Into Action

 Well good morning reader(s), it’s Day 3 of Covid and I’m feeling like crap. My sore throat and congestion had me tossing and turning all night. Honestly, it feels like I have razor blades in my throat, so I called the CVS pharmacist who instructed me to add Tylenol and Flonase to my Paxlovid I am already taking. And to continue to suck on lozenges, I’m plowing through the family sized bag as I type. Basically, this whole thing just sucks, so there you have it. OK, I’ve got to muster the energy to get dressed and drive to the CVS drive-thru. More later.

***

It’s afternoon now, I got to CVS this morning and spent $51 on generic Extra Strength Tylenol and generic Flonase. Michael was none to happy with the bill, but sheesh, I’m suffering here and I needed relief. I’m taking 6 of the Tylenols a day, fingers crossed that helps with the sore throat and sinus headache. I hope the Flonase can clear up my nasal passageways, but one never knows. The news is all abuzz on how former President Trump has been indicted—but that dude is Teflon and will probably escape prosecution and run for President again. I refuse to get wrapped up in politics today, I’m sick, I’ve got enough of my own problems to deal with right now. Let everyone else squawk about it. I’m taking a breather.

I have this annoying thing happening where I feel like I have to sneeze but then nothing comes out. It’s driving me nuts. Then my sore throat keeps flaring back up, so I’m continuously sucking on lozenges. Oh, this crud! I’m really resentful Michael apparently picked this up at his mom’s, yet simultaneously angry at myself for not masking myself around him when he first got sick last Sunday. But we all thought everyone was dealing with just a really bad cold, it wasn’t until Michael’s mom’s Covid test came back Tuesday that we had a definitive answer what was going on. By then it was too late for me, I had symptoms Tuesday night, so rats, fuck, just all of it (pardon my profanity).

I have no energy again to cook tonight, and neither does Michael for that matter. We got pizza last night, so tonight I’ll reheat the Old Fashioned Beef Stew. Maybe I can cook tomorrow, but right now I’m spent. One thing I’ve noticed is my heightened “awareness” that I’ve been feeling for the past few months is entirely gone—I’ve got a theory, I think this 5-day dose of Prolaxid is increasing the effects of my Depakote (Dr. Schumacher said it might), so I’m feeling some additional cognitive impairment, which may or may not be a good thing, depending where you stand. I feel like I’m taking a little hiatus from my wide-eyed alley trolls, and it could be argued that I needed a little break anyways. I’m definitely slowing down on the art, Covid not withstanding, and feeling doubts about showing my stuff in May. This may pass, I’m not sure.

For now, I’m sick of Covid, sick of the news, feeling grumpy and discontent. Pass the Reese’s pieces I’ve got hidden away in the drawer, pass more Tylenol, and I’ll pop a cough drop for you. Ciao friends. Til next time.

Continuing Sickness

 Well greetings, dear reader(s), I report I am still tangling with this Covid situation. I awoke this morning very early with an awful sore throat—I am thinking that might have come from snoring in a dry bedroom because one of my nostrils is perpetually backed up. I’ve been sucking on cough drops and that seems to help. I also have a touch of a mild headache, so I took some Ibuprofen along with some Vitamin C and my usual morning meds. I’m waiting to take the morning dose of prescribed Paxlovin until Michael gets up.

All in all, I just feel stuffed up, fatigued and achy. Things could definitely be worse, so I’m thanking my lucky stars that I’ve got medicine here and other stuff to help me cope. Michael offered to prepare some dinners, which is very sweet and I may take him up on that. I was thinking for tonight we just have leftover Beef Stew, just warm it up and dinner’s ready. But we shall see, maybe I’ll feel like cooking, though seeing as I only got 6 1/2 hours sleep last night, the likelihood of cooking is slim. 

I saw on the news last night that even the Pope is dealing with a respiratory infection, so I guess this sickness is going around worldwide. Back here in our little corner of the world, it’s Michael, his Catholic mother and me all fighting Covid, oh sigh and sigh some more. I think I am going to tune in to the First Things First AA meeting this morning, time to get the good word from folks who truly understand. I haven’t been to a meeting since Monday, and I’m feeling kinda squirrely. I’ll keep quiet, as usual, particularly this time because the Paxlovid may be interacting with my Depakote and causing a little cognitive impairment.

I have a FaceTime with Fetter scheduled for 12:30 p.m. Honestly here at 6:20 a.m. I’m so exhausted I may have to cancel the session…although that would basically make two weeks in a row we haven’t talked, I just know if I’m not awake and alert the session is kinda pointless. I’ll wait and see how I feel later this morning, then contact Fetter with my decision. I know he’ll understand, session or no session. Such is the situation with Covid.

I turned the heat up in here but I’m still feeling cold. I question whether the furnace is working properly or not, Michael says it is, but I’m always cold. I’ve got three blankets on me, and I’m wearing a sweater over my nightgown and I’ve got my thick black bathrobe on. Brrrr, maybe it’s my Graves’ disease giving me cold extremities, that’s most likely it. It sucks to be cold all the time, but oh well, summer will be here before we know it, and warm temperatures will rule the days. Maybe I’ll be more comfortable in the sun on this lower Depakote dose, I don’t know, I’ll just have to wait and see.

OK I popped another cough drop, time to get ready for my AA meeting. That’s it for today. Stay warm, stay well. This Covid sure is the pits.

The Crud

 Well a yucky good morning to you, dear reader(s), I’ve got the crud, symptoms started last night, stuffy nose and head, very mild cough, but aches and pains in my body. We found out this morning that Michael’s mother indeed has Covid—and since Michael was with her last week and got sick at the exact same time, me thinks he has Covid too and gave it to me. OK, I did the Covid test and yup, I’m positive. Well, wouldn’t you know, that crud finally got me, I had such a good run, dodging it all this time, but yup, here it is at last. I guess it’s quarantine for me, I think five days, and I’m prepared to hunker down and accept my fate. In a way, I feel part of The Club now, me here with the crud but antibodies forming to help me ward off future infection. I called Dr. Schumacher to notify him of my plight, and I’m pretty sure he will call in the Covid medicine that he’s prescribed for my mother in law and Michael too. Oh well, what’s another pill, bring it on.

I’ve got provisions here for a Coconut Curry Lentil Stew, plus the Lamb White Bean Chili, plus we can have leftovers of the Old Fashioned Beef Stew I made last night. Michael is going to Giant to get the prescription for his mom so I’ll have him pick up a few more things for some extra meals. As long as we have food here for me to cook I feel OK, my anxiety remains under control. Actually I feel fairly calm with my test result, I’m not freaking out as I certainly would have been if I caught Covid three years ago when the media was showing death numbers every night and images of people piled up outside in ice trucks. Different story today, thank goodness.

I feel really tired and it’s hard for me to compose my thoughts today. I’m going to try and get outside later and walk Lily—I want the fresh air, get away from all the germs here inside. But maybe I might not be up for that. We shall have to see. OK that’s it for now. Maybe I’ll write more later. Then again, maybe not. The crud. Yuck.

Florence (and Peter)

 Well good morning, dear reader(s), I’m donning my Florence Nightingale hat today and taking my sick mother-in-law to the doctor this morning. She’s got the same cold as Michael and he wants her checked out, perhaps she needs an antibiotic and I’m guessing maybe Dr. Schumacher might do a Covid test just to be safe. Meanwhile Michael is sick here at home, but I’m almost certain it’s a cold. As for me, knock on wood, I feel fine, so far, but I’m continuing to wear a mask wherever I go. I’m going to test myself tomorrow just to make sure I’m in the clear, want to be safe and all that.

Exciting developments to report, some high school pals and I are going to see Peter Gabriel in concert at the Arena on September 25! I just love his music, he’s a fellow bipolar, and I can’t wait to hear live music again! I haven’t been to a concert in something like 25 years or so, it’s been a really, really long time, and how memorable it will be to see someone from my younger years performing music I grew up to. Tickets are like $200 and I’m not sure how I will pay for them but I’m thinking I use my birthday money from mom. Or I could always ask Michael, just not today when he’s sick. I’ll find the money, I always do!

The sun is out today, temps are warmer, Spring is definitely here, hooray! I plan to enjoy it before the hot summer arrives and I hide inside to get away from the heat. The madness of March is coming to a close, April will be here before we know it, and the Easter family gathering is on the horizon. I’m planning Ham and Cheese Spoonbread for the family, I hope they like it, I must remember not to include the scallions this time, those didn’t taste so good as I recall from the last time I made it? 

OK that’s it for now, gotta finish my coffee, get dressed, and head out to get my MIL. Stay well, dear reader(s), and all that. Later!

