Bear, You Were A Good Dog . . .

I dedicate the following to Bear, and for all of us who loved him, but most especially his best companion, my mother-in-law, Betty.

Where To Bury A Dog

There are various places within which a dog may be buried. We are thinking now of a setter, whose coat was flame in the sunshine, and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought. This setter is buried beneath a cherry tree, under four feet of garden loam, and at its proper season the cherry strews petals on the green lawn of his grave. Beneath a cherry tree, or an apple, or any flowering shrub of the garden, is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, he slept in the drowsy summer, or gnawed at a flavorous bone, or lifted head to challenge some strange intruder. These are good places, in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter, and it touches sentiment more than anything else.

For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps at long and at last. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture land, where most exhilarating cattle graze. It is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained, and nothing lost -- if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury a dog. One place that is best of all.

If you bury him in this spot, the secret of which you must already have, he will come to you when you call -- come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death, and down the well-remembered path, and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they should not growl at him, nor resent his coming, for he is yours and he belongs there.

People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who hear no whimper pitched too fine for mere audition, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them then, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing.

The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master.

by Ben Hur Lampman

Talk about big mistakes . . .

Actor Crush of the Day: Matthew Fox!

Well, apparently last night when I was setting the alarm for this morning, I must have accidentally set the time an hour ahead. It's 8:15 right now, and 5 minutes ago I realized, after checking various sources for the time, that I dropped Emily off at the school at 7:30, instead of 8:30, like I thought it was. And here I thought I was dropping her off late . . . No wonder she was so tired!

Doh!

I just left a message at the school, explaining what happened and such. I assume they let her wait until breakfast was ready, because I received no call.

Poor Emily; she has such a scatterbrain for a mother!!!

On another note, yesterday's therapy was really, really great. Dr. Mower and his expertise and kindness are a great gift in my life. Oh yes, and very definitely his Patience, with a capital P . . . .

(Okay, now I have that one song from The Music Man in my head . . . .)

I'm going back to sleep, if I can stop worrying about Emily.

Darn ME.

In Tatters

Update: I just spoke with my psychologist over the phone. I had left him a message shortly after posting this Tatters post, as I recognized that I needed his help to cope with the feelings and thoughts I was having. I have also made a second appointment for later in the week next week, as, with this current crisis I am experiencing, coupled with my husband being gone for a week starting Sunday, that I will need some extra help and support this coming week. He was glad to oblige, and agreed that it was a valid thing for me to consider and request, given the circumstances. I have never been apart from my husband for longer than two nights at once.

How does one face the world each day, knowing that the way in which one presents ones' self to the world, may not be under your control?

That the way in which you interact with others . . . . is not a matter of deciding how you are going to do so.

I dunno. Does it sound like I'm looking for or making excuses? Probably.

Are the first two paragraphs, the way my experience of life has been so far?

Yes . . . I type as I sob with all my soul and what few tatters remain of my heart.

Mental Illness and Ability to Control Ones' Self

To be or not to be, is NOT the question.

Although it is one I have to re-answer, periodically. That last time being a week or two ago.

The main crux right now is, to the extent that mental illness affects ones' self-restraint, self-control, ability to act, react, restrain, withhold, refrain from acting, how, then, does that mesh up with the notions of agency, self-direction, and full responsibility for self?

If these illnesses really do interfere with my ability to control myself, then what does that imply for all sorts of other things?

I do not seek absolution from anyone, although the notion appeals. How could it not, given the problems I have?

I am struggling with this, mightily. And trying not to do all-or-nothing thinking, which leads to bad places. But . . . if my illnesses MEAN nothing, as far as my problems with controlling my behavior, then, in fact, the illnesses, the diagnoses, MEAN NOTHING. But then again, I was raised to believe that I am completely responsible for myself and my actions. Which I DO.

I am amidst a . . . conundrum. And it tears me apart. I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO SETTLE THIS.

You Always Hurt the Ones You Love

And I know it will happen again, no matter how hard I try.

I am not planning on failing, people say those who fail to plan, plan to fail. Er, that doesn't really fit this. Or if you think you fail, of course, you will . . .

But at the same time, it's going to be a long time before I'm healed from all sorts of psychological crap; although I will not be healed from my illnesses. I may be able to learn how to manage them somewhat better, to hopefully alot better.

I just hate that, until then, I basically suck.

And as I go through therapy, it brings up alot of buried and bottled up emotions, that explode and spew all over the place.

I know I cannot say that that won't happen again, because it has happened my whole life. NO MATTER HOW HARD I'VE TRIED, I haven't been able to stop it.

And, alot more difficult stuff and feelings coming up that are just so confusing and then that whole transference thing.

None of this is excuse, but it's explanation.

I don't even know how I can even say, I can't stop it from happening again, and what kind of person that makes me; what kind of human being, what kind of acceptable/unacceptable/horrible etc. that makes me.

Therapy is helping, but it is oh-so-slow. I am sorry.

And, again, sorry for having these illnesses, sorry for being this way, sorry for being me, and sorry for being ME around my families. It must SUCK to be my family.

Really, really, very much so. Some might say definitely not, but I know that, in the end, I am difficult, overreactive (even knowing that, I can't help FEELING it, because I'm in the MIDDLE of it and it feels real, and not overdone, when I'm feeling it, and later, even), unpleasant, emotional, paranoid, etc.

I hate what I do, what I am. How I am, and how I do things. Who I am, and who I do (well, okay, I love who I do, because I love my husband, teehee!).

The inevitability of this crap . . . . it creates such a hopeless, helpless feeling . . . what kind of person can't even control themselves to that kind of degree . . . but then, this is one of the main cruxes of my problems, my illnesses . . . .

I have a mean left hook . . . in my SLEEP!

Actor Crush of the Day: Matthew McConaughy (I need some Southern Comfort!)

This last 11 days or so, I've discovered myself on three occasions, throwing a left hook punch in my sleep. I wake up just a tich enough to realize hey WTH am I doing in my sleep? And then go back to sleep all the way.

I've come close to smashing myself pretty bad on the corner of the craft desk set up next to my side of the bed. As well, I suppose I could end up hitting myself in the face or elsewhere, possibly.

It's a good thing I mostly sleep on my right side, or my husband would REALLY get it, but good!

*POW*

I joked with my ologist that maybe I was practicing Tae-bo in my sleep . . . although I've never done it at all, ever. Tae-bo, that is!

So if I'm ever sleeping at your house, watch out! *BAM*

Oh wait, that's Emeril's line . . . and it now reminds me of that toothpaste he does commercials for!

Some people will just never "get" me

Actor Crush of the Day: Ewan McGregor

I need to accept that.

Dr. Mower says, though I seek for people to understand me, there will never be any guarantee that anyone will. There may be some who never do.

The moment in therapy where I was like, "OH!", and knew what he was talking about, was good, but trying to apply this in practice is a bit more difficult. Okay, so quite a bit more difficult.

Some people will just never "get" me. Even if they think they do, or say they do.

And, some of these people will be hurt and offended that they think I don't "get" them.

It's not a quid pro quo, really. I may very well "get" them, even if they think I don't, but the reality is, if the person who wants to be understood, doesn't feel as though you do, it's actually beside the point, irrelevant, that you DO understand them. If they don't feel you do, then it is as though you DON'T.

So, how do we get through this? When people both don't "get" each other, or when one person "gets" the other, and the other doesn't "get" this person? Variations as well of one feeling the other person "gets" them, or not.

It seems to me that accepting that some people just will not understand, is going to be a fundamentally FREEING concept, in many ways; I can feel the grasp of this, just out of reach. When I lay hold of it though, I think it will be sweet. Then it won't matter whether others "get" me or not. It'll be one more step closer towards not worrying about what people think of me, and "freeing" me up towards acting how I see fit, regardless of whether or not I feel other people will approve of my behavior. It will REALLY free me up towards doing those things I feel necessary, and/or want to do, that I am pretty sure some around me WON'T like and/or approve of.

Anyway, I'm pondering this, and being somewhat depressed that certain people in particular seem to never, in the end, "get it", and so I need to just accept that. Somehow.

Simple Contentment

Sometime late in December, or maybe it was mid-December, I had a sweet experience.

I was standing at the stove, flipping over slices of Spam, as I was frying them in order to somewhat replicate the taste of bacon.

I really started feeling "in the moment", and very intensely "there". I thought about a few things, some very simple things, such as what a domestic kind of thing I was doing, standing there humming a tune whilst flipping some admittedly mystery meat.

I thought, do I feel Happy? I answered myself, "No, not really . . .". Do I feel sad? "Definitely not." I was feeling something pleasant, though, that was growing stronger.

I became ever-more rooted in the moment, in the present I was experiencing, and realized that I was Content. I marveled at this, a little bit, and questioned it inside, but these further thoughts cemented it in my heart: I had what I always wanted, to be a wife and mother, to have a roof over our heads (albeit an apartment), and clothes on our backs, and food (okay, so Spam is rather questionable in that category, lol!) in our mouths.

I WAS CONTENT. So much was going on with me in life, that, as I stood there at the stove, I was able to really be Present, and take simple pleasure in simple things, tasks, and activities. I felt a peace that I cannot describe . . . . and I was content.

Joy, while a great thing, is not sustainable. At least, I find that the moments I think of as joyful, such as the birth of my daughter, my wedding day to my husband, are the mountain peaks of my life.

I wouldn't say that happiness isn't sustainable, but I feel that contentment could actually be a more profound and sustainable frame of mind/experience, than being Happy all the time . . . .

I felt, as I stood there at the stove, that I was the luckiest person on earth . . . how many other people really feel that they have what they always wanted? I don't think a majority . . .

