Status Check

 So it’s the last day of November, the Christmas season is upon us again. I’m amazed how differently I feel from last year, when I was elevated and didn’t realize it, and wouldn’t be right again until April. How grateful I am for my sanity, my stability! Yes, I have to put up with the side effects from my mood stabilizer and antipsychotic but some things are going right for me. I can read again. I can write coherently. I may be struggling more with the cooking but I’m still executing. I am still very fearful about a catastrophic future but if I stay in today like AA has taught me I do okay. 

Right now I have a roof over my head, my finances are in order, I am in good health, I have an excellent treatment team, I have a loving husband and family that supports me. I’m involved in my AA community, I have many friends, everything is as it should be. Soon we will get our Christmas tree and I can decorate it, one of my favorite things to do. Everything is fine, I am safe, I keep telling myself that when the anxiety creeps in, as it does sometimes. 

I didn’t ask for this bipolar disorder, didn’t expect it, but I think I’m doing a good job managing it. I’m sober, I take my meds religiously, I have an excellent sleep schedule, today my mood is normal. I may not be able to have a traditional job but I’m productive in my own way. I guess that’s all I can ask for, and today I’m content. So my status today is good. I’ll take it. 

Pandora’s Box?

 So good morning, dear reader(s), I awoke early today for a change, which I must say I like. I’m still staying up late reading romance novels so I probably haven’t gotten as much sleep as I need, but that’s ok. It’s a chilly, rainy morning outside, and as usual I’m here wrapped up in blankets sipping Joe. The house is quiet, I like it this way, and I know I’m stable because I’m not blaring ‘80s music on YouTube through my headphones first thing in the morning.

 I abruptly stopped listening to YouTube way back in April, dropping it like a hot potato upon realizing that things had not been “quite right” for me all last winter. I’m a little tempted though this morning to take a look at it to see what exactly I was listening to—though that may turn into something akin to Pandora’s Box if I’m not careful. I guess I’m wondering if it’s possible for me to throw myself into manic psychosis simply by listening to certain types of music or starting up some art projects again. Maybe I ask Dr. Levy what he thinks? 

I mean, I don’t want to sit here living in fear of music, of art, heck, even sometimes I’m afraid of the television because I honestly thought it was talking to me last winter. I guess I’m just uncertain as to what stimuli are safe for me to experience, so for the most part now I cut everything off, save listening to classical music when I’m driving or the jazz playlist on Pandora when I’m in the kitchen. But for some reason this morning I want to investigate just what exactly I found so intriguing on YouTube last year…maybe some high I was chasing?

***

Ok, I listened to a few songs on YouTube, don’t feel elevated. Just 80s and some 90s stuff. It’s an absolutely miserable day out today, I’m just gonna shower and stay inside today, read a book to pass the time. I’m feeling OK for the most part, just need to take things slow. 

***

Well, it’s Wednesday morning now, I got up early again, but after going to bed early last night. No more YouTube for the time being, don’t want to poke that sleeping elephant, I just feel nervous about it. I’m just not sure if I can throw myself into mania or not, perhaps I need to consult with Dr. Levy at our session next Monday. Over two decades dealing with this bipolar condition and I still feel like I’m at the mercy of it. My mood is turning sour, time for a readjustment, Thanksgiving is tomorrow after all. Time to call mom and find some laughter. I’m tired of being afraid.

Checking In

Well I awoke early on this Sunday, came downstairs and took my meds and brewed my coffee, and now I’m bundled up in blankets sipping Joe, trying hard not to get overly anxious with catastrophic thinking. I wonder if I’ll ever get a break from this anxiety, probably not, yet I do find when I’m in the kitchen cooking the angst seems to slip away so I guess that’s good.

Not much to report right now, save I’m stable and that’s such a relief compared to last year at this time, when I was released from the hospital and getting amped up. I know now regardless of whether I am on a high dose of antipsychotic it will take months for the episode to fully break, and I guess that scares me all the more, though this last go around wasn’t too terrible, I didn’t wander too much. I was frightened of the highways, and I seemed to just simply entertain myself with loud music and wandering through the grocery store. Oh, let’s not dwell on the past psychosis, it just gets me upset and ashamed.

