I haven’t been posting as much lately.  I’m not sure if very many people have noticed, but I have, and there is a reason for it.  Put out an APB for one sad pony and one squirrel possibly high on meth tainted nuts.

What?

I can’t help it Alice has so many nuts in her attic and I just go wild man willllllllllllld!

In case you don’t know much about these two (any first time people who somehow stumbled over here can find out more on my About page) these guys represent my depression and anxiety.  Guess which one is which?  I’ve been having issue with both of these little hairballs, and since I’m allergic to fur, I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to both of them as well.  Some say they are just pictures, but believe me, they are a little too real.

It’s okay, I’m one of those non-shedding anxiety squirrels!

These guys didn’t always represent my issues.  Originally Sad Pony was just a funny meme I found somewhere that I tossed onto my page.  I loved him so much I did this quite often.  There is something about a pony that just looks this sad.  I realize he probably isn’t really sad, he’s just tired, you know, typical pony burnout.  But he sure looks pathetic in that picture.  Added to the humor (my sense of humor is a little different, like me!) are the words “Sad Pony is Sad.”  I find this dopey redundant sentence totally hilarious.  But also fitting.  Because even depressed, I can see humor everywhere. Sometimes, with enough distance, I can see how humorous some of my depressive thoughts can seem.  Like Eeyore on steroids.

Noooobody worry about me. I’ll just sit here. With pins in my eyes. No, no, I’m fine, just that my life is a hollow lie and my soul a darkened pit of despair and agony. Oh, and I’m sitting on a squirrel. This makes me uncomfortable.

At some point, Sad Pony just became another character on my blog, just as he is a character in my life.  I am not depression, and depression isn’t me.  In this case, it’s a fat pony that just flops down on top of me and says “Take a break.  Take 50.”  It’s rather hard to get things done with this thing sitting on you.  Forget the black dog.  I have a Sad Pony, and ponies are heavy, especially when lethargic.  Or so I’ve heard.  I’ve never met a real pony – er beside this one who is REAL.  Somewhere.  I mean I have no idea who shot this picture. But I thank them.

Thanks so bloody much, Internet.

But I’m not always just sad.  I also have anxiety.  And the best way I’ve figured out to describe anxiety is with a squirrel.  Have you ever watched these guys before?  Holy crap, it’s like some wire in their brain is being repeatedly shocked so that they have to dart from here to there and back again for no particular reason that I can tell.  Maybe it’s because they are toward the bottom of the food chain, and don’t want to get eaten.  The only time I’ve seen them remotely calm is on the college campus where I currently work, and that’s because college students are always – purposely or not – feeding the little suckers.  They’d grown so unafraid that they will actually sit on your foot.  The squirrels, not the students.  These squirrels can never leave campus or they will be killed almost immediately.

I’m a college squirrel. My major is Abnormal Psychology.

Squirrel also started out as a picture I threw into posts partly because of the Disney movie “Up” where a dog is given the ability to speak and, not surprisingly, he has little to say and is often distracted.  He can be in the middle of a sentence, spot a squirrel, and yell randomly “SQUIRREL!”  That’s my anxiety in a nutshell (pun intended bwaha).  I can be totally fine and then suddenly feel extreme panic.  I am fearful of what most people are not, like say going to work.  Sure they might not want to go to work, but their adrenaline doesn’t shoot up because they are going there.  This anxiety would be considered normal if I worked in, say, an ER.  But I work in a library.  Rarely is my life in danger at a library, though we have had snakes, bats, spiders, wasps, and yes, once a squirrel invade.  Also when people shoot up campuses, they often go for the library.  I learned this is our Active Shooter Training at work.  It really helped with my anxiety.

OMG it’s a gun! Ruuuuuun oh wait it’s just someone’s laptop my mistake!

Laptops look nothing like guns, you moron.

As you can see, these two fellows often interact.  Depression makes me see anxiety as even more ridiculous, causing me to feel sad, then spiraling me into anxiety because oh no I’m sad again and how long will this last and then back to depression because come on, you have nothing to be afraid of, Alice.  Well, except maybe the possibility of a Trump presidency.  Then again, if we do get him, we probably won’t last long as a country because we will be bombed off the earth.  Either by other countries or ourselves.

Trump? Trump Trump Trump Trump OMG it’s a weapon of mass destruction!

That’s his hair, you twit. Still . . . point made.

Comforting thoughts, there.  Not really, but what is comforting is that I have this blog.  And over the years, I’ve had others identify with these two, and even encourage the figments of my imagination.  It’s great when other people willingly share in your delusions.  And no matter how much that squirrel runs, no matter how much he distracts me, no matter how much he encourages me to scroll through the Internet all day long or do impulsive things, I have a support system.  Same with Sad Pony.  There is usually someone – like friends Lindy, Jody, my best blog friend Merbear and naturally my Things (among others) – to eventually help distract me from the distraction of that squirrel. There is usually someone who, while maybe unable to lift that pony, will lie down with me until he leaves.

Goldfish even made Sad Pony and Squirrel stickers in her Redbubble Shop! You can also get them on a photo (I have them hanging up), or a pillow, or a baby onesie. Provided she still has it up? I don’t know. But it’s awesome!

So I’m having a lot of ups and downs.  Meds really help with this, especially this last one that injected several of Squirrel’s best friends directly into my bloodstream, leaving me wanting to literally climb the walls and run out of my own skin.  You are ready for anything to help you at that point, even a fat pony to sit on those squirrels.  But I stopped that med, and I continue to hope for the future.  For even the most sarcastic people have hope.  I thank this blog, and my blog readers, for helping keep up that hope.  I thank them for letting me be Alice.

When life throws you flamingos, play polo.

P.S. As a little aside, I have started another blog about my dolls, titled appropriately Wonderland of Plastic.  I only have an introduction and one review up so far (Wonderrrr Womaaaaaaaaaan!), but promise more to come.  I discuss the dolls and history and since it’s me, Alice, of course I have snark.  I’m not sure I can totally write without it.  This is also where I’ll be moving my doll stories with the Things.  We have more torture planned for our Disney princess housewives.  Because there is life after the fairy tale.

Always.

~Alice