For that half hour or so that I felt this, I WAS the luckiest person on earth.

Now, obviously I wasn't able to sustain that, and I'm not sure anyone can every second, BUT I look forward to feeling that again, especially now that I know it is possible! With all my mood problems with my mental illnesses, it was so sweet to be truly content.

Now, even then I knew, of course, I didn't have EVERYTHING I always wanted, or even some very important things that I consider essential, such as being married in the temple, which I have not been, yet, or even having gone through the temple, which again, I have not, yet. Having more of an education would be good too, although I have not been capable of sustaining the activities required. I was grateful, though, for having what I did have that I had always wanted.

I've hesitated for awhile to post this, for fear of family saying, see? There you go, it's as simple as that, just do that and you'll be fine . . . . Or when I'm having a hard time, of having this experience held up to me and used as a tool or a judgement by others of any difficult moods, behaviors, or other difficulties that I might be having.

My Daughter Tied Shoelaces For the First Time!

Actor Crush of the Day: Matthew Fox

Awesome! She came home today with this Learn to Tie Your Shoes thing we had ordered from a Scholastic Book Flyer for her.

First, I went through the Bunny Ears method with her, and we weren't having much luck. I walked away for ONE minute, I come back, and they are tied!!!

I said, "Did you do that?" and she said, "Yes, I did it Mommy!"

She had turned to the directions for the Loop the Loop method, and followed each of those steps and tied them!

No matter how much explaining and showing and helping we've done with her and her own shoes, it hadn't happened yet. I really think having the two different sides of laces be different colors, and shown that way in the instructions, was just the "trick" that she needed for everything to click!

I am so proud of her. She is SO smart!

Faith Vs. Reckless Optimism Vs. Refusal to Deal With Reality

How does one know that holding tight to faith, in a situation where EVERYTHING says there is no hope, or at least it seems that way, how does one know that it isn't just the same old reckless enthusiasm/optimism?

That it isn't just a refusal and/or inability to deal with the harsh reality of a situation?

That it isn't unrealistic; that you aren't fooling yourself, pulling the wool over your own eyes, burying your head in the sand?

Holding on to faith, because the alternative is something you can't cope with . . . . does this imply that your faith is just a way to avoid accepting reality, that you are hiding, running away from deep pain, as you always have, your entire life? Am I the horse with blinders on, refusing to acknowledge and accept the realities of the situation, refusing to acknowledge their existence, and so becoming the fool who mayhap still be calling Noah a fool whilst standing neck-deep in the torrential rains?

Could it just be also, your illness swaying you towards the unrealistic expectations and hope that it often does? Could it be the intense and desperate need I feel inside, the very little girlish magical wish to be taken care of, that causes me to feel that I can just set aside the implications and ramifications of the situation, and just hold on to faith?

How do I KNOW? That it isn't just me, SCREWING UP all over again?

I prayed last night, and believe the answer to be, "Trust the Lord with all thy heart and lean not unto thine own understanding." This spoke to my inside self very quietly. Nothing overwhelming, and no wash of peace, at least nothing like anything I've received before. There was a sense that holding onto THIS would help keep me from drowning in the storm of emotion. Keep me from being swept away, forever. And, we are asked to do this in the scriptures, anyhow.

Still, I recognize that cognitively, I may be clinging to this because I CANNOT CONTEMPLATE the alternative.

I do not know, though, if my illnesses and difficulties feeling what the reality of the situation should be or is, feeling through my skewed perceptions, I do not know if they are skewing even this. As, I have blindly forged ahead before, and not dealt with situations that mayhap should have been dealt with.

What I DO know, though, is I must hold tight to this trust in the Lord. I MUST. Mine own understanding is so skewed, is so mired in various issues and so many things that sway everything, that I cannot trust it. I CANNOT TRUST IT. And so, I am trusting the Lord.

He knows my situation, of mental illnesses. He knows my capacities and my weaknesses . . . . as much as I feel like my judgment in matters of discerning appropriate actions, discerning and deciding appropriate attitudes and ways of coping or not, He knows these things, and will take them into account. At least, I have faith that He will do so, because that is all I can believe, in order to proceed . . . I cannot proceed with anything less than that belief . . .

Am I an ostrich with my head in the sand? Perhaps. But I trust that the Lord will divert traffic around me, so I won't get hit in the rear as I investigate closely the sandpile in which my head is finding rest. I am finding rest in the Lord. I am trusting him to be my rear guard. (Teehee! at least I can find some humor in this, somewhere . . . .)

As to whether or not I should be taking any action, or considering other aspects of the situation . . . of course my mind keeps whirling desperately on everything. But . . . I cannot, I just . . . I quail at the very trial that has been thrust upon us. I desperately RUN and fear and die inside, at the very facts of the situation I am in. I can't . . . . I just . . . I cannot . . . . approach the thing . . . . I . . . cannot think beyond half an hour, to half a day from now . . . . I am horrified . . . . and yet, I cling to my faith.

My faith, is all I have. And yet, I do not mean to put down my faith, with all this rambling. Faith is a GOOD thing. My faith is All. Right now, anyway.

Am I just clinging to faith as a last ditch option? If so, does this lessen any meaning in my choice of holding on to faith, in the Lord's eyes?

Even if I am not clinging to it as a last ditch option, does my holding to faith when there seems no other option but despair, also lessen any meaning in my choice of holding on to faith, in the Lord's eyes? Some might say this is the same as the previous option, but there IS a distinction . . . .

As well, I know I am CHOOSING faith; that I am not just "landing" there as a last option, as a last stop before falling, forever, into despair and non-existence. Even though there feels nothing left to do BUT have faith, in the way of holding on to something . . . . I am still choosing it.

I can feel this in my heart and soul, because it is taking much more strength to do this than I might have thought. It is taking so much of me, to do this, to choose this, to hold on to this. I am choosing faith, and this faith is holding me together as if it were a glue; keeping me from being scattered to the four winds of this storm.

Does there seeming to be no other positive option, LESSEN the offering to the Lord of my faith I am giving him, of my trust, is this lessened by there seeming to be no other positive option?

I do not know, but I know that, not as the world sees, does the Lord see. He sees in ways, that we cannot even comprehend. I have this sense that only He truly can know the value and truth of any offering of faith and trust. I only hope that my humble offering is judged worthy. And by worthy, I don't mean that there needs to be tangible reward or evidence of such. I just need to keep on . . . .

Moving forward with an action that, does not have ANYTHING to do with the situation, and yet, in itself, this action is profoundly affected by this situation, and, in fact, the world would probably think I am nuts for proceeding with said action . . . . but I feel a prompting to do so.

It has no bearing on the situation, and yet the situation has an extreme bearing on this action. I feel as though I am poised upon one of the red cliffs that edge Lake Powell in Southern Utah; I feel like holding my nose, squeezing my eyes shut tight, curling up into a ball as I jump off the cliff, and shout, "Geronimooooooooo-ooooooooo!", as I plunge downwards into the lake below.

I feel blind-folded, and being asked to feel my way forward within a room that is walled and floored with a fairly densely-packed field of nails. Oh, and that the inner balance most people have? Well, in this scenario it is as though my inner ear is completely off; I have no natural sense of balance, this representing the mental illnesses in this allegory. And so, I proceed . . . painfully, as one might imagine . . . and yet, if it is asked of me by the Lord, who am I to say no . . . . . I do not say no, but I wish so mightily that this cup would not be set at my place . . . . I think it is human of me to admit that I have much difficulty with this, that I don't even know how to approach it. But I do not say no, to the Lord. I do think, though, that He understands my struggle and expressions of fear (well, I do have GAD, after all, lol!)

9 Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

(Old Testament Joshua 1:9)

----------------
36 Yea, and cry unto God for all thy support; yea, let all thy doings be unto the Lord, and whithersoever thou goest let it be in the Lord; yea, let all thy thoughts be directed unto the Lord; yea, let the affections of thy heart be placed upon the Lord forever.

(Book of Mormon Alma 37:36)

Faith, in its depths and infinite applications and requirements and qualities . . . . . is . . . . profound, and so much against logic and reason, in so many ways . . . . it is sweet, and precious, but the requirements of holding fast to it, can be so harsh, so unfathomably difficult . . . I do not say this in way of "Oh, woe is me", but in the manner of discussing these issues of faith and struggle and mental illness and to illustrate the processes I am going through. And, in some small measure, in trying to express to YOU what it is I am feeling, I feel . . . as though some small purpose may be served, and this, also, gives me some small thing to cling to. As though I am clutching a teddy bear, in this storm, and holding it close as I cling fast to faith, battered though I feel.

I even feel guilty for quailing at the thought, although I know He would understand my fear and distress. As long as I hold to my faith. Perhaps I should name this room full of nails, the valley of the shadow of death, because I am literally in that shadow . . . if I had not this faith, I would have nowhere to run but death itself.

Psalm 23
Psalm of David.
1 THE LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
(Old Testament Psalms 23:4)

I never thought about this Psalm as being all about faith, before. It's about many things, but faith is definitely one of them.

And so, in summation: If I am an ostrich, then I am a blessed ostrich, and I pray the Lord keep the sand out of my ears, and that he act as my rear guard.

Update: Like you want one, lol! I dunno, maybe I'm just being naive. Just because you stick your head in the sand, doesn't mean your butt isn't gonna get kicked. And, in fact, it makes you present an easier target for said butt-kicking. There's nothing particularly saintly or faithful about pulling the wool over ones' eyes and hiding.

So maybe I have nothing to hold onto after all.

A Need for Intensity

Actor Crush of the Day: I am my own woman, today. Not that I am not on other days. But send all the cute men packing, I am woman, hear me ROAR.