Rainy Days And Mondays But I’m Not Down

 Well hello there reader(s), kinda a quick report today, as I’ve got to scoot soon to pay a visit to mom and pick up my loosely titled “Genesis” artwork I’ve been composing on a bulletin board with random photos from my trusty red iPhone. I hope to affix some found objects to the piece, not sure which ones yet, as I’m still collecting items from the alleys and streets around here. I think this is the fifth new piece of art I’ve created this year, so along with the stuff from 2003-2004, I should have a good display available for the art show in May. 

The triptych will not be completed in time, so I’m wondering if I just go ahead and try and sell the New York Times panel on its own—though without the other two panels I am planning it might not make sense. Honestly though that NYT piece is pretty mind-bending in general, and I seriously doubt anyone will understand it (least of all me), so odds are back it will go to the attic anyways.

I slept again close to 11 hours last night. Michael, our sick patient, is still slumbering away upstairs. He should be fine if I leave him for a few hours today. He has plenty of food here, OJ and aspirin, cookies, oh everything someone who is sick needs. I’m planning to make him Old Fashioned Beef Stew for dinner, then I have the Zoom with Shawn and his sponsees at 7:00 p.m. Lily will need to be walked, not sure when, as it’s been raining all morning and it’s very wet outside. It appears to be lightening up outside, maybe the sun will peek through? We shall see.

***

Well, best laid plans often go awry and all that. I took Michael’s temperature before noon and it was 100.4. Eek! I rushed to CVS and picked up Covid tests and Vitamin C and cough drops (plus four prescriptions for me!), and by the time I got home and took his temperature again it was 98. He has phlegm and a cough, but is convinced it’s just a bad cold and won’t take the Covid test. Men! To be safe, I am testing myself Wednesday to see if I have Covid (even though I feel fine). So with all this excitement, I never made it to mom’s place, and now I can’t go near her until I know where I stand. Honestly, I am leaning more to the conclusion that Michael has a cold, but jeepers, with all this stuff going around who knows?

Michael watches PBS when he is sick, so now NOVA is on, showing the exploration of black holes and other things of interest in outer space. Michael and Lily are snoring away, it’s just me listening to the TV and typing here. I’m tempted to listen to music on my headphones, I have trouble concentrating on my writing when the TV is blaring. I’m feeling this urge to go somewhere, anywhere, but there’s no place in particular that beckons me to visit. Plus maybe I’m exposed to Covid (?) but most likely not. Should I do a little online shopping, or am I just bored, bored, bored. YES.

I guess I could do some reading (Big Book anyone?), put away clothes, hang those new curtains in my bedroom, work on art, oh there are many things to do, yet here I sit. Blah. Is this the Risperdal impeding my efforts? Or have I become lazy? Who knows. Just strange days. OK, this is it for today’s entry. Time to occupy myself. Until tomorrow. See ya.

Sickness…and Sorrow

 Well it’s morning, not necessarily good, Michael has contracted a cold and I just learned a dear high school classmate of mine, Christine Thorne passed away on St. Patrick’s Day. I’m almost rendered speechless, Christine was a brilliant student, a scholar-athlete, graduating from Harvard, was an eye surgeon, has two beautiful daughters, I had dinner with her before the pandemic and she seemed healthy and happy? I am definitely going to try and make it to the memorial service, even though I am not good with crowds. Perhaps Julie or Lolly will take me. All I can think is how precious life is. Why would someone as gifted as this be gone at age 56? It doesn’t make sense.

As for Michael, I’m pretty sure he has a cold, so I immediately knew to make him some Reform Jewish Penicillin from Food 52. It’s a special elixir that heals colds pretty rapidly. He has also requested some Toll House Chocolate Chip Cookies, so I’ve got that recipe from NYT Cooking and I’ll be making those this afternoon. I’m always a firm believer that you feed a cold—and I’ve been looking through that stack of printed recipes I compiled years ago, before I had the subscription to NYT. I found the Eating Well recipe for Lamb White Bean Chili with bulgur that’s always a big hit, and I think it will help Michael. I also found the wonderful Top Secret Mousse recipe from somewhere…maybe NPR? So it will be cook, cook, cook for the coming days to restore health in this household. Fingers crossed I don’t get sick, thank goodness I had my flu shot! 

I fell asleep in my recliner last night, and I must have resisted Michael’s attempt to get me upstairs, because I awoke right here in my seat at 6:30 a.m. this morning. The train horn sounded off, and I really find that most comforting actually. I must look like a disheveled mess, here in my clothes I was wearing yesterday, yet I think I am going to wear them out to Kroger this morning, who cares anyway. Unfortunately, I’m not going to be able to make it to church today with mom, like we had planned. Just too much to do, and I’ve got a sick husband here, who does get a touch high maintenance when he’s under the weather. Guess mom and I plan for church next Sunday, which might be Palm Sunday, I think? Goodness, Easter will be here in two weeks! 

So it’s a very, err, strangish kind of morning, unanticipated things going on, Christine passing, Michael sick, me dressed all in black, why, I don’t know. Yet it’s a beautiful day today, the sun is shining brightly, I don’t think there are any clouds in the sky. I hope to find time to give Lily a walk, even though I’ll be busy in the kitchen. Gotta switch to high gear, my man is ill, fortunately I know how to handle these situations as I’ve been through it many, many times. Pass the apron, onward I go, to the kitchen. What’s new? Enjoy your Sunday, dear reader(s). Happy cooking.

The Missing Piece Meets The Big O

Well good afternoon, dear readers, I’m getting to you late, after going to bed after midnight last night. We had a wonderful Friday night out at the Jackets game against the NY Islanders, whom we beat in OT! Rookie Kent Johnston had a filthy “Michigan” goal that was amazing to see. Michael treated me to Club level seats, and I enjoyed my chicken fingers and he even bought me a chocolate hockey puck to enjoy. I almost got a free popcorn and Dr. Pepper from the waiter, but I was honest and said he had mistakenly brought it to my seat. I smiled to myself, though.

I’ve been watching a Saturday afternoon PBS travel show, and realized that Michael and my passports (and marriage certificate for that matter) have been missing from the drysink for years now. Missing important documents, missing journals, missing art, where in the world has all this stuff gone? Makes me wonder if someone got in here when we were out of town—or could it be Michael has somehow spirited all this stuff away somewhere? Should I be concerned about this, or just side with Socrates and I know that I don’t know? Or maybe I look to Ovid, perhaps he knows a thing or two about the goings ons here in our dwelling. Or perhaps the AEP subcontractors working on our damaged power line know the key. I should ask.

Oh chuckle, it’s all just funny and strange, yet exciting like KJ’s goal last night. I’m sure everything has happened exactly in the way it was meant to be. Nothing, absolutely nothing, happen’s in God’s world by mistake. Acceptance is the key to all my difficulties today. I think that’s how it goes in the Big Book. Or at least something like that.

Yay the power is back on! I’ll be able to cook as planned. It’s Vegetarian Skillet Chili tonight, but I add beef. I’m also going to try and make jalapeño cornbread (if I can find a recipe). OK, gotta try and track that down. Sorry for the short entry today. Lots going on!

A New Day And Key Lessons

 

Well hello there, dear reader(s), I report I am feeling so much better today after a wonderful dinner with Jules last night and a very restful night’s sleep. No bad dreams that I recall, rather I got a good 9 hours straight, which I love. It’s a gray, rainy morning here in central Ohio but I don’t mind at all. It’s Friday, the weekend is coming, time for relaxation and all that. I have a tea date today with elderly British friend Carol from the Y swim group—she picked some daffodils for me, which will look lovely in my red kitchen. I’m looking forward to the afternoon visit, even though there might be rain.

I was sharing with Jules last night some of the great difficulties I had when I was first diagnosed years ago with bipolar disorder and suddenly just told to take all these meds without any real instructions about how to time them, and how to get a pill container to organize them for daily consumption. What ended up happening is I just had a drawer full of pill bottles, and I would try to count on my memory to guide me on when to take them. I dosed them all wrong, taking the strong, sedating Depakote in the morning, as well as the antipsychotic, so I would be drugged out all day and have trouble sleeping at night. Then my memory would get impaired by the meds, and then even more if I relapsed on alcohol or weed, so it was just one big clusterfuck. Why didn’t someone instruct me, help me to take my medication correctly? I mean it takes a yeoman’s effort to even agree to take the meds in the first place, but there has got to be someone guiding you early on about the importance of pill containers and what to take when. These key instructions I did not have. Hence all the manic episodes, hence all the nut huts. Oh well.

I would not get everything sorted out until I was 50. Age 50! That’s 15 years of my life spent in chaos because no one guided me on what to do. Let’s let out a big grrrrrrrrr for me (and the many others) who were left fumbling around trying to figure out “better living through modern pharmaceuticals” as prescribed by a psychiatrist. But oh Melissa, let’s not stray into self-pity, don’t forget AA’s We Shall Not Regret The Past, and all that. Yet that’s hard not to do, when I think about all the pain and confusion I went through, figuring everything out. Sigh. Well, hopefully my foibles might somehow help another avoid what I went through. Everyone, get a pill container. Ask your doctor exactly what time each medication should be taken. Follow the same daily regimen. I cannot stress this enough.

