Diary of an Angry Girl


I’ve been reading about what to do with your journals before you die. It’s been that kind of week I guess.

I have been writing in a diary off and on since I was about 8. I think my first “journal” was something called an “autograph book”, and my grandparents gave it to me. I went around to mostly family and some friends, and asked them to sign my little book. Most had sweet little messages, some wrote little rhymes starting with “roses are red”; it was like a yearbook for my 8-year-old self. At some point I moved on to the lock-and-key style diaries. Those were always gifts too. And I never forgot to lock it and hide the key under my mattress. I was always a private person. My sister on the other hand, used to read hers out loud to me, as I plugged my ears in defiance.

I sometimes wish I had written with the notion that someone might read them someday. But that would have defeated the purpose for me. I wrote with potty-mouthed abandon, and channeled all the negative energy from my little body onto those pages. I had a lot, you see. I’m not sure I will ever really understand where all that anger came from. We’ve all had to deal with imperfect childhoods, but not everyone came to be host to a little monster. And my little monster grew; at times, it outgrew me. And I would catch up, and it would grow again….

I’ve often wondered over the years what it would be like to have someone read them. No, that’s not quite true; I haven’t wondered, because I know what it would be like–mortifying. I think it would still be so even if my family read my diaries from all those years ago, let alone the ones I wrote in my adult years. But like so many other things in my life, seeking out and destroying my journals has been put on the list of things to do at a later date. But that later date may never come. What if I die before that happens? Who will read them? What will they think? Will they be shocked? Disgusted? Hurt? Will they wonder if they knew me at all?



Points of Light – Keeping Score

It is a gorgeous, breezy, sunny Saturday, though I haven’t ventured out. I’ve been spending quality time with my laundry, tidying up a bit, while listening to the songs of my youth, Deep Forest (1992), and Enigma (1999).  I spent an insane amount of tries typing in a password for this blog, and finally got it, so I figured I better write something.

Last time, I posted about my good week, and I’ve felt pretty stable since, only a few bad days if I remember it right. (My weeks are mostly a blur still.)

Once I finally cracked my own password, I ended up on my About page and read what I had written when I started it. I said…

“…that I wasn’t going to try and put a positive spin on my life …. I wasn’t going to pretend that my depression hasn’t been the biggest influence on my life, that is hasn’t been all consuming. Because it has. I literally cannot remember a time in my life that I did not suffer from this Monster.

So there you have it. This is my depressing but honest blog about my struggle with my larger-than-life Monster D. You may find that it doesn’t all fit under the umbrella of depression. You may find that there are Points of Light and Everyday Life. I’m hoping that those posts will one day outnumber the rest.”

I’m not keeping score, but…maybe I should be? Are there enough points in my Points of Light? Considering how many years I’ve been doing this, I don’t think so. But today I’m going to count my blessings. Literally.

But…before I do that, did I mention that I switched jobs about a year ago? I don’t think I did. Well…I switched jobs. The family program I was working in ended, and they decided to expand the adult learning program, so that is where I work now. The last post I wrote that even mentioned my job was “Update on this whole life thing” back in 2014! I previously worked as a proofreader at a print house otherwise known as The Hellmouth, and then I somehow clawed my way out after many years, and found a job that was the complete opposite. Here’s my post about that memorable interview: “The Interview–sing little monkey, sing!”

Blessings are to be counted….

  1. I’ve been getting pretty comfortable in parts of my new-ish job, namely, doing learner assessments.
  2. I went to my first work-related committee meeting that I was kind of coerced into, and it went well. (And by “went well” I mean I didn’t feel wildly out-of-place and anxiety-ridden.)
  3. Ever since I started this new position I’ve had to redefine what it means to be “organized”. I’m so busy and this job is so full of grey areas and an office-crazy I can’t begin to explain, that everything was starting to slip between the cracks. Happy to say, I made a significant dent in the mounds of chaos in my office this week.
  4. It’s no longer WINTER!!! Yes, we may have skipped spring altogether and yes, the mosquitos have been frothing at their disgusting little mouths to suck my blood every time I step outside, but it’s not winter! I can step outside in slippers and no coat! I can walk to the park and read a book! I don’t have to scrape the ice and frost off my car every single morning! This is cause to celebrate.
  5. Though by most normal adult standards, my tiny little place is messy as fuck, but to me, I see the improvements. I’ve been doing pretty good with my “10-minute tidies”. This is my way of motivating myself to do those things that seem to come naturally to others. I set the timer on my phone for ten minutes, and I committ to doing as much cleaning as I can in that time. Often, once I’ve started I don’t mind it so much so I keep going.
  6. I’ve had some straight up belly laughs last week at my SO’s place. Sometimes going there doesn’t do much for my mental health (some other time), but last week he mostly made me laugh with his silliness and impersonations. Belly laughs need to be cherished. They are gold.

And on that note, I will leave you with some of the sounds of my youth. Enjoy!



Precarious Place

people-2603644_1920I’m always afraid to talk about when I’m feeling better; like I’m going to somehow jinx it. But here it goes…guys, I’ve been feeling better!

It’s been about a week, but I feel a little lighter again, a little less stressed at work, a little newer thanks to spring finally arriving.

It’s a precarious place to be, on the verge of feeling human. I know how quickly that fades away. But I’m going to try to take advantage of it while I’m here!


Young & Beautiful

I’m contemplating this feeling of disconnectedness from the past, I think I will start there. But where is there?

