The Bloggess

So there’s this strange thing that happens to me where when I’m in a depression it literally affects my sight. The deeper I get into a depression the more I get literal tunnel vision, with all of the edges seeming hazy and dark…it’s as if I am looking up through the bottom of a well or looking through binoculars that don’t work.

And today…there’s a little light. It’s as if someone turned on a lamp in a room that I hadn’t realized was so very dark. And I feel like I can think almost straight and my basic words don’t run from me. And it is such a relief to feel this and remind myself again that depression makes you feel like you’ve been there forever…that you are at the end. So I’m writing this now to remind myself that it’s not, in case I start to fall down that well again sooner rather than later. And I’m taking advantage of this bit of energy to update you on fun stuff I’ve wanted to write about but didn’t have the energy for. YAY.

First up, I’m speaking at the National Book Festival at the Library of Congress next month. Whoop! Tickets are free! Come join me!

Second, Nowhere Bookshop was voted BEST BOOKSTORE OF SAN ANTONIO and that is a very big deal because there are a lot of great bookstores in this city. Also, clearly we need to make a “BRAINY MISFIT” t-shirt because that is pretty darn accurate and I would certainly wear one myself.

Hailey had their wisdom teeth removed yesterday. My doctors wouldn’t let me keep my wisdom teeth so I asked if we could keep Hailey’s and the drs thought that was very weird but they allowed it, except that when they woke up Hailey said that they needed boil their teeth to make a “teeth tea” because “that’s where all the vitamins are” and the nurse whispered to me “Don’t let them drink their teeth” and I was like, “Of course not. We’ll make them into jewelry like normal people do.” But the weird thing is that Hailey’s wisdom teeth roots were curved so much that they looked like tiny gnome hats. I would show you but they’re still quite bloody and I don’t want to gross you out. But like this, except teeth:

Anyway, Hailey is doing very well today and last time I looked in on them they looked like a beautiful but consumptive Victorian child, mixed with the ghost of Jacob Marley. (Yes, I have their permission to share.)

Small note here. I double checked that reference before posting and I’m glad I did because my fuzzy brain had told me I meant the ghost of Bob Cratchit and google was like, “No, that’s Tiny Tim’s dad. You mean Marley” and I was like, “Right. The ghost of Bob Marley. Wait…isn’t it weird that two people in A Christmas Carol have the same first name? Why would Charles Dickens have so many Bobs?” and so I looked that up and google was like, “Have you been taking Hailey’s pain meds? Because it’s Jacob Marley” and then I was like, “That sounds right but I would have sworn there was a Bob Marley. Is this one of those Mandela Effects?” and so I googled Bob Marley and was vindicated for a half of a second until I was reminded that Bob Marley is a reggae singer who I literally own multiple cds of, and that’s when I realized that maybe some of the depression brain fog is actually still hanging on.

BUT…it’s dissipated enough that I laughed out loud at my own stupidity and had the energy to explain it all here and that is a very good sign. For me, that is. Possibly not for you who had to read my ramblings. Sorry.

Fourth, I don’t remember what the fourth thing was.

So if you are a very close follower of mine you probably noticed that I disappeared here for over a week, which I don’t think I’ve ever done before. I’d like to say it’s because I was off on an exciting vacation but truthfully I’ve just been dealing with a depression that has been a lot harder to shake than my normal ones. It happens. Usually only once every year or two. But every time it feels like I’ve been in this fog forever. It feels very lonely even though I know how unalone I am in this struggle.

I’m doing all of the things I’m supposed to do and I will be fine but still, it’s hard…this terrible brain fog that makes me think I’ve lost my mind and the exhaustion that keeps me from being me.

