well, hello there, or, the resurrection post

Greetings from the great state of Maryland, home of Edgar Allen Poe and birth state of Frank Zappa, Lewis Black, and David Hasslehoff!*

More importantly, the birth state and residence of my two granddaughters. And now also my home!

When I stated writing this blog back in 2014, I wrote a post about how much I wanted to be here (All I can speak is my truth.). And how it probably wasn't possible.

Well, the impossible happened, and I've been here a little more than a year now. In fact, I started moving here about the time I abandoned this blog.

It was a very spontaneous decision, but it has gone amazingly well. I'm working part-time and have had the same job for over a year (with some slight variations)

I am a LOT less depressed than I was in Florida. I think I'm less depressed than I've been since my twenties.

I think by consulting my journal for the last year, I can blog on my personal journey from depressed and unemployable to functioning and working.

Stay tuned.

*41 Things You Probably Didn't Know About Maryland.

Brushing off the cobwebs...

Oh, dear, it's been quite a while since I've posted. I wish I could say that I had a good excuse. Maybe I do. First there was the trip to NYC for the People's Climate March, then there were the Jewish holidays, which, in spite of what you might have heard, are still going on. First there's Rosh Hashanah, which occurred right after I got back from the PCM, so I plunged right into that. The next week was Yom Kippur. And right after you think it's all over, Sukkot pops up and kicks you in the ass! And it's an 8-day holiday, just like Passover. So we've just started that. Not that I've really done anything about it.

When I got back from NYC, I had a day of rest then jumped right into cooking and baking for Rosh Hashanah dinner. Even though the rest of my family isn't Jewish, they do celebrate with me, and even my sister is happy to come out of her hole for brisket (I told a friend of mine about the brisket, and she declared, "I am ready to convert just for the food!"). The next day I attended a crowded shul for the first day of Rosh Hashanah. And I haven't been back since. Skipped Yom Kippur services. Missed the first day of Sukkot today. And my sleep cycle is messed up again, so I'm not optimistic for the next two days either.

It's funny, I went out with friends a couple of nights ago, to see Guardians of the Galaxy and have a few beverages. Wow, that sounds so normal. Just like a real person. It was a lot of fun. Went with an old friend from high school and his wife of two years. Anyway, we were talking, and somehow we got on the topic of antidepressants. I have no idea how this occurred. Oh, yes, I do. Anyway, I mentioned that I was on them, and they asked why. I don't like to say I'm bipolar, because that conjures up images of people gambling too much, having risky sex with strangers, suddenly winding up in Las Vegas naked in a strange bed with no memory of how they got there. Ok, some of that may have applied to me on occasion. But I digress. I don't like to say I'm depressed either, because people think that's so mild -- everybody's depressed, they say. So I said I had bipolar depression. Why not make up a diagnosis? Although I think that label is pretty descriptive of bipolar II. Mainly depressed, sometimes functional, once a year making big plans.

So anyway, the woman says, oh, I've been on antidepressants, too, it's no big deal. And I felt just a bit more validated and accepted (oh, dear, validated is such a therapy word!), despite my depression. Everybody does go through down times. Sometimes the down times are really hard. Sometimes you don't get back up again. Which pretty much describes me. But I have been so reluctant to talk about it for so long, that "coming out" as someone with a chronic mental illness is so challenging, and keeps me from forming relationships, making plans. So many things.

 One thing I achieved during Yom Kippur was something I also did last year: a Cheshbon Ha-Nefesh. That means literally "an accounting of the soul." It's kind of like doing a Fourth Step in 12-Step programs (Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves), and I use some fourth step materials as inspiration, as well as guides from Jewish sources.

I journal daily, ok, not daily, but whenever I can discipline myself enough to do it. And I'm pretty self-reflective. All the time. Maybe a little self-obsessed? So I'm always looking at who I am, what I am doing, how I could do better. But the Cheshbon Ha-Nefesh was important to me because I wanted to look over the entire year and see how much things had changed, or hadn't changed, from last year. What was better, what was worse, what stayed the same. So that's what I did. I wrote, then I looked at last year's Cheshbon Ha-Nefesh. And, hmmm. Well, some things have improved, some things have stayed the same. I don't think anything has gotten worse. One thing I wrote last year and this was about consistency. Forming habits and sticking with them. I blog a lot about my struggles with that. I think socially I've dropped some relationships and reinforced others and am making new ones. Spiritually I am struggling on the path of Judaism, and still seeking...something. Physically I'm not taking care of myself very well. And I waste a lot my time playing Facebook games.

I think I could have added a category, environmentally. How have I taken steps to live more lightly on the planet?

I guess I could think of a bunch more categories. But the good news is that it didn't depress me at all, which was my biggest fear.

