Not Afraid of It

I made a commitment a few months ago to blog every day about my therapy and my growth and change. I haven't managed it. I did well until my Haldol-induced Zombie-tude in June. And since then, it's been about 50-50.

Part of the problem is that I've felt dull and like I've had nothing interesting to say, or nothing to say at all. Part of the problem is that I've been so depressed or so anxious that I could barely talk. Neither of these aspects lend themselves to blogging.

Another part of it is that I have this blog, and I have my more public blog: these two have to have different faces, different subject matter. I've been writing more for the other one than I had in awhile. Sometimes I have to stop and think about which one I'm writing for. Sometimes I'll think I'm writing for this blog, but it turns out the post is better suited for the other one, and occasionally it's vice versa. Well, today I added another layer of complexity and started a professional-facing blog. That's the one I've attached my whole, real name to, my web site to, and that I'll let everyone know about. I don't think there will be a problem figuring out when I'm writing for that blog.

So what do I have to say today? I accomplished some things, then fell back into immobility? I still haven't gotten out and walked, but I've done some deep knee bends, a bit of boogying, and some kitchen-counter push-ups? My muscle tone is scarily poor, but just doing a couple of things seems to have an effect.

I'm just still having problems with these damned speed bumps!

I don't know. Maybe there is some very forceful visualization work I need to do. It's been a long time since I've done any. It couldn't hurt.

I'm in a dreadful place of anxiety right now, with Julie's "Hungry Ghosts" ringing me — I can see their teeth and hear them sing. But as Julie says: acknowledge, distract, distract, distract. I add to that sedate, sedate, sedate! But the anxiety is making paying my bills a problem because even thinking of paying my bills brings the anxiety and the HGs.

Because of the weight I put on in the past year, a lot of my clothes from the previous 2-3 years don't fit. So I bought 3 pair of shorts and a nightgown. The shorts are just a tad tight, which is okay. Not tight enough to pop buttons or be uncomfortable, but tight enough to fit me for quite a few pounds down. (Plus, they are shorter than anything I've worn in quite a while and even with that lack of muscle tone my legs still got it!) As for the nightie, well, the cut was nice and the fabric is cotton and modal. Sigh. It's pink, true, but more of a peony pink than a Barbie pink, so I'm good with it. It fits so well and it's so comfortable. So these four items were good buys for me, no matter what.

Well, there. See? Communicating. However, that's all I got right now. I've written two other posts already tonight! And I find I can write and edit a post, even one that I'm being all professional with, in 45 minutes for a post that was as high as 600 words but final count was 571. Not too bad.

Not Quite Succeeding

Well, I tried. This week, in addition to the regular therapy homework, I had my new behavioral homework, just a few tasks. And as simple and small were the challenges, it's going to take more than a week for me to incorporate everything successfully and routinely.

Therapy homework
Nope. Didn't even think of it until about an hour ago and a couple of hours before I go to sleep is not the best time.

Behavioral work

1. Take a shower and get dressed every day, preferably before noon.
   I showered every other day. I got dressed every day, although sometimes in lounge-around-the-house clothes. About half the time I managed this before noon. Lesson: Don't read more than one blog before beginning after-breakfast routine.
2. Eat three meals a day, plus a piece of fruit and/or a vegetable every day.
   Didn't manage the three meals at all. I still mess up the hours in my day. Started out okay with the fruit, but then let the rest of the fruit and some of the berries go bad. Managed that a third of the week. No vegies at all. Lesson: Create alarms to make me aware of meal times. Prepare vegies right after I bring them home. Be more vigilant and eat the fruit or vegie first.
3. Leave the apartment every day. Pick up my mail every day. Preferably mesh the two and walk to the mailbox every day to incorporate some body movement.
   Only one day did I manage the mesh. I think there were only two days when I didn't go out, thus two days (or maybe three) when I didn't pick up my mail. And the walk plus mail day was my only walk day. Lesson: Create a schedule for the week requiring me to leave. Walk the walking trail at the complex at least twice a week — maybe set an alarm for it. Pick up the mail when I return from my going out. Without an external reason, I just don't go. Still too inert.

I'm also still not getting to bed early. I haven't been to bed before 12 this week, and I hit 2-ish at least once, which makes me get up later. And I generally turn off my alarm and continue sleeping. I need to push myself (which I'm not yet succeeding at) to go to bed earlier, and I need to put my alarm across the room so I have to get up (the alarm doesn't stop until I physically turn it off, so this could work).

I also am finding I still need a Red Bull each day to help me stay awake. I had one all week and did fine. I didn't have one today and around two thirty was so tired I lay down. The alarm on my Mac woke me up just enough to turn it off. I went back to sleep until 6:30. Four hours. I wish I could simply take a nap for 30 minutes, rather than sleep through the afternoon. It cost me time on a project, pushing me even later.

So I had a couple of very small successes this week, plus I got some ideas about what might work for this coming week. I've been solidly this inert for months, so changing may take longer than I expected. Unfortunately, because I'm very tired of it. Plus, I'm not making any money, which puts me closer and closer to running out.

It doesn't seem fair, after all I've been through, to have to deal with all this, and alone. I know Life isn't fair, but I wish it would help me a bit. If I have to do it all myself, I just might end up living in my car. (Sorry, Julie.)

My moods ride a bicycle. Get out of their way.

Today I felt damned perky (sorry, Julie). The last couple of days I have felt myself coming up further from the Abyss, not really in the "happy" area yet, but not in the depressed area.

In fact, I felt beyond perky. As the morning went along, I felt the edge of mania* coming on. My mood and energy began to develop an edge. It felt to me there was a thin, electrical edge to my mood. My body developed a tremor and I felt ill. I felt nauseated and irritable.

My mood and physical feelings deteriorated quickly from there and I had to miss a commitment (but was able to email in what I needed to).

I wasn't expecting this. I'm on more and greater amounts of meds — twice as much for Pristiq (for anxiety), and half again as much for the Lamictal (mood disorder, cycling). And then my added Abilify (boost the other two). Plus, I have Lorazepam for sleeping and for taking off any anxiety that the Pristiq doesn't handle. This quick plunge made me feel — again — like I'm not on any meds at all. So I wonder what would be the effect of taking me off of everything and slowly bringing me back up? Cuz this isn't fun. And it's so reminiscent of the old days.

I was going to talk about my meds and my history of being on them, but I'm far too distracted and buzzy to write. At all. I'll write more later.

*Not the Bipolar I (Manic-Depressive) Mania. Something that is much, much less explosive. I might stay up extra hours, not days. I might spend a couple hundred dollars, not ten thousand.

Temporary

Having my belongings packed into moving boxes indicates to me a temporary state, a state where I know I'm going to move again. I have lived out of boxes since 1991 when my now-ex-boyfriend and I moved into a house that turned out to be dirty and too uncomfortable to live in. In our next apartment, we kept boxes packed in the second bedroom, even tho' the apartment was more than comfortable. If I had lived there alone I might have kept it. But I left it when I left him. Perhaps we knew the relationship was, by that time, temporary.

When I bought my first house, I left a roomful of boxes packed, taking up the space in my second bedroom for far too long. Then I moved them upstairs so I could at least inhabit that bedroom as an office and a comfy place to hang out, with a twin bed in the corner where I could look outside into my back yard. I lived there for eight years — hardly temporary. When I moved almost 300 miles away because everything had changed, all I cared to take with me permanently was that house, something I long for even now 10 years later.