Truly, I do

I think about posting a lot, but can never seem to get there. Right now I'm on the tail end of a Joan Crawford jag on Netflix, and thinking about starting up with Bette Davis.

I'm reading a book called Sofie's World, which bills itself as a history of philosophy, and so far I quite like it. I haven't much patience for reading, but I'm making my way through it.

Mostly though, at least this week, I feel quiet - not much to say.

So while I truly do want to post more, the spirit isn't willing.

Twenty-Five things about me

I was tagged a while ago by Marianne @ Kanalaon and finally I've gotten around to it, as I was tagged for a similar meme.
This list has 25 things on it.


1. I've been to Russia and Armenia.
2. Once I slapped someone in a melodramatic way, just like on TV.
3. I can pick up cigarettes, smoke, and then not smoke for months.
4. Currently don't have a favourite colour.
5. When writing words like favorite and color, I use the British U.
6. My laptop and I have an unnaturally close relationship.
7. My 13-year old is going through puberty. It's not a pretty thing.
8. I'd like to write my memoirs some day.
9. I don't have 25 internet friends to tag.
10. I fall asleep at night listening to my iPod.
11. Yesterday in the car, while listening to the radio, someone used the phrase Living My LIfe Like it's Golden, and I turned the radio off and started singing the song "Golden" by Jill Scott. That is one upbeat tune.
12. I take so many meds I had to get a pillbox to organize them all. That scares the dickens out of me.
13. Thirteen is my favourite number. At the time of writing up this list, I look forward to Friday the 13th in a couple of weeks.
14. Apparently, I am the only person in the world that gets the cheaper phone that doesn't take pictures.
15. I'd be thrilled to have a phone with a bell in it at home instead of the fake ring I've got now.
16. After my boyfriend, Netflix may be the best friend I have in town.
17. I love coffee, especially coffee from Nicaragua.
18. Still missing my old favourite coffee shop, Toad Hill.
19. Lately when I dream, I talk out loud, responding to people in the dreams. It's kind of freaky.
20. I'm clinically obese. It's not as bad as it sounds.
21. After a recent hospital stay, I'm trying to eat my meals at the same times as the hospital served them. Obviously I'm in dire need of structure in my day.
22. Because of the meds I referred to in #12, I'm not suppose to drink alcohol.
23. I miss hanging out at Mickey's Tavern. I miss it a lot.
24. Sometimes I laugh when I watch Two and a half Men. It is my secret shame.
25. I'd like to take up photography again.

I'm angry

So my therapist suggested to me that I get angry about my bipolar disorder. Not angry at myself for having it and all the struggles that come with it, but angry at IT.

This has been an interesting few days experiment. I'm not so good at being angry at an amorphous IT. It's way more familiar to be angry at myself.

In any case, I'm pissed off, and it isn't pretty.

Here I am!

Wow, I've been gone for a while, haven't I?

So where have I been?

For a week I was in the hospital being treated for my huge ginormous depression (which was just about strangling me to death). I've been home for a week and a half, and am just getting used to things and trying to take it easy while I regroup.

That's about it.

It's autumn here, which means I need to get out my warmer jacket, and maybe take my camera out for some fall colour shots.

I watched The Elephant Man today. Hadn't seen that since it came out in 1980. Used to see a lot of films in the theater. These days there are few films I really want to take my kids to.

That is all for now. See ya later!

Wow. Just - wow.

So I just got some news, news I've been waiting for literally for months, and it's GOOD.

GOOD NEWS CAME.

It means I have space and time to work on getting my head and my life together, won't be worried about every little penny (although money is still tight), and have something close to validation regarding the impact of my mental health on my day to day living.

When the dust settles and I see what this means for me, I will likely write some more about my circumstances and how I see them, personally and politically.

The one-day-at-a-time plan

There are times when thinking a week out is just too hard for me. It feels like the world is caving in on me and I can't stand it. That's when I go to my one-day-at-a-time plan, and try to stop myself from worrying about tomorrow. It is what lays right in front of me that I will deal with. Today.

