Emergency Retail Therapy

I want to thank everyone for the empathy and encouragement recently. And thank you especially for not doing one of those disgusting cheesy cheerleader "Turn That Frown Upside Down, Charlie Brown!" ridiculous bullshit. Sure, you can outthink your depression. SURE ya can. Right.

I deal with my depression in my own way. First, if I'm sad, sometimes it helps me to find something in the situation that I can be angry about instead. Yes, it's completely unproductive and it resolves absolutely nothing, but isn't it waaaay more fun to be pissed off than sad? It is for me.

Oh, there's a part of me that relishes being pissed off. Why? Cuz It's ON. I go into Penny Scorned mode. She's way more powerful Penny Dark. She can kick Penny Dark's ASS. I dig deep and find inner strength I didn't know I had. And I get eloquent and creative. It may manifest itself as a poem or as some poetically spiteful act of vengeance. Stay on my good side. I'm serious.

But in this case, I can't be pissed. FS-H didn't do anything wrong, really. Hurtful, yes, indescribably painful, but not wrong. It was right. I don't disagree. And I'd like to be pissed so I can be something other than sad, but I can't be pissed, so now I'm just frustrated as fuck. And that's worse than sad.

My other means of dealing with depression (in a short-term sense, which sometimes is enough) is through small amounts of Retail Therapy. I'd never go out and drop a hundred bucks or anything, because what's more depressing than getting the Bounced Check notice in the mail and realizing you have no money? No, I indulge maybe $5 in a lip gloss, and pretty soon, I feel better. And apparently I do it quite often because my Tito has caught onto it.

Here's what he said about me on Mother's Day.

So I was in need of a lil RT, and it somehow occurred to me that I probably have enough lip glosses. And instead of a lip gloss, I thought I'd get something new to keep my lip glosses in. Like perhaps, a cool purse! I was getting kinda sick of the one I'd been carrying. It was too big.

I go back and forth between a too-big purse and one that's not really big enough. This has gone on constantly for the last eleven years, roughly since I started having to carry baby paraphernalia with me, like Ziploc bags with Cheerios and wipes and an emergency extra onesie at all times.

Anyway, I dumped my old purse out to transfer everything into my righteous new hemp purse I got at Whole Foods Market.

Would you like to guess how many lip glosses I had in my old purse?

Go on, guess.



SEVENTEEN. Count 'em.

And that's just in my PURSE. I have more in my bathroom, next to the bed, on my dresser. I had no idea I had so many.

I do have some Hella Sexy lips, and of course I do love to draw undue attention to them as well as my other top features, but I didn't realize I was the Imelda Marcos of lip gloss. I'm sure there's some glaring psychological implication.

Speaking of psychological implications, I'm starting back on the meds today. Stay tuned.

Grandma passed peacefully this morning. I'm glad my mom could be there with her brothers and sister. Thanks to everybody who offered to road-trip it to Ohio with me so I could be there, but I'm really okay. Yes, I'm the Ultimate Road Trip Companion, and you'd get to meet my awesome family as a bonus, but I'd rather plan something fun, not Road Trip Funeral. Under other circumstances, though, I'd love to.

Maybe I'll write a book and go on tour. Pimp out the Odyssexy like the Madden Bus with a hot tub and a knitting nook for my groupies. And plenty of room for my lip gloss!