As I was watching Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith today, as it approached the climactic Mustafar sequences, I felt a satisfaction and a matching to the intensity of what I feel, as the intensity of the movie built to this.

I could watch the scenes there over and over (at least, before Anakin makes his big mistake), especially the two men, and the intensity of their relationship and the drama that unfolds between them.

I often listen to John Denver, Barry Manilow, Celine Dion, Josh Groban, and other people who really belt it out, when it calls for it (singers nowadays don't seem to, much). It matches the strength of what I'm feeling inside; it's like my pain, and everything I'm feeling, gets caught up in the intensity of the song, drama, what-have-you, and gets carried away. To a certain extent.

It's very satisfying, but as I identified this issue tonight, at least in a much more specific way than I have before, I also identified my strong need for intensity. This may be part of the bipolar recklessness; I am not sure. But I NEED it like I need to be loved. And, when I am experiencing a satisfying intensity, whether through media, or exuberant joy at the thought of beads I've purchased winging their way towards me through the mail, or other things, I'm zeroed in on the strength of it, the encompassing fulness of it, and am as a mule who can't be budged, it seems.

I seem to be running out of ways to experience such intensity, though, and to fight the urges within to act . . . in a manner that many might find shocking, is . . . well, part of my struggles, I guess. I HATE THIS.

For those who remember some LDS Primary songs, sing THIS to the tune of "Geaneology, I am doing it".

Irresponsibility, I am doing it, my irresponsibility,
And I can't restrain, though I really try, this inevitable refrain
Irresponsible, Irresponsible, I am so irresponsible
I am trying but it's trying, my irresponsible!

I don't know if I've remembered the meter right, to that song.

Calgon, TAKE me away. Oy, that's an old commercial . . . .

How much info for a child? &, I miss my friend.

Emily Question or Quote of the Day: I like to learn how damsel flies are formed. They are like dragonflies!

If my saying what I really thought about something, was enough for her to "drop" me, then I guess our friendship wasn't a friendship, like I thought. She's been that blunt with me . . .

On another note, I don't know what a damsel fly is, and I DON'T want to know. In the last two months, Emily has discovered these DK brand encyclopedic-like books, the Eyewitness series, at the library and school library, on a variety of subjects. Space Exploration, Volcanos & Earthquakes, Africa, Hurricane & Tornado, and her latest discovery, Insect.

Now, I'm all for reading with one's child, but this is one book I will not be cracking. Nooooosireee! She can learn all about damsel flies and other creepy critters on her own. Lol! Ewwww. I'd have nightmares!

Part of me wonders WHICH subject she'll come home with next . . . I guess we'll see tomorrow at the library!

The inquisitive mind of a child!

Although I do know that unusually strong interest in very specific subjects is a trait of autism, I do not and will not apologize for her interest, feel ashamed of it, or discourage her in any way.

I enjoy her enjoyment and childish glee and wonder at the variety, depth, and breadth of the subjects she encounters.

I have had, though, occasion to wonder about the depth of detail given some of the more gruesome aspects of these subjects; for example, some images from Pompeii in the Volcanos book. There were pictures of the people, or the castings thereof, who had died in various positions in the streets and buildings of Pompeii. While there were no features on these roughly humanoid-shaped mostly fetally-curled bodies, I still wondered whether I should allow her to see these. There was also the image of a human skull, from one of a variety of ancient volcanic episodes.

I pondered this, and then realized, given her fascination with the subject of volcanos, she probably OUGHT to know that they hurt people. As long as it does not show mutilated corpses or people, that is. The "forms" of people from Pompeii were so rough, and featureless, they were more like a primitive carving of the shape of a human body, than anything.

We have had a little bit of discussion on the subject, and these books should and will provoke some more discussion, about events, places, peoples, cultures, differences, and things that, while I am not sure she can understand what it really MEANS, in terms of the impact on people, their feelings, their lives, it is still a place to start in educating her about the way things work in the world.

She is, after all, going to turn 8 this year. I hope she does not develop any nightmares from these books, but at the same time I really do not want to hold her back, either. Soon enough, I fear, there will come a time when she may not be so eager. Let's hold on to it while we can.

Woozy Suzy Screams In Sleep

Actor Crush of the Day: Hugh Jackman

Ugh. Haven't been sleeping too well lately. Plus, I've been screaming/yelling in my sleep, lately. At least three times last night, my husband says.

I somewhat remembered one of the dreams, one of the times I semi-woke up while screaming, and I should have noted it down then, probably. Another time my husband had to wake me up and tell me I was screaming. The other time did not wake me at all, and I'm not aware of it.

I had some of this going on last week, as well. I think possibly some recent stuff has triggered it, although I have the very vaguest sense of that.

Of course, I'm feeling VERY woozy, and rather PLEASANT in a meandering through the clouds, kinda way. It's how the Neurontin affected me when I was on a higher dose; I'm not sure why I feel this way right now, although I did have to take a double dose last night, having forgotten my mid-day dose. This has happened before, and NOT made me woozy. It's okay to do, especially when I need help sleeping, but the pdoc says that it will be better to have the three doses spread out over the day. But I'm not doubling occasionally when I forget a dose, without knowing from him that it's okay.

Eeeeee. I'm not sure I'm making much sense. I have VT's in a few minutes, only the second time in four months I will have seen my new VT's. The first time didn't go so well, I guess we'll see how this time goes! VT's being Visiting Teachers.

Hopefully I can BEAD later today, but I'm not sure how I'll be feeling.

I find it psychologically interesting, in a detached, clinical, intellectual way, about this recent resurgence of sleeping screams. It's a signal to me, of some kind, it FEELS like, when I consider it in a more personal way. Although I'm sorry to be disturbing my husband; it's more than just disturbing his sleep; it's probably unpleasant and worrisome to him that I am screaming, and having unpleasant experiences. Unnerving, perhaps, as well.

Sorry honey!

Just call me Woozy Suzy, today.

Personal Hygiene and Depression

Actor Crush of the Day: Matthew McConaughy

James (Hopelessly Depressed), of "Damn I Hate Being Depressed" blog, has written a post on a subject that I have been too embarassed to address, but I feel is an important one, and misunderstood by the non-ill, and used in part as "proof" that the ill are just lazy, icky, whatever.

Personal Hygiene. I hope you can look at this issue in a clinical way, instead of a more, "Ewww, ick, they are GROSS!" kind of way. It may be so, but I appreciated the tone of his post, and the purpose, as well. As I typed out my comment on his post, the third one down, it helped me think through the issue, and some of the reasons why I feel it really helps illustrate some of the issues involved with depression.

The ability to CARE for ones' self, in not just emotional, intellectual, and spiritual ways, but also PHYSICALLY, I think, really is a major dysfunction that the depressed experience. You LOATHE yourself; how COULD you have normal resources inside with which to summon the energy, motivation, and frequency for caring for your physical needs/self? The very inability to care about ones' self is a central problem with depression. You don't and can't seem to CARE about yourself in much of any manner at all . . . the well is dry.

These problems, I feel, are most frequently seen as LAZINESS by the non-ill, as they regard the depressed. That we are CHOOSING a slothful, filthy, slobbish lifestyle, and that if we'd only get UP and DO it, if we'd only CHOOSE to do this routine daily, or however often society expects it of us, that'd we'd DO it.

It isn't that we can't make choices; our ability to be consistent, our ability to follow-through, our ability to even physically care for ourselves, to have any DESIRE to care for ourselves, is crippled and/or diminished to a miniscule capacity of what a person normally has. To even EMOTIONALLY care for oneself, is COMPLETELY at odds, COMPLETELY in opposition to, the difficulties that are inherent with depression. Depression creates, reinforces, contributes to, imposes, influences, and/or changes, etc. the very patterns of our thoughts and feelings. It does any and/or all of these at different times, to differing degrees.

It isn't that we aren't responsible for ourselves, but rather that our CAPACITY to DO, our CAPACITY to DESIRE to do, our CAPACITY to even FEEL a necessity, our CAPACITY to DIRECT ourselves, is hindered and encumbered by the weighty oppression of depression.

I am rather nervous to post this, but it is an important issue and illustration of some of the fundamental difficulties I have experienced in and with my illnesses. I hope to not be judged, but I suspect that will happen. It is, fundamentally, a medical problem, a facet of the illness I and others suffer from. A handicap, even, as our capacity in this matter is handicapped by the illness(es).

I looked everywhere BUT at my ologist

Actor Crush of the Day: None of em mean a #$%#$#% thing. Well, make me one out of chocolate, and maybe I'll change my mind today. Chocolate covered nuts, how yummy. Er, peaches.

Left my ologist appointment today feeling worse than when I went in. It's ME, though. Stupid ole me. It was bound to happen sometime.

On another note, one of the only things I have to cheer me up is looking forward to some lovely half-price sale pendants arriving in the mail later this week. I'm going to create a silver chain necklace with amethyst and blue lace agate crescent moon faces dangling from it, and another with blue lace agate and rose quartz seashells dangling from it.

Thirdly, a triple strand anchor-chain sterling necklace, with all dangles being in clear quartz/rock crystal - longest tier having turtle, whale, and sea lion pendants alternating with seashells. Second tier having dolphin flanked by seashells. Third tier having just dangling seashells. A bit over the top, but people look for different and theme creations. Plus, the clearness of them helps bring it back from "too much/too many" things, design-wise. It looks good in my mind, anyway! It's the sterling anchor chain, between 3.5-4.5 or so millimeters, that is going to cost for this necklace. EEEEEEEEeeeeeee! I'll have a hard time parting with it, but it MUST be sold.