This is WAY WAY harder than it looks, because nothing is one day at a time. It's all about the future, and planning, and getting things done so other things can happen.

Today. Now. This is my list of one day things:

Take shower.
Brush Teeth.
Dress.
Return movie to video store.
Buy a few gallons of gas (literally, 3 or so).
Make lunch for my son and his playdate.
"watch" them while they play videogames and such.
Finish watching my current disc of "The Wire".

Things I might do, but don't have to:

Take a nap.
Put away clean clothes.
Organize dirty stuff.
Go to laundromat.
Wash dishes.
Clean dining room.

Once The Man comes home from work, I expect I'll interact with him. He's cooking dinner tonight (yay!), so I'm off the hook there. Good for us all, I say.

This is Wednesday

Wake up.
Stagger to couch.
Sneeze.
Sneeze.
Sneeze. (repeat 12x)
Blow nose.
Sneeze.
Begin watching the last episode of "Twin Peaks".
Welcome boy home from father's.
Eat breakfast.
Play "The Simpson's Game" and Wii Bowling with boy.
Pack up dirty clothing and schlep to laundromat.
Walk to coffee shop and grab a coffee while things dry.
Fold all laundry and come home.
Unpack clean laundry.
Sit on couch, looking at internet.
Watch boy unpack school supplies, feel slightly envious of his joy.
Blog about day so far.

To do:
Take shower.
Get haircut (fun fact: last haircut was mid-December of 2006).
Eat lunch.
Make bed.
Finish watching series finale of "Twin Peaks".
????

It's a big world out there. What will I do?

Guess what, blogosphere?

I'm a sorry excuse for a blogger these days.

Meet my new best friend

Ah, what would a blog be without TOO MUCH INFORMATION?

I've decided, just now, sipping on a rye & soda, that booze is my new best friend.

It's not the best of friends, it easily lets me down, drives a wedge between me and my other loved ones, and unlike the best things in life, is not free.

But when I'm at my wit's end and I can't see how to make one more effort or work through one more day, it's there to numb the pain and help me out.

Wow.

That was TOTALLY too much information.

Let's see how long this post stays up.

Can't talk, moving

I'll be away in my little corner of crazytown for the next 10 days or so, packing up my stuff, etc. See you when I see you!

Fat Rant 3: Joy Nash outdoes herself

Another great "rant" from Joy Nash. It is so thoughtful and well done!

I realized after watching it that I am somewhat apologetic about liking how I look at any given moment, but I ought not be.

What a Beautiful Day

Although it started out with my very-annoying-to-some-people two-hour nap, the day has been a good one. The weather, after so many days of humidity and rain, is perfect: sunny, breezy, warm but dry. Our (the boy and I) spirits are high and we had a great picnic on the lawn of the State Capitol, then we went inside and looked around for awhile.

After we'd had our fill (the Wisconsin Supreme Court Room [gallery, chamber?] is awesome, but tiny), we moved on to the Veteran's Museum. Seeing as I am pretty much a pacifist and not a history/strategy buff, I know I didn't appreciate the museum as much as the bf would have, but I was fascinated by what was shown, and by the detail of the descriptions for items and battles. It's a place made for someone with a longer attention span than either I or the boy had with us today. But a good place to finally check out.

We hung out downtown for another hour or so and got Italian sodas and walked until I tuckered him out.

It's still a beautiful day and I just finished loading the dishwasher after the two of us cleaned up the living room and I mopped. The boy's room is a disaster, and we need to get in there and really clean it, but that's for another day.

Today we are just recovering from our fine day out and preparing for a nice evening together. Yay us! We are surviving the first week of summer break. Not just surviving, but doing rather well for ourselves.

I will write about our bowling adventures later on!

