Depression

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depression-1

Do you mind if I vent for a minute?  I wouldn’t normally blog about this because it happens to me a lot, but sometimes I just have to get it out.

Imagine being in high school and the other kids are pointing and laughing at you because of whatever reason.  You don’t quite fit their definition of the perfect human, so they point and laugh.  Well, imagine being 42 years old and people (adults) driving by your house while you’re walking the dog and they slow down as they are passing you and are blatantly pointing and laughing at you.  Not just one person in the car, but the driver and his three passengers.  It doesn’t feel good, I know because that happens to me a lot, in fact it happened to me again today.

There is an apartment building in our neighborhood that just so happens to be a section-8 apartment building, not that there is anything wrong with people who have to be on section-8, but that apartment seems to attract the lowest of the low.  There are mostly gang members and ever since they moved in to that building last year, they have been calling me “Big Gay Al” whenever I ride to the store.  As a matter of fact, I was exercising on my bike, riding 23 miles a day trying to lose weight and it was their “Big Gay Al” that made me stop riding.  It put me in a deep depression and I just gave up on trying to lose weight.  Since then they drive by laughing at me.

What’s funny is that they walk by the house all the time either alone or in groups and never once say a word to me, it’s only when they are in their car when they start spewing all this vile hatred at me.  That to me is cowardly.  I mean, calling me names is cowardly on it’s own, but doing it in a way that they don’t have to worry about confrontation because they have a vehicle to drive away is even more cowardly.

Look, I know it’s not going to be the rest of my life, that these asshats are only here until either their lease is up or until they get so many complaints that they end up getting evicted, but it still hurts that I have to be the target.  I’m sure they pick on other people, but I seem to be one of their main targets.  And it’s not just them, there have been other tenants who have targeted me and they tortured me for the duration of their tenancy in that building.  I don’t know how or why I have become the target though.  Is it because I am bald, fat, gay or all of the above?

I am just so irritated.  I’ve been down in the dumps the whole day because of it.  When I get upset I have panic attacks and all of a sudden I’m really hungry and have to eat whatever I can get my hands on.  I don’t want to blame people for my obesity, but they are certainly a factor.

“It Gets Better!”  I just have to keep telling myself that.

I just want to cry my eyes out because I don’t know what else to do.  I am so sick and tired of being sick and tired.  I know blogging about this didn’t make me feel any better, but it was a step.  I’m sorry you had to read that lol.

Adele’s “Massager” (Book Excerpt for Mature Audiences)

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Of all of my childhood memories, this has to be one of those things that has just made me laugh every time I think about it.  I may have been 13 years old during this time, but this is a mature subject so use your discretion.  Oh and this isn’t the actual “massager” but it is very similar.  Same color and same shape.

The apartment building that we lived in had four duplicate buildings. Ours was right on the corner so there were five in a row. My mom had a friend named Adele who was an older woman in her 80’s who lived with her husband and her niece and their sixty cats (I kid you not). I don’t know how my mom became friends with Adele considering they lived in the last apartment building so far away from us.

Adele was always calling to ask if I would come over and take her trash out for her. She would pay me $10 as a tip for helping her, so I really didn’t mind. Sometimes she had a lot of trash and then she would give me $20. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but it was mostly all cat litter and that stuff was heavy. I usually had to make two or three trips to get the rest. It made it particularly difficult because she lived on the third floor and I had to take the stairs because the elevator was too far away from her apartment.

I was over at her house one day and as she was gathering her garbage for me to take out. She grabbed something very strange, it was long and beige in color and had a curve at the tip. It had a little switch on the bottom that you turned and it would vibrate. She held this strange object up and showed it to me and told me how she uses it to vibrate the stiff muscles in her arms and she held it up to her face to massage her cheek. I was only thirteen, but I knew what a vibrator was, I wasn’t stupid. I don’t know how I knew what it was, but I did. As she was showing it to me she said “it’s in the darnedest shape though.” …yeah.

I went home and told my mom how Adele showed me her vibrator and she was laughing so hard that she was crying. Her laughing made me laugh. She didn’t know that I knew what a vibrator was, so hearing her thirteen-year-old kid say that so matter of fact made it even funnier.

We lived in the first apartment building on the left (black dot) and Adele lived towards the end, but I can’t remember if she lived in the 4th or 5th.  I’m pretty sure it was the 4th though.