Maybe I'll put the dolphin on the bottom and the three animals on the middle strand, I don't know yet. Or maybe I'll pare down the necklace; won't know until I see how the pendants look together when they come!

I just love playing with rocks. I also, besides being interested in being a planetary geologist/astronomer or oceanographer, have a keen interest in geology and meteorology. I just love all those types of sciences.

I guess I've got the rocks to say just about anything. You should see my semi-precious bead stash. And the lovely amethyst necklace I made, for ME. It's sparkly!

Dang, I need a banana split. Yes, we have no bananas! Except I'm going bananas. Ooooo OOOO eeee eee. Best monkey impression I can do, sorry folks.

Check out "Damn I Hate Being Depressed" Blog

Actor Crush of the Day: Matthew Fox, AGAIN. He's REALLY handsome.

Check out this blog by a man named James. His descriptions of depression and how it fubars your life, how it interferes with so much, are spot on. Even if it was different from how I feel it can be, it'd still be HIS experience.

There is some strong language though, here and there. He also feels a strong push inside to advocate for mental illness issues, and for the mentally ill. To also help reduce the stigma, in part by posting about his experiences. I am all for this, myself, too.

Manic Monday 2 Days Early

I suppose it's about @#$@#$ time! Yeeeehaaaa. I feel like I could drive a whole herd of cattle home right about now.

I feel kinda tipsy, at least as I imagine tipsy to be. High as a kite and going uuuuupppppPPPPPppppp and Awaaaayyyyyy.

Although, I could be mixed. Cause life still sucks. Well, the facts of my life, and lack of a life, suck, but that's how it would be no matter how high I am. It doesn't particularly mean much or matter at the moment anyhoo.

Oh, Scott, and YOU don't suck. Just so's you know.

Vacuums do, though, @#$@# it. Or they should. Ours sucks @#$@#$.

And @#$#$ for good measure.

I feel like I'm The Flash(ette) (and no, not a Flash-ER, that's the Flash, as in, speedy super-hero(ine). I wish I was, I could zip around and get everything done. But everything doesn't matter either, anyway.

You ever see that Mythbusters episode, where they attach like 3600 baloons, to a kid in a sling, and she floats a bit off the ground? Well, I'm like that right now, except without the counterweight and safety measures to keep the child from floating away (they did it in a hanger, too, just in case so she couldn't fly away).

"Let's Go Fly A Kite" is going through my head, and I'm the kite, so high up there you can't hardly see me. WHhhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Anyway. Tipsy feeling. Kinda doot-de-doo, what the hell, everything is gay and fun. Gay as in HAPPY. Now "C'mon Get Happy" by the Partridge Family is in my head.

Oh, the HORROR! The absolute, giggling horror of it all. Must . . . get . . . . that . . . out of my head!

Whew. Now I've got the music to Thomas the Tank Engine videos in my head. (Thanks, Beck!)

Never thought I'd be grateful for THAT music.

Well, I'd better sign off before I embarass myself further. Or is that embar#$% myself further? @#$#@$, I can say ASS. So there. @$$. Hee. Now THAT's real cartoon swearing.

BCC and Post on Depression (including a poem by Moi)

Actor Crush of the Day: Matthew Fox

Some of you have read this poem before, especially as it is the first post of my blog, way back in August 2005.

It is included at the end of a post by a guest poster at BCC named Hannah. I could connect with EVERYTHING she said, because it has SO been my experience. Please go read. I hope it fosters a further understanding of how it feels to be this way; perhaps illuminates something that you haven't thought about, conceived, or connected with, before.

Click the post title to go there.

Well, THAT was a rousing success.

Actor Crush of the Day:

#@$%#$% it. Stupid, you say? I've got a whole LIFETIME of stupid. Cut my teeth on it. I live, eat, and breathe STUPID.

It just so happened there were no new posts, at least none of interest to me, on the day in which I was going to @#$@# up a storm in my comments. And, hope that others might join me, to make me feel a little bit less alone, and a little bit less stupid.

Thanks Tea and Barb, three cheers to us @#$@#$ women!

I declare today Cartoon Swearing day, #^$% it!

Actor Crush of the Day: Matthew Fox, still! Cause @#%$, he's @#$%%^& hot!

Cause Tea (what's the Ascii number for the a with the thingie over it?) had a good idea last night and helped me feel better by @#$@ and #%$^$%^ and even @#$#@#$, shocking though it was.

I hope every commenter today on here @#$@#$ the @#$@#@ out of @#$@.

And that my readers take the spirit of #$%#$% wherever they may blog and comment today, for the love of @#$@#$@.

So @#$@#@ off and spread the ?@#$@ joy!

I am sorry I exist

I am so sorry that I inflict my very presence; my existence, on the people around me, on the world. I am so sorry that I am a part of this world, that I am. I am so sorry that I am so insufficient to everything. I am so sorry that everyone has had to endure me, like the scraping of a chalk down a blackboard. I am so sorry that I can't cope with being around critical people.

The Dance of Anger

Actor Crush of the Day: Captain Kirk (the young, thin, ripped one)

My ologist lent me these tapes last week, and I listened to them twice, and returned them today. WOW was there alot of good stuff on there. I think EVERYONE should listen to them, because I think most everyone could learn something from it.

Click the post title to go to the author's website. I am not sure if it was the author herself reading the book on tape, but it really seemed to me that it was. She has a very soothing, calming, nurturing, safe voice. Which was very relaxing and calming for me.

I want to eventually purchase the tapes and book myself, as I think a periodic review of it would be a helpful reminder every now and then.

It may be targeted towards women, but apparently it has helped many men, as well, and there is discussion of some male perspective here and there, a little, but even the things targeted for women can apply to anyone of either sex, although they really rang true for my experience, as a woman.

This is a GREAT, and very helpful, book/tapes. Very empowering.

Mental Health Care In Crisis Blog

Actor Crush of the Day: Liam Neeson (Still on my Jedi kick!)

Okay, I just stumbled on THIS blog. Click the title of this post to go there. (Too bad it seems he hasn't posted since March 2005; seems like he started it up, and then fell off with it; I hope he returns! I just checked; he has some other blogs which are current.)

Holy crap, I had no idea doctors received year-end bonuses from HMO's or the like for keeping costs down.

Conflict of interest, INDEED. When will doctors take back control of health care? I think it will take doctors and patients working together to influence legislation and other things, and a whole LOTTA work and patience and probably money, and maybe some well-conceived lawsuits that will bring to the forefront of the media's attention (hopefully?) various issues related to the whole MESS.

From his previous post, I quote the following:

In early October, the Illinois Supreme Court ruled that a patient could sue an HMO. "Where an HMO effectively controls a physician's exercise of medical judgment and that judgment is exercised negligently, the HMO cannot be allowed to claim that the physician is solely responsible for the harm that results," the court ruled.

I guess I quote him quoting the Illinois Supreme Court, lol. But Hurrah! It seems to me that for YEARS legislation and court decisions (which, in many cases, effectively legislate from the bench) have PROTECTED HMO's. I am heartened to see at least some things starting to go the other way, but we have to keep this up!

I quote from his blog again:

"HMO accountability is essential," because the organization is a for-profit venture, the court ruled. The court said that HMOs act as health-care providers and not just as insurers since their rules on coverage affect doctors' decisions.

EXACTLY. Yippeeee! In your eye, HMO's! Too bad this was just a state court, and not the federal Supreme Court over the whole nation. Still, I hope this is a good start to some much-needed change.

Maybe the HMO's will actually decide it will SAVE them money to actually ALLOW doctors to practice medicine. That just sounds so wrong, HMO's "allowing" doctors, or "disallowing" them to do or not do things? Who went to med school, peeps? Yeah, HMO's have medical people, doctors even, on board, but their salaries are dependent on the HMO doing well, which means restricting the physician's abilities to do their job. Seems like yet another conflict of interest . . . what about the Hippocratic Oath?

Hypocritic Oath? Lol. I'm sure THAT joke has been run into the ground. But it runs through MY mind, just the same.

And I quote again:

In a case that could change the face of HMOs, the U.S. Supreme Court has agreed
to determine whether an Illinois HMO breached a legal duty to a patient whose
appendix burst during an eight-day wait for a test to diagnose her abdominal
pain.

I'll be keeping a sharp eye on THAT one.

Apparently many of these he quotes are from the November/December, 1999 (vol. 8, no. 6) of The National Psychologist.

I'll be keeping up with his blog, too, as I obviously am very interested, and very impacted, by all this.

New Year's at the Zoo and Other Stuff

Actor Crush of the Day: Ben Affleck (Pearl Harbor, I just love a man in uniform)

I'm considering taking us up to the zoo on Monday. Hub will have the day off, as will Emily. I'm curious to see if the polar bears like it any better in the winter, than they do in the summer!

Of course, it'll be COLD! But what the hey. Hopefully this "milder" winter weather will hang in there. I love having this zoo pass, knowing we can go whenever circumstance has the Ems and the Hub off at the same time. Thanks again, YOU!

We can always take refuge in the reptile house. Whee!

I had a really, really good ologist session today. Too bad I didn't have a tape. I highly recommend him to anyone, even if you aren't ill like me, say just for working through some difficult event in your life, getting over it and such. He is a GREAT pyschologist. Very soothing, laid back, mild, calming, accepting, understanding, and patient. And very capable.

On a different note, I've lent from the library a movie called "My Neighbor Totoro", which is an anime (but not Yu-Gi-Oh-like, or that, it isn't over-exaggerated like that) by the master of the art in Japan, Miyazaki. Miyakawa? Miyazakawi? Crap! I can't remember his name right.