Oh, that's much better

Had an incredibly rough weekend this past, despite lots of love and gifts from fam and the bf (and plenty of tasty drinks at my favourite watering hole on my birthday).

The sun has come out today (although storms threaten for this afternoon and evening), and I've just spent an hour sitting in the warm, wonderful weather.

Lovely!

Still Fat, but relatively fit

Hooray for me! I had my annual exam yesterday and my weight is nice and steady, but higher than it was, say, a year ago. I'm fine with it, or making peace with it at the least. It's just a number (much like age).

Anyhow, there was a tiny problem with one of my tests, so my clinician called me and gave me a few numbers over the phone, one of them being my blood sugar (80) and the other that my thyroid was just right. She didn't check my cholesterol because my numbers from last year were excellent (both kinds), and my blood pressure is the lowest it's ever been in my adult life.

Seriously, I'm in good shape, as far as blood work and blood pressure. I love having numbers like these to keep me grounded - because everywhere you turn people are telling you that you cannot have both body fat and good numbers. My BMI might be over 25, but there is no indication that my weight is adversely effecting my health.

One part of my weight gain is a new medication I'm taking to help stabilize my mood. I've not gained a lot, but some, and I feel like it's a trade off that is totally worth making (A great blog post on this very subject is here). Some psychiatric drugs really adversely effect people causing massive weight gain and blood sugar problems in a short amount of time. Because of the problems with these drugs (which really should be either taken off the market or heavily restricted), I went for an older less trendy drug, and it seems to be doing a great job without too many side effects.

I'm happy with that.

On comfort

The metaphor of myself as a colicky baby just isn't coming out right.

I want to say this: It is good to feel comfort. It is good to be able to feel comfort, feel comforted.

Sitting here in the lovely silence of Sunday morning, smelling the amazing, green smell of spring, I think: about how wonderful it was to have bf's arms around me as I fell asleep last night, how much I love to hug the little one at bedtime, how my oldest laughs when he's truly tickled by something.

I'm imagining my breakfast this morning, and how good it will taste. I'm thinking about how calm I feel right now. Physically and psychically mellow. Pain free.

When my mood is very bad (and I am trying to find one word which will describe it more clearly, but cannot), I do not feel pleasure in the same way. I am indefinably uncomfortable. I sleep fitfully, or too much, or not at all. My mind is dull, or races with an overabundance of energy. My body aches, and I'm easily fatigued.

When my mood is good, as with today, I feel so...at peace. And that is amazing to feel.

Save the date: May 14-16, 2010

That's commencement weekend, the weekend I plan to graduate from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, a few weeks shy of my 40th birthday.

No, I haven't gotten my official acceptance letter yet, but I have talked to a great resource of mine at the UW and feel really excited, more than ever, about this journey.

On Hope

Somedays hope is expressed through mere routine: I wake, I rise, I bathe, I dress.

Some days hope is expressed in more nuanced ways: I dream, I plan, I pursue.

Today I started looking through the UW website for information on requirements for different majors, and how I might create an individual major for myself. Interestingly, my interests fall into three majors: Anthropology, Communication Arts and Journalism/Mass Media. I don't know how I might juggle all of these disciplines and my natural sciences in 50 or so credits.

I also started looking at the McBurney Disability center and how to get a disability consideration, what documents are needed, etc. If I am accepted for the fall I will have a LOT of work to do to get the classes I need/want and to get myself into the proper advising. Plus looking for spring grants and monies to take summer courses.

And I followed up with the person who is reviewing my information for my SSD case, she said she's gotten everything but the major information from my hospitalization, which apparently is handled by a third-party vendor, so there isn't much I can do to speed it up. I should have a yea or nay on that by July, I guess. If it is a nay, I am going to appeal it. If otherwise, I will have one less thing to worry about.

Speaking of worry, there is always the possibility that I do not have all of the correct requirements to get into the UW this fall. If that is the case, I'm covered, having already enrolled in fall courses at MATC. I figure better safe than sorry.