I recently had some bloodwork that showed that I had almost no serotonin, which was not much of a surprise to me. My intestinal metaplasia makes absorbing things hard and it can affect serotonin, but my doctors thought this was extreme so they did a genetic test on me and found that I have the MTHFR gene variation (which I have nicknamed “THE MOTHERFUCKER MUTATION” because it sounds badass). Turns out, that genetic problem makes a lot of medications not work properly on you and the list of those meds include all of my antidepressants. It’s not an entirely uncommon mutation so if you also have treatment resistant depression you want to get checked. Is there a cure? OF COURSE NOT. DON’T BE RIDICULOUS. But there are studies that show some certain supplements can help so I’m trying those now.

And perhaps it’s just a coincidence, but today I have more energy. My brain fog is still so bad I had to stop 5 times to look up words I already know here, but I cleaned my room and took Purrsy to the vet and took a shower and updated my weekly substack and answered some emails and now I’m writing here. And that sounds like such a small thing, but it’s really not. It’s so big.

And speaking of Purrsy, he is breathing life into me with his ridiculousness. This morning he got fixed and now he is back home recuperating. The vet texted me this picture and they were like, “Your cat is drunk. Come get him. Don’t let him drive.”

And the picture they sent cracked me up so much I thought that I should share it here but then I thought that I should share several and let you guess which one is totally-high Purrsy because this dude is insane all the time:

Tag yourself. I’m currently middle-right side-eye Purrsy as I watch this cat (that I was told would probably sleep all day) go absolutely nuts romping around my room, knocking over bowls and falling over like the tiny drunk that he is.

I so love him.

So this morning I had to get up early for a doctors appointment but instead of my alarm I woke up to an incredibly loud IMMINENT THREAT flood warning and so it gave me an excuse to just go back to bed because I couldn’t drive, but then I woke up again to another screaming warning and this time it was saying that a funnel cloud was forming over my neighborhood and to get into an interior room immediately, which was unexpected because I’ve lived through several tornados in West Texas but I’ve never seen one in San Antonio in the 12 years I’ve lived here.

The pressure dropped and we threw Purrsy and Dorothy Barker into an interior closet and I went to find Rolly, who I assumed would be hiding because cats don’t make it to 20 years old without good instincts but was instead sitting with her nose up to the full-length glass window, staring at the storm like, “I’M READY, JESUS. COME GET ME!” and I picked her up and she hissed at me like, “THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU, LADY.” I might need to get her on some antidepressants.

And then we all curled up in the closet, which seemed like a good place until I remembered that closet light turns off automatically when you shut the door, which is very good for forgetful people like me who forget to turn off lights but not so good when you’re in a pitch-black closet with three furious animals who keep bumping into each other, one of whom is a storm-terrified papillon, one of whom is a kitten who is literally climbing up the coats and then gleefully dive-bombing us as if he was in a kitten-based trampoline park, and one of whom is a grumpy old lady who is only alive because of spite and just wanted to watch a tornado in peace (relatable).

I sat in a corner and kept getting texts from friends going, “BITCH IS THIS YOUR HOUSE ON MY TORNADO WARNINGS? DID YOU DIE?” and I wanted to text Hailey not to worry because they’re at their apartment but also I didn’t want to wake them up just to make them worry so instead I posted a picture on social media of us hiding in the closet even though I was still puffy-faced and sleep-creased and actively bleeding (thanks, purrsy) so that if the signals went down they would know we were in a safe place. And then I thought, “Fuck. If there is a tornado people are going to find me dead and my house is a fucking wreck because I’ve been too tired to clean” and then I thought, “But maybe people will assume the tornado did all the mess?” and then I thought, “Oh, did the tornado leave 6 baskets of dirty laundry in your closet, Jenny? Did the tornado just keep buying more laundry baskets rather than doing laundry?” and then I thought, “OMG, calm down and stop yelling at me. No one gives a shit about how dirty your house is. What is wrong with you? Do you honestly want your last thoughts to be about laundry, you absolute doorknob?”