The story has alot of heart, and I love seeing it set in the Japanese countryside, with the rice paddies and the differences from their culture to ours. And stuff.

I was pleased with it, except for a scene where the girls are bathing with their father. I guess that may be normal over there, but it is not, here. So I'll fast-forward through that for Emily.

I look forward to checking out some more, although the few the library system here has were all checked out, except this one.

Gorgeous animation (well, I thought the dad's hair was too floofy/anime-ish, and perhaps the girls's eyes were also, and the neighbor boy, EESH. Especially his cartoonish hair or lack thereof. Yeah, I know it's animation, but still.

I loved how this movie showed the wonder and fun of being a child, and exploring, and such.

I'll finish up my never-posted Thanksgiving post, and write up Christmas, sometime soon. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Back to go rest. I'm high as a kite and beaten down pessimistic at the same time. MIXED state, UGHHHh.

Bye!

Hey! Where's My Shoelaces?

Actor Crush of the Day: Ewan McGregor & Liam Neeson (I just love British Jedi!)

An analogy that has been useful for me lately, is one involving everyone being issued with a pair of "shoes" as they are sent down to Earth, to live, from heaven. Not everyone gets shoes that fit as well as others; not everyone gets the color or style they'd like; not everyone gets a shoe suited to the functions that are needed.

And, not everyone receives shoelaces.

I posit that, with my mental illnesses, I was issued shoes, but no shoelaces. I have repeatedly stumbled and fallen, my whole life through. I didn't even know what I was missing, although the inevitability of falling, and the repetitive nature of it, seemed to indicate that I was missing SOMETHING, as I grew older and wondered. No matter how hard I tried, one shoe, or both, in the most difficult times, would fly off and I'd fall on my face, with varying degrees of trauma depending on the situation.

And sometimes, it would be quite awhile before I even could, or would, get up again.

Sometimes, I'd just crawl.

Sometimes, I'd just lay there and sob.

I've hated those shoes, and hated the "unfairness" of it. Why do others get to race on past me, while I must repeatedly eat dirt, over and over again? And be expected to WANT to get up, even though I am running with faulty shoes; with some essential component missing, which I couldn't compensate for even if I knew what I was missing?

But, a year ago, I learned after many, many, many years, that I may be bipolar. And have a variety of anxiety disorders. As the year wore on, the rapid cycling nature of the bipolar became defined, and the possibility of OCD became painfully clear as I began to discuss things with the psychologist that I always thought were "just ME". For my whole life, I thought all this stuff, all this inability to "fit" with coping, being capable, in society, in the world, among people, and even alone, was a fundamental and serious flaw with my ME-NESS, my ME-hood. I thought I, MYSELF was the flaw; that I, MYSELF, was the "thing" that was not suited for this world, for interacting with people, for BEING. I had no framework for even conceptualizing that it could be something other than maybe some depression (which is serious, by itself, but . . .)

So. This year, I have learned that there is such a thing as shoelaces . . . . this September, after beginning the Neurontin (mood stabilizer), I believe that I have been able to grab ahold of these laces. Through therapy, I will learn what they are for (well, everyone knows what shoelaces are for, but in the analogy, I never even knew what was missing; I have to learn what they are for, analogically speaking). As time, therapy, medication, and my whole treatment continues, with hard work on my part, I will slowly start to thread these laces into my shoes.

I have already begun to try to walk and run, still, and I stumble, still. Even with perfectly laced shoes, everyone stumbles. Still, as I begin to see some faint, faint but powerful glimmers of possibility and hope, I can't help but test what I learn, even if I am not yet ready. And so, I still fall.

BUT, though I am scraped, bloodied, and bruised, I am, ever so slowly, learning. Ever so slowly, bit by bit. Some days, weeks, months, better than others, and sometimes just holding ground itself is progress of a sort, and sometimes I have bad times. But I am learning, now, that there ARE laces, that there is a use for them, what that use is, and that I have been missing SO MUCH. And that I can learn, and be, and BECOME.

Eventually, my shoes will be all laced up, and I will haltingly, and/or recklessly, test my step, and then my stride. People who learn to re-use their muscles after serious injury or prolonged convalescence, must re-learn in a similar way to what I am trying to describe, here. There may be some collapse of nerve, or strength, or collapse under duress and pain. I will, after regaining strength, get up again and proceed to test, discover, and learn how a laced-up pair of shoes will increase my capabilities and self-hood.

There will be mistakes, stumbles, hurt, and frustration. But I will learn to walk. I will learn to skip, jump, and hop.

I will RUN.

Bipolar Information

This matches with information I see at many medical sites, but I believe this to be a very informative and less technical description than some sites. Click Post title to go to the source of this information.

Bipolar Disease - Symptoms and Diagnosis

A person suffering from bipolar disorder (also called manic depression) experiences extreme moods that alternate between a high or "manic" phase and a low or "depressive" phase.

People with mild cases are often undiagnosed until their disorder progresses to more severe or life threatening symptoms (e.g. suicidal depression, or manic delusions).

Signs and Symptoms

In order for a person suffering from bipolar disease to receive proper diagnosis and treatment, the various mood states must be recognized.

Signs and symptoms of MANIA can include:

1) Denial - A manic high usually feels good and for this reason those in a manic or hypo-manic state will almost always deny that anything is wrong with them. They simply feel too good to believe anything is wrong.


2) Mild Mania (Hypomania)

Inflated self-esteem
Increased sexual drive
Reduced need for sleep
"High" feelings (bordering on euphoria)
Provocative or mildly aggressive behavior
Increased energy, activity, and talkativeness


3) Mania

Increased drive, energy and restlessness (sometimes accompanied by delusions and/or paranoia)
Abuse of drugs (particularly alcohol, cocaine, and sleeping medications)
Uncharacteristically poor judgment and impulsiveness
Extreme irritability, distractibility and impatience
Excessively 'high' or euphoric feelings (unusually happy and/or optimistic)
Sexual drive that may lead to promiscuity
Talking rapidly, more loudly (person may hog the conversation)
Intrusive, or aggressive behavior
Inflated self confidence (all-knowing, may be arrogant)
Overly-inflated self-esteem
Dangerous risk-taking
Inability to sleep (sometimes for days)
Obsessive thoughts
Racing thoughts
Hallucinations
Life of the party


Signs and symptoms of DEPRESSION can include:

1) Depression

Anxiety
Poor memory
Self condemnation
Inability to function
Inability to concentrate
Physical health problems
Restlessness or irritability
Sleep problems (sleeps too much or too little)
Feeling worthless, or helpless
Disorganized (procrastinates more than usual)
Extreme emotional pain (cries easily, feels totally alone)
Sense of failure and extreme guilt
Difficulties sleeping, or oversleeping
Feelings of hopelessness or pessimism
Paranoia and pessimism about everything
Persistent sadness (feeling emotionally empty or dead inside)
Withdrawal from friends and social contacts
Changes in appetite and weight
Extremely fatigued (no energy, feels "washed out" or extremely tired)
Repeated thoughts of death or suicide; suicide attempts
Difficulty concentrating (hard to think straight, remember, and/or make decisions)
Lack of motivation (loss of interest or pleasure in previously enjoyable activities)


2) Psychosis

While psychosis is more common during the manic phase of bipolar disease, it may also be present during severe depression. Psychotic symptoms include:

Delusions (false and illogical beliefs--e.g., believing you have super human powers)
Paranoia (irrational belief that one's life is in jeopardy--e.g., the Mafia is out to kill you)
Hallucinations (hearing, seeing, or sensing things that aren't real--e.g., Seeing and talking to people who aren't there)


3) Mixed State

Symptoms of "both" mania and depression may be present at the same time: a depressed mood accompanied by manic energy. This is known as a "mixed state".

The symptoms of a bipolar mixed state may include:

Paranoia
Agitation
Psychosis
Suicidal thinking
Difficulty sleeping
Significant change in appetite

The symptoms of any bipolar episode (mania, depression, or mixed state) are usually limited to distinct, time-limited periods of illness. These episodes are separated by periods when the person has few or no symptoms.

Episodes vary from person to person. They generally occur in cycles, some lasting as long as a year, (rarely episodes have been known to last years), some may last only minutes. Over time, episodes have been known to become more and more frequent. Whenever a person experiences four or more episodes within a 12-month period, that person is said to have "rapid cycling" manic-depressive illness (bipolar disorder).

Most people with bipolar disease will experience approximately 8-10 episodes over their entire lifetime. However, it should be noted that many patients experience a great deal more. Those with rapid-cycling bipolar disorder, often experience a lifetime's worth of episodes during the course of a single month or week.

I had a GREAT iatrist session today!

Actor Crush of the Day: More Matthew Fox

I brought up some issues with him. And it went well. He was, as usual, his VERY direct self. But he apologized, at least, in his own way, for what I felt was ridicule and belittling of my relating to him during our last phone conversation in early November, some side effects I was experiencing. Doctors are people too, and they have bad days, and get irritable, just like anyone else. That is kind of what I figured had happened, lately, although I was hurt for a long time by it.

I thought it was very . . . good of him to admit that he got that way. So I have newfound respect for him; he isn't quite as arrogant as I had thought, if he could discuss the things with me that we discussed today.

So. I'm still here and kickin'. I kind of mentally girded myself up, and put on my mental boxing gloves for today's appointment, and am glad that it went well.

YIPPPEEEEEEE. One less thing to worry about.

Now, back to my regularly scheduled melancholy. Same bat time, same batty channel.

Well DUH, Mommy!

Actor Crush of the Day: Matthew Fox

Yesterday in church, I was reminding and insisting that Emily fold her arms. Later in the meeting, when I had to remind her yet again, she insisted, "I AM!". And I said, "No you're not!". She again insisted, "I am . . . . . behind my back!"

