The Bloggess could not have written this at a better time. It was just the kick in the ass I needed tonight.

I don’t talk about suffering from depression a lot. There are like 10,000 reasons for this but it’s mostly because people just don’t get it. If you suffer from it, or live with somebody who does, you probably get it. And no, you aren’t “so depressed” that the item you wanted wasn’t on sale. You had a reaction, you were sad, but you are most certainly not depressed.

Ben and I have been going to biweekly couples counseling sessions and one thing that keeps coming up is My Depression. It’s not something that ever fully goes away. Medicine can help, exercise can help, counseling can help, but when a bout of depression decides to creep into your head and completely take over your thoughts and feelings and daily life, all those things just can’t knock it the fuck out of there.

So when the counselor asks me how I cope, I tell her how I used to write. A lot. About funny things, about sad things, about life, about depression, about everything. But then after awhile I just kind of felt like I was echoing the same words that had already been said over and over and over. I used sarcastic humor a lot when I wrote about this stuff because it was natural and easy and a way to cope but it started to feel forced. I’d have to think of a way to make it seem funny that for three nights in a row I didn’t get any sleep at all because I was scared that I’d die in my sleep and the fear of not waking up the next day made my heart pound so hard I thought that’s what was going to kill me and holy shit it’s just a panic attack and the entire world is asleep and I want to stand outside in the middle of the street and scream fuck you all for not understanding how scared I am.

It’s hard to turn that into a joke. Because it’s not really that funny.

So one day I went to write and I sat there with my hands poised over the keyboard ready to type and… nothing happened. I’d try to force it, I’d try to just GET. WORDS. ON. THE PAGE and then I’d delete it because it’s bland and horrible and not funny at all and 90% of the people reading it would just think that I had legitimately lost my goddamn mind.

So the counselor tells me to write. And I just can’t express to her or Ben how much I wish that were possible. I WISH I could just sit down and write. I also wish that I could explain what it feels like to want to get all this shit out of my head and the very real physical pain it causes to sit there while nothing happens. The thought of sitting down to write and then nothing happening is frustrating and infuriating and PAINFUL. It hurts.

It took me almost a week to actually sit down and do it. This is it. I guess it’s going to take time. Like, I’m training to run a 5K on July 4th and realistically I didn’t give myself enough time but I was needing a kick in the ass to actually get out there and train. I’ve had to really push myself out of my comfort zone. I’ve been sore and tired and I’ve wanted to give up but my ridiculous stubborness to kick this 5K’s ass is the same thing I need to do with writing. It’s going to be uncomfortable, it’s going to be hard, it’s going to cause me pain, but the end result will hopefully be a better me than when I’m NOT doing it.

If you follow me on twitter or facebook you’re already aware of my Epic Bloodletting 2013 but a bunch of people have asked me what I think happened so I thought I’d share (what I think are) my two mistakes here so that I can save somebody else the eventual HORRIBLENESS I went though.

I used to donate blood every couple of month when I was younger. First because it’s just a good thing to do. But also because there was a place in Bakersfield that paid $50 per donation and I was a broke single mom and sure, give me $50 for feeding me cookies and pretzels and orange juice!

I do it now because of my grandma. She donated blood and then she received 9 pints (probably more, that’s just the last number I saw) when she fell and ended up in the hospital. So now it’s a very different thing. I realize that somebody out there has a grandma that needs blood and I’m just so happy to be able to help. And the story I’m about to tell is horrible and disgusting and HORRIBLE but I’m going to start out by saying this: I will 100% be donating blood again as soon as I’m able to. It’s like 30 minutes of your time that costs nothing but saves a life.

I hadn’t donated in almost 10 years so when the mobile bus came to work about six month ago I was the first in line. Then they started to email me to remind me that I was okay to donate again and I kept putting it off till finally I decided that I was done making excuses and scheduled an appointment for Monday at 3:00PM. The office was on my way home and I figured I’d be in and out pretty fast and still beat the majority of traffic.

BOY WAS I WRONG.

I’d done everything right to prepare. I’d had 60+ ounces of water, I ate a bunch of healthy food, I’d worn comfy clothes so that I wouldn’t be stuck with my legs up in the air in the chair with a skirt on, brought in the iPad to read for the 10 minutes the blood giving takes. It was going to go just like any other time I’ve given blood. And all that DID go exactly as it always does.

