Writing Prompt: Sizing Things Up

 Writing Prompt: Pick a day this past week and write about it.

Sizing Things Up

Prominently located on the first floor of Ohio State’s Stefanie Spielman Breast Center is Hope’s Boutique. It sells assorted gifts, but more importantly, bras and wigs designed specifically for cancer patients.

I made an appointment at Hope’s for Monday afternoon to be fitted for new bras. Since my breast cancer surgery and subsequent reconstruction, my chest is entirely different from what it used to be. Still, I walked in thinking the appointment wouldn't be that big of a deal.

Damn, was I wrong.

Cassie was the fitter assigned to me. An older woman with a nice face, she handed me a soft robe and gently told me to take off my shirt and bra. When she stepped back in, she produced a cloth measuring tape, wrapped it around my ribs and across my chest, and pronounced me a 42B—maybe even an A cup. Then she slipped out of the fitting room to find some bra styles for me to try.

I was left standing there, completely dumbfounded.

What happened to my D-cup breasts? How had I shrunk three full cup sizes down to an A? It hit me all at once, like a ton of bricks. I am a breast cancer survivor. I endured the grueling path of a mastectomy on one side, followed by an implant, and a lumpectomy with a reduction on the right side just to make the breasts match. My plastic surgeon did a wonderful job, but damn, I lost so much of myself to cancer. Why me?

The doctors prepare you for the surgeries, the incisions, and the physical healing, but no one prepares you for the sudden ambush of grief. My husband looks at me and insists I’m beautiful, but standing in that fitting room mirror, I struggled to believe him. On the outside, I stayed polite and stoic, but inside, I was sobbing. My body is forever changed, and I had no idea how to begin getting comfortable in this new skin.

I ended up leaving Hope’s in a daze, carrying a pretty boutique bag holding two new bras I wasn't sure I’d ever have the heart to wear. All this week, I’ve stayed in that funk—carrying the quiet weight of what was taken, trying to give myself permission to mourn what’s gone, and wondering how long it takes for a survivor to finally feel whole again.

Writing Prompt: Under My Thumb

 Prompt: Write about an object you became emotionally attached to.

Under My Thumb

This week’s prompt to write about an object I became emotionally attached to was a little more challenging than what I first thought it would be when I selected it for our group. I had to really think about it, and walk around the house looking at things in bookshelves and on the fireplace mantle for inspiration. 

I ultimately decided to reflect back upon my youth, reaching back in the dusty archives of my memory bank to find something intriguing to discuss. Then I hit upon it: Let me tell you the story of my trusty right thumb, and the years I spent sucking it! Yes, I was a voracious thumb sucker, all the way up to 6th grade. This forced me into wearing awful metal braces on my teeth to correct the damage that innocent thumb caused.

My mom says I loved my thumb so because it was a handy replacement for the rather active breastfeeding habit I had as a newborn. I don’t remember that far back, but I do remember my thumb and what comfort it brought me all throughout my Elementary school years. I was very open about my habit in my younger years, but as I aged I learned to conceal it. I was embarrassed I think for others to see me sucking away. I think too I remember my parents lecturing me a bit about stopping the sucking, and me being defiant and resistant.

How do I describe how comforting it was to have that thumb of mine nestled within my mouth? I guess it was like the pleasure I got from having a cigarette there, or maybe how it feels to have a tobacco pouch or whatever those things are called resting between your cheek and gums. 

Writing Prompt: Sweet Surrender

 Prompt: What do you want to surrender?

Sweet Surrender

When I think about something I want to let go of, to surrender, I immediately think about all the wasted hours I spend worrying. My worry mostly centers around things that are uncertain, or are in the future, or are things I don’t have control over. But I also worry about taking chances, changing up comfortable routines, indeed, I worry about most kinds of change. This has dogged me for a long time.

I’ve spent a lot of time talking to sponsor Shawn about all this, and my troubles just letting go, surrendering this harmful anxious habit of worry, and simply trusting in something greater than myself to handle things and give me peace. We are trying an experiment this week: to list three situations where I will ask for my Higher Power for guidance in letting go of a particular fear or worry. 