I’ve decided. There is here, at the intersection of music and melancholy. This is where nostalgia lives. The music I choose is often bittersweet; it can conjure wistful feelings and spark sadness.

Young & Beautiful


“He’s my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds.”


What a perfect pairing this song is with The Great Gatsby.  The glitz, the excess, the recklessness reminds me of youth, when everything is new and shiny and you feel like you will never grow old. It’s a fever dream.

Sometimes, I look back on my youth, and wonder how things would have been different if I had been braver. I didn’t make a lot of choices in high school, I just kind of floated around like a ghost and waited for things to happen to me. At some point, those “things” were mostly boys.

He is like the sun. Without it, I could never truly shine.

I came back to life when I was in lust or in love. There were high points in between, but for the most part, without the sun I felt invisible. The sun made me feel warm. And wanted. And like anything could happen. Being in the sun allowed me to live in that fever dream of youth.

The problem with beautiful dreams is you have to wake up someday, and be crushed that none of it was real. If I had known that, would I have done anything different?

When I’m feeling low (which, let’s face it, is often), I start thinking maybe there really was nothing there, that I was always just a shell of a person and for a while that shell was attractive to some. Now that I’m older, and continually trying to come to terms with all that that means, I wish I could go back and fill that shell with laughter, and experiences, (the kind you remember the next day), and courage. My youth experience was all about avoiding people or following people or devoting myself to a single person while neglecting the rest. There was no balance. Only excess.

I was young and beautiful for a while. I have a hard time accepting that that phase is over, that I had my chance to make the best of it and now those days are gone.

Many people say that if they had the chance to go back, they would not — no regrets. I wish I could say that. But the truth is, if I could go back in time, knowing what I know now, I would. In a heartbeat.

If you could go back in time, what would you change?




Neither here nor there

I exist in a vacuum –there is no past or future, no history that created me, and no where to go from here. Disconnected.

There’s that word again.

Determined to finally write a post, I revisited what I had written in the past. To try to reconnect with it. But those posts, though they all ring true, were not written by me. It’s not possible. I don’t have a past. I only exist here and now.

You might be thinking it’s a good thing, I’m just living in the moment, but I’m not sure it is. It doesn’t feel healthy, it feels like having nothing to hold on to; nothing to look back on. And nothing to look forward to.

I avoid this blog. Sometimes I open it up with good intentions, but when I feel so disconnected from the world, from the me that started this blog, it’s hard. But I’m here now. And at a loss for what to write about.

But, since I’m contemplating this feeling of disconnectedness from the past, I think I will start there. But where is there?



It’s been over a year since my last confession…

Listening to Grimes, trying to block out the circus upstairs. Caught up on some blog reading, and remembered, hey I have this marypoppinz thing I haven’t thought about in a while. Every time I do this, I expect to not be able to log in. Like my absence will trigger ostracism for absenteeism.

But here I am. All logged in and ready to type.

The seasons are in transition again. We had a brief interlude with fall, and now it seems to be winter already, snow and all. Every year I think I can’t take another winter here. And yet every year, I am here. Trying to mentally prepare for the bitter ass cold.

It’s been so long, where do I begin? Long narrative gaps leave me feeling lost on here. Last time I wrote about being in some research for Trintellix. That research is over, as of four months ago. While I was on it, I couldn’t really feel much of a difference, and I came to the conclusion that I would not continue taking it after the research. A couple of weeks after I stopped, I realized my mood had plummeted and the ADD was very strong. I can’t be sure of the cause. Does it mean that the Trintellix was working for me and I didn’t even realize it until I stopped? Does it mean my brain kind of backfired from the change? Or was it just part of the ebb and flow of my moods?

Maybe I will try taking it again. When I told my regular physician, he just up and gave me a huge box of samples to take home just in case. I guess that’s good, considering the psychiatrist that invited me to the research has not followed up with me at all despite his promises to do just that.

I’m still with S.O., Musician Guy. Most of our relationship has been long distance, and he only just moved back to the city two months ago, like four blocks from where I live. It’s quite a change having him here, so close, all of the time. Still processing how it feels. I’m afraid I’ve become so accustomed to my reclusive lifestyle that I won’t be able to handle having a “normal” relationship. Time will tell I guess?

I’m still “working” on my novel I started another lifetime ago. I feel stuck. I sometimes wonder if it’s because I feel stuck in life.

That’s all I can muster in this update for now. Stay tuned for more updates on the trivial pursuits of marypoppinz!



Back to where I started….

So I’ve been doing the Trintellix experiment now for almost two months, and my dose went up. When I agreed to do this it was with a heavy heart, but there was a small glimmer of hope there too; hope that this would be the catalyst to change my life for the better. But maybe it’s time to admit that  it’s not working. I don’t feel more focused, I don’t have more hope, it hasn’t been easier to make positive changes. I still wake everyday and wonder what’s the point.

I don’t know what else is in store for me during this research. Maybe they will up my dose again and it will be the key for it to kick in. Or maybe it won’t make a difference.

I have noticed one small change: I have more dreams since starting on Trintellix. It had been quite a while since I dreamed regularly, but now it’s almost every night, and I can remember them for longer. Just last night I remember dreaming about hiding out in the new house my ex bought with his new wife. Can’t seem to get rid of the memory of that one. I’m sure I’m just searching for an escape by thinking about my ex. It’s what I do.

But dammit if I don’t miss those eyes.