The Precious Present

Woke up in the cyclone of regret over past decisions and experiences. Of course I've got no business playing in that sandbox -- I need to stay out of the regretful past and the anxious future; instead enjoying the wonderful Precious Present. But when the flashbacks come they bring me down. Like bags of cement tied to my legs that harden when I am pushed overboard from my lifeboat.

I am going to try not to wallow, as that is most unattractive and gets me nowhere. I'll put on my "happy" face paint today and float around town on my errands. No one wants to be around someone who is depressed. You know, I haven't been in a severe mania this summer (as opposed to past years). I haven't really been feeling any great "high." Just flat for the most part -- which means the med cocktail is working it's magic. But I am definitely noticing some "dips" into depression since we added the Haldol. Is a medication adjustment needed?

What is my present? Mostly pills, skills and bills. Med tweaks, constant talk therapy, and payment for services rendered graciously provided by my mother. Sure, it's about all I can handle. But I feel like I should by doing more, should be back at work, should be...I don't know...contributing in some grand fashion to the tapestry of This American Life. Should be doing something tangible that earns money. But I'm no good at making money. A real shortcoming in this society, to be sure.

I'm plagued by the decision of whether I go back to my office or not. I'm looking for some guidance but all I can sense is mixed signals. I am a very, very loyal employee who does not like leaving people hanging. September through December is a very busy time for us. So I must make a decision soon. Maybe they don't want me back? That's a possibility. A good possibility. I will have my husband contact Glenna. She will know what I should do.

I'm sad that I cannot "enjoy" this rehab period. All that is on my mind this summer is money; money for groceries and my massages and the few things that keep me happy. Folks, I'm talking about $1,300 month. Hardly anything. I should be able to summon up that amount through simple freelancing. But as I said, I'm no damn good at making money. And it's stressful to be out on my own trying to wrangle up projects. This whole thing makes me sick. I need a guardian angel.

I have a therapy appointment today and will discuss my struggles with living in the past and the future. Obviously I'm not the only one who does this. Will I make some headway? Who knows. It's worth some exploration.