I don't know what the next year will bring. I'm making plans for an extended stay near my daughter in Maryland. I'm looking National Novel Writing Month in the face, since it's next month. I'm really not planning too much farther than the end of the year at this point.

I have a lot to share here. A post I started about my experiences with the march. A couple of educational posts I keep chipping away at. And of course my usual blather about taking care of myself and how I don't do it. Even though Rosh Hashanah isn't like the secular New Year, where people make resolutions, I'm going to make one or two. One of my resolutions is to spend less time gaming and more time doing things like this blog. So let's see if I can do that.

Busy bee!

I have been procrastinating again, writing this blog. Mainly because I really would like to write some serious posts about issues related to mood disorders. And that involves research. Which I also enjoy procrastinating on. I have a library book on depression that is about three weeks overdue, because every day I tell myself, "Today is the day I will take notes on that book."

If you don't hear from me, assume that I am in the library dungeon, being tortured for my delinquency.

So, meanwhile, things are happening that I will tell you about.

I've been getting into the swing of going to synagogue. Not too many other social activities, but people are very friendly there. It's stimulating on many levels: spiritually, socially, and intellectually. If we did yoga, it would hit physically as well, covering all the major human needs. Don't ask if there's food. Of course, there's food. Jews and food go together like lox and bagels.

I make a big decision this month: I took a break from therapy. I'm not unhappy with my therapist, she's great. And I told her about it beforehand, and she was cool with it. But I can get very dependent on a therapist, and all my social needs get met by them. I find myself thinking, "I can't wait to tell my therapist about this!" And that's when I know.

Not seeing my therapist hasn't hurt. I don't know if it has helped. I'm seeing her again next week, so we get to discuss it then.

My other real support is my sister. And that's a tricky relationship, because she's so depressed, and so hopeless about her condition.

I have been talking to long-distance friends both online and on the phone. Those conversations have been very satisfying. And I have received an invitation to stay with one friend in Virginia, near my sister and daughter, even for a month. Maybe more? I would like to move up there. But it's scary at the same time. So much planning and logistics. Oy.

Meanwhile, this weekend, I will be going all the way from Florida to New York City to join in the People's Climate March! I feel very brave. And very nervous. My stomach's in my throat, and I'm a bit jittery. It's a long drive. No, it's a looooong drive. With people I don't know, because the trip starts from Miami, south of me.

I think I mentioned before that environmental issues were important to me. I am very excited to participate in this rally for policy changes that will affect the way we treat the planet we live on, so that we can continue living on it. The planet will be just fine without us. We will not be fine without the planet's hospitality.

/end sermon.

Next week is the start of the High Holidays, so I am returning to Florida just in time to be swept away by that big event. Cooking, going to services, lots of services, and getting introspective about the year. Oh, yeah, like that last part's hard for me.

I hope I am strong enough to survive all this.

Me and Marvin

"The first ten million years were the worst. And the second ten million years, they were the worst too. The third ten million years I didn't enjoy at all. After that I went into sort of a decline" Marvin the Paranoid Android, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

I kind of like the TV version better

That's about the way that this year has felt to me. I've been kind of like a balloon the day after the party, when some of the helium has evaporated from it, and it settles to the floor. You can tap it or kick it, and it'll float for a minute, then slowly drift downwards again, answering the call of gravity.

I've rallied occasionally, but kept drifting back down again. But now, after struggling so much, I can finally feel my mood lifting.

I am also making some progress on my goals.

I'm still not showering as often as I need to, but I am brushing my teeth pretty much every day. This after visiting the dentist and having a good checkup, thank goodness. My sister recently visited the dentist after a long hiatus, and she has some very extensive and expensive work ahead of her. So that was definitely motivation to pay more attention to my dental hygiene. Also, the dental assistant was very nice and understanding. I told her it was difficult for me to get things done because of depression. She told me she understood; that her mother also dealt with depression. So she was gentle with telling me what to do, instead of lecturing me as many health professionals are prone to do.

My sleep pattern is still coming 'round the clock, but I am back on days, which means I get my sunlight in the morning while sitting on the patio next to the pool surrounded by palm trees. I have to be grateful for having such a pleasant location to enjoy.

I have been exercising more. Well, cleaning, actually. I believe that if you perspire, it counts as exercise. And I'm certainly working up a sweat. My parents have a huge house, and I haven't done much cleaning over the summer. They're coming home this week, so I'm doing the whole nine yards. Vacuuming, mopping, cleaning bathrooms, doing laundry....

And besides getting the house clean, the exercise is really lifting my mood, and helping me to sleep better.

I think my mood is also lifting because I'm looking forward to them returning. They've been away all summer, so the house is kind of empty, and I've gotten into a rut. Of course, I've been in a rut since January. Like poor Marvin, above, abandoned on a planet while a parking lot was built around him.