Till it didn’t.

Problem 1: The day before I had a TINY fever, like half a degree. I didn’t think it was anything to worry about because they took my temp before the draw but the nurse in the ER later said that it might have been enough to set off what eventually happened. Lesson learned.

Problem 2: And this is where it all went downhill, I got up too fast after the draw. Normally I sit in the chair for about 10 minutes after the draw BEFORE I get up and move to the table full of food for recovery. They were getting busy and the girl that started my draw was busy getting a draw started in somebody else so another guy came over to remove the needle and tape me up. He did this quickly because he had already started a draw in somebody else and within a minute of them stopping the flow I was bandaged and he told me to head to the food table. I should have insisted that I sit for a few minutes but I didn’t want to be in the way so I immediately got up, walked to the table, sat down, the nurse asked me what goodies I wanted to munch on, I asked for some water, she turned around to fill the cup, I told her that I was feeling a little dizzy so would it be okay if I laid down on the couch…

And the next thing I knew there were a bunch of people standing around me at the table asking me what my name was and if I knew where I was and I badly needed to vomit. I had passed out sitting in the chair, thank goodness, and before they could scoot me three feet to the couch I had a mouth full of vomit and was pointing at the garbage can. From that point on I pretty much threw up every 10-15 minutes for as long as I can remember being awake.

The nurse kept trying to get me to take sips of water which would come up within minutes. At one point she tried to take a puke bag from me to give me a new one but she didn’t HAVE the new one yet and I told her not to take it away but she did anyway so I vomited a good two foot arch down the front of her coat, down her pants and onto her shoes. After that she always made sure to have the new bag handy before taking the old one away.

I had no concept of time at all but I know by about the 4th time I threw up till I was pretty sure I was going to lose an internal organ, I told her she needed to call my husband. NOW. Once he was on his way they tried to start an IV thinking if they could just get some fluids into me that I’d start to feel better. They tried three times in my arm to get a vein and couldn’t. I have REALLY BAD veins and if I start to dehydrate even a little they collapse, turn to mush and you have to go in through my hand which they weren’t willing to try. The last attempt they thought they had the vein but they were just dumping fluids into my arm, not my vein, and holy shit that hurt. Hurt enough that I forgot for a second about the extreme nausea and almost pulled the needle out of my arm myself.

About that time Ben got there and I remember them talking to him but I honestly don’t remember any of what was said. I remember thinking that I just wanted to go to sleep SO BAD because I knew that was the only way to stop feeling nauseated but they kept putting cold compresses on my head and telling me to stay awake. The next thing I knew was paramedics asking me a lot of questions and that Ben was eating a cookie. MY COOKIE! I NEVER GOT A COOKIE! They asked me if I wanted to try and get to the ER in Ben’s car or in the ambulance and I knew that if I went with Ben I’d sit in the waiting room for who knows how long before being seen but if they took me in the ambulance I’d get in immediately. I also realized how silly it seemed to take an ambulance ACROSS THE STREET to the hospital but I didn’t care JUST GET ME OUT OF THIS PLACE AND STOP THE NAUSEA. They got an IV into my hand, took my blood pressure and blood sugar, all of that was fine but my pulse was weak and in the 10 minutes that they examined me I threw up twice. Well, I dry heaved till I felt like I was going to pass out again twice. Nothing but bile and foam had come up for quite some time.

Then I dry heaved when they loaded me onto the gurney. Then I dry heaved in the ambulance. Then I dry heaved when they moved me to the gurney in the hospital room. And I dry heaved as the doctor asked me questions and took my vitals. It just kept going and going and going. The paramedics had given me as much Zofran as allowed and it didn’t touch the nausea. Then the nurse at the hospital but a full dose of Reglan into my IV. It didn’t touch the nausea. She came in after that and asked if I could try and take a pill and I said I’d try. When she walked in to hand me the pill I was dry heaving so she just turned around and walked out. When she came back in she had another drug. I don’t remember the name of this one but she told me that it would make me drowsy and I was like PUT IT ALL IN RIGHT NOW I WANT TO SLEEP PLEASE MAKE ME SLEEP. When about half the syringe had emptied into my IV she asked me if it hurt since it will cause a burning sensation and I said something along the lines of this:

Me: Oh yeah, I can feel that.
Her: Does it hurt?
Me: I don’t think… it’s not like… I can… it’s going in there but…
Ben: Does it hurt?
Me: I’m… not like… It’s working in there I think it might be like…
Ben:…
Her:…
Me: *sleeping*

Seriously, I don’t even remember her finishing up the syringe or leaving the room.