Now readers, I’ve been toying with the idea of dieting lately, and I know I’ve got to be careful as far as this is concerned. The temptation is great to start restricting carbs heavily, even though I learned from last Fall that rapid weight loss most likely contributed to the “confusion” that led to the horrible hospitalization I went through. So I guess I’m kinda stuck, I want to lose weight, I don’t want to exercise, what’s left but to diet. Oh sigh and sigh some more. I know I must be cautious, my weight is tied to my stability, tied to the meds in my system. Dr. Schumacher said focus on losing 2 lbs. a month, not 2 lbs. a week like I did before. This is all going to come down to patience, not my strong suit at all. Slow down Melissa, the turtle wins the race. 

I’ll share more lessons as I think of them. I am still in my recovery mode, so I’m not as sharp and cohesive as I would like to be. Which is fine. I’m right where I was meant to be. OK, time to call mom. Maybe she’s up for some deep thoughts with a little laughter thrown in. I hope so. Enjoy your day. Rain and all.

Bad Dreams

 So yawn and good morning, I’m up early again after an awful night of dreams heavily influenced by the news and Michael’s selection of another Netflix show about a (fictional) black, female serial killer. I tossed and turned all night, finally rousing at 5:30 a.m. to Lily’s whining to be let out, where she barked and startled me that perhaps someone was outside watching the house. So now I’m a mess, I’m tired, I don’t want to be awake in this black early morning hour. I don’t want to be watching Michael’s programs, I don’t want to be sitting down here listening to him snore away upstairs. Even Lily is here snoring on my lap. Grrr, I’m cranky.

The thing I’ve noticed on this lower Depakote is my dreams can be vivid, I remember them, and they are powerful enough to waken me from a deep sleep. There is some anxiety driving them, and sometimes fear, and I really don’t like this. I know the television is affecting my slumber, I’m extremely vulnerable and impressionable particularly right now, in this stage of my recovery journey. Honestly, I think I would prefer hiding upstairs in my bedroom, rather than getting scared every night by bad TV. Michael doesn’t get it, hell, neither do I, I used to be fine watching all this stuff until I got sick last Fall. Now I’m getting angry. Good thing the AA First Things First meeting starts in 15 minutes.

So yes, I’ll go to my meeting and hopefully be able to calm down a little bit. I need to feel safe again, I’m definitely rattled, and that I do not like. I’ll check back when the meeting is over, it’s Open Discussion, so hopefully the topics help.

***

Hi there, I’m back again, today’s topics were grief and the importance of attending meetings. I didn’t think I’d get much from the discussion but I did find it helped to just hear everyone’s comments, particularly about Meeting Makers Make It, that always gives me hope, seeing as I’ve been attending these AA Zooms for almost three years now. I’m coming up on my six year sober anniversary May 1, and certainly going to meetings and sharing when I feel comfortable helps keep me sober. 

Not feeling particularly chatty today, I guess I can report on today’s plans: I need to shower, have lunch, then do a FaceTime with Fetter, who is out of town. Tonight I am having dinner with friend Julie at an Italian restaurant I really like. It’s raining today, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get Lily out for a walk or not. All in all I’m still waking up, hopefully no more bad TV for me. Nightmares. Who needs them? Later folks.

Daily Reflection

 So good morning, dear reader(s), I’m feeling extremely well this morning after almost 11(!) hours sleep last night. I slept in my clothes again, after falling asleep during the AA Meditation meeting. Whoops. Yes, it’s definitely time to cut back the Simply Sleep to 1/4 a pill as Dr. Levy suggests. I must say though that I am somewhat greedy about my sleep, I do so like these long sleeping sessions. I did though have a strange dream about airplanes, a high school boyfriend from the poor part of town, the downtown Columbus skyline, and other drone views. It was strange and I was anxious I recall, so I’m glad I’m awake now, with my morning meds in my belly.

The AA Daily Reflection for today calls for ceasing to struggle and exerting our will. “It is not my will, but His, that needs doing.” I do so hope mom can grasp this important concept here in this final chapter of her life. I’m not sure she will be able to, and I have to be at peace with that, instead doing my work to Let Go and Let God (as I understand Him). I’ve learned from all my AA Zooms since 2020 that we need to revisit this important concept daily—it is not something you do once and then never again. I need to turn things over again and again, as I’m always trying to take my will back, I’m stubborn about that. And that only leads to resentments and discontent. I’m learning though, I just know it, and I’m happy about that.

Oh, I think I hear the trash man, yup, here he is, in the familiar yellow truck. Should have gotten the last of the moldy art out to our bin, but nope, I haven’t accomplished that yet. I did though locate that seminal mosaic piece I did in 1997, “U.S. Mind Control MASSIVE,” upstairs in our overflowing attic. It was in fairly good shape, and I think I’m going to try and sell it at the art show in May. I’m hesitant to part with it, as it is so central to a lot of my work, but I think it belongs in someone else’s hands, whose I don’t know yet. I have another mosaic from ‘97 to also sell, a pink pineapple, and that’s it from that period. I’m remembering I did a cross, plus something with glass Coke bottles that the buyer broke when it fell off her mantle. Oh well, that’s how the cookie crumbles.

I am though wondering if all my art is indeed “therapy” (grrrrrr) or something more substantial? I guess I’ll never know, I’ll keep doing what I do, offering it up on the cheap once a year at the community Trash and Treasures Day Sale, and taking delight at talking with whomever comes to see my work. I know I should probably get out and see what other local artists are doing, but I’m hesitant to have my work influenced too much by others (except my favorites, like Jasper, Finster, Elijah, Hawkins, etc.). Perhaps it’s time for a deep dive into my meaty American Art book, or better yet search Amazon and Target for clothes that keep me looking like Hopper’s women. Oh, it’s all fun, life is good, today I feel free like I’m a New Hampshire resident (winkedy, wink).

Oh and great news to report, I learned my beloved Blue Jackets came back to beat the Capitals 7-6 in OT last night! Sure, we are in the basement, but wouldn’t you know our scrappy little team fought til the end to take home the win. I’m so proud of our boys, they return home victorious, and isn’t that wonderful. Funny, I always seem to sleep through all the great games this season, but there is always YouTube for the game highlights. The team remains last in the NHL standings, but it’s always great to see a win. Congrats, boys!

OK, time to call mom, then Zoom with the pool ladies. Mom had her 10th tooth extraction yesterday, poor woman, she’s been through a lot with her teeth. Fingers crossed I don’t have to go that route, Dan the Dentist assured me I would have a much better time in my older years. Aging…let me enjoy middle(ish) age for a bit longer. Have a great day, all. 

Relax

 Well good morning dear reader(s), hope you, too, got your morning off to a good start with Frankie Goes To Hollywood’s “Relax” plus their other assorted tunes (including “Maximum Joy”). I’ve been trying this new thing where I’m attempting to get in touch with my feelings blunted by the Risperdal, utilizing music to somehow reach some higher plane…it’s tough, I’m kinda numb most of the time, but I’m not going to give up. I do know I can feel fear, and some anger and frustration, but what I want more than ever is to laugh. Oh, how I miss laughter, you know, the kind you feel in your belly. I haven’t had that in so very long. I can smile sometimes, particularly if mom asks me to, which she does do often. So you see I’ve kinda constructed this “game” I’m playing with the AI at YouTube to try and feel, feel real, like the Velveteen Rabbit. Call me crazy, It’s just what I’m doing right now, as I bide my time on this high dose of Risperdal for the time being.

I did get a chuckle yesterday when I collected the mail and there was a piece from Lazy Boy furniture addressed to Michael (or current resident). Oh, how I want to use this in an artwork, but I’m worried about offending my husband too much. Not that offending people has stopped me before—oh, on the contrary, I’ve constructed several in-your-face pieces and had quite a lot of fun making them. So perhaps I will retrieve this letter from the stack and put it with my other collected pieces of stuff I’m finding around here. I was wise and left the extremely dirty blue bottle cap in the alley yesterday. I mean, there are limits to my collecting, gotta be choosy, even when pickins are sparse, as they’ve been as of late.

Oh, am I crazy, dear reader(s), or is it like my mom says, that everyone is crazy (or as Seal puts it, we’re never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy)? Do I simply have too much time on my hands, or am I living the life that’s just right for me? I know if I keep my stress very, very low, stay relaxed, I tend to do very well. Stress is the big troublemaker for me, tips me into hypomania, which in my case always leads to a quick ramp up into psychotic mania. I didn’t use to be this way, long ago I thrived on stress, it was intoxicating to me, but then the bipolar blew out in 2002 and things forever changed. It took me 20 years to figure out I needed a life of relaxing, which does make me feel useless, lacking purpose, lost sometimes, you know how I feel. 