So, goals for the week, or for the next few days, at least:

I'm definitely going to take a shower today. I'm all sweaty from vacuuming, and I still need to mop.
Making dinner tomorrow for the parental units.
Going to synagogue on Saturday.
Also, I need to floss more.

umm, hi...

So, today I glanced at my blog dashboard, because even when I'm not posting because I have absolutely nothing relevant or useful to say or anything that I haven't whined about before because my life is a giant hole in the ground -- ahem. Let's start again.

Usually I write a post and publish it and there are a couple of pageviews, the little counter goes up a few notches, and then nothing. Which suits me fine. I haven't really gotten out there and pushed my blog. I messaged a few people on Facebook (hey, i have this little blog thingy), and that was it. Something called Feedspot reached out and grabbed my blog, and a few folks subscribed. Which was kind of nice. I keep planning to reach out and tell more people about it, as soon as it's "presentable." Which is of course one of those indefinite terms I keep handy to apply to any project I'm busy procrastinating on. Such as my thesis. And then of course, it never gets there, and dies a slow, painful death.

But getting back to today. I hadn't posted in a while, but suddenly there was an uptick of pageviews. I clicked away from the dashboard, then clicked back later, and there were MORE. So now I'm panicked because I don't know where all you folks are coming from, and I'm not ready, I haven't posted in ten days, I'm not even dressed, the house is a mess, and suddenly people are tromping through.

Maudie, get out the good china, we got comp'ny!

So, hi. I don't know where you come from, and many of you won't stay, but welcome to my little page of insanity and my struggle to be healthy.

There really hasn't been much to write about that I haven't written about already, and I hate writing in circles. I've kept a journal since I read Harriet the Spy at age 12. Sometimes I read back (not THAT far back) and it seems that I am writing the same thing over and over again, because I am stuck in the same hole that I've been stuck in for years and years. And, why write about it in a blog? I'll just wait for something interesting to happen. Some progress to be made.

Except that if I wait, I'll never post. Also, in every post I've made, I've made some kind of progress. Somehow the act of writing it out, getting the imaginary conversation out of my head where it spins and spins, and organizing my thoughts on a piece of paper or a web page seems to help me move a little further towards -- something.

If you're wondering who I am, besides the very short blurb I have on my profile page, I'm a 50-something woman, a mother and grandmother, a daughter and sister. I have studied several subjects at several universities and have not a single degree in any of them. I was diagnosed with depression in my teens, but it really didn't hit me hard until my late 20s. I have since learned that I am bipolar II, which is kind of on the spectrum between unipolar depression and bipolar I (what people think of as "classic" manic-depression). I like to write. I've always loved to write. Even though I'm depressed, I think that deep down I'm an optimist. I hold out hope that things can get better, and if not better, that at least there will be good days as well as bad. I don't take care of myself as well as I could, but when I'm depressed I don't really care about taking care of myself, so I fight a lot of inertia. I am trying to focus on creating a schedule to live by. I think that if I have a regular schedule, the inertia will go the other way -- that even if I don't feel like doing things, I'll do them anyway out of habit. Genius, right? 

Well, this has gone on long enough. Hello, welcome, leave a comment, send me an e-mail, or be on your way. I don't have any brochures, and I didn't have time to make cookies. Or put on pants. So please see yourself out, but feel free to come back any time. I'll try to make cookies next time. Or at least wear pants.

 

If physical illness was treated like mental illness

The hamster wheel of bipolar depression

My pdoc said to me at our last appointment, "Bipolar depression is a lot more severe than unipolar." On the one hand, that's validating. On the other, it's depressing. Sometimes I look at folks who have depression and are still having relationships, working, having lives, and I feel so inadequate. Especially after a weekend like the one I just had.

I wrote a few days ago that I had gotten out of the house -- and showered -- three days in a row! And I had all these weekend plans, and was going to go to synagogue, Disney World, and the moon, and write a novel in two days...well, that didn't happen.

I decided that I would take Friday off. I hung out all day, basically doing the things I usually do, which is not much. Saturday dawned and I woke up late. 9 am. Not off to a good start, since I had planned to go to synagogue. Oh, well. It rained in the afternoon, as it does around here. I found myself hoping that it would continue raining, so I'd have an excuse not to go to the outdoor Woodstock event with the Meetup group (I had also invited some other friends, but I hadn't heard from them, so I figured that they had made other plans). By the time that I needed to leave, it really wasn't raining. But it was in my head. So I slouched on the sofa and watched TV instead. Sunday, I got up at 11, and the day was more of the same. Monday...I forgot it was even Monday.

I don't know if I need to take a day off for every day I get out into the world, or what. I don't know if I can get my sleep back on track, or how long it will take. I get so tired sometimes, even when I have enough sleep.

It's so very frustrating.

I did manage to leave the house today, and take another shower first (yay!). Went to Wendy's, then got groceries.

I don't really have a plan for tomorrow. Maybe I need to think one up.