I had to smother a chuckle and look stern as I more specifically requested that she do so in front of her back.

I had a bit of a giggle about it. She's a little wiseacre!

How Fighting Satan is Like Putting On A Pair of Control-Top Pantyhose

Actor Crush of the Day: John Schneider

Well, they're both difficult sons of @#&*(%^. If you're a man, you'll just have to trust me on this.

Let's see. You start off, all determined to resist temptation, and defeat the adversary in fell swoop. You start off with the toes, and easily slide the deceptive pantyhose over your heels, thinking, "This isn't so bad, nothing to it!".

You then start to have some difficulty, but with prayer and effort, you make a bit of progress. And resist the temptations of sin.

Woops! Looks like we spoke too early; got a little run there, in our pantyhose. No problem; whip out the handy dandy clear nailpolish, and you're good to go. You may have stumbled; but you repent, and set your grip again for the fight ahead.

You find that you've lost a bit of ground, and have to start from the ankles again. Kinda frustrating, but that's how it goes. You slowly inch the hose upwards, gritting your teeth and mumbling fake curses under your breath, as all your muscles, spiritual or otherwise, are called into play.

Your arms are trembling now from the strain, as the terrible struggle threatens to yank those pantyhose right out of your grip and send you head over heels to the floor. You grunt with the effort of just holding your ground, let alone making any progress, and despair of winning the battle.

Suddenly, you have assistance. Your prayers have been answered; your husband hears the funny sounds issuing forth from the dressing area and hearkens to your call for aid.

You brace yourself against any handy semi-sturdy piece of furniture at hand, those things from lessons past in Church, and knowledge from the scriptures that you have gained over the years. Your husband braces himself and pulls where you tell him to; your lungs heaving mightily with the effort, trembling with sheer exhaustion from the strain of the battle, you, together, begin to make progress once more.

The home stretch is in sight, but this proves the hardest battleground of all. You and your spouse no longer speak, as you are locked in battle with the terrible pullings of the adversary, and all his efforts to knock you off balance and lower your spirituality. Or pantyhose, as the case may be. Er, that sounds bad . . . lol!

Anyway, together, you wrestle with sin and temptation; locked in battle, sweat dripping from your brow, your spouse working in unison with you to overcome the strength of the world. As you both begin to feel as though the struggle will never end; that the pantyhose will just never succumb to the combined efforts and coordination of you and your spouse, suddenly, the battle is over.

Oh happy day! The sweet, sweet release of eternal rest. The ceasing of struggle and strife; the glory of knowing that soon, you will be at church to worship your Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ; the peace of just BEING, is felt within your souls, and the joy of overcoming temptation and sin, and the humility you feel at the assistance you received from on high; your prayers were answered, forgiveness was given, and assistance was provided in the struggles just overcome.

Amen to that, and just so you know, I am NEVER going to attempt control-top pantyhose again. I have learned my lesson . . . . teehee! Yes, this allegory is based on an actual event****; I also believe the Lord has a sense of humor, and won't be offended at my relation of my hosiery struggles, with the struggle with sin and temptation. Hee!

****Names were changed in the above allegory to protect the innocent; also, my lawyers insist that I declare that there is nothing sinful about pantyhose, in and of themselves. But on the other hand, whatever MAN invented them, especially the control-top version . . . well, may the Lord have mercy on his soul . . . wait, my lawyers inform me that placing my hands around someone's throat and squeezing, is not a good idea . . . . hee hee hee! Just kidding y'all.

The Man And The Birds

Actor Crush of the Day: Gregory Peck

Here is a Christmas story that I read about 10-12 years ago, that really moved me inside. It just . . . . speaks to me; it fills my soul with peace and love. That may sound corny, but I like corn. It is just . . . . a spiritually profound, meaningful joyous moment of revelation, at the end of the story. I cannot help but read this story over and over (no, not in an OCD-repetitive way, lol!), for the pure beauty and depth of feeling that fills my soul. I have seen no author attributed to this story, so I feel I can post it here.

The Man and the Birds

Now the man to whom I'm going to introduce you was not a scrooge, he was a kind, decent, mostly good man. Generous to his family, upright in his dealings with other men. But he just didn't believe all that incarnation stuff which the churches proclaim at Christmas Time. It just didn't make sense and he was too honest to pretend otherwise. He just couldn't swallow the Jesus Story, about God coming to Earth as a man. "I'm truly sorry to distress you," he told his wife, "but I'm not going with you to church this Christmas Eve." He said he'd feel like a hypocrite. That he'd much rather just stay at home, but that he would wait up for them. And so he stayed and they went to the midnight service.

Shortly after the family drove away in the car, snow began to fall. He went to the window to watch the flurries getting heavier and heavier and then went back to his fireside chair and began to read his newspaper. Minutes later he was startled by a thudding sound. Then another, and then another. Sort of a thump or a thud. At first he thought someone must be throwing snowballs against his living room window. But when he went to the front door to investigate he found a flock of birds huddled miserably in the snow. They'd been caught in the storm and, in a desperate search for shelter, had tried to fly through his large landscape window.

Well, he couldn't let the poor creatures lie there and freeze, so he remembered the barn where his children stabled their pony. That would provide a warm shelter, if he could direct the birds to it. Quickly he put on a coat, galoshes, tramped through the deepening snow to the barn. He opened the doors wide and turned on a light, but the birds did not come in. He figured food would entice them in. So he hurried back to the house, fetched bread crumbs, sprinkled them on the snow, making a trail to the yellow-lighted wide open doorway of the stable. But to his dismay, the birds ignored the bread crumbs, and continued to flap around helplessly in the snow.

He tried catching them. He tried shooing them into the barn by walking around them waving his arms. Instead, they scattered in every direction, except into the warm, lighted barn. And then, he realized, that they were afraid of him. To them, he reasoned, I am a strange and terrifying creature. If only I could think of some way to let them know that they can trust me. That I am not trying to hurt them, but to help them.

But how? Because any move he made tended to frighten them, confuse them. They just would not follow. They would not be led or shooed because they feared him. "If only I could be a bird," he thought to himself, "and mingle with them and speak their language. Then I could tell them not to be afraid. Then I could show them the way to safety ... to the safe warm barn. But I would have to be one of them so they could see, and hear and understand."

At that moment the church bells began to ring. The sound reached his ears above the sounds of the wind. And he stood there listening to the bells - Adeste Fidelis - listening to the bells pealing the glad tidings of Christmas. And he sank to his knees in the snow.

-- Author Unknown --

They keep cutting funding for mental health . . . .

Actor Crush of the Day: Pierce Brosnan

Click post title for mental health policy news.

I am SO sick of this! Yeah, I understand the need to balance the budget. But cut, after cut, after cut.

You know, most people assume that a financially needy mentally ill person, can utilize local, state, and national programs to help them get treatment.

Well, I'm a year and a half into my Social Security Disability claim.

Medicaid funding, especially the mental health portions, keep getting cut.

I remember, in 1996, accessing some mental health care at the local Davis Mental Health clinic near Lakeview Hospital in Bountiful, Utah. They had a sliding fee scale, and depending on income, your payment could get lower and lower. Davis being the county in Utah I lived in at the time.

Two years ago, when seeking treatment and resources, I called for an over-the-phone assessment from a psychologist at this clinic, which I received, but he let me know, that unless my payment/funding for services came from certain sources, they would not be able to treat me. I was confused . . . . he wouldn't, or couldn't, put it in any more specific terms than that.

I took that to mean Medicaid and/or Medicare, or something. And/Or health insurance, but maybe not even that.

So this sort of public mental health care, where you can pay say a sliding fee or something, doesn't exist any more; at least, not HERE. And, I daresay, not a many more other places, either. As funding as been cut in drastic amounts in the last decade.

There is going to be, there IS, a mental health care crisis. Yes, there's a crisis in all areas of health care, but people seem to forget this aspect. It's as though the public, blissfully unaware, just doesn't know that there is becoming no hope, for the mentally ill. Congress, seems to maybe in their minds think there'll be some other way people like me can get treated? Or somehow be fine without it? Don't they realize, that the costs to society will most likely be LESS, to help us, than for many like me to end up in emergency rooms around the country, where bills will most likely end up going uncollected because the people just HAVE NO MONEY to pay, and that raises costs elsewhere, of course; that the costs to society of having so many people limited or not able to function capably out among society, out among the workforce, will add up to more in the long run.

Most people, I'm guessing, probably see this as a distant issue; unless they themselves know someone with a mental illness, they don't really seem to feel much cause for concern. Or such would be my perception, of those in the general populace who even know about these funding cuts.

The sad thing is, most probably don't. Much of it seems to be happening under the radar.

I said general populace, and they, us, them, whatever, but you know what? I'm general populace too. I am they, them, us, you. Your sister, brother, uncle, cousin, niece. Your friend down the block, or your co-worker two cubicles down. Robin Williams, Jane Pauley. Not that the latter two need assistance.

I want to learn more about this issue, and about advocating for stopping the cuts, or mitigating their impact, or changing the cuts to less harmful/less drastic measures. And, where needed, advocate for increased funding and awareness.

I encourage everyone to inform themselves. As well, I will post on this blog from time to time regarding what I learn. I will also actively write to my Congressmen and Senators, as soon as I know what to say. Please, everyone, think about this issue and write to your Congressmen and Senators as well, if you will. You can pretty much email most or all of them, online.

Heck, if someone like me can get a phone call back from Congressman Rob Bishop, regarding an email I sent his office, than anyone can be heard. I have a funny story about that phone call, which I'll relate sometime soon.