But then my phone lit up with a response on my post about hiding in the closet and it was two cartoon penises being thrust up into the air over and over and I was like, “I don’t know what’s happening but honestly, unexpected double penis thrust emojis is way more on brand for my last thoughts, so I guess I’ll take it?”

But then I scrolled down turns out it was someone sending prayer hands floating up to Jesus and then I thought that probably this would be a very funny icebreaker to tell Jesus if I did die because frankly, this is whole thing is fucking ridiculous.

And then I laughed out loud. Which was weird because I’ve been in a rough depression for a few weeks now, and it was sort of nice, reminding myself that even when there is unaccountable sadness in what should be happy places, there is also unaccountable giggly laughter in dark, scary ones as well.

And then we got the all-clear to come out. The tornado had shifted and touched down a few minutes down the road at the Rim (at the very place I had my doctors appointment scheduled that I’d decided to ignore just before) ripping off roofs and damaging businesses but so far it looks like no one was hurt, thank goodness. And Dorothy Barker shakily cuddled up in bed to ignore the still-raging storm, Rolly huffily went back on Jesus-watch at her picture window, and Purrsy fell asleep on my lap before I could even lay down myself, absolutely oblivious to any danger and blissfully worn out from the thrilling playdate he’d completely loved:

Anyway, stay safe, friends.

PS. We just got another screaming “SHELTER IN PLACE – CRITICAL! IMMINENT THREAT!” (when did “imminent threat” become a thing, weather warning system? That’s so scary.) but it’s for flooding and we seem fine at the moment (although the dry creek in front of our house looks like a small rolling rapid) so I’m not too worried (knock all the wood) but this is a photo of Purrsy when it went off right next to him and I have never related more:

I’m writing this now bc I don’t ever want to go a week without blogging even if -like now- I’m fighting off a depression that makes me feel more than slightly worthless. You can usually tell when I’m in a depression because I disappear…from the internet…from friends and family…from myself. I kept waiting this week for this malaise to fall away so that my brain fog could dissipate and I could write about all the things I want and need to but it hasn’t happened yet. Instead, I work so very slowly on things that don’t take as much brain power.

I opened a moving box to unpack on the couch (yes, I moved over a year ago and am still unpacking) and inside I found a kaleidoscope a friend made me decades ago out of wild flowers and stained glass. Somehow it had gotten crushed, one of the spinning glass lenses shattered into pieces.

I threw away the loose shards and considered tossing the whole thing but then I looked through it and found that I could still move the broken glass disc a little. Not as smoothly, certainly, but still it worked. And the shattered spiderwebbed glass around the dried wildflowers gave it an even more complex kaleidoscope. It wasn’t what it was made for, it didn’t work like it should, and from the outside it looked irrevocably shattered, but somehow -looking through the light- the brokenness gave it a perspective I’d never have seen before.

So I’m keeping it on a high shelf. Broken, fragile, perhaps a little bit dangerous…but still beautiful and unique with the right kind of eyes that are willing to look.

If I didn’t have this brain fog this post would be better. Or at least different. But perhaps you have the same curious eyes or foggy mind and can read what my broken head is trying and failing to say eloquently. And if so, I hope it reminds you that you will get through this, that your struggle makes you unique, and that even when you are struggling you are still beautiful.

My brain has stopped working this week so please enjoy this assortment of things that brought me joy and laughter:

1. I drove past this and had to stop to take a picture because “GET IN THE BITCH DUMPSTER” is now my new favorite insult.

2. I am a prolific reader and a bookstore owner and I just found out I have been mispronouncing Jodi Picoult’s name my whole life. I texted Vicki from Nowhere and turns out we’re all just learning constantly:

3. I got this cool ring knife because Victor was always yelling at me for using the scissors “wrong” because he always insists I’m going to stab myself even though I never do…

And it is amazing for opening packages and I feel like a miniature Freddy Kruger, but I was so excited that when I went to put the lid back on it I missed and fucking stabbed the shit out of my hand.