The cat thinks I exist to pet him. I don't think that can be my raison d'etre, but at least I'm making one little furry person happy.

Tired but less fragile

So I went to the minyan yesterday and it was very nice. Got a massive hug from the synagogue president. I'm a big believer in the healing power of hugs, and his hug was worth about four normal hugs. There was lunch after the service, and although I was feeling kind of tired, the president encouraged me to stay, saying, "It's about COMMUNITY." He turned out to be right. I connected a little, and also I felt better after eating something.

After the meal, someone led a discussion on the meaning of some of the prayers we say during services. Well, that was the intended topic, at least. These discussions typically get pretty free-wheeling, and loud, and argumentative. All in a loving way. It's a Jewish thing.

I got groceries, went home and started noodling around on the computer, as you do. Suddenly, I get a text from my therapist, "Hey, I just wanted to know if you were coming today?" I had completely lost track of time and forgotten my appointment! So I rushed down there, and we had a pretty abbreviated session, but at least I showed up. We looked at my goals, and added a few more. It's not like a to-do list, but maybe it should be. Because there were other things I needed to get done, like sending birthday cards to some people, getting my hair cut, etc. Maybe I can bring this up next session. Which I hope will be next week. It depends on whether my sleep schedule stays consistent. I've slept nights for five days in a row. Still getting up and sitting outside for my 30 minutes of light.

I got a call back from an old friend who I'd left a message for a few days ago. We ended up talking for two hours. It's been thirty years. We have a lot of catching up to do.

So yesterday was a pretty good day for getting out of bed and out of my head.

I kind of had to drag myself up this morning. My alarm plays the Beatles' "I Saw Her Standing There," which starts with John counting, "One, two, three, FOUR!" It's not my favorite Beatles song, but the FOUR always wakes me up.

So I'm taking it easy today. Omigosh, I took showers three days in a row this week! I deserve an award! I think I'll go make one in Word and give it to myself! The Awake and Clean Award goes to me! I'd like to thank all the little people who made this possible.

Feeling fragile

NOTE: Robin William's suicide has been all over the news and social media. Sometimes this kind of extensive coverage can lead to more suicides. There is help. If you or someone you love is feeling suicidal, please call the suicide hotline: US 800-273-8255. UK 08547 90 90 90.

Now back to my irregularly scheduled post:

I tend to hide from the world a lot. This isn't entirely intentional. My weird sleep patterns prevent me from making plans because I have trouble showing up. Depression doesn't help much either. It's hard to get going and get out of the house.

Lately a lot of my human interaction has taken place over the internet. Mainly on Facebook. And a lot of it is just me "liking" stuff, reposting other stuff -- and just stuff.

My sleep is turning towards normal again and I'm perking up -- possibly due to adding Adderall to my medication cocktail -- and I felt moved to try and make some social plans.  So I called the synagogue that I had been avoiding attending for the last year to make a reservation for an event they were hosting. The woman that I talked to was filling in for the secretary, but she took my information and everything seemed fine.

The reason I had been avoiding attending the synagogue is that, during the summer of last year, I made the mistake of thinking I was fine and overcommitted myself. This happens a lot when I'm in that other fun part of being bipolar: hypomania. I've never done anything extremely manic, I just feel really good and believe that everything is going to be great and, well, make promises my brain can't keep. I offered to fill a position on the board, started doing work, and then got depressed again and dropped out of sight. I finally touched base with the president a few months after, and explained about my depression, and he said it's good to hear from you, we'd welcome you back. Ok. And then I didn't go back because I was still feeling embarrassed about letting people down, and afraid of what they'd think of me. I'd barely connected there, and then I disappeared.

The secretary called me back today. She was all, where have you been and why do you want to come back now and very annoyed at me. Proving that my fears were justified. So I hung up and cried. Then I e-mailed the president and asked him whether or not I was still welcome there. He gave me his cell number, and when we finally connected, he went through the same rigamarole that the secretary had gone through. So I ended up in tears again. I said that I felt like he was angry at me, and he said, no, it's just that he speaks his mind. 

He finally said that this was a big event with an enormous amount of people attending, and suggested that maybe it might be better for me to think about coming to a minyan* on Thursday. I agreed that it was a good idea. And he said that if I come I will see how much people miss me and appreciate having me there. 

So that is my plan. Also to renew my membership. I hope people appreciate me being there. 

In the meantime, I am also trying to make plans with some friends who live near me, but not near enough that it's easy to get together. I think that's also coming together.

I've made a few other social plans, too. Hopefully will be able to follow through. I don't like living in isolation. It just sometimes feels safer that way. It feels safer having a monitor screen between me and the people I interact with. Hello, you. But when I do get out, I generally enjoy myself. I need alone time, but I don't need to be isolated all the time.