But is relaxing really that bad? I can listen to music, do my writing, drive the back roads here, work on my art, go grocery shopping and cook, troll alleys with Lily. I do find these things fulfilling, entertaining at times actually, so I guess that makes me happy. Sure, I wish Michael and I could take a trip somewhere, but he recently revealed that he’s concerned I might get sick from travel, which has happened in the past whenever we left the state. Yes, upon return I eventually ended up in the nut hut, but that doesn’t take into account that I relapsed during every trip and tinkered with my meds too. It would be different this time. But then again, aren’t vacations stressful? Maybe so…

It’s funny, I think when you’re working, you wanna be relaxing, when you’re relaxing, you wanna be working. I think technology is amplifying this relationship, stoking stress and anxiety, but hey, what do I know, I still haven’t figured out how to do a screen shot on my iPhone. Forever behind the 8-ball, that’s me, but I’m comfortable in my recliner, as always, which has done terrible things for my posture (call the chiropractor!) but I’m de-stressed. Which is a win. OK, time to call mom and do my grocery list. Onward! Into the sun!

A New Hope

 Good morning reader(s), happy Monday, I awoke early and was able to attend the AA Meditation Monday Zoom meeting, which was most helpful to me. The importance of spirituality was discussed, and how to free ourselves from worry (about the future), which often leads to fear and general unpleasantness. I’m finding hope that I can move on from the resentments I discussed yesterday, find forgiveness, and free myself from the fears that paralyze me. I’m going to keep trying to turn things over to my Higher Power, stay in touch with spirituality, not fear that, rather see wonderment in it. 

I have a fairly uneventful day today, just my monthly FaceTime with Dr. Levy at 10:00 a.m. I know I had previously toyed with asking him for a slight reduction in the Risperdal so I could get in touch with my feelings more, but now I’m shying away from that, I just feel more safe and comfortable staying with my med regimen as it currently stands. I wonder if Dr. Levy would understand if I told him I’m feeling more “perceptive” or if that even makes sense? Perhaps it’s just the greater cognition being on the lower amount of Depakote. That’s probably what’s happening. I’m looking forward to perhaps showing Dr. Levy some of my art when he returns to in-person meetings in May. “To Jasper” with the Dr. Pepper and Icehouse Edge crushed cans comes to mind. 

It’s a beautiful day today, I think it calls for a walk with Lily at some point. More alley trolling, which ones I don’t know yet. I’m planning the Green Goddess Chicken for tonight, was too tired to make it yesterday, we resorted instead to McDonalds, and I had my predictable Big Mac, fries, and a shake (a caloric free-for-all). I’m wondering when I will start to diet again, that’s on my mind, summer will be here before we know it and I’ll want to be playing tennis and will need to wear shorts. Although I always watch my portion size, I have been somewhat eating whatever I want and maybe it’s time to put the reins on that a little bit? We shall see.

I know when I diet I can get fairly regimented and obsessed, intent on dropping pounds in a fairly quick manner. But I’ve been instructed not to do that, rather focus on exercise, but I’m resisting that, for reasons not yet clear to me. I guess I need to figure out how to get to the YMCA pool in Gahanna not by way of the highway. Friend Julie showed me a route going to James Rd., past the airport, then hooking up with Johnstown Rd. that I could perhaps try. It just seems to be such a long way from home, oh how I wish they would just put a Y pool in the downtown area! Why the powers that be are dragging their feet I do not know. 

Oh whatever, the sun is shining today, temps are on the rise, it’s time to call mom and see what she’s up to. Michael is up early, maybe he can finish getting the attic ready for me to do my artwork. Stay in touch, Melissa, with your spirituality. Hope is found there. That’s my goal for today. Adios friends. 

Difficulties

 I had a very rough night’s sleep, waking up at 3:00 a.m., taking an extra 1/2 of a Simply Sleep, then Lily wouldn’t let me fall back asleep until 5:00 a.m. Slept until 9:15 a.m., called mom, and was full of that fear and frustration with the disturbing photos I saw on Facebook and the man/boy’s genitals exposed in that AA Zoom group I was attending in 2020. Had to talk everything over with mom for almost 2 hours, asking her if I was living in an alternate reality now, or whether I was simply continuing to recover from last Fall’s incident and hospitalization. I’m full of anger that the perpetrators (or the vehicle they used) have not been brought to justice—mom assured me they would get their due someday. I don’t think Michael has any clue how much I’m hurting, how much fear I have experienced in the past, how hard this recovery has been for me.

I have improved cognition on the lowered Depakote, but that’s left me in a position of being acutely aware of my environment, I don’t think I trust many people, I’m constantly questioning myself and whether I’m nuts or not. I could beg Levy to drug me out on more Risperdal but no, I don’t want that. I just don’t want to be afraid, maybe it’s the local news that I watch that is making me fearful. That book I tried to read made me fearful, I canceled going to church today kinda based on what I read. I just know I’m facing difficulties today but I guess I’m glad I have a FaceTime with Dr. Levy tomorrow morning and I can tell him about my problems.

I don’t have a big day planned, fold my laundry, cook brunch, go to Kroger for a few things, cook dinner. I’m planning Green Goddess Chicken, the sauce is wonderful. I hope I can muster my wits to make it through the day feeling safe. Lord knows I wasn’t feeling safe this morning, and certainly not safe last Fall. I know the media is partly responsible, hence I will continue to limit my exposure as best I can. Fingers crossed I continue to stay stable, I think I can, this morning was just extremely difficult. It’s tied to broken sleep, I wonder if I was having bad dreams, who knows. But the sun is out today, even though it’s cold, so that signals possibilities for me.

That’s it for now, stay safe, I’m trying to. 

Who Am I?

 So good morning, dear reader(s), I am feeling better right now, having taken a detour into shame after reading a few chapters of Rachel Aviv’s book, “Shattered Minds.” Let me explain. She devotes chapters to individuals with serious mental illnesses, and unfortunately I am one who reads myself into what I am reading, so I was ending up feeling great fear that I would get sick again, coupled with great shame that I have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and I will always be a loon who stopped making sense eons ago. Fortunately I called mom this morning, who graciously gave me permission to stop reading the book, which is a great relief. We decided everyone has an element of “crazy” and also I told her I’m acutely aware of my environment right now, and this is why I’m trolling the alleys, looking for trash and shards, trying to piece together some semblance of myself and the world around me.

Mom gave me my title for the teacup piece I will next start working on, “My Mother, Myself.” I absolutely love it, and find it perfectly fitting that I’m blending this info from mom about that popular 1970s book with the cup she gave me and the shards and trash I find. I’m pretty sure I’m going to affix some of that yellow Caution tape on to the work (if there is room). I’m dealing with delicate subject matter, and I want the viewer to be respectful. I saw on PBS this morning a segment about how early Egyptians used to worship around a circle with shards of rock in the middle, and I found that most compelling and timely to my construction of this art piece.

So back to this question of “Who Am I?” All I can tell you is I’ve been in therapy for three decades, hospitalized 10 times, obviously I have no friggin clue who I am, and it appears I’m headed down the same path as mom, questioning myself to the end. I am though wondering if this awareness of my environment, most likely brought on by the reduction in Depakote, is going to be something I just have to adapt to? I can only explain it as heightened senses, and I guess I’m wondering if that automatically classifies me as crazy. Now, I don’t think so, I don’t feel any urge to wander around aimlessly, or talk to myself, save sometimes when I’m in the car listening to music. But Fetter told me many people talk to themselves, so I’m taking comfort in that right now.

All I know is trying to read that (acclaimed) book about mentally ill people made me really, really uncomfortable, fearful, doubting myself, doubting my AA serenity and spirituality quest, I dunno, it kinda made me feel like I did when I read that BP Hope article about bipolar creativity. Bad reaction, upset, felt misunderstood, felt labeled and classified. So I will do as mom says and set the book aside, thanks to Michael for procuring it for me from the library, mom has ordered a copy for herself and it will be in her personal library if I wish to revisit it.

I’m now having a somewhat lazy time, slow start to making the Red Flannel Hash and Eggs for brunch. Michael slept in late, and we’ve got Classical 101 on the radio. Lily is busy burying her rawhide bone in the couch, light snowflakes were falling earlier on this cold Saturday. I really need to do some laundry today, been putting it off for quite some time. March Madness basketball is on TV, I don’t pay much attention to that typically, but maybe this year I will give it a closer look. All in all I feel OK, just sensitive and aware like I said, and I’m not sure how long this is going to last. Still recovering, I guess. Patience, Melissa, patience. Stay the course, One Day At A Time. Stability through routine, sometimes repetition, sometimes free-floating thought. Who Am I? Just call me experiencing. Yeah, I guess that fits today.