A Bit Manic, Today

Actor Crush of the Day: Hugh Jackman.

Which has allowed me to actually do some useful things.

Still, I am aware of the pitfalls, which are many. I'm trying not to feel guilty, though, for enjoying the bubbling enthusiasm I feel.

At the moment, I feel like I could climb any mountain set in my path. Except maybe the one of being "over" this illness. That just doesn't happen, but we are working towards a degree of mental health that will hopefully be beyond just being somewhat functional.

This Arctic Cold that has settled in Utah is just . . . . freezing my soul, it feels like! It feels as though it is freeze-drying my heart down to Grinch-ey proportions.

It's not easy being Green.

Tee Hee!

Dag-Nabbit! Now that Whoville song is in my head, and I'll be OCD-repeating it all night. Which is worse than the usual something-gets-stuck-in-your-head, thing.

Da-voo door-ay, Da-voo door-ay, welcome, welcome Christmas Day . . . . . .

EEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Well, the giddy silliness that often rides along with the mania is in full force, as you can see.

A bit of green fur, to ward off the cold, would be welcome about now.

Shiver my timbers, I'm cold!!!!!

Time to stuff the towel under the front door. That draft is killer.

As you can see, my thoughts are leaping around from thing to thing, in a disjointed manner. That is part and parcel, as well.

Parcel! That makes me wish for a load O'Christmas presents in the mail. Even though there'd be no reason to think there'd be any! Man, my mania is just running away with me.

I feel, and hope, that my kind of "free-associating" typing whatever is coming to me, right now, kind of shows you a little bit of how the mania feels and jerks me around.

Now I have an image of being tethered to the end of a rope, and being swung around in a wide circle on the ice, sliding around and around. Wheeee!

Mebbe I'd better stop, before I embarass myself further.

I wonder if the Grinch is the Hulk's unwanted love child? (My brain used the "bastard" word . . . just so's you know how my brain works, in this state. Utah. Lol.)

Small Miracles

Actor Crush of the Day: Liam Neeson (He sounds good as a Lion, doesn't he?

Thank goodness for small miracles. Like dissassembled cardboard boxes.

I am picturing the ? above each of your heads right now. Lol.

Okay, so you all know I panic easily.

Well, I was in the kitchen, doing some things, when I knocked a plate off the dishwasher and it shattered all over the floor! I was in my barefeet, and the broom was at the other end of the kitchen. And I was too far from the living room to reach it.

I was cornered!

At first I thought, well, there's got to be some way out of this. But then, I realized, the only way I could see was to walk out through the multitude of shards and slivers of white-and-ivy Corningware glass strewn about the floor.

That idea did not appeal to me.

Panic rising, I cast about for some other solution. There was no way I could reach the broom, to sweep myself a path.

I was about to start treading through the floor of glass, when my eyes laid to rest upon a flattened box partially slid behind the tall baker's rack-style microwave "cart" (not really a cart, but what else do you call it?)

Salvation! I leaned way over, because I was at about the limit of my reach from it, and plucked my saving grace from its ignomious resting place. I unfurled the cardboard "miracle" in front of me like a red carpet rolling forth in front of the highest of society; I cautiously placed my feet upon the path, and was able to thus reach the broom.

I still could not reach the living room, but I now proceeded to sweep every part of the kitchen except that beneath my path; I could JUST reach the farthest corners! I swept everything over into a pile beside the garbage, and then gingerly began to fold up a section of the path at a time, sweeping each space clear before proceeding to the next.

I finally folded up the box and set it aside, grateful for the miracle it had been. Silly though that may sound, how would YOU have gotten out of a glass-strewn kitchen, barefoot, with no tables or counters or anything to crawl upon to save your feet from diaster?

My "Peanuts" Childhood

Actor Crush of the Day: Snoopy. Cause it was a dark and stormy night . . . .
I was reflecting on the very little to none I remember of my childhood under the age of 7 or 8 or so. And you know what I realized? The adults only existed from the lower chest down. They were incomprehensible, and really were only background noise in the remembrances in my head. To the point where they are practically non-existant. I don't remember how my parents looked, at all. I don't remember ever SEEING their faces, although of course I must have.

I actually only remember, from the house in California, the wood in the hallway, the screen in my room I'd push out to go play in the backyard when I'd been sent to my room, and the swinging glass-paned kitchen door that was removed after one day when I chased my little brother around and around, each time entering the kitchen through this door with a stiff arm to a glass pane. On one go-round, a pane gave way and I looked down with 3 year old curiosity (and I'm sure horror, but by now it's all a silent movie in my head, and not a very clear one at that), at the piece of meat/me lying on the ground, and the GAPING hole in my wrist. I believe I screamed. Anyway, even in this my mother is just a lap in my memory. No face or anything.

Anyhoo, I realized, HEY, this is just like PEANUTS! Where all the adults speak some incomprehensible honking gibberish, and are really just background, when they are there at all, for the lives of the kids, anyway. So I thought it was funny that my childhood plays out like a Peanuts video. The few bits and pieces I can remember, anyway. Er . . . . that sounds kinda gross, considering I left off about seeing a bit and piece of ME on the floor. Lol!

Today's Therapy - If I was an Orange, I'd be Orange Juice about now.

Actor Crush of the Day:Tom Welling

Today's appointment got off to an awkward start . . . . Lots of "ums", and silence. I finally spit it out, though. After a bit of interchange, and some more silence, and starting to freak out in a panic attack, then came the Question. If anyone outside the office had heard it, you wouldn't even think it that odd or deep, even for two friends discussing the subject. But in the context of therapy, and the relationship between him and I (nothing inappropriate, just the unique depth of interaction that is inherent in the therapeutic relationship), and the absolute horror I felt inside at this question, something New in my psychological experience occurred.

I felt a tightening, in my chest. As though a purse-string was being tightened up. And I shifted around a bit, and breathed, although I couldn't expand my lungs fully due to the tightening. It rapidly progressed to a hard squeezing. Everything was squeezing so hard inside my upper torso; it was getting tighter, and more and more difficult to breathe. The squeezing restricted, further and further, my ability to draw a breath. I expressed my difficulties to the ologist; he could see I was enduring something, and I, in short bursts as I was rather . . . in distress by this time, let him know what was going on. It became extremely uncomfortable, in a painful way, but the pain is difficult to describe. And of course further panic at not feeling able to breathe didn't help any, either . . . . I shifted my lower body forward on the couch, and sunk my upper body lower down into the couch, and tilted my head back, in an effort to mitigate the restriction on my lungs. And of course there was alot of grimacing and a few gutteral noises of effort in relation to the squeezing and breathing difficulties. All this happening within the space of, say, 30 seconds or so, from the first tightening.

My ologist then said, in about the most safe, nurturing, confident voice that one could imagine, "Let's get you back to a safe place." He talked, for a minute or two, with me answering a few short answers here and there, and fought the squeezing, in my mind. Really, really hard. I finally came to a place where the squeezing all of a sudden quickly eased over about 10 seconds, and I was in that safer place; he had helped me get there; he had not abandoned me to the scary "attack" of whatever was going on; he calmly, confidently, caringly, knowledgeably, and skillfully applied himself towards helping me get out of the very real physical distress I was in.

The rest of the appointment went well. I was scared at what I had experienced; that had never happened to me before. But afterwords, there also was a reassurance inside that scary as I thought therapy would be, that I now know he won't abandon me to the scary stuff. That he will HELP ME THROUGH IT. That is such a NEW concept for me, it's hard to even wrap my mind around it. I will NOT be alone in experiencing the difficulties. True, he was not not having the difficulty himself, but he was RIGHT THERE with me, in the trenches. As much as anyone outside my head COULD be. That is very comforting, and I felt very taken care of, and comforted, afterwards. Actually, that feeling of comfort and care, is what helped the squeezing go away.

I had never thought to feel such a physically intense reaction to psychological stuff. Or at least that kind of feeling.

In one way, it scares me because I feel like now I'm just at the beginning of starting into stuff like went on today, and who the heck knows what other kind of strange, scary, painful, and even debilitating physical and emotional reactions, ie, monsters, could rear their ugly heads . . . . . In another way, though, my confidence and trust in him is so much deeper, for the experience we went through today.

Today's Ologist appointment was good!

Actor Crush of the Day: Tom Hanks (He's just so comforting!)

We worked on the issue of "You can't hate yourself into health", among other things. Accepting myself. Sounds simple, doesn't it?

NOoooooooooooooooooooo, it's not. Accepting oneself, with all the flaws, inconsistencies, even irresponsible behavior, the almost always backing out of alot of things, my problems following through, my fears and avoidance behaviors, neediness, just so many things. How does one accept the pitiful creature that you think you are? And yes, I know I'm not pitiful. At least, part of me does anyway. Part of me thinks I am . . .

Talked about pushing back and lashing out against feeling like other people have these huge expectations of me. Not only expectations, but like "orders" of things they want me to do. And feeling controlled.

And feeling like, I am not acceptable if I am not on meds, to people. There are SO many issues surrounding meds. There can be SEVERELY CRIPPLING side effects. I'd rather live with the bipolar, than tardive dyskenesia, among other things. Not that I'm showing signs of that, but it's just one of the many issues.

I DO appreciate the concern for my well-being that is expressed when loved ones are concerned about whether I'm on meds or not, but . . . . feeling like they "suffer" me when I'm not on meds . . . . I'm just not sure what to do with that. I appreciated the honesty behind that, and do not regret who told me that, telling me that. I feel an implicit rejection in that statement, but I need to figure out my feelings on the issue.

It's a big issue, and NOT personally related to any one person. It's something I've thought about for the last year, ever since I heard that I might be bipolar. I wondered so much about how accepted and loved I was and would be, both on, and off meds. It is something I've pondered, and need to do some more figuring on.