*A minyan is the ten Jews that it takes to be able to say certain public prayers and to read from the Torah. So it's kind of shorthand to call a weekday prayer service a minyan.

Juggling patients' rights and caregivers' limitations

Last month, San Francisco approved a law that requires mentally ill people who refuse help to be "given" (read forced into) outpatient treatment. There are, of course limitations to this. But it is an interesting step in taking away the rights of individuals. On the one hand, a family at their wit's end trying to help a family member who is ill and refuses treatment, or is homeless because s/he refuses treatment, now has further recourse than before. In most states, a person can be compelled to be hospitalized for a minimum of three days if they appear to be a threat to themselves or others. This law takes things a little further.

On the other hand, it's can be seen as another way to depersonalize and take away the rights of those who are mentally ill.

Does it erode an individual's rights? Or are we talking about people who aren't well enough to know how to take care of themselves? Outpatient treatment isn't as bad as compulsory hospitalization. Hospitalization can be an additional stressor to a person who is already at the end of their rope. Sometimes, you are required to sit and wait indefinitely in claustrophobic ER rooms for a doctor to come admit you. Sometimes, you are taken in shackles by policemen who really don't understand what they are dealing with (although more and more police forces are getting training in working with mentally ill people in crisis). Your belongings are searched, and anything that might be used to harm you or others is taken away. All this and more can happen, even if you are there voluntarily.

Outpatient treatment is a little gentler. This could be daily or periodically. It would probably involve supervised medication (they watch you swallow, and they keep your pills for you). It might involve therapy, and consultations with family members,

To me, the one 100% positive outcome of this law is the requirement that "Voluntary treatment with the same level of outpatient services must be offered throughout the process and also made available to those who do not qualify for Laura's Law." People on psychiatric medication often have fragile lives. They lose jobs, supports, housing. They lose insurance, and have to jump through hoops to get help paying for medication that in some cases is obscenely expensive (For example, the average price of a 30-day supply of 5 mg tablets of Abilify is about $850 without insurance coverage). Most of these medications only work if you take them consistently over a period of time. So if this law provides help for the people who ask for it, I say amen.

LA Times: S.F. approves Laura's Law to ensure mentally ill receive treatment
SFGate article: Laura's Law passes easily in S.F. supervisor's vote

MOS

I haven't written in a while, mainly because I have MOS syndrome: More of the Same. My sleep keeps getting kicked around the clock, I keep having to cancel appointments, I have no social life to speak of (unless Facebook counts). Do I need a med adjustment? Do I need a kick in the ass? I don't know.

So I haven't wanted to come here and write the same old boring crap. Then today, I remembered that writing this bs sometimes helped me to come to grips with things, so I thought I'd give it a shot.

Beats playing Facebook games all day.

I'm stuck in a hole where taking a shower or cutting my toenails is a big accomplishment. On that scale, yesterday was a Good Day, because I did both of those things. I also did a little laundry and unloaded the dishwasher. Go, me.

One thing I am currently managing to do right is to change my eating habits. I don't understand how I drifted so far into junk food land. I used to love fruit, and ate vegetables every day. That's not to say that I didn't eat junk food, but I also ate healthy food as well. Lately, I've been eating less and less of the produce aisle and more of the candy and chips aisle. My sister and I joke about getting the four major food groups: candy, cookies, chips and soda. I buy lettuce, but it usually rots in the fridge. I told my sister recently that I should just bring it home from the store and toss it right into the trash.

But slowly I am starting to actually eat that lettuce. Also vegetables and fruit. Trying to get more fiber. When I crave junk food, I try to eat something healthy first, see if it does the trick.

So far, it doesn't. I can't fool my taste buds. But at least I've eaten something healthy before I eat the M&Ms.

Also, you can take my diet Coke when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers.

I'm reading too many news stories these days....

What's frightening about this comic from the 1980s is that there is still all that hate going on. One bright spot: there is now peace in Northern Ireland.

I like to think of myself as an intelligent person. And someone who wants to stay informed about what's going on in the world. But there's a feeling of helplessness that comes from reading all this stuff and wondering "what can I do about it?" And that can really trigger depression. There have been times when I even had to avoid even certain types of entertainment because it was too overwhelming.

I know that it's not only people with depression who have these feelings. Anyone who consumes a lot of media can sometimes feel overwhelmed by world events.

That's when a dandelion break becomes necessary.

It's possible that the media contributes to this feeling that the world sucks. There's a phenomenon called Mean World Syndrome, which suggests that the overconsumption of violent images leads to believing that the world is a more dangerous place than it really is. These studies go back far enough to show the differences when communities that previously didn't have television got it.

While I was looking this up, Google started to argue with me about whether the world is currently a more violent place or a less violent place. I'm serious. Fifty percent of the articles that came up when I typed in "the world is a violent place" said yes, it is, and the other fifty percent said, no, it's getting better.

