Limitations and Warning Signs

Well, I have gotten so intrigued by Marya Hornbacher, and wanting to know more about her, that I located her Facebook page and spent most of the day scrolling through years worth of posts...I didn't get to what really needed my attention--two days worth of dirty dishes--until late this afternoon. Keep in mind I am a gourmet cook and I use a LOT of dishes...the house is a mess, but at least I can count on keeping the kitchen clean. These dishes must be done. Period.

And now I'm juiced up and want to write like Mayra, so I wanted to rush here and start plowing ahead....Melissa. Just. Slow. Down.

Take your evening meds. (Check.) Double check pill dispenser to make sure you got everything for the day. (Check. The other day I overlooked my Risperdol and a Gabapentin--they got wedged in a compartment and they are white like the pill container so I didn't notice.) Nothing, I repeat nothing is more important than taking my meds. On time.

Let's just slow down here and take an honest assessment of things. I am on some very powerful medication making household chores, let alone writing, very, very difficult. It takes a yeomans effort just to get those damn dishes done, sheets changed, laundry done, hell taking a shower. I need to keep things simple, my sanity depends on it.

The dream of going back to my writing needs to be put under the microscope of "Let's Get Real." I mean, people I can't read books! Dr. Levy is not going to change my meds, I'm too high risk. How many writers are out there that cannot read?

If you haven't noticed, I'm frustrated, and I want to give up, and I feel like an idiot for thinking I could ever write again. Oh, I don't know what I'm thinking. Sigh. Deep breath. I have limitations. And I don't like it.