m vaguely aware that if I just do something a little bit different I will start to feel better, but I have no motivation to do anything, and even thinking about how much better I will feel doesn’t really have any effect.  It’s a self-perpetuating illness.  Coming out of it really is quite a triumph, because you have to overcome yourself to do so.


Ugh.  This happens every time my period is really heavy — which is not as often as it was before I started on birth control, so I’m thankful for that.  But I do still get it periodically (ha ha) and it sucks.

Basically, I have dealt with constipation almost constantly since I was 14.  FYI, that’s almost exactly HALF of my life to date.  Somehow, when my period gets to the point where I can’t get through the night with just one tampon, my bowels go “hey! I’d like to evacuate, too!”

Of course, since I have this dread of bowel evacuation due to having hard, painful stool for most of my life, I tend to try to ignore the feeling until I can’t possibly anymore.  It’s retarded, I know, and I’ve gotten much better about listening to my body over the last couple years, but still.  Here I am, sitting at my computer instead of sitting on the toilet.


Why would anyone want to read this?  It’s disgusting, personal information about excrement.  But you know what?  I don’t care.  1) I’m trying to document (to whatever extent I feel like) my physical and emotional experience with dysthymia, and 2) I think we are far too sensitive about excrement.  We are raised to think it’s disgusting and somehow shameful, so we don’t talk about it, and in fact it shocks and appalls people if it’s brought up in “polite” conversation.  But it’s a fact of life.  It’s more natural than sneezing, something we do right out in front of the world.  Without pee and poo and menstruation we would die.  I’ve seen it in “The Sims” — you don’t let your little avatar go to the bathroom and eventually he dies and blue fluid comes out.


The fact is there’s a lot of information we can get from our excrement.  For example, when I pee and it’s bright yellow and smells strong, I know I haven’t been drinking enough water (which is most of the time).  When my stool is hard and pellet-like (which is most of the time), I know I probably haven’t been drinking enough water, I may need to start eating more fiber, I’m probably stressed out and could stand to do a few stomach crunches.

And no, I’m not advocating making bowel movements a normal part of conversation, but I do think that among close friends it should not be off limits.  And I certainly think we need to stop going “eeew!” any time we see or hear about it.


PS- just an update on my morning exercise project: so far, so good.  I have been doing it for 2 weeks now, and each week I skipped one weekday, which I have decided to permit.  The first week I skipped Saturday and Sunday, and this week I exercised on Saturday but seem to be skipping Sunday.  It’s a gradual process, and I am being generous with myself about taking my time.

Overall I feel much better on days that I do that 10-minute exercise.  It gets me more alert earlier in the day, it warms up my body (which is important because it’s effing freezing in the house compared to under the covers) and I think it just helps my energy circulate the way it’s supposed to.  So yay!  I’m definitely going to keep this up.