Thanksgiving is coming up this week, mom, Michael and I are going to Lindey’s for their feast. Wednesday night Michael and I are going to a hockey game, even though the team is terrible (again) this year. And Friday I’m back at Lindey’s again for lunch with friend Stephanie, it’s our annual tradition, so I’m excited about all this activity coming up. Just got off the phone with mom, she helped me process some of the anxiety I’ve been feeling this morning and I feel better.

Writing is kinda hard for me lately, I definitely don’t feel the creative juices coursing through my veins. It’s why my number of entries here has dropped off, but I guess that doesn’t matter seeing the only person reading this nonsense is myself. Perhaps I kinda miss last winter when I had a flurry of writing going on and I even managed to get some graphics onto these pages to make things interesting. Oh well, the tide turns, I guess that’s the nature of bipolar disorder. 

So onward I go, onto a pancake brunch and then Sicilian Beef Ragout for dinner. I know how to deliver the goods when required. My life isn’t too terribly bad and for that, I’m thankful. Bring on Thanksgiving 2023, it should be a good one this year. Cheers to stability. 

Early Morning Musings

 So good morning, dear readers, it has been a looooong time since I wrote an entry here which wasn’t just a prompt for my writing group. I attribute this to being fully anchored by my medication, most notably the 4 mg of my Risperdal antipsychotic which makes me feel lethargic a lot of the time. I’m seriously concerned about my sedentary nature, as undone chores pile up around me. I continue to complain to Dr. Levy but he keeps my medication dosages the same for the most part, the only slight adjustment being a month ago when he lowered my mood stabilizer Depakote down to 625 mg/day from 750 mg. 

Dr. Levy is telling me to push through the sedation yet I feel like I just can’t. Then I think of those people coming back from paralyzing injuries and I beat myself up for continuing to sit in my recliner like a zombie. My husband is good about trying to pick up the slack around us, but that makes me wonder if maybe he is getting tired of a wife who doesn’t do much except cook and do the dishes. Maybe I do a few other things too, yet there is so much more to be done. 

I want to be careful going down a woe is me path, so this morning I am comprising a list of tasks to do this week. First up, I am going to organize my clothes, finally putting away the summer stuff and getting my Fall/winter items together so I have access to them. Fetter is always telling me to start small and set the expectation bar low so this clothes organization is all I’m going to do today (besides my usual cooking projects).

Tomorrow I hope to organize some kitchen cabinets and drawers, in preparation for the arrival of a new refrigerator in 5 days. I think I just have to slowly set some small tasks to do each day, and push, push, push. Maybe I’d benefit from a little CBT goal-setting, I dunno, but I just know I’m motivated to show Michael and myself that I can do things around here besides sitting in a recliner all day. I’ve just been thinking a lot lately about what it is I do all day, and lately it’s just been a whole lot of nothing—so let’s turn this ship around and get headed on a productive course.

I can also reflect today on the fact that it is approximately one year since I was last hospitalized. I’m so, so grateful that I am completely stable now, no manic psychosis, everything is calm and manageable. Granted, I’m not writing here as much, the creative energy has been tempered, but I’m thankful for that. I’m not up at the crack of dawn listening to loud music on YouTube, instead I’m sleeping in and getting close to 10 hours of sleep a night. I’ve shelved the art, realizing that when I do the art projects, it just gets me excitable and potentially triggers psychosis (though I’m not completely sure about that). I’m not trolling the alleys looking for trash like I was last winter and I take this as a good sign (at least I’m more hygienic now).

So today, November 5, 2023, I feel solid and I’m looking forward to the holiday season approaching soon. I think I will read back on some previous entries and see how I was doing, I know 2023 has been a somewhat challenging year for me, what with recovery from an incident/episode in 2022, and adjustment to Dr. Levy’s strategy of now keeping the Risperdal at a higher dosage and the Depakote on the lower end. My anxiety seems well under control, not really much of an issue now, save the rare attacks in the morning hours consisting of me building catastrophe out of an unknown future.

I guess this is all for now, one foot in front of the other and all that. On to my chores, no perfection required here, just make a start. Adios.

Writing Prompt: The Ukulele

 Prompt: Describe a person, place or thing.

The Ukulele 

When my grandfather Papa died years ago, the family went to his Florida condo to look through his belongings and give the grandchildren a chance to select a few items to take home with them. I was immediately drawn to an old, wooden ukulele tucked away on the top shelf of his closet off the family TV room. I didn’t know how to play a string instrument (still don’t), yet I wanted this ukulele so badly. Fortunately for me, no one else paid attention to it, so this prize was mine to keep.