I was able to bring it up briefly at the end of the session, but I suppose I'll discuss it further with him next week.

Chemical Soup & Chocolate Milk (Doesn't that sound yummy?)

Actor Crush of the Day: Christopher Lee (in his younger days, but he doesn't have to be TOO young; I've been watching Airport '77)

I've been having a rough time and I appreciate all the kindness I have received. Thank you, it really helps ALOT. The littlest things can really mean so much, because someone took the time to THINK of them, and do them, instead of assume it wouldn't mean much, or assume that I'm already getting plenty of those kind gestures.

I've gone from feeling melancholically morose, to being full of anger and wanting to push back, at anything and everything. Very edgy, agitated, and irritable. I had been wondering if a manic phase was coming on . . . and this may be it. Not the anger itself, of course, that is related to so many things, but just everything with how I'm feeling right now, it feels manic in the agitated instead of euphoric way. UGH. Or maybe even mixed, which is WORSE. Ah, well.

I just keep stirring the chemical soup pot in my mind, and holding my nose with a clothespin until it starts to smell better.

Now THERE's a vivid analogy for you. Lol!! Wonder what the ologist will say of it. He'll probably grin!

On another note, I actually cooked for the 2nd time in two weeks; these are the first time's I've cooked in months. So that's a positive sign. An egg noodle-broccoli-mushroom (canned) garlic-and thyme thing, it's a side dish but we eat it as a main. And it's easy.

On a comPLETEly unrelated subject, does anyone else like their chocolate milk really weak, like I do? I like it about half white/half choc milk, if it's choc milk from a jug. I mix them. Or even 60/40, with the 60 being white. Enough to taste that there's chocolate, or some days a strong HINT of chocolate, without it being too sweet/thick like the full strength can be sometimes.

Everything sucks.

Ditto. Oh yeah, and I do too.

I had a REALLY good ologist session today.

Actor Crush of the Day: All of the previous. They're all MINE. So THERE! (Teehee!)

Not feeling up to saying much more than that, but at least it's something. The title, not the actors (but wouldn't they be, though?)

Anyhoo, Back At The Ranch . . . .

Actor Crush of the Day: Hugh Laurie (I just discovered he's Mr. Palmer in Sense & Sensibility . . . . even MORE reason to love that movie!)

Anyone else use the word "Anyhoo"? Or admit to it, anyway? I really relaxed today in therapy and kicked back, and just had fun. I even told some psych jokes. And he hadn't heard them before. He thought the one about Santa needing to believe in himself, instead of depending on others believing in him, was the funniest!

So, anyhoo, raise your hand if you say Anyhoo.

So I used that word for the first time in therapy. It's amazing how much we censor out fun and quirky aspects of our personality when we feel like we are under other people's microscopes. The world looks rather harshly on silliness and unfettered exuberance. But that's ME.

I'm going to learn to not give a spit if the world, or its inhabitants that put me under a microscope, think this stuff is stupid. Think I am stupid. What do they know, anyway? I can learn to be ME, and being me is just DANDY thank you very much.

I hate when people get on their high horses and just look down their noses at you, all superior-like. That microscope thing is mostly about making you feel inferior to them. But I'm going to learn to not buy into that. I can be whoever I want, microscopes be damned.

Picture me, as a little amoeba, shaking my "fist" at the big bad nerd looking down through the microscope. Not gonna do it, anymore. We are all the same size. In other words, we are all the SAME, worth-wise. We are all sons and daughters of Heavenly Father, and that MEANS that no ONE person of us is any BETTER than any other. Anyone who thinks they are better than you, is forgetting that principle, if they ever knew it in the first place. Which some didn't, but even if they aren't religious, there's other analogies for everyone being equal.

So. I Rock! And I ain't gonna be held down by the Man, or the Woman, ANYMORE! At least, I'm gonna work on it anyway. WOOOOO! Yay for me. Teehee!

GREAT therapy session today! Need ride to charter school meeting.

Actor Crush of the Day: Hugh Grant

Hi all! I had a GRRrreeeeAAAAtttt sesssion today with Dr. Mower at his Salt Lake office.

Thank you SO much for your kind comments. I am sorry that I have not been up to commenting back; my ability to follow up on things isn't great at times, and now is one of those times.

Plus, the longer I'm on this upped dose of Neurontin, the worse I'm getting. I am not able to think very well, or react like I should, or as fast as I should. I'm not able to even contemplate more than one simple thing at once, I am very woozy, dizzy, light & heavy-headed at the same time, my eyes and head are so fatigued it's all I can do to keep my eyes open at times.

My head feels like a cannonball. And somebody's taking a hammer to it . . .

I sympathize with anyone having medication side effects. Our bodies are all different, as are our doses, but it's all important to each of us, how we experience the effects &/or misery of modern medical chemistry. ARGH.

I'm having a Neurontin Neuroses. Well, can't really even think what neuroses means, and I'm probably not having one. I just liked the alliteration, there.

I am SO HAPPY. I had a really TERRRRIIIFFFICCC therapy session today! I LOVE it! He is such a GREAT psychologist. Yipppeeee!

Such a mixed state I'm in cause, well, there's some other things going on right now that I won't mention right now, but perhaps later. I'm having a hard time thinking.

I feel like everything is molasses, and I'm having to wade through it. My mental processes just seem stuck in molasses. Hrm, makes me wanna make molasses cookies, or gingerbread cookies . . . . YUM. But so weighted down and floaty at the same time. I feel kinda . . . . drugged.

Oh, on another issue, there's a meeting in Bountiful next Tuesday, the 9th, about the HF Autism & Asperger's charter school that's coming soon. I have no way to get there and don't know what I'd do with Emily. So I REALLY could use some help figuring out a way there. This is very important that I MEET with the people, and ask them questions, and get as much info as I can.

I'm gonna go lay down. Ergh. Eyelids closing without my permission . . . . even as I keep typing. Eyes closed typing, that's a new trick . . .!

TTYL! TTFN! SYLA! AAWC!

Neurontin side effects?

Actor Crush of the Day: Sean Connery

I can't know for sure, but it's fairly obvious since I started Neurontin, and even more things since I bumped up the dose almost 4 weeks ago, that I'm having some negative side effects that may make it rather not worth it, despite the positive side effects.

From what I know, this is pretty much how the rest of my life is going to be. Testing different meds, and different combos of meds, to find what works, without so many side effects as to counterweigh by too much the positive side effects.

I feel like a guinea pig. Squeak!

Anyway, since bumping up from 900 to 1600, I have frequent woozy-ness and dizziness. A drugged sort of tiredness. You aren't sleepy in the normal sense, and yet you have a hard time keeping your eyes open, in a certain hour after a certain number of hours after taking the dose of medication. It is difficult to explain . . . .

Since starting the Neurontin in early September, after it started to kick in, it seems I've been LESS able to do things around here than ever before. It has severely increased my lack of focus; basically decreased my ability to focus to an extreme degree.

I LOVE to read. I LOVE it, I can read for hours and hours, in the right mood and state of mind. But in this, I imagine ADD-like state of agitated unfocused-ness, I try to read, and only get through a sentence or MAYBE a paragraph, and I HAVE to put it down. It's like trying to force that 700 pound shopping cart, that is skewed to turn one direction, a different way. Except the shopping cart is now like 5000 pounds. You try, and run up against a brick wall. You literally CANNOT force your brain to focus, even on something you love to do. That's just one example. Plus, for more tedious things, imagine the difficulties there. It's like my brain is on railroad tracks, and I can glimpse and sometimes grasp for a second things by the side of the tracks, but the train keeps going and I can't stop it to stay focused on whatever it was. I can't force the train off the rails, and head whatever direction I want.

It's driving Scott and I NUTS. He's frustrated that I haven't been able to do much of anything for 6-8 weeks now, around here. So am I. Before the Neurontin, I wasn't really able to do that much, but it was somewhat more than I am now. Now, it's NOTHING. UGH. The occasional batch of dishes or laundry I could summon up the energy to do about once every 8-9 days before, I can't now. I'm trying though. Occasionally I break through, but then I've used up all my energy, plus still being woozy and dizzy, and I'm then useless for anything for a LONG time.

It's like it was before the Neurontin, only WORSE. Of course, I also wonder, if I have ADD, and the Neurontin lifting some of the bipolar fog allowed that to come to the forefront. That could be, too. Because when the Effexor began to kick in earlier this year, it lifted alot of the horrid depression, and I began to drown in fear more intensely. It lifted the depression that had been dampening those aspects of my illnesses and allowed them to come to the forefront . . . .

Who knows. I've left a message with some details for Dr. Brinley, my iatrist, to call me back and discuss with me. Yet, I'm sad that yet another medication is probably proving to be NOT the solution, so we are back at square one, in regards to the bipolar. Plus the positive effects that I HAVE felt, I will be so SAD to see those go. It will be like the story, "Flowers For Algernon", in that I was able, for the first time in my life, to feel the full extent of my being, to feel fully my soul and depth of character and self, and depth of ability. That will fade away, and I will notice it fading away, until a certain point when so much is gone that I will be as I was before, in a rather unpleasant state and not able to even SEE that there was such a positive state as I had experienced. It's very poignantly sad to anticipate this. But I guess that's the way it goes.

In one way it is NOT back to square one, in that at least we know that Lamictal and Neurontin are not the meds for me . . . . Problem is, alot of the mood-stabilizing meds cause weight gain, to a significant, and for some, a SCARY degree. And at my weight, that is NOT an option.

I feel like a chemical SOUP. I need some croutons, with that, please. WAITER!