I think I may finally understand what it is that makes me change things around so often. I can't seem to stop myself from doing that. Just as I become comfortable and happy with something suddenly it isn't right for some reason and has to be either switched around or gotten rid of entirely. It doesn't happen with the more important things, just with the smaller things. Things like my email addresses and my sites.

I've switched email addresses so many times in the last few months my friends often don't know how to get in touch with me. My journals have been changed, redesigned or abandoned in much the same way. Lots and often.

At first I thought it was just because the email service was shitty (and it is - yahoo is a fucking nightmare but I would keep going back in the vain hope that it would get better), and diaryland was plagued with technical problems that caused me to lose a lot of long entries that meant a lot to me. Those reasons are certainly part of it but definitely not all. I think it has to do with my depression and control.

My depression makes me feel dissatisfied with everything. Nothing feels right, nothing looks right, nothing is right. Oddly though, I don't care. I get to the point beyond feeling terrible and just go numb for awhile. It's usually after that, when I start to feel really awful again that I start feeling the need to change things around. As if a new email represents a new start. Logically I know it doesn't, but while I'm like that logic means very little. So I go through the trouble of relocating, changing my address with all of the myriad sites I'm a member of and notifying my friends, only to do the same thing the next time I start feeling like shit.

The same for my journals. Granted, the first time was because I had good reason to think my husband had found my journal and though we share practically everything else I like my journals to be private, at least from him. If I'm angry, he already knows how I feel. He doesn't need to see what I feel spelled out in front of him, and he doesn't need to know how many people may be seeing it. Venting here keeps me from being less sane than I am already, when the isolation and closed-in feeling hits. I can't curl up in a fetal position in my closet if I start to feel as if I'm slipping away. There's literally no one there to talk me through it or take the kids so I can veg out for awhile. Most of the time I'm all I have in those situations until I've made the effort to put things into perspective here (and get the support of my friends, which also helps).

But the journal has to look perfect or I can't use it. It has to work at least 90% of the time or I get disgusted and can't use it. If I lose too many entries I lose the desire to continue with it.

I've gotten flighty. I can't do much right now to change my situation and either go to school or get a job; to do things that take me out of here for an extended period of time. So I constantly rearrange the few things I do have control over in an attempt to make something, anything work the way I want it to. This goes a lot deeper than an email address or the picture at the top of my page, but that's how I try to make myself feel better.

I feel very out of control, not as often as I did right before going back on the meds but still...

The meds do take some of the edge off of things but they aren't a cure-all. I'm still going to have to increase my dosage some time soon because the holidays are practically here. I thought I could avoid the holiday bummer this time but I can't. It's already starting. At least now I'm not kidding myself and know what to do (and am willing to do it). I guess that's progress.

So it seems my little changes are a weak attempt to regain some control. It doesn't matter over what.

I've listed with several cliques and fanlistings, which should help. Keeping myself from taking off again isn't the only reason I did that (I still won't join unless I really like the site), but I must admit it does help. I don't want to have to go through all of those sites and change my information. I'm considering starting my own clique or fanlisting to further keep the flighty-ness to a bare minimum.

This time I'm really enjoying my journal and I don't want to pull up stakes again for a bullshit reason.

~~~~~~~~

My grandmother came through her surgery well and will probably be going home soon. I'm going to call her tomorrow and see how she is. I wish I could have been there this weekend, even if I would have had to face the disapproving stares and tones of voice from my family. Since when did I ever do anything they liked anyway? I don't even know why I work so hard to get their approval. With a few exceptions, they've made it clear I'm never going to get it. I could do everything each one of them wants me to do to please them every day for the remainder of their lives and still wouldn't get it, yet for some reason I don't know (and probably wouldn't understand), I feel as if I need it.

Go figure.

Because really, I don't have a clue as to why that is. It just is.

~~~~~~~~

I was tremendously disappointed by Queen of the Damned. Stuart Townsend was dead fucking sexy and I liked Vincent Perez (and Aaliyah was awesome), but once the movie had been on for about an hour I realised I had chosen my evening's entertainment very poorly. Lameoid plot. I mean really, really dumb. It looked way better on the commercials. The whole scene in which Lestsat first appeared to the rest of his band was so stupid and so forced that I almost cringed. Not a good thing considering it happens right at the beginning. The rock star premise didn't work at all. The soundtrack rocks though. It's probably the best part of the movie.

But I should have saved my money and watched The Crow again. It's more dark and definitely a better film.

Oh, and Scooby Doo was great! I watched it with John a few days ago and we both loved it. As predicted, Matthew Lillard now has my undying affection and respect because he can do the Shaggy voice to perfection. The entire film was great, but for some reason that made the biggest impression on me.