Friday, July 22, 2005

TGIF, or Goodbye Week from Hell and Don't You Ever Return.

The Southern Appalachian Weather Mantra (repeat daily until September): Today's temperatures will be high and there will be thunderstorms.

I have spent most of this week on a topsy-turvy, stomach twisting rollercoaster ride of emotions. Where to begin? Last week I found a lump in my breast. Not a pleasant discovery. I spent most of last week and the weekend worried and weepy and over-thinking. On Monday I discovered that it wasn't cancerous or out of the ordinary. Relief. Well, sort of. As I talked to my doctor about other issues she informed me that I was way past any post partum depression phase and should probably speak to a counselor about several anxiety-ridden issues I've been experiencing lately. So, she scheduled my appointment. I felt elated that I did not have cancer and that maybe something could be done to help the way I've been feeling. Hurray. Then my cat died.

I got Sophie when she was 6 weeks old while I was teaching a summer painting course at Wesleyan College in Macon, Georgia. She came back to live with me in Athens and spent the next 15 years of her life as my constant companion. Well, she did live with my parents for two and half years while I was in the Peace Corps, but apparently she spent a good deal of that time in my old bedroom waiting for me to return. She lived in several crappy, artist-type apartments during school seasons, tents in the summer, hung out in horse barns, lounged on balconies, ruled over us all in our old house in the city, and survived a rottweiler attack that left her with a broken hip and slight limp. That little tabby lived her nine lives to the fullest. She spent her final year here on a mountain with a great view and a sunny porch. Good bye Sophie, I'll miss you. Who else would dare wake me up at 5 a.m. to fill her food bowl? Not even the Monkey is that brave. Sweet dreams little kitty.

O.K., up, down, up, down. I had a meeting with a counselor in my doctor's practice. An hour and half and a box of kleenex later I left her office with a list of therapists and a subscription for Zoloft. I've always tried to work through my problems and get on with life - buckle down and plow through. Well, lately it's been a little thick to plow through and I've got the Monkey and Big Daddy to think about. And this depression and anxiety is really interfering with my painting. It's gone on long enough I believe. So, we'll try better living through chemistry for a while and see how that goes. I'll keep you posted.

Monkey had her first soccer practice last night. There really isn't much to tell because when you put three and four year olds out on a mini soccer field wearing baggy shorts and shin guards all that happens is chaos - complete mind-numbing chaos. Anything you can come up with in your wild imaginations probably happened. If Little Monkey will actually start playing with others, I may have a future goalie on my hands. She does like to stand in front of the goal and grab the ball and yell at the boys to go away. The other little girl on the team stood in the middle of chaos, very still, afraid to make eye contact in case it caused even more aggression in the mob. Monkey wanted to be on the Purple Team. It is her favorite color and I must admit that she looks very good in purple. The girl knows. She is, unfortunately, on the Red Team. I guess I'll have to convince her that she looks fabulous in red. She does, so I won't have to lie. The first game is tomorrow morning. I'll post the results, even though we don't keep score. How could we? The mob is always running off the field to chase the ball in a straight line to nowhere. Go Red Team, Go!


  1. You really have had a week from hell. I'm very sorry about your cat and very GLAD you don't have cancer. I've watched two of my friends go through the breast cancer thing and it wasn't fun.

    Re: the Zoloft, practically everyone except Tom Cruise says it works wonders. Hope it helps you get back where you want to be. :-)

  2. Wow - what a week. I'm happy you don't have cancer, but I'm sorry your Sophie died. I told Tom Cruise that you're taking a mind-altering substance, and he said he was on his way up there NOW to talk to you and jump on your furniture.

  3. Tom Cruise is a big sissy and I'm pretty sure he probably likes boys - not that there is anything wrong with that, I'm just saying...

  4. Yes, Katie Holmes = beard. I hear she has a five-year contract on this gig.

    This comments box has taken a weird turn and I am pretty sure it is my fault.