That, too, is hopeful, even though it might not seem so. In any case I will be where I need to be in order to get what I need to get for what WILL be MY DEGREE. I know, despite occasional discouragement, that I can do this.

And I know that even when it seems like no big thing to other people, this process of going to school is difficult for me, is perhaps harder for me than for others. I was always used to being able to do well and not have to work "too hard", but in the past year or so have become more cognitively challenged, and it's become quite difficult to get my academic goals met.

That's been really hard.

But, I hope, and I work, and I plan. And I see myself walking that stage, with my kids and my partner there to cheer me on. And that helps me steel myself, keep my resolve, and move forward.

Existential Morning

This morning every question turned into an existential discussion.
What am I doing [this morning]? became What am I doing [with my life]? pretty quickly.

I did not find a lot of answers, but I did find that I am in the space of having a great number of fears to wrest with and anxieties to identify and quell.

Life is beautiful. It feels good to be alive.

But it scares the hell out of me.

How do you all do it every day?

Depression, if nothing else, insulates you from life. Usually a negative, that removal, but as I examined "where I am" this morning, I realized that it also was a comfort to me, being so removed. Sometimes I find myself at loose ends now that I am face to face with life.

This afternoon will be practical, I think. Focusing on the tangible feels like a good move to make after a morning spent with my thoughts.

Sigh...

I'll admit this to you now, but don't throw it back in my face.

I like my hypomania.

Before I knew anything about the Bipolar II diagnosis I've ended up with, I learned to love these periods of energy I'd get. My mind buzzed with ideas, I made lots of friends and was incredibly social instead of shy, and I'd feel sexy and vibrant.

Now that I know that these sudden bursts of energy and enthusiasm are likely to be fleeting, and followed by a crash, I can't enjoy them as much. Now that I have children, and a partner, I can't just run off and follow my whims as much as I'd like to during my manic phases (although honestly, I have a lot of time in which to schedule whim, if that's what I want).

But as mixed as my feelings on mania are, I much prefer 120-miles-per-hour me to this me; diminished, suddenly shy, self-hating, and definitely no longer sexy or vibrant.

All I want to do right now is HIDE. I don't want to talk to or see anyone. And yet, my Mr. Hyde made plans that my Dr. Jekyll must keep, so I have to gear myself up for social plans which I know I'll enjoy, just not as much as I would have a week ago.

This me suddenly starts crying for no reason, this me feels ugly and stupid, this me is a very impatient driver. I want happy fun time girl back. I'll take her, and her 4 hours a night sleep, and her bad money management, if it means that melancholy, teary me goes back into hiding for a little longer.

I admit it.

True story on Mother's Day

My boys are busy making their grandmother a card (nice going, as she's coming over really soon), and I'm just about to serve the quiche I made for our brunch.

I really don't have much, just the quiche (spinach straight from this morning's farmer's market), some fresh hot house tomatoes (also from the farmer's market), and bacon. Plus sweet chai for the lot of us.

The plan up until about 10:45 today was for us to walk down the street and get brunch. I didn't want to worry about dishes and things. However, I decided I'd much rather have the relaxed atmosphere of home (read as: I didn't feel like getting dressed, seeing people, or paying for brunch for 4), and the quiche idea was born.

Anyway, an hour or so later I realized it was the 20th anniversary of my suicide attempt. I had made a gesture towards suicide a month or so before, but it was just a cry for help. My second real attempt was on the Saturday before Mother's Day, 1987. It landed me in the E.R. and then in hospital for two weeks.

I don't want to write about it now, because it's far too intense a story to throw around willy nilly, and I can't honestly toss it off in the two minutes I have before Brunch is served.

Perhaps I will tell it later. In any case, I mark the day. I remember the red carnation in the plastic vase next to me in my hospital bed, and feeling sad for my mother that I'd chosen just then to commit suicide.

Now, to wipe the tears from my eyes and be a mother.