So, as I’ve mentioned, I google blog post topics because I run out of ideas. I dropped this one in my Evernote without thinking about it, but today it came up first in the list. I find this blog post topic pretentious. For one, I can’t imagine many people give a shit about my day, and my life really isn’t all that interesting.
Why write about it?
Because now, I have far more good days than bad. I remember a year ago, two years ago when I wondered what it would be like to live, really live with what life had to offer. I’d get up, get on the van, go to work, come home from work, eat dinner and watch TV. Every day. Ad nauseum. There are people stuck in that before time—thinking that where they are is all there is. I am living proof that it’s not, and if you find that courage, maybe you can change your life.
My average day
My day starts with a text. Every morning around 7am. The vibration sounds like a heartbeat and the message is always a variation of the same theme: Good morning, beautiful.
My friend Jodi said she’d find that irritating. “Okay, I get it…” I find it comforting. It’s a level above simply complimenting me—he’s thinking about me. Just like I’m thinking about him.
Since I don’t have to work until 9, we text for a while. How did I sleep? How was his night? Making plans for the weekend. Simple things.
About 8:45, I head into the kitchen and grab three things – every morning. Hummus, pita bread, and a Diet Pepsi. This is what I have for breakfast 98% of weekday mornings. It’s fast, it’s easy, and I don’t have to cook it. This is also the time that I take my first round of meds. Unlike a lot of depression medications, I take mine twice a day—to keep my body chemistry even. We’ve found over the last year that my depression is far more chemical than psychological. Therapy didn’t do much for me because I’ve already dealt with my major psychological blocks. There are a few with regards to intimacy (mostly emotional intimacy) that I’m still working on—but I have an understanding partner in those struggles. He stands next to me and hands me the tools I need to bridge those gaps.
At 9:00, I start work. Most people think working from home is a dream. They’d love to work from home. The reality is that I’m just as busy and tied to my desk as any office worker. I have a VOIP phone that never stops ringing, and two computer monitors that are always full. I take half an hour for lunch, usually to shower and grab a sandwich, and then I work steadily until 5:00. I also never see another living soul. When you work in an office, you take social interaction for granted—even when it makes you crazy. I have no friends stopping down to say hi, no one asking about my weekends, no banter across the tops of our cubicles—none of it. I’m socially isolated from my co-workers. I also may not leave the house for a week at a time. I have no reason to. If I pick up groceries on Saturdays and the boys are busy and we don’t go to dinner—I have a hamper full of sweats or pajama pants because there was no reason to actually dress.
Evenings happen in one of two ways—in or out. If we go out to dinner with friends (Taco Tuesdays, Whatever Wednesdays), Shae and I stake out our claims on either end of our humongously comfortable couch and talk or play on Facebook until it’s time to leave. Then, we go out to dinner, hang out with friends, and have a great time.
If we stay in, a lot of the time, I’ll cook because Shae doesn’t get home until 6. Or, we’ll decide what to do when she gets home—order out, pop in a frozen pizza, whatever.
In or out, after dinner, I take the rest of my meds and then luxuriate in a bath. I have the most amazing bathtub – big, and deep, and the hot water heater fills it to the top. I’ll turn on the Beethoven Pandora station and just relax—letting go of the day. Both of my jobs, the one in IT and the one in publication, are incredibly stressful. Projects gone awry, deadlines, answering emails—they’re very alike in some ways and very different in others—but they both cause me a lot of anxiety. Doing absolutely nothing while being submerged in hot water helps relieve that anxiety.
Either while I’m in the tub or just after, the texting heart beats start again. We talk (about me, about him, about his kids, about books or movies or TV), we flirt, and then we say “I love you” as I head off to bed and he heads to work.