Unrelated…that little die-cut thing in the picture above is a magnet that we are sending out when you buy a copy of HOW TO BE OKAY WHEN NOTHING IS OKAY from Nowhere and we accidentally ordered way too many so I stuck a bunch all over my tailgate and now it’s much easier to find my car in the parking lot. So if you happen to see a subaru in San Antonio with exploding headed bears all over it that is me and feel free to pull one off for yourself.

4. We got two weird reviews for Nowhere Bookshop from a couple who opined that “the book selection appeared to be purposeful” (it is!) and our far too LGBTQ-friendliness was too “in your face” (too friendly! Cut it out, y’all!) and that it was more of a safe space for “a particular crowd” than bookshop, and I guess that’s probably accurate if the particular crowd they’re talking about is readers who love love? It’s just sort of nice that even when we get one-star reviews they usually end up being ones we’re most proud of. 🙂

5. Purrsy Bysshe Shelley is growing like a fucking weed. HE IS LANKY AS HELL. Victor asked me what I was feeding him and I was like, “Kitten food and human hair.” Only the first part is intentional, but every night he cuddles up on my pillow and twice I have woken up to hear a weird noise and turned on the light to find that Purrsy was EATING MY HAIR.

It’s like he’s building a fucking nest.

Luckily for him, he is adorable. He can have all of my hair. I love him.

6. I forgot what number 6 was.

7. Wait, I remember! I wrote about my brain not working anymore on my art substack if you want to read it. (You can have it delivered each week in your email if you like. The majority of the posts are free for everyone but you can sign up for extras if you want to keep me in art supplies.)

8. There is no number 8. Thanks for reading, friend.

Argh. There are a ton of scams going around in the literary world right now (and I know because I get at least 10 a week myself) but one of the latest scams is coming from someone pretending to be me. INFURIATING.

Basically, fellow writers are getting an email from me saying that I want to partner with them on marketing their book or picking it for my book club. This is a scammer who is going to ask you for money or for your passwords. I will never ask you for money for anything. In fact, if you get an email that seems even vaguely professional and well-written I promise you it’s someone pretending to be me because I am full of rambling nonsequiters, profanity, typos, and I am afraid of email and of contacting people in general.

The scam is usually someone sending a very long email saying how much they love your work and then after you respond they will ask for money for refreshments for the book club or for “basic administrative stuff” or other things. And if you say yes they will ask for more. Or they will say they want to partner with you to collaborate with you and they’ll use that to get ahold of your socials and then blackmail you for them back or sell them to places that promote p0rn. Or they’ll say they want to do a paid podcast with you on facebook live but first they need to meet with you online to make sure your computer will work and then they will take it over and change your passwords. It sucks and it happens constantly and it gets more sophisticated every day.

These are often made by generative AI (THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE) so millions of these scams are sent out with a touch of a button. That’s why you’re seeing them more and more. One of the easiest ways to see if you’re being scammed is to look carefully at the email the offer is coming from. The one pretending to be me is thebloggesss (with three s’s) @gmail.com. Most professional offers will come from a recognizable domain, so if someone emails you and it doesn’t come from the domain of the person contacting you (like mine should end with @thebloggess.com) then that’s something I’d personally delete immediately.

Other AI things to be aware of? The incredibly prolific pity-advertising video showing an artist (often a marginalized person) crying while another AI person throws their “hand-crafted” product on the ground and laughs at them. The infuriating or inspiring stories on facebook and threads that are really just aggregators made up by AI for engagement and if you look at their profile you see it’s not a real person and says something like, “COLLECTING THE BEST STORIES” or some other bullshit. Entire accounts that are just bots made to attack or to say terrible things intended to affect your political thoughts or exhaust you by fighting with them. I’m sure I’m missing some (and feel free to leave them in the comments) but this is just a little post to tell you that you are not alone if you’ve been scammed and to be careful out there because there are suspicious robots everywhere. Avoid the robots and fuck generative AI, my friend.