Apparently at some point while I slept Ben took my picture, a video of me snoring, ate Subway and somebody pulled the fire alarm in the ER. There were sirens and strobe lights and loud speaker announcements and I slept through all of it.

I woke up later because Ben noticed that my blood pressure had fallen way down (think it was just a loose cuff) and he had called a nurse in. It was after 9:00PM. Six hours after the initial appointment and the first time in almost five hours that I wasn’t scared to open my eyes because I knew I’d just start dry heaving all over again. I could finally feel the nausea subsiding. I was released not long after that with a prescription for more anti-nausea medication and a note from the doctor to stay home the next day.

I’m still really sore. My abs hurt more than P90X or Insanity has ever made them feel and my lungs hurt pretty bad. Like, all the time. Apparently this is common after throwing up that much. I’ve read this will last a few more days so I’ve been taking aspirin to help a bit. And I’m tired. I don’t know if my body is still fighting off a minor bug or is just in recovery mode but sleeping has been hard because of the ab/lung pain so I’m looking really forward to this three day weekend!

The worst part of all? They had to discard my donation. I totally get, given my reaction, why they had to but it was a little like pouring salt in the wound. Sucks! I already have an appointment for a donation in a few month though. I’ll make sure not to rush out of the chair again this time and that I’m GOOD AND HEALTHY before going in. It was a HORRIBLE day but not as horrible a day as the person that eventually ends up needing that pint of blood.

For a long time now I’ve been going back and forth about having another baby or officially closing down this factory.

So I sit down like a reasonable adult and make a list.

Reasons to have 17 more kids:

1. Babies smell yummy.
2. Babies are cute.
3. You can dress babies up in ridiculous outfits and they can’t get pissed. Well, they can get pissed but they can’t do anything about it and you shouldn’t feel guilty for laughing at them.
4. I really loved breastfeeding.
5. Cassidy doesn’t fall for my Halloween candy tricks anymore! (See also: Zombie Baby Costume)
6. Baby fat rolls.
7. OMGBABIES!

Then I think about the fact that in about 3.5 years Ben and I will get to stop being legally responsible for anybody but ourselves and all that would mean and… I kind of can’t wait. For instance, I could implement a No Pants Rule in the house and if Cassidy doesn’t like it then she can move to her own fascist house where stupid pants are a requirement.

So I sit back down and make another list.

Reasons you really don’t ever want another child:

1. After a few months you realize that babies actually smell like vomit and poop and sleep deprivation.
2. Screaming babies are not cute.
3. Kid clothes are expensive. And even though you own 75 onsies and 48 pairs of baby leg warmers and 93 bibs, you can’t walk in the door of a Target without “accidentally” walking down the baby isle and buying at least 2 more of each because you are an emotion hormonal nutcase and if your baby doesn’t have 1,249 pairs of socks you are depriving them and I JUST WANT TO BE A GOOD MOM STOP JUDGING ME!
4. I really hated cracked nipples and my milk letting down in the restaurant when the baby across the room that has no relation to me whatsoever cried and now the two hours I put into looking good to go out on a date night has been ruined by the two basketball sized milk stains on my shirt.
5. I’m an adult! I don’t need stupid kids for Halloween candy! I can buy candy whenever the fuck I want! Also: This year I think I’ll buy my normal amount of Halloween candy then just not answer the door when the kids knock. Instead, every time I get a knock, I’m going to eat another piece of candy while looking through the peephole at the faces of sad, candy deprived children. And I will smile. And there will be no guilt. Also: GET OFF MY LAWN
6. Instead of having to clean baby fat rolls in a bath every day, I can soak in a bath MYSELF with a glass of wine and Kitchen Nightmare episodes on the iPad. And I won’t even have to put pants on afterward.
7. FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDOM!

No matter how cute the fat rolls are, I am really REALLY looking forward to the No Pants Rule. And most importantly, I remember that cute little babies grow into slightly less cute toddlers, then slightly more pain in the ass kids and then eventually into somewhat intolerable teenagers.