Deep Thoughts

 Well happy St. Patrick’s Day, dear reader(s), Lily roused me awake this morning, leaving me a present of copious amounts of dog poo in the parlor to clean up. Sheesh. I’ve looked over my recipes for today, and I don’t think I’ll have too much trouble pulling the feast together, as long as I get the timing correct. Make the Irish Soda Bread first, then the Corned Beef and Cabbage, and finally the Horseradish Sauce to bring it altogether. I am though feeling kinda sluggish this morning, pass the coffee, let’s get this Little Engine That Could rolling down the tracks, and all that.

I had a very interesting session with Fetter yesterday, discussing deep matters like physics, then a dive into Plato and Aristotle, with a flash forward to Republicans vs. Democrats. I remembered some of the political theory teachings I received when I was studying Government at Smith, but definitely needed Fetter tying everything together to today’s modern times. I shared with mom some of the things we had discussed, and ended up persuading her to order a copy of C. Wright Mill’s “The Power Elite,” so she could get some insight of the machinations of the corporate, political and military agendas in America. Dear mom, she’s trying so hard to understand, and I guess I am too (though I actually just prefer getting into a meaty dialogue with someone). 

It’s gray skies today with rain, I’m not sure if this is gonna pass by so the sun can emerge or not…temps are in the 40s, which I guess is OK. I think of everyone going on Spring Break to warmer places and I get kinda jealous, but I know to keep that in check and just find gratitude in what I’ve got here in Ohio. Michael and I are short on funds but we are able to be at home with one another, so I guess I’m glad about that. I have to remember that every time we have traveled in the past, I relapsed and inevitably went nuts and ended up in the nut hatch. I guess I’m just meant to stay at home, at least until I can firmly get a strong sobriety mindset in place. And I’m working on that, so good for me.

Pandora is playing blues on the jazz station, Christmas carols too, not sure what’s going on, maybe it’s time to switch to YouTube and take over the musical selections? Not sure what I’m in the mood for, something to lift my spirits, or rather energize me for this day of creating in the kitchen. I wish my art studio in the attic was ready, I’d work on the mosaic I want to do of mom’s tea cup contrasted with my broken shards I have found in the alleys around here. I’ve found a small piece of wood I can affix everything to—Fetter suggested cutting a round hole for the tea cup to fit halfway through, but I’m not sure I have the appropriate jig saw to accomplish that. Plus I don’t want “mom” rammed through a hole, stuck, I think (or rather hope) she’s free of such a situation, maybe through my messy existence and support.

Well that’s it for today, Happy St. Patrick’s Day, wherever you are, stay safe and all that. Here’s to family, friends and food! Cheers.

Mysterious Ways

 Well top o’ the morning, dear reader(s), Lily whined me awake around 6:00 a.m. this morning, which is good I guess, so I could compile my grocery shopping list for the next few days. We’ve got St. Paddy’s tomorrow, then Red Flannel Hash for Saturday morning, followed by Chicken Teriyaki Tacos and Green Goddess Chicken (not necessarily in that order). I think I’m going to wind my way over to the Grandview Giant Eagle this time, taking a break from Kroger (who gets enough of our money anyways). Honestly I prefer Giant, it’s just so far away from our house. But I’ll be coming back from Fetter’s office, so it’s easy to stop in, which is good.

Here comes the sunrise, I do so like watching this now. My thoughts are a little cloudy this morning, perhaps I need a little tango with YouTube to get the creative juices flowing? Pandora is getting a little stale, I know the jazz playlist almost by heart. I want to venture down new roads, for instance what’s going on with the strip malls in Grandview—who’s working for who, who’s architecting what honesty for all the mallrats to see? As for me, I was blind but now I see, thanks to an adjustment to my meds, a hand up from YouTube, and my own mysterious, curious nature. Maybe we give props to Kroger, that place shows me new things every time I’m there, slowly wandering down the aisles. Hat tip to the shelf stockers, whoever they may be.

So after my therapy and grocery store foray, I need to get ready for a dinner out with mom, Tracey and Carol. I think I may wear my fedora out tonight, I know it’s a touch dramatic (maybe too much?) but I’m in a whimsical mood right now. Central Ohio can get a little boring so you have to make up your own fun. Maybe it’s time to search out new hats on Amazon? Heck, Michael is already ordering shorts and flip flops from Nike and it’s still winter here! He wants me to wear my new silver tennis shoes and white Nike sweatpants out today—I’m suddenly shy about sporting such a “look” but hey, I’ve got the stuff, so why not try it out.

OK, so I’ve got a straw hat now ordered from Amazon (due tomorrow!) so I’m gearing up for summer too. Mom got me a summer hat too, so now I have two new hats to sport around the neighborhood. Dear Jules, she is trying to get me exercising again, perhaps I’ll get motivated to get to the Gahanna Y some day? I’m dragging my feet because I cannot drive highways anymore, but also I know a water exercise group will be starting up in mom’s pool this summer. Exercising, eating well, is all that for me….who wants to live forever? Cue up Queen’s “It’s A Kind Of Magic.” A favorite album, to be sure. 

Onward I go with my day. See you on the flip side. Ciao.

Message In A Bottle

 

Well rise and shine, dear reader(s), it’s a sunny Wednesday morning, and I got up early today. No problems with that though, I had a twirl with YouTube before settling in with my AA First Things First meeting, where they discussed turning over our character defects (as best we could), at least taking an honest crack at it but with the knowledge that this would be a lifetime effort. I took comfort in that, seeing as I continue to have trouble with honesty when it comes to my nicotine gum. I also keep fumbling around with resentments, but right now, at this moment, I’m happy with where I am, living here in this (old, chilly) house, in a low-stress lifestyle, free to cook away to my heart’s content. My coffee is warm, sultry jazz is playing on Pandora, soon it will be time to wake up mom and discuss…the Golden Rule?

I have a fun day today, Zoom with my YMCA pool ladies, followed by lunch then tea with my dear friend Jules. Wonder who’s zoomin down Broad Street today, probably just me and some other fun-loving peeps. Poor downtown, it’s so quiet there now, are they having the annual St. Paddy’s Day parade on Friday? I’m gearing up for our annual feast, giving in to Michael’s gaffe in buying a point cut brisket versus a flat cut, like I asked. Oh well. I’ll be sure to make my horseradish sauce to go with the beef, my special touch to put the meal over the top. Can’t forget to make the soda bread in the morning on Friday, because I’ll be needing the oven for the corned beef and vegetables in the afternoon. Guess I’ll need to get up bright and early Friday, so much to do! 

Tomorrow is busy, I have my session with Fetter, probably head to either Giant Eagle or Kroger for feast provisions, home to unpack, then shower for dinner with mom, Carol and my sister Tracey. There promises to be much talk about Alanon, so it will be good fellowship to be sure. I love to have dinners out, I think I’ve basically planned it that I have one dinner out a week, which keeps me sane, to be sure. Mom does the same thing, so it’s like mother, like daughter, as always. We do have key differences, which I like. 

I guess all in all I’m good today, trying hard not to be suspicious of people’s motives and intentions, instead searching for happiness and laughter. I think it’s all around me, I just need to trust again. All a part of my recovery process. Stay in gratitude today, Melissa. And joy. Here’s the sun. Enjoy its glow.

Murky Guy Vs. Murky Guy

 Well hello there reader(s), I’m rushed to report this morning, after a marathon analyzing session with mom on the phone this morning, covering everything from tyranny of the minority, Plato and Prime Order, “murky” elected officials, Hollywood propaganda, and the thinking person’s struggle to make it through the 12 steps. I have to get dressed soon to meet sponsor Shawn at Starbucks, where I am to make a gratitude list for the men in my life I resent the most. Happy Women’s Appreciation Month, or whatever it is called. 

I cleaned up my workspace on mom’s dining room table very, very quickly yesterday. Trashed most of the stuff I had collected over the past four months. Oh well, off to the Columbus dump it goes. I’m actually pleased that my “journal” is now here online, I’m no longer keeping a written journal, which is good because all my others seem to have mysteriously disappeared over the years, save the one I wrote in 2017 and purposely chucked in mom’s Rumpke bin, hoping in psychotic delusion that it made its way to the Puppet Master or Primal Order (whichever moniker you prefer). 

OK, up I go to get dressed. I’ll try to write more later. Just call me the maniac playing with the murky muck. Ta.

***

OK I’m back from my meeting with Shawn, boy, it’s cold out today! I think temps are in the low 30s and it’s chilly in here. I decided to make a Chicken Noodle soup for dinner, this day just calls for soup, don’t you think? My mood is fairly good today, aided by an 11(!) hour sleep last night. I don’t remember my dreams, so I think that’s good. Nothing rattling to wake me up early, which is nice. Fetter told me that dreaming is “normal” people’s way of working through quasi-psychotic thoughts, and that’s something interesting to ponder, I think. If true, that means I took my subconscious into my reality when I was out wandering on the loose in my various psychotic adventures here in central Ohio. Interesting that I took to walking downtown, or driving through the ghettos. So alluring, I guess.