I know the first situation where I need help: I am currently extremely worried about an increase in cognitive impairment I am experiencing that is caused I believe from this new cancer fighting medication I am taking. Brain fog is a well known side effect which results from the suppression of estrogen this medication causes. My short term memory is getting worse, and I’m forgetting things. This frightens me.

But this morning as I was waking up, I silently asked my Higher Power to give me strength to let go of all the obsessive worrying about my medication. I thought about how I do have an appointment with my medical oncologist next week to go over things, and possibly get switched to a different medication. By surrendering this worry to the doctor to figure out, I can let go of the paralyzing fear that grips me.

I’m realizing that I’m finally writing again, I’m using this space here to unpack things and settle my nerves. How I miss my written words, I need to make a concerted effort as part of my surrendering to record my thoughts and feelings about that. 

I am really hopeful that today I’ll get some semblance of peace from less worry about my meds. Help is on the way, a power greater than myself (the oncologist) is stepping in to run the show, to restore me to sanity. I just took a deep breath and it felt good and grounding. Letting go can offer such relief! Why do I struggle so hard to do just that?

Now, I can so easily go down a rabbit hole of Why do I do this? And Why do I do that? But that ends up getting me nowhere. Overthinking breeds chaos, I am finding, and actually more anxiety. Let’s keep things simple, shall we? Ah, sweet surrender. Here, Higher Power, take my worry about medicine away. I hand it to you, oh wise one. And promise you’ll fight me off when I try to grab it back.

An Update on My Cancer Journey and Bipolar Management

 Hello there reader(s), I have been away for a long time, trying to get through this breast cancer treatment and remain stable as far as my bipolar goes. I turned 60 (!) along the way, signifying that I’ve been managing my bipolar with psychotic features for about 25 years now. I’m definitely an old timer in that regard, now dedicated to taking my bipolar meds religiously, as prescribed; going to bed at a reasonable hour every night; and living a life of much reduced stress (except when things like cancer pop up and you are thrust into the stressful thick of things).

I wanted to give an update of what is going on with my cancer treatment, and my bipolar. With the treatment, I’m done with radiation, I had 25 sessions, targeting both sides of my chest. Gratefully I didn’t need chemo. Last week I started up the final phase of treatment, taking an estrogen blocker medication that I will be on for 5-10 years. Fingers crossed, so far I haven’t had negative side effects including depression, joint pain and hot flashes. Actually, I’ve noticed that the crippling morning anxiety I’d been having since I entered menopause 10 years ago has seemed to have vanished? I’m not going to celebrate yet, but my God, what a relief!

Now, fatigue is something radiation causes, and post radiation fatigue is a big issue as well. Basically I’ve been worn out for two months, and I’ve been told I’ll still be recovering for months to come. Add this to the fatigue my bipolar meds (Depakote and Risperdal) cause, plus the sedation my Gabapentin causes (I take this for my Generalized Anxiety Disorder), and I’m left in my chair for most of the day and night. This is so, so frustrating! I’m learning I must be patient as I wait to recover, but gently push myself to do things like walking in the morning to try and move more.

Another thing I’m contending with is some additional cognitive impairment, on top of the difficulty my Risperdal causes. I’ve been told this is common for people going through cancer treatment, and things will improve over time, as I continue healing. I must really try hard not to panic and worry that I am permanently compromised. But it’s unsettling when your mental faculties are impacted. I’m talking about memory, ability to do things like follow my recipes and cook (it takes much longer than usual), finding words when writing, ability to write, etc. I think this is caused by”Chemo Brain” or something like that.

On my bipolar, I have continued to remain stable throughout my entire cancer journey since last October 2025. Heck, knock on wood I’ve been stable going all the way back to 2022, and before that blip, 2017. By this I mean my mood has remained steady, no mania (and psychosis) and no depression. This comes from two things: strict med compliance (and monthly sessions with psychiatrist) and complete sobriety (no alcohol and no recreational drugs like marijuana). 

The downside is I have continued to struggle with medication side effects. This includes fatigue, sedation, weight gain, hair thinning, lots of sleeping, heat intolerance and cognitive impairment. I’ve bitched about this for over two decades; I’m now at the point of saying, Hey, I’m 60. Let’s lean into acceptance and stop fighting things. I cannot risk stopping the meds and courting mania because my manias have psychosis attached. I have delusions, spend money, and wander into dangerous places. I can start drinking again, and I’m a recovering alcoholic. Just too much at stake, so I keep taking the meds. Side effects are just something I have to manage.