I don’t know the story behind the ukulele, where it came from, and whether or not my grandfather ever played it. I never saw him with it when I visited him, though he did play once the banjo he had from his days in the 1920s performing with Benny Goodman and his orchestra in Chicago. Although my grandfather would go on to become a lawyer and stop performing, he loved music, and instilled that love in my father, who was a talented piano player and our house was filled with jazz music played on the stereo. 

Back to the ukulele, once I spirited it out of Florida to it’s new home in Columbus, it took up residence in a place of prominence on a shelf in one of the tall bookcases in our den. It rests majestically in front of a line of assorted books including “Bartlett’s Book of Quotations,” “Horse Soldiers,” “The Invisible Man” and “The Biggest Book of Hockey Trivia.” When I’m sitting in my recliner sipping my morning coffee, I’ll often gaze upon the ukulele and smile at memories of my grandfather, and wonder if this ukulele ever got played in front of an audience.

I did bring it out once—only once—when I had my first (and sadly last) dinner party here in my home in December of 2001. It was right before I fell apart under the grips of bipolar illness, and I had invited 6 girlfriends to my place for a roasted duck dinner. We sat around the long dinner table and after we had finished the meal, I stood up, walked over to the bookshelf and retrieved the ukulele. My friends looked at me bemusedly, wondering if I was going to play it, or if I had something else in mind. 

I returned to the table and gave the following instructions: We will pass the ukulele around the table, and when it comes to you, hold it in your hands and tell the group your worst time and best time of the year. I’m not entirely sure what the point of this exercise was, or whether or not the ukulele had magical powers to stir up excited discussion. But I do know here some 22 years later my girlfriends still talk about this dinner party and my ukulele. 

There are quite a few whimsical things tucked away in corners and shelves in this old house of ours. But Papa’s ukulele is by far one of my favorite pieces. I’m tempted to pick it up and try to play it. Maybe this old dog can learn a new trick? Guess I won’t know unless I try. So here goes! 

Writing Prompt: A Night On The Town

 Prompt: You get an unplanned yet highly welcomed day off from work. What are you going to do?

A Night On The Town

I get a certain thrill when my husband turns to me and says, “You’ve been working so hard in the kitchen lately. Why don’t you take a night off?” For as much as I love creating my masterpieces for us every night,  so too do I enjoy hanging up my apron on its hook and excitedly donning evening attire and make up for a night out to sample someone else’s food—with the added plus that they will be doing the dishes.

I had the chance this past week to have a night off to enjoy an interesting meal out at an Italian restaurant in Bexley with two girlfriends of mine. Thanks to some gnarly rush hour traffic I uncharacteristically arrived 30 minutes late, but my companions didn’t mind. As I sipped my Pellegrino with lime wedge, I eagerly perused the menu, immediately deciding upon a beet salad with shaved Parmesan and the chicken ravioli in cream sauce, a favorite. Sounds from a live acoustic jazz band started to fill the air, and I smiled to myself, grateful that I had this opportunity to get out and do something that I enjoy.

Conversation flowed easily, I realized I do best when I’m in a smaller group, where people aren’t throwing back cocktails and getting louder and louder as the evening progresses. Sure, each of my girlfriends had ordered a glass of wine, but neither finished their glass. Could that have been me in my drinking days? Never! I’d have downed a whole bottle by myself, and most likely ordered an after dinner drink to boot. Thank God those days are behind me.

As we ate our meals, we shared stories about our families, groused about being a woman in her 50s, got serious and discussed current world affairs, giggled about High School hijinks, took a selfie to remember the night. I was a clean plater, enjoying every bite of my meal, and sipped a decaf coffee after we were through. Outside the restaurant, we hugged each other goodbye, with a promise to gather again in the near future. 

Back to reality the next day, as I slowly made my way through Kroger with a cart piled high with items for a week’s worth of cooking projects, my phone pinged with a message from one of the gals. “Free for dinner November 14?” I wasted no time replying. “Yes! Let’s check out Grandview!” So it’s back to the grindstone, but a treat isn’t too far off in the distance. Yeah, I can live with that.