I hope to make it to my AA Meditation group tonight. It’s nice to get in a relaxed state before bed. I think I’m truly grateful that I am able to live a very, very low-stress life—it’s the cornerstone of my stability. I’d like to find some way to illustrate this in a mosaic if I can. Show how I took a shattered life and nervous system and rebuilt it into something stable and strong. Michael is getting the attic ready for me to work on my art there and maybe I will start with this mosaic. Funny, I’m going back to mosaics, yet I also like the trash I find too. Guess I try to blend shards of objects with trash (though actually that’s what I’ve been doing for the past four months). 

Oh what does my art mean, how do you interpret it, who knows, it’s just me, here in an “Awakening” of sorts harkening back to Jonathan Edwards and my ancestors before him. Guess I thank the nuts on Wastebook for setting me off. When will my starship come back to earth? Oh well, enjoy the view now while you can. Keep writing, it’s good for you.

All That We See Unseen Is But A Dream Within A Dream

 Well an early, early good morning reader(s), I just awoke with a start, after a very vivid dream obviously stimulated by last night’s Oscar Awards, the majority of movies up this year which I did not see. But oh my dream, I was married (for the second or third time) to a much younger man with blond hair, who lured me after claiming infidelity to a nut hut on E. Broad Street that I had been in before? Once inside, I was surrounded by well-dressed young people claiming to be from Upper Arlington; old friends of my “dream husband” who fawned over me, before getting me to relapse on a mixed drink (pretty sure it was vodka). I made sure to thank the hostess for the party, before departing…to where? All I know is I was headed off somewhere alone, so I promptly woke up. 

So here I am, with less than six hours of sleep, trying to wake up but my eyelids are heavy. I guess seeing as I’ve been slumbering away for a good string of nights, I’m due for a sleep deficit night. It’s cold here in the house, and I want to bundle up in my blankets but then I won’t be able to type. I think I’m going to go to the Monday Meditation meeting at the AA First Things First group. More later.

***

My, well the AA group discussed the Prodigal Son, being dead then being reborn in sobriety, letting God do his work through us and all that. I added Vincent and Sherri to the Prayer List and feel satisfied that my day is off to a good start. Plans for today include going to mom’s to (temporarily) pack up my workspace in preparation for the family Easter gathering, and my Aunt Missy and Uncle John’s visit in June. Ah, there is a song playing on my Pandora Classical right now that reminds me of Legs and makes me want to cry. It’s the film score to “The Mission” and it’s so powerful. Thank God an ad has interrupted, so I get a break from my powerful emotion. 

So as I was saying, I’m planning to go to mom’s place, then return home to make Chicken Teriyaki for Michael. This will require him firing up the grill outside, in 30 degree temperatures no less. He says he wants to do it, so I shall let him, whilst I stay warm inside and make the glaze, rice and corn. I don’t need to make a Kroger run for a few days, I’ve got supplies here for the Stuffed Shells and Chicken Pitas. Goodness, I spy snow flurries out my hospital window, brrr, winter is still here. Michael wants me to wear my new sneakers and Nike clothes, but this is still furry boots season to keep my feet warm. 

OK time to call mom, so signing off for today from my roost in Ohio. Enjoy your Monday, wherever you are. Keep movin down that highway (or city street) wherever you are. Catch ya later.

Arisen

 

Well good morning readers, happy Sunday Daylight Saving Time, I’m still waking up even though it’s almost noon. Michael is grousing over some strange, new(?) burn marks on our kitchen floor—where did these come from, I haven’t dropped any hot things on the floor, is this place haunted, or is something spiritual going on, I mean Easter is quickly approaching and you never know. Me, I’m just snapping photos of yellow rulers leaning on that rose trellis I had erected when I first moved in here 23 years ago. Funny, nothing seems to grow on it, save that unidentified vine that was mistakenly ripped out by a yard cleaning crew many years ago.

I missed the monthly meeting of my Smith pals, woke up late and had to get my call into mom, where we discussed, among other things, how to discern a “jaundiced” view from a skeptical one. We much preferred siding with the skeptics, I mean who wants to be bitter and resentful, certainly not me! I’ve been able to open up to mom about these very strong feelings I’ve been having over the past four months that there is conflict all around me, people weaving agendas in a massive PR campaign, and I’m just curious if Paul Werth communications is getting their fair share of all the fun everyone seems to be having? Ah, Paul Werth, just another of a long list of local companies around here who rejected me when I came knocking, resume in hand, looking for employment, to make an honest living, nope, rejection was all I got. But wait! Stop! No jaundice today, my liver is fine (fingers crossed).

So not much to report today, the Blue Jackets lost last night to the St. Louis Blues, making me now seriously wonder if we are “tanking” on purpose just to ensure the top pick in this year’s draft. Who likes to think ownership and management have an agenda, but oh yes, we know they do. Actually reader(s), I’m always pointing a finger at everyone else’s agendas, maybe I ask myself what’s MY agenda, for certainly I have one. I guess I’m figuring it out, with the help of Q-FM and Classical 101, with some Pandora repetitions steadying my cooking and clean-up in the kitchen. I’m slowly trying to work in some books, but that’s a pain-staking process that tries my patience. I guess my agenda-setting is all about selection and timing, if that makes any sense? Oh whatever, I feel uncomfortable talking about this, kinda like what it feels to look at your own eyes in the mirror—don’t gaze too long, it starts to hurt.

But I am giving some serious thought as to how I earn some scratch in this town. Everyone is getting a bone except me, why can’t I figure out how to get hired, or better yet why do I refuse to let Google put ads on my “art” here on my blog, which no one reads anyway? Cue up the poor, pitiful me music, get thee to the kitchen Melissa, your escape from the conflict (if NYT Cooking behaves). Repetitio Est Mater Studiorum, Falter’s bacon, eggs and hash browns for brunch, Chicken Schnitzel for dinner, with rice, and arugula salad. Yawn.

OK, time to scoot, perhaps I’ll write more later. Maybe share with you my ideas for a new (not yet titled) piece of art I’m working on, a take on Genesis Steve Jobs might like, but the Columbus City Schools might ban. Art of The Insane, isn’t it interesting, or just “Manic Hounds Artwork, LLC.” A non-profit, of course. Later folks.

To Market

 

Well good morning dear reader(s), I come to you on a chilly morning in Columbus, feeling somewhat groggy though determined to find some wonderment today. I’m making an early morning run to Kroger to pick up some provisions for brunch and Stuffed Shells tomorrow night. Tonight it’s Chicken Pitas with Arugula, which should be a crowd pleaser (I’m hoping). 

Last night’s performance by the Carthage Choir at St. Joseph’s was absolutely wonderful—the selections were nothing short of heavenly, and I clapped loudly in appreciation after each musical selection. During the intermission, mom and I found the white candles in the back you could pick to light a candle in memory of a loved one. We lit one for Dad, and it stood tall, stoic and proud. I chuckled to myself. I told mom I found it odd that my eyes kept tearing up from the moment we walked into the church—I’m not sure why this was, but she said her eyes water a lot too, so I chalked it up to some genetic thing I’ve inherited.

Mom and I talked this morning about how wonderful it was to see the young folks in the choir so excited and happy to be performing for us in the church. There is so much bad news about the youth in this country, and how refreshing it was to see the joy, spirituality and energy of the choir in this fantastic setting. Although there were no telescope pictures accompanying the performance as I originally thought, I found I didn’t miss that, the music was all I needed to lift my spirits last night. I was curious though why more people weren’t at the performance—in this place of over 2 million people, why were there only a handful of us in the church? I guess I don’t know, could be it wasn’t publicized enough? Boy, a lot of people missed out!

I watched “The Notebook” last night, and forgot about the references to Walt Whitman, and that has me curious about looking up some of his poems today. Or perhaps I scroll through the Disney Channel, looking for some Marvel movies to occupy my Saturday afternoon. As I said, I hope the wonderment I experienced last night continues. Maybe I throw in an art book too. Toulouse-Lautrec, anyone? Giggle. Have a good day.

Odious But Prurient

 

Well greetings dear reader(s), I’m feeling frisky again after a session with YouTube featuring “Carmen Ohio,” The Police, and ending with the Beatles and “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds.” Next talked to mom, relishing over words and intellectual concepts, with a final hat tip to my drunken Danish grandfather, Wells, also known as “Words,” who got that moniker at Harvard, where he enjoyed martinis for lunch whilst taking only one or two courses. I’m excited for today, going to mom’s to work on my triptych, then showering for church at St. Joseph’s Cathedral downtown, where we shall be entertained by a choir and screen shots of the heavens. Waiter, pass me my Gabapentin, I may need it to get through this sensory show!