Ok so this is about all I can pen today, I’m getting tired from the effort. This is what I’m talking about, writing is difficult. I’ll keep practicing though. Thanks for reading. See you again soon.

Writing Prompt: My Mother, Myself

 Prompt: Write about the oldest person you know. How have they influenced your life?

Definitely one of the oldest people I know is my 85 year old mother, Wendy. She’s one of my major support persons, I have been calling her every morning for the past decade as I’ve been building a sober, med-compliant life here. My mother has over 40 years sobriety herself, so she’s a big inspiration to me in that regard. While my own experiences with sobriety have included lots of relapses, she’s been painstakingly consistent with racking up an extremely long sober life. I cherish the day in 2024 when I gave her a 40 year anniversary AA coin. 

The thing about my mom that I count on the most is knowing when I call her, she most likely will be there to pick up the phone and provide support. This has been crucial, particularly during my long, recent journey through breast cancer treatment. I do not take for granted how lucky I am to have my elderly mom alert and extremely capable of providing soothing support when I need it. And since we live in the same city, I’m able to visit with her often and do things like go to dinner, or just spend time with her in her home talking.

My mom devoted her life to being a housewife and raising her three children. Although she never had a professional career, she made sure her two daughters had careers and tasted independence before settling down and getting married. My mom had an active volunteer life, working to provide donations to the impoverished and also for years was a docent at the art museum and led educational tours for schoolchildren from across the city. 

She was married to my father Charlie for 48 years, until he passed away from bone cancer at age 68. I have always wanted to emulate her strong relationship with my father. Since he passed, my mom has successfully carved out an active, independent life, managing her affairs herself and doting on her three children, five grandchildren, and two great grandchildren.

 She’s a voracious reader, an intellectual, and loves a good philosophical discussion. These days she streams a lot of murder mysteries at night, and is particularly fond of the Danish series, I think because her  grandfather emigrated here from Denmark. I always wanted to be as smart as my mom, and it’s been a struggle having to contend with the cognitive difficulties my bipolar meds cause which interfere with things like reading, watching television, and engaging in lively dialogue. I’m not as jovial as mom is, and I get frustrated by that.

“Comparisons are odious!” mom says, when I wail about not being as productive or inquisitive as she is. And  “It’s hard being human!” my Mom said to me this morning, 

“Let whatever you do today be enough.”

Writing Assignment: Cancer and Me

Starting to write again after a five month dry spell feels awkward and difficult. Much has happened to me during this period, most importantly I was diagnosed with breast cancer and I had a mastectomy on one breast and a lumpectomy on the other in January.  I’ve hesitated to write this news down, not wanting to give this cancer a voice, a chance to take me over and render me helpless. But maybe I’ll find strength by naming it, and just starting to slowly write my thoughts down about my particular experiences.

So I’ve been on a breast cancer journey for months. My husband Michael has been incredible, supporting me all the way through initial tests and breast biopsy leading to diagnosis; switching treatment providers; another breast biopsy; three surgeries; bone, chest and abdomen CT scans; a liver biopsy; and we are now waiting for radiation treatments and medication I must take for at least 5 years. It’s been a long, stressful ordeal.

Michael has been responsible for nursing me, changing dressings after surgeries and stripping drains and emptying their fluid for me twice a day. He had the courage to look at my breasts when I could not; telling me I was beautiful and loved. That meant so much. I would not get up the courage to look at my chest until about three weeks post surgery in January. I’m so frightened of change; hopefully the experience of seeing my transformed chest and not being displeased at all might teach me once and for all that change is not such a bad thing.

So today I’m about 10 days out from my last surgery for awhile. I got my implant for my mastectomy breast, and my plastic surgeon told me yesterday I was officially No Evidence of Disease (NED). That’s the term they use instead of saying cancer-free or cured. Yet the fact remains I did have breast cancer, and I’m joining the ranks of numerous other women who’ve been in this boat. I had been so naive about what it means to be diagnosed; it seemed like it was something that always happened to someone else, couldn’t possibly happen to me. Nope.