No one can solve all the world's problems. Even the Leader of the Free World, whether Republican or Democrat.

I started my never-ending degree in Environmental Studies because I wanted to try and make some kind of difference in the world. I have participated in local protests, signed petitions, contributed to politicians that I think believe in the things that I believe in. I have tried (not always successfully) to change personal behaviors to reduce my environmental footprint and to encourage others to do the same.

There have been people who, through their actions, changed the world. But they didn't do it alone. I don't think I'm Gandhi or Rachel Carson, but maybe I'm one little person who can do some little things and make a small positive difference in the lives of a few people. Or, who knows, maybe be part of a rising tide that saves a lot of people.

Writing this, I'm suddenly remembering that I am one of those people, and that the best person to save me is myself. In AA they quote the airline emergency information: "Make sure to secure your oxygen mask before assisting others."

If you are in a crisis or in recovery from one, take care of yourself first. Ignore the news. It will still be there tomorrow. Take a dandelion break.

This is my brain on normal

My brain is like a dump site right now.

Really irritated at my sleep cycle. Or whatever it is. I just keep sleeping around the clock, going to bed later and waking up later, no matter what I do. I decide that it's because I sleep too long, so I try to sleep less, but I am not the easiest person to wake up. If I go to bed at the same time as the previous night (or morning), I end up lying in bed for two, three hours before falling asleep.

Maybe I need to invest in some more alarm clocks. I've tried a lot of them, but who knows?

This is getting to the point where it overshadows most of my other problems. I mean, it's kind of hard to see doctors or make any sort of plan when you have no idea when you are going to be awake. Already I have three appointments next week that I am in no way going to be able to make. I need to call and cancel them, and one of them is on Monday. With my psychiatrist.

I am going to call my regular doctor and see if she has any suggestions. Also I'm going to call the, um, er, lung guy (I suddenly forgot the word for this kind of doctor, I'm sure it will come to me) and ask him what the heck "poor sleep hygiene" is supposed to mean and what I'm supposed to do about it. I'm really pissed off about this. I also want a copy of my sleep study.

Pulmonologist. That's the word.

I did take a shower yesterday and get out to the store, spurred on by the absence of any diet soda in the house.

Another good thing this week was working on my thesis. I got it to a point where I felt that I could send it to my advisor. I e-mailed my advisor, and she responded, sure, send it on, and I promptly froze. I'm sure it's not enough, she's going to be mad at me, etc, etc. Sigh. It probably isn't enough. But I need to send it to her and get some feedback so I can continue on. I am really trying to pep talk myself here.

This goal, this getting a degree, has nothing really to do with my life. It's not going to make anything easier. But it's going to give me a sense of completion. People rarely ask (maybe they should) why do you want to raise a child? It's not like it's going to benefit you financially. But there's a sense of accomplishment, and a sense of connection that you build from raising a child and having a family. Well, I won't be connected to my degree but I will have that sense of accomplishment. Maybe my degree will visit me on holidays. Send me cards. Happy Graduation Day, etc.

For a family that purportedly values education, my family is annoyingly short-sighted about what "counts" as a degree. Unless it's something that will be immediately practical upon graduation, like nursing or accounting, they consider a degree a worthless piece of paper, suitable for hanging next to the toilet. I don't really know how you get this dichotomy in a family.

Of course, these days education for education's sake is something only the wealthy can pursue, at least at a college level. I guess it was always like that, except for maybe a few brief years in the 70s when US tuition costs and financial aid packages achieved some sort of equilibrium with real-world wages.

But still my family values learning, even useless knowledge. Unless you have to pay for it.

Hello, there!

Hmmm. I thought I said something somewhere about not posting as often, because I planned to work on my senior thesis during July's Camp NaNo. Apparently, I didn't mention this. Whoops.

Well, I don't know if I can use Camp NaNo as an excuse, because I'm not getting as much done as I'd hoped. On the other hand, I have gotten more thesis-writing done than I have in a long time.

Meanwhile, my sleep is, well, I am still going to bed at the same time, more or less, but I'm sleeping a lot. As in 12 hours a night. Maybe I just need to accept that my body needs that much sleep. Pisses me off, though.

I started Adderall in the hopes that it would give me a "boost" during the day so I'd have energy to get things done. Still waiting.

Planning to go to yoga class again tomorrow. If I can get up in time. Oh, well, there are other classes that happen later in the day. It's not like there's any yoga shortage in my area.  Throw a brick, hit a yogi. The brick is an illusion, anyway.

Finding the right class is more challenging. My class was very good, a gentle beginner's class. But my instructor didn't ask me about any physical limitations I had. I usually adjust my poses to accommodate that (and my lack of flexibility in certain areas). But she came around adjusting students' postures at one point, and I had to yell out, "Rotator cuff!" before she started to push on my arm. Because I like my arm where it is: in the socket.