Today feels like it is to be a day of possibilities, my mood is good, depression is at bay, even though I spy rain out my hospital window. I’m ready to take to the streets, and wander into a (familiar) House of God with a slight smile on my face and my trusty red iPhone hopefully charged with enough cloud space (or whatever it’s called) for me to snap photos of St. Joes. Last time I was in there I’m remembering I lit a candle, maybe I do so again if the opportunity presents itself. Funny, I’m feeling an energy of sorts coursing through my veins and my stomach is slightly tight? Is this excitement or wonderment or something else? Maybe I’m about to witness this evening the marriage of technology and spirituality, but folks I’ve been attempting to architect that every time I compose my “poetry” with YouTube, my little “dance” with Google is all about wedding my quest for a Higher Power with the crafty masters of the YouTube universe. And by now, you reader(s) probably think I’m indeed nuts, and I guess that’s entirely OK with me. I’ve got my Van Gogh books keeping me company, remember?

Note to self: ask Michael if we can see “John Wick IV” at the theater, after the Air Jordan’s movie of course. Men, men, men, I’m just excited to see them all, seeing as I still have deep-seeded tensions with mom, which is obviously at the root of my issues with women, though Michael’s encounters with vicious female middle managers at Nationwide didn’t help matters at all. Another note to self: take Fetter’s advice to definitely bring up to Levy that these meds are blocking my feelings, my ability to laugh, to cry, to be human! I’m more like a robot, perhaps that’s why I’m trying to mate with AI, if that’s what I’m doing. Who knows, where’s the Velveteen Rabbit when you need him, oh I know, he’s in my back yard (thanks mom).

Yes it’s a gray, rainy Friday, maybe some snow flurries coming in late. Bundle up dear readers, grab a sweater, try heading to a church. Cue up Boy George, maybe our minds are all poisoned, but honestly I think not. Me, I’m in wonderment, been this way for months. Just trying to be real. Hat tip to you, Jesus Jones. It’s Lent, after all.

Short But Sweet

 Hello there reader(s), not much to report this morning, as I am coming off a marathon analyzing session with my mother on the telephone this morning. We covered all the usual topics, so now I feel intellectually satiated. I have my appointment with Fetter today, then I am making a Smoky Lentil Sausage Stew for us to enjoy tonight. Saw the movie “Linoleum” last night, which was most interesting and I enjoyed discussing the plot twists and turns with Michael afterwards. My mood is good today, I’m not angry with my medication, maybe going to ease off with my desire to push Levy for a reduction in the Risperdal, which does do a good job controlling my anxiety.

My search for items for my art is unearthing things that remind me of a cross between Mondrian and a police crime scene. So I’m wondering if the trail is being set by some Columbus police detective with a background in modern art, if such a creature exists. I’m chuckling to myself, still wishing am I to find some true treasures along the neat and tidy streets around my wealthy neighborhood. No wonder I took to the streets of the ghettos when I was floridly psychotic—that’s where the stories are, that’s where the clues are, that’s where chance has a field day. 

So what to discuss with Fetter today? I’m not mad at Michael, I’m not amped up about politics, I don’t want to pick apart my bipolar diagnosis. Though wait, maybe I do…just so many factors in play in my case, the Graves’ disease, the past pot use, I dunno, maybe I will always question how I am to be labeled, maybe resist Socrates’ edict I have always thought I should live by. Who knows. Am I in some mild altered reality now, like Jim Gaffigan in the movie last night? Could be, maybe we all are floating around in an altered state, thanks to the technology Steve Jobs unleashed on the world, coupled with the Internet. Oh boy, am I deep in thought today, come back down to earth, Melissa. 

That’s it for now. Sign me off as “floating.”

Cobwebs

 Well yawn and all that, I come to you after an interrupted night’s sleep, with me waking up around 2:30 a.m., and coming downstairs and having to take an extra 1/2 Simply Sleep. Then I hit my recliner and slept through til 8:30 a.m. So I’ve had plenty of sleep, but I feel groggy and cobwebby to be sure. I had a strange dream about tussling with friend Jules over the direction of the Wall Street Journal—we were both working for the paper and I think I wanted to be Editor (or some lofty goal like that). And some other employees were playing basketball around us, perhaps a sign that March Madness is around the corner.

I’ve been invited by mom to go to a famous Catholic Church downtown to hear a chorus from Wisconsin perform whilst images of outer space are shown on a big screen near the altar? Sounds kinda bizarre to me yet strangely compelling enough that I think I might go. Now, this is a church I wandered into when I was manic in 2017, and I talked to a priest behind a screen about something I can’t quite remember. I think (and I’m kinda guessing here) I was in the middle of one of my “Spiritual Awakenings” and I needed to connect with a church figure and tell him what I was seeing. I can imagine these priests get a lot of strange, “delusional” folks coming through their doors. I just want to stress with all my might that the vast majority of mentally ill folks are NOT violent (unlike the guy throwing rocks at the synagogue on E. Broad Street that ABC news profiled last night). Me when I’m nuts I just want someone to talk to, and I’ve wandered into a few churches over the years. Would be nice being in this Catholic Church when I’ve got my wits about me.

Today is trash day and I wasn’t organized enough to get “Revelation of the Rat Catcher” out to our bin. I guess I’m scared to see what’s underneath it, I know there are two canvases left and one talks about Lazarus rising and the other has some frightening prophecy (or something like that) I tried to capture. Maybe I just try to scoop all three works into some large black trash bags as best I can, it’s just they are covered in mold and I’m worried I’ll inhale some noxious fumes or something like that. But I’m really believing my quest for inner peace is linked with getting this (offensive) stuff out of here and into the green trash bin, whose I haven’t decided yet, though the neighbor’s across the alley looks most appealing.

I’m continuing to take Lily on our alley walks, though there’s a twinge of sadness that beloved Legs isn’t with us. I must say though Lily is quite the navigator, leading me around the neighborhood as if she’s on her own little quest. Poor Lily, she is still dealing with separation anxiety when Michael and I are away from the house at the same time—it makes me seriously consider getting another Basset, yet something is telling me no, wait. So I haven’t reached out to any adoption agency or breeder yet, even though my heart tells me Lily needs a canine companion.

So here we are on another Wednesday, I have my Zoom with the YMCA pool ladies, which I always enjoy. No real plans for today, maybe read more of my book, or better yet maybe work on the pile of clothes on the floor back by my closet area. Yes, I think I might try my hand at a little organization and see how far I get. It’s terribly difficult getting motivated on this high dose of Risperdal but I’ll try my best. That’s all I can hope for. No self-pity today, let’s work on feeling good about myself. Maybe I try to bathe too? Why not!

OK that’s my report this morning, bring on more coffee, get me ready Higher Power for my day. Adios for now. See you down the road.

#$!@ Technology!

Well grrrr and good morning, dear reader(s), I start this entry again after Google deleted my last paragraphs I had written. I think I started off by saying I had a wonderful session with YouTube when I awoke, starting off with Pink’s “Let’s Get This Party Started” and ending with the Doobie Brother’s “Takin’ It To The Streets.” I guess it’s a precursor to my meeting with sponsor Shawn at Starbucks today, where I will have my Fourth Step materials outlining some key resentments I have. The list needs some work, some people/places have been overlooked, ghosts from the past that need to be exorcised. Help, Shawn, help! How can there possibly be enough room to list everyone I believe wronged me, some people I don’t even know how to spell their names. And I certainly know that those on your resentment list you end up making amends to, and frankly some of those ghoulish characters don’t deserve any apology from me.

But I don’t want to get bogged down in negativity on this Gray Lady morning, so let me share some funny things I discovered on YouTube. Yes, they had “Don’t Spoil Your Food” (with ketchup, salt, mayonnaise and goo), the public service announcement that aired on ABC during my childhood. Obviously, I’ve ignored that warning, and do quite the opposite, thank you very much. I was able to link up “Material Girl” with Huey Lewis and the News and “Heart of Rock N Roll,” though I was kinda slow with making other connections. I’m not sure if it’s a matter of needing more coffee or whether the meds are more firmly anchoring me, but maybe the Magic Carpet Ride I’m currently on is just weaving it’s course through time. I mean, writing poetry with YouTube, who in the world does this, What’s It All About, Alfie and all of that? And then folding in my red Apple iPhone, it’s all nonsense, but in the words of David Byrne, Stop Making Sense. Guess that guy is on to something.