So on April 11th, 19 day ago, I went and had the Mirena IUD inserted. This baby factory is closed, people. Also, I have been bleeding for 16 out of 19 days. But that’s another post for another day. It will go into how I’m pretty sure my cervix packed it’s bag and didn’t even bother to leave a note before walking out of my life forever. Because OMG PAIN.

I’m kind of surprised about how okay I am with this decision. And of course, there is always the option of having it removed if for some crazy reason I change my mind but I’m about 99.99999999999999999999999% sure that Cassidy is going to be an only child and in 3.5 years you should definitely call before you come over because there’s about a 100% chance I will not be wearing pants.

I have so many words in me and not the will to write them. I will undoubtedly be posting here in the coming months because I miss it. I miss this so much. But for now, the words I feel are not ready to come out so instead I leave you with a proper Throw Back Thursday photo.

August 2005 at Great America for Cameron’s birthday. I made them stand in front of is so that I could get a picture with the Enterprise without looking like an idiot because OMG ENTERPRISE TAKE MY PICTURE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!?

So, recently a few of the celebrities I stalk follow have started using this app called Keek. Think Instagram but with short videos. So far I’ve seen a Teen Mom star, every single Kardashian spawn, Snooki and JWOWW¹ post tweets and/or screenshots on Instagram of their Keek accounts.

I kind of wrote it off as Keek trying to hype it’s service. I assumed that these folks were probably being paid to pimp the service, which I get. Make your money, yo. But then I started seeing more and more people post tweets about it and also Instagram screenshots so I checked it out.

Okay, let me be completely honest. I have absolutely no plan at this point on using the service but when I see any new service like this I grab the username Antigone as soon as possible. I get annoyed when somebody else gets there first because I’ve been using the name online for FIFTEEN YEARS so technically, it should be reserved for me anyway.

So I signed up and grabbed my username, browsed a bit, followed some people and closed the app. I started getting notifications on my iPhone IMMEDIATELY so turned off all that business but the emails were already hitting my inbox too. I had just been deleteing them as they came in but then saw one titled “Get Your Account Verified” so I checked it out to make sure that I hadn’t missed a step in the sign up process and this is what it said:

The Keek community is growing rapidly with millions of people signing up monthly. Keek account verification is used to authenticate the identity of users. The verified icon helps establish trust and makes it easier for users to find you and your content.

1. Post at least one keek to the account you want to verify.

2. Take a screenshot of your Keek profile and post it to your official Twitter, Facebook and/or Instagram accounts with this verification message:

Copy text below:
Go download the Keek app and subscribe to me! My username is antigone http://keek.com/getapp

3. Email us at verifyme@keek.com and include your Keek username along with links to the verification message posted on each of your official accounts.

• You don’t need all of the above accounts to be verified but your chances increase if you post the verification message to all official accounts you own
• Active Keek accounts with engaged followers and subscribers increase your chances of verification

Keek manually reviews all submissions and does not guarantee verification for any account.

And I was like YEAAAHHH. Hello spam! Post screenshots of us all over the place (FREE ADVERTISING!) and MAYBE at SOME POINT we’ll “verify” your account. Hey Keek, guess how I’ll verify that I am who I say I am, BY POSTING A VIDEO OF MYSELF FLIPPING YOU THE BIRD!

So I realized that the reason all those celebs were doing this was because branding is a big deal. Social Media is the best thing to happen to celebrities in a LONG time (obviously talking about celebs that choose to not be as private) and they want that verification so they fell into this trap. But for everybody else, this is Keek just cleverly using social media and the kind of idiots that like stupid shit on Facebook spam pages to garner themselves a TON of free advertising.

Seriously, just look at a search on twitter for “Go download the Keek app and subscribe to me! My username is”:

Why in the hell does _becky_w or royaaal_ need a verified account? Other than Keek’s want for them to make sure all their twitter, Facebook and Instagram followers know the app exists. Now MOST PEOPLE will open this email and realize this right away. But the same people that like photos to prevent cancer on Facebook will do this verify BS and pollute the internet with an app that SHOULD do what every other decent app does and know that if you build an excellent app, people will promote it all on their own and it will grow and thrive and become The Next Big Thing.

And I know this isn’t a BIG DEAL. It’s not even a Big Deal. But I hate that this is the direction the internet is going and I really wish all these young ignorant whippersnapper would get off my goddamn lawn.