Ok, I'm going to sign off and try to give myself 30 minutes of writing time. Or procrastinate by taking a shower. Or pet the cat. The cat needs lots of pettings.

He purrs really loudly when you pet him, too.

Things are going well

After a month and a half of working on it, I think I may have gotten a good sleep pattern going. I'm going to bed around 9 pm, listening to podcasts for an hour or less AND THEN STOPPING, and waking up to my alarm at 6 am. This in itself is a miracle, since I usually turn off alarms of every kind, turn over, and go back to sleep.

I get up, make breakfast, then go outside to get my 30 minutes of sunlight. I bring my journal and a book. Lately, I've been working on The Case for God by Karen Armstrong.

I've had this book for ages and have only managed to get through a few chapters. Now I'm getting through it, a few pages at a time. It's kind of a history of religion, although she's also written A History of God. I'm kind of curious what the difference between the two books is. The Case for God documents how Western views on religion and its practice have evolved over time, and how our modern ideas of religion and spirituality are very different from primitive and early religion. She includes pre-monotheistic religion, Judaism, and Islam, and references Eastern religions but doesn't really delve deeply into them.

Anyway, provocative reading. I had considered reading Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion as a follow-up to get the other side of the argument. We'll see. I may just go back to another intriguing Dawkins book, The Ancestor's Tale, a fascinating look backward into evolution.

I've committed myself to an activity a day for the next three days, and I have tentative plans for Sunday as well. Yesterday I went to a yoga class. I survived the entire hour-long class, and really enjoyed it. It helps to have a group to exercise with.

All in all, my life feels pretty balanced at the moment. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

PS I'm also planning to devote this month to writing my senior thesis with the support of  my fellow virtual campers at Camp NaNo.

Still here

Hello. I'm still alive and kicking. I've been trying to write a post about genetic testing. It's taking me a while to make sense of everything.

Meanwhile, I AM getting up in the mornings! I make my breakfast, go outside on the deck, eat, journal, and read for 30 minutes. Then I come back inside and waste the rest of the day on the computer. That's right, I've been here all along, just not blogging.

I feel so ashamed.

Camp NaNo starts tomorrow, and so my big dreams of completing my thesis will finally come true! I hope.

What does "normal" look like?

"I just wish I could be normal" is the lament of a lot of people who are dealing with mental illness. Well, there's a funny thing about normal, at least from a psychological point of view. The DSM V is 991 pages long. In it there are definitions of all kinds of mental illnesses and disorders from Acute Stress Disorder to Voyeurism (actually from the Index of Psychiatric Disorders for the DSM IV). But there is no definition of "normal."

Google defines "normal" as "conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected." Hunh. Conforming. That's an orange alert word for me. Does "normal" mean everybody should look the same, think the same thoughts, believe in the same things? Eric Maisel asks these questions in his Psychology Today blog post, "What do we mean by 'normal'?" and continues the discussion in other posts. 

More relevant to the discussion of mental illness, should everyone feel the same things, react the same way to an event? The fact that many, but not all, veterans of war show symptoms of PTSD means that not all people experience events, even traumatic and violent events, in the same way.

And even normal events aren't experienced in the same way by everyone. I see a movie; I really like it; my sister hates it. Rotten Tomatoes gives it 23% on the Tomatometer. So a lot of people didn't like it, but I enjoyed it.

I think "normal" can be scary. I mentioned in a previous post watching "The Book Thief". It adeptly illustrated what "normal" was in German society at that time. "Normal" was conforming to Nazi beliefs. People who didn't were shunned, imprisoned, and much, much worse.

Today, there are many politicians who proclaim, "We live in a Christian nation." That comes as a shock to me, being Jewish, and having friends and acquaintances who are Muslim, atheist, Buddhist, and so forth. 

For people diagnosed with a mental illness (and by the way, Eric Maisel, along with many others, argues mightily against these labels), it's easy to feel a long way from "normal." But maybe we need to rethink whether "normal" is a good standard to hold ourselves against.

I prefer two other standards: "stable" and "functional." "Stability" means for me no longer being on the wild roller coaster ride of overwhelming emotions. For a schizophrenic with auditory hallucinations, it may mean either no longer hearing those voices, or realizing that those voices aren't real. So definitions can vary.

"Functional" is what works for you. I have been chasing this sleep routine for a while now. I can give you many reasons why I want to have a sleep routine, including: I think it contributes to stability and physical health as well as mental health; it makes it easier to make and keep appointments; and it makes it easier to run errands. 

George Dawes Green, on the other hand, a novelist and founder of The Moth, has learned to live with his body totally out of sync with a 24-hour schedule (USA Today article that I first found on the Non-24 blog). So that works for him.

Why worry about what is normal? What is your "functional"? How do you define "stability"?