There are several parts of my experience I want to explore in writing: How this breast cancer affected my husband, what he was called upon to do, how our marriage is affected, where we go from here. Next, write about how my anxiety disorder focusing on small, insignificant shit completely disappeared and was replaced by a strong, kick ass survivor mentality. “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff.” Also, giving back, how can I contribute to the ongoing dialogue about breast cancer survivorship? And of course more topics will just come out over time.

So here’s my return to writing. Just take it slow, Melissa. Practice when you can. There’s been a lot going on in your world lately. Welcome back.

Writing Prompt: Night Moves

 Prompt: Write about a special Fall evening you had or write about what you’d like to do at night this Fall.

Night Moves

I approach this particular prompt with a sigh, because lately at night I’ve been conking out in my chair in front of the TV around 9:00 p.m. every night, and this is vexing me. I feel so old, even though I’m only 59. Perhaps I look at this as a rite of passage, trading in the late nights for an early bedtime, and waking up at the crack of dawn. This is just inevitable, particularly if you’re like me and take sedating evening meds every night. 

But can I rig the system, say, on a special night I want to stay up late, take my pills later and perhaps drink some coffee in the afternoon? Sure I can, I’ve done this on countless occasions. This is my new normal as  a bipolar who is rigidly med compliant: Evening activities for me to do take planning, and altering a pill dosing schedule that is set in stone for 7:00 p.m. every night.

One such occasion this Fall I’ll be managing my evening pill schedule is on Monday, October 13 when my husband and I are going to the Blue Jackets Opening Night game at Nationwide Arena. It’s actually also our 24th anniversary and we are celebrating by treating ourselves to special lower bowl seats for the game. The game starts at 7:00 p.m. and will go until around 9:30. Then we have to make our way back to the car, and usually make it home between 10:30-11:00 p.m. That’s when I’ll take my evening meds, almost four hours later than usual. 

Because I’m normally sleeping during the hours when the game is on, it’s very novel and interesting to me to be awake and watching the hockey action live. The fans can be loud, the rink chilly, the music and game feed thrilling to experience. My senses feel alive, and this helps to keep me alert and focusing on things. I cannot imagine being this awake every night of the week, but for hockey game days I certainly can handle being alert and on top of things.

Opening Night this year offers up a lot of hope and expectation that our team, which has struggled the last five years, might finally take it to the next level and have numerous exciting wins this season for us to celebrate. We have some really good players, capable of burying the biscuit in the net when we need them to. Hopefully our game we are seeing will result in a victory. Bring it on boys!

I’d like to note that my husband and I have gone to every Blue Jackets Opening Night game since the team was founded in 2000. This year will mark 25 years’ worth of opener experiences. What was it I was saying about being old? Sheesh. So there’s a little poignancy to this upcoming evening event. No chair sleeping at home for me! Let’s Go Jackets and all that jazz. Show us your night moves on the ice and get us a win!

Writing Prompt: A Power Greater Than Myself

 Prompt: Who has changed your life, and how?

A Power Greater Than Myself

Step 2 of AA goes as follows: We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. I have a concrete example of this in my life, my psychiatrist Dr. Alan Levy, who in his conservative, measured way brought me out of insane bipolar instability into the stable, controlled life I lead today. I have been under his care for 8 years, and we have developed quite a relationship.

Dr. Levy got my medication straightened out, and encouraged me to stay the course when med side effects started wrecking havoc on my system. He patiently listens to me gripe session after session, yet somehow he calms me and I end up staying religiously med compliant, along with staying completely sober. 

It took me a very long time to get to this total abstinence from alcohol and weed, and I realize that Dr. Levy appreciates my sobriety journey. He’s never said this directly but I’m fairly certain Dr. Levy wouldn’t treat me if I were actively using alcohol, weed, or another mood-altering substance. So I guess I had to be ready to work with him, and that didn’t happen until I was 51 years old.

Everything dovetailed together in the Spring of 2017, starting sobriety again, finding Dr. Levy, and getting on a completely new medication cocktail. It all just clicked, and I was finally on my way, after years of chaos and multiple hospital stays. It hasn’t been a complete bed of roses throughout the past 8 years. I’ve had some challenging struggles with anxiety, which we cannot seem to completely control. But maybe that’s something you can’t permanently nail down. Oh well.

Dr. Levy is aging, he’s definitely in his late 60s, maybe early 70s? I’m not sure. He’s not considering retirement yet, but I know we are inching closer to that day. I’ll be devastated to lose him, I truly cherish his wisdom and skill at identifying the correct meds and dosage amounts for me. I’m going to stay out of the scary future though and not worry about what happens when Dr. Levy and I part ways. Today things are good.

Feeling Better!

 Well, after weeks of feeling physically off; and having my doctor run blood tests and urine tests and everything else under the sun, only to find nothing was wrong; I report that I have enjoyed a good week of feeling good! I know a few weeks back I cut back my Gabapentin dose by a mere 400 mg. and maybe this has something to do with it? I’m not sure.

But I’m extremely pleased to be feeling better. I have been continuing with my morning walk and swim exercise class twice a week. I want to add something else, like get a personal trainer and hit weights, but that’s expensive. Maybe I’ll just add something else like additional walking into my days. 

At some point I’ve just got to address my excess weight which keeps me from moving the way I want to. I’m roughly 50 pounds overweight and I’ve thought about doing the GLP-1 weight loss injections, but something is holding me back. I love my cooking so much and I don’t want those injections taking away my love of preparing food. 

There’s always the option of just cutting my calories down, I’ve done that before and lost a lot of weight. But I’m struggling with that, I think I may have been somewhat depressed lately and my appetite is increased. Oh, I just hate this excess weight and how difficult it can be to get it off and keep it off! Quitting the nicotine gum last year slowed my metabolism down further, and I gained 10 lbs. I just can’t get off. It’s frustrating.

But let’s put this weight talk aside and just enjoy the fact that I’m feeling good today. I’m roasting an oregano fennel seed chicken with tomatoes and garlic and the house smells divine. It’s our Sunday dinner, and I’m excited to have it. 

Michael and I are talking about taking a vacation somewhere. It’s been an extremely long time since we travelled. On the one hand I want to get away, on the other hand I’m scared. Feel the fear and do it anyway, right? We are at the age where we should be traveling. I need some courage. Something to discuss in therapy. The saga continues.

Writing Prompt: Land of the Lost

 Prompt: Write about a time you were lost. How did you find your way?

Land of the Lost

Thirty years ago, Central Ohio AA was home to a lot of lost people, myself included. I was 29, unemployed, recently returned to my hometown from Washington D.C. where I abandoned a career I loved in favor of a doomed relationship that blew up in my face. 

Yes, I came home and proceeded to drink myself silly every night, wallowing in self-pity. When the depression took ahold of me, I somehow made my way to a nearby talk therapist who, after a few sessions, quickly sized me up as a drunk and told me to go to rehab. I resisted a little, but knew the writing was on the wall. I was near bottom and had to turn things around.

The rehab place I went to enrolled me in their six week intensive outpatient program, which met three nights a week. Additional attendance at local AA meetings was required, and I can’t remember if I did the well-known “90 meetings in 90 days.” I did though go to plenty of meetings all over town. 

I remember learning a lot about the disease of alcoholism in those outpatient sessions I attended. The information sunk in and made sense to me. It carried me through five years of sobriety from alcohol after leaving outpatient. But I was someone who kept going to AA meetings without getting a sponsor or doing the 12 Steps. I also kept smoking marijuana so I wasn’t practicing total sobriety. 

But I was faithful to five years of alcohol abstinence, which for someone in their late twenties/early thirties living in a big drinking town was no small feat. Times then weren’t like they are today, with younger people not drinking as much anymore. It seemed like everyone was drinking. But not me. I counted my days, got my coins at meetings, and got stronger. 

I would go on to enroll in a Journalism Masters program at the Ohio State University, and at a local coffee shop meet the man who would become my husband. Good things happened to me. The seed of recovery was planted, and I felt lost no more. 

Why Do I Feel Off?

 So I continue to feel off around an hour after I take these pills. I’ve narrowed things down to the hefty dose of Gabapentin I’m on (felt sick after taking my noon dose), so two days ago I shaved off 400 mg from my noon dose. We shall see how I do. So far, so good. I want to reduce from 4,800 mg down to 3,200 mg/day eventually. Can I get there?

 I just feel in my gut that I’m on way too much of this med and it’s making me sick. I tried to bring my concerns about it to Dr. Levy but he kinda brushed me off. I have an appointment with my PCP Doug Schumacher next week and I’m going to ask him if he thinks I’m on too much Gabapentin. 

The problem is what other anti anxiety med is there out there for me if the Gabapentin isn’t used? Buspar? I’m not allowed to be on an SSRI so my options are limited. I’m very frustrated and just want to get back to feeling better. I was experiencing almost total relief from anxiety at the hefty dose of gabapentin I was on, but now I don’t feel well and that sucks. So back to the drawing board.

One thing I have noticed is if I push through the sick feeling and just do my walking or water exercise I tend to feel better afterwards. When I’m sedentary I feel worse. So I’m just going to get moving more. I got Michael to take me to a local park to see a bison herd and then we hiked down to a creek bed, I got over 8,000 steps, which is really good for me! 

Maybe what I’m going through is just natural aging stuff, but no, I’m 59 and I should be feeling better than I do. I can pinpoint when I started feeling off, it was exactly a year ago, and I had given up chewing nicotine gum and having occasional cigarettes at mom’s place. I’m now completely nicotine free and I’m having a lung scan tomorrow to see if there is any damage to my lungs we need to be concerned about. 

I’m nicotine free, no more alcohol, weed or cigarettes. So why aren’t I feeling better? It’s a mystery, I blame all these meds I take. But I’m definitely going to continue to be med compliant, that’s not going to change. Maybe we chalk my ailments up to being an aging bipolar with anxiety and Graves’ disease. I’m perhaps not supposed to be feeling good all the time.

 Let’s not forget I’m presently 50 lbs. overweight. What are we going to do about that? Do I try GLP-1 weight loss drug injections? I really don’t want to do that. Embark again on a quasi-Keto diet? That just makes me feel like shit. What to do…just lean into acceptance? Perhaps.

So I’ll keep an update on how I’m doing. The doctors, so far, haven’t helped me. One year feeling “off” is a long time to be suffering. I want answers. I guess I have to be my own advocate. Sigh.

Physically Off

 Good morning reader(s), I report I’ve been going through a period of not feeling well physically. I can’t really verbalize my symptoms, it’s just a sense I have of feeling “off” and kinda like these medications I’m on are too strong for my system. I keep waiting for this situation to resolve itself but nothing improves. What’s going on?

I asked Dr. Levy if something was wrong with my med dosages and he said no, what was happening was I have gone through a very intense anxiety episode over Dr. Larrimer announcing his retirement in July. Basically my body is still reacting to that, and needs time to recover. 

This explanation sounded a little like a brush off of my concerns; I was thinking maybe this 112 mcg dose of levothyroxine was too high, but no, Dr. Levy wants it remaining where it is. Honestly it’s exhausting trying to figure out what’s causing me to feel unwell. I’m constantly questioning the meds, but I really have no idea what’s causing this. 

I’m left wondering how long I’m going to feel this way. Will it just continue to be an issue for the rest of my life? It’s so friggin tempting to start tinkering with that hefty Gabapentin dose I’m on, start lowering it, even though I’ve got ample experience showing me that the anxiety comes roaring back if I do that.

Speaking of anxiety, I’ve had extremely blissful mornings since switching to half-caff coffee. I’m going to make a commitment to decaf coffee eventually. I wish I had done this sooner! Now what’s left is to get moving more, get out of this chair. That’s proven to be a very hard thing to do, I’m entirely wedded to staying seated and sedate.

My thinking now is try to improve the way I’m physically feeling by increasing my step count. Michael is trying to nudge me to move more, and Matt is being more forceful about it. Dr. Levy has been after me to move for years. I know I can commit to this, just need to push myself. Ok, I’m headed out for my morning walk. One foot in front of the other!

Relief? New Changes

 Hello there reader(s), I report I’ve made changes to my morning routine and I’m feeling better! Morning anxiety isn’t plaguing me as much, which is a blessed relief! Here’s what I’m doing:

I am now drinking only two cups of Starbucks “Half Caff” in the morning. I go on a 10-minute walk after my first cup of coffee. I have a banana sometimes before the walk, sometimes after. I do the walk even on mornings when I have the pool class. This combined reduction in caffeine and increased movement in the morning has really lessened my anxiety. Both were suggested by my friend Julie, yet Dr. Levy has been after me to exercise for 8 years.

I told Matt I wanted to shower more frequently so he suggested bathing on Sunday, Wednesday and Friday. I’ve been experimenting with the Sunday and Wednesday but have yet to include the third day, Friday. But today is Friday so I’m thinking I will get in and rinse off, so I have something to report to Matt next week. Plus it makes sense since I’m in the pool Tuesdays and Thursdays and I should be washing the chlorine off my body.

It was difficult for me to admit I needed help bathing more than once a week. I feel ashamed that I am not taking better care of my hygiene. Michael doesn’t feel like it’s a problem; but I’m concerned enough that I’m working to implement a change in habits.

 I’m also starting now to brush my teeth in the morning as well as at night. I have been doing nightly brushing for a long time (with repeated prompts from Michael). It’s so tempting to go down the rabbit hole of trying to figure out WHY I struggle so much to brush my teeth and shower. I’m not depressed (I don’t think), so it must be the meds making things difficult. But as Matt would say, who gives a fuck about the Why, let’s focus on changing things, improving things.

I’m almost weaned off the Simply Sleep I was taking during that awful period of high anxiety I just went through. The media has been abuzz about how these OTC aids like Benedryl cause dementia; I asked Dr. Levy about it and he didn’t really believe that was true. He said using the sleeping aids sparingly and in small amounts was ok. My PCP Dr. Schumacher said the same thing. I think it’s best right now to be off of it. So that’s what I’m doing.

I’m having a productive day of doing laundry and organizing kitchen cabinets. Tonight I’m making roasted salmon with cherry tomatoes and shallots, along with an eggplant and cucumber stir fry. At least my cooking has remained a constant all throughout my bipolar and anxiety journey. I need to remember it’s like mom says, we all have assets and liabilities. Things we can do and things we can’t (or don’t want to) do. 

Let’s live just for today, keep it One Day At a Time. I do best when I live this way. Stay in the present, Melissa. Have a good day.

Writing Prompt: Poetry

Writing Prompt: Try your hand at writing a haiku or diamanté poem.

Neurodivergent

Need prompts to brush teeth.

Rewear socks days in a row.

Yet master many words.

Resilience (Sisyphus Tale)

Push to overcome

Fight temptation to give up

I can’t no option.

Mom’s recent poetry:

Patience

The last virtue to appear

Deep breathing brings it near

Physically slows the heart

Delays a hasty start.

Calms the high anxiety

Of what could be

Versus doing what one can.

And standing calm

For life’s inevitable stress

Not careless

But saying privately

One can handle whatever

Is to be.

Macro-Micro

I read recently in some place

An astounding idea of outer space:

The possibility of many universes linked

In ways beyond my ken I think.

So since I live in this changing time

Where all expands beyond my mind

Why do I continue to insist

On my own importance in this mist?

A teeny,tiny spec of sand

Insignificant

Yet to myself so grand

Logic will not answer this

The senselessness

Of the abyss.

Therapy Assignment: FEAR? Face or Flee?

FEAR?  Face or Flee?

The assignment is write a short piece telling anxiety, fear and worry to fuck off. I find I can utter these words out loud but do I really mean it? Lord, am I ready to throw off this incredible beast of anxiety holding me down; gripping my neck tight and throttling me within an inch of my life. All I do is worry and panic, getting frightened so easily by the smallest things. 

The current stressor du jour is that my endocrinologist of 25 years announced he is retiring, and I’m panicking that I won’t find a suitable replacement for him. I’ve been in an ongoing state of high anxiety for a week, requesting the addition of some new medication to give me relief. Dr. Levy turned that down, believing the stress will resolve in time, and that I have the fortitude to weather this storm.

I’m already on a large dose of anxiety medication, Gabapentin, which helps some but doesn’t protect me from anxiety breakthroughs. So I’m out here floundering, dealing with a tightened stomach, rapid heartbeat at times, and obsessive thoughts of fearful scenarios that