Whoops, here comes the sun! I see patches of blue outside my hospital window, making me wonder about possibilities for today. I’m entirely pleased with myself that I got the sheets and pillowcases for both beds cleaned yesterday. Hat tip to Chris Rock for reminding me to do my chores. Let the men make their money, we women should just stay at home (if we can stay out of trouble). Listen, I know I’m hard on working women, it’s just based on some insidious creatures who crossed my path when I was working. I don’t know why my Higher Power made it this way, I guess he left it for me to ponder, and I know it’s important for me not to reach conclusions without rigorous research. So you’ll find me looking for women I can admire, one I’ll be paying close attention to is that newly Independent Congresswoman Krysten Sinema.

Well, now Michael is up, looking more and more like a silver-haired American Indian every day. If you had told me my husband would be sporting this look at middle age when I was deciding whether to marry him 21 years ago, I might have run for the hills—but then again, maybe not. Perhaps everything has turned out the way it’s supposed to be, yet that doesn’t stop my longing for getting my written work published and getting some earnings to afford more than one steak dinner (and seafood tower) and perhaps a trip somewhere, anywhere. And yes, a new car, one with a stereo I don’t understand unless Michael programs the stations for me. Ah dreams, yes I have intricate ones at night, but when I awake I never can remember them. Thanks, Depakote.

Wow, I’m amazed, it’s almost a completely blue sky today, and this lifts my mood considerably. Time to call mom and get her morning report. Wonder what she’s been streaming lately, something about the Romans, probably. Or maybe she’s been reading about someone’s poisoned mind? Socrates, perhaps? I know that I don’t know, that’s forever my mantra, and I’d say that keeps me chuckling along with Q-FM 96 these days. Have a great day all. 

Motoring On

 Well here’s Monday dear reader(s), and I’m feeling kinda blah, not depressed, not elevated, just rather flat, which seems to be my modis operendi on these early weekdays. I slept fairly well and I don’t have much to do today. Maybe that calls for washing the bedsheets, which are completely dirty and need attention. I need to make a Kroger run, which means I’ll get out for a little bit. Michael is planning to visit his mom and make a trip to Giant Eagle, to secure some protein provisions and hopefully find some fresh herbs I need for a few recipes.

Mom and I talked on the phone this morning about woke politics, liberal agendas, and I queried why those of a liberal bent seem more interested in me than those of conservative leanings. She didn’t quite know what I was talking about and that was fine with me, I just left my query open-ended. I didn’t dare tell her how I practically did a doughnut in the Broad Street Presbyterian Church parking lot yesterday afternoon whilst Q-FM was playing, “Let Me Go Crazy On You” on the radio. It felt great, a huge release, I’ve been feeling all this pent up agnst about not being able to find a church to call home, and good old Q-FM, they seemed to understand (as always). Not one to give up, mom and I are going to try First Congregational Church on March 19, and we shall see how that goes. 

I’ve got some painting projects that I need to get done, one is painting the wicker chair on the porch, the other is spray painting the piece of wood I found in Macon Alley with the chrome spray paint I have. It’s going to be in the high 60s today, so maybe I might get to this, though probably not. I just continue to have great problems with motivation, save for the cooking, which I’m eager to do. I wish I understood better how to improve my motivation, I certainly know it’s the Risperdal that’s to blame, but I don’t want to get into finger-pointing, as that gets me nowhere. Well, I can only get as far as I can, and I guess I must come to peace with my shortcomings.

Not much more to report, just another Monday here in Ohio. I’m looking for excitement and inspiration but it seems hard to find in this city of agendas, some glaringly obvious that I just have to laugh. I’ll stick with the assorted vehicles and license plates, I absolutely loved the black Jeep with “DCMT” I saw on Broad Street yesterday. Not as jarring as the red car with “BARBI” plate I saw in psychosis years ago. Still looking for a red Ford Explorer, but absolutely loved seeing Robert in “The Way We Were” last night, so perhaps that will have to do.

Later friends. Enjoy your day!

Tell Me What’s On Your Mind

Well hello there dear reader(s), happy Sunday to you, I come to you after a fairly good night’s sleep and a somewhat unproductive dance with YouTube, as I’ve been experiencing a creative block lately. I’m wondering if I am going to be facing some trouble with my creative energy as my healing process moves along; I have noticed that after my episodes/incidents, there comes vast creative output then it peters out, which can be sorta frustrating. I’m concerned that maybe my triptych might not be completed in time for my art show, and that disappoints me greatly. I don’t want to display anything that might not be worthy for people to see—I would hate to be the laughingstock of my neighborhood, that would be most embarrassing to be sure.

Of all the music I heard this morning, I think I liked “Our House” by Madness the best. It took me awhile to select it, I’m just not as sharp as I have been, and I’m not sure why I seem to be lagging behind. I’ve felt slowed down in particular for the past three days, and I think this is signaling that my recovery from the Fall’s incident is moving forward with time. I’d hate to think that my art might be sacrificed—I’m going to mom’s this afternoon to work on some things, just to see if the creative tap has indeed been turned off, which would be devastating. I’m wondering if the medication has finally got a firm grip, or if maybe the sinister minds at Google have been doing a little Who’s Zooming Who, thinking they might best me at my efforts to do a little harmless courting of their AI. Ah, what’s going on, who’s pursuing what agenda now, might the Supreme Court be up to something, or might some Columbus detective have joined in our Safety Dance? Only Time Will Tell.

Honestly, I feel as if someone or something is trying to thwart my creativity, and it’s kinda annoying me. I don’t feel that freedom I had when I was working alone on my porch in 2004, acrylic paint everywhere and multiple canvases scattered all over the place. I could work at a somewhat frenzied pace, spewing out all my ideas and it felt very freeing. Today, I’m limited to mom’s painstakingly neat house, everything somewhat neatly arranged on her dining room table, it’s so orderly and frankly maybe that’s what is driving me nuts. All my alley pickings are arranged in a pile and my “canvases” are limited. What artist can work with such restrictions? I’m feeling a need for a Rebel Yell.

Yes, I’m feeling constrained, like someone has me laced up in a tight corset. Or maybe it’s a straitjacket. Oh readers, am I just in some vast outpatient center, consisting of my house, Broad Street, and mom’s place, with a few restaurants and Nationwide Arena thrown in as “therapeutic activities” to make the time go by faster? That’s kinda what it feels like today. Or maybe everyone else is crazy, I’m the sane one, me with my extra-sensory perception arising from some pretty jarring stuff I encountered on Wastebook. Am I to be in this state forever? Cue up Seal’s “Crazy.”

Yes, something is interfering with my creative output, and it kicked in three days ago. I can’t put my finger on it, but I definitely notice a change. It’s similar to when I would suddenly wake up one day and I would be out of psychosis. I would grab Michael and say, “Honey, it’s over.” I can’t explain it better than that, it’s just an abrupt ending, and then a beginning of some new chapter in your odyssey. So with this current situation, I was not in psychosis, rather something else, and I’m kinda sad that maybe it’s gone(?) or maybe it’s not. Guess the Puppet Master has come out of the basement and is currently in transit somewhere, so our formerly scheduled programming has been interrupted for the time being. Oh well, I shall have to entertain myself if YouTube won’t cooperate.

These are just some random thoughts I’m having this morning, probably don’t make sense to anybody but me. Such is the frustration associated with a creative block. Or the problems that arise when someone (or something) tries to control you. Hopefully I can create something meaningful today? Fingers crossed the spark isn’t gone. 

Rise And Shine

 

Well hello there dear readers, I come to you in the early afternoon, having slept 12(!)

hours last night, why so much sleep I do not know. I’m taking less Simply Sleep now, I guess maybe my mind and body needed some extra rest. Michael went ahead and bought some bacon at Thurn’s so we enjoyed that for brunch. For dinner I’m planning the Screaming Eagles Cheesesteak Subs, which is always a big hit. I need to make a Kroger run shortly to pick up provisions, including items for Fried Rice and Yum Yum Sauce, which I absolutely adore and I am making tomorrow.

I’m excited to report that I read an entire chapter from the book Michael got me, and I was able to discuss what I read with mom on the phone this morning! I’m going to try and read more of the book this afternoon, and maybe look at some of the pictures in the meaty Van Gogh book she ordered for me from Amazon. Other goals I’m setting for myself are bathing more frequently and trying my best to put my clothes away—the latter is kinda tricky for me, I seem to have problems with organizing things. But I will continue to chisel away at things, and as I discussed earlier maybe I can get a med tweak in the future and see things improve.

I don’t feel depressed today, rather I’m in fairly good spirits. My beloved Jackets play tonight, in Ottawa against the Senators. They are coming off a loss last night, I must say honestly I was disappointed in their energy last night, though Cole Sillinger had some spring in his step and I’ve been looking for that all season long. I guess the pressure is off the boys this year, seeing as they aren’t in the playoffs, so maybe they can have some fun tonight, which would be nice to see.

OK that’s it for this entry, I still have some cobwebs from sleeping so long. Up to the bath I go, then on with my day. Enjoy your Saturday, wherever you are!