Thunderstorm

There is something truly comforting about being snuggled in bed while a thunderstorm rumbles outside. I woke up to a thunderstorm, the rain sheeting off the eaves, the lightening striking far enough away so that I only heard the echoes, not the scary flashes where you wonder if it's going to strike in your backyard. I was safe in my warm bed, wrapping my covers around my ears, thunder grumbling on about something, but so far away that it sounded more like the loud purring of a cat...the susurration of the rain...another reason not to have to get up and move around. I enjoyed it for about fifteen minutes before finally surrendering to the actual need to get out of bed.

Other than that, not much forwarder.

Taking a different tack

So I saw my therapist yesterday, yay, made the appointment two weeks in a row despite my sleep issues. We decided to try to do something different to motivate me to get out of bed and get going. We picked one activity per day that I wanted or needed to accomplish by leaving the house. Hoping that having something to look forward to will help me get up.

My psychiatrist also added Adderall to my list of meds as kind of a pick-me-up for the mornings. Except I haven't filled the prescription yet. So I guess that needs to go on my list of things to get out of the house for.

Other than that, things are about the same. I keep thinking of things that I'd like to do, but don't actually do them.

One thing I really need to tackle is my senior thesis for school. Not having a bachelor's degree at my age is really embarassing. I did the usual graduate high school, go to college route, but I ended up switching schools, switching back, then dropping out because I really didn't know what I wanted.

Looking back, I'm pretty sure that depression had a lot to do with this. I wasn't having much luck getting the support I needed at college. Usually if you go to the counseling center at a college, you will end up with a graduate student. After a short time, they will tell you that they can't help you any more. At Georgetown, this happened after six weeks. They referred me to a therapist "outside", but my class schedule did not mesh with their appointment schedule.

I considered dropping out mid-semester. I called my parents to tell them. My father called me back a few minutes later, and yelled, "How could you do this to your mother?" This was all the help they offered. I ended up deliberately not taking my finals and flunking out of the semester.

I only had another year to go.

Since then I've taken classes off and on at various institutions of higher learning. I have obtained a ridiculous number of credits. Again, depression has made it really challenging. At one point I lost financial aid because of my GPA. My low grades and high withdrawal rate were directly related to depression, not intellectual ability. I even failed a class mainly because I was on trazodone, which made me a walking zombie for a semester.

Finally I ended up as an Environmental Studies major at UVM. I got all the credits that I needed. All that was left for me to graduate was to write a thesis.

This isn't a small thing. But I've been putting it off for...a very long time. I'm supposed to write about two internships that I did. Well, internships is putting it loosely, really. By this time, my advisor has been willing to make all kinds of things stretch. Even she is aware that by this time, I really ought to have a degree.

I still don't feel like I deserve it. I'm afraid that I can't write something good enough. And that's even after I know full well that she is willing to work with me (well, she was as of the last time I talked to her) to get to an end product that is acceptable.

My self-doubt is really getting in the way of this. I'm trying to look at ways to get support for the writing. There's a Camp NaNo (I think I mentioned NaNoWriMo before) in July, and since NaNoWriMo got me through a 50,000-page novella, I'm hoping that I can get some support there to complete this project.

It's funny, because while there are people who understand how important this is to me, there are others who ask me, does this really matter? And that feeds into my self-doubt again. That's why I need to look for support from people who are willing to believe in this.

Well, I think I'm talking in circles here. Mostly I've been living in circles lately. I really, really want to break free.

I've heard this song before...

My sleep is slowly drifting forward again. I'm tracking it on a sleep chart, and the bars look like the tide's coming in. Woke up yesterday and today at 4:30 pm.

Feeling like curling up into a ball of I Don't Care. But I should care, since I told my boss I'd be in today. She's pretty understanding of me missing work, but not as understanding as to why. And she gets pissy if I say I'm going to show up, but don't. As they do.

Also feel like beating myself up. Actually, I'm doing so as I type. One hand on the keyboard, the other wielding the scourge. I'm a failure. Nothing's ever going to change. I'm lazy. I'm whiny. 

And I'm enjoying it, wallowing in it, because I feel that it's just what I deserve. Hurt me some more! It's an endless cycle of failing and making up for failing by beating myself up. But beating myself up isn't going to solve anything in the long run. 

Penance doesn't do anything without repentance. Repentance is realizing that I've made mistakes, and committing to changing them. Maybe not all at once, but maybe a little at a time. And maybe there will be steps backward, like now. But hopefully there will be steps forward as well.

That stuff up in the second paragraph? From a CBT standpoint, Labeling and Jumping to Conclusions.

I feel a little stronger having put this into words. I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to call my boss tonight, but maybe I'll at least do the dishes. And pet the cat we still have. He loves to be petted and snuggled.

Here is a Big List of Pleasurable Activities for you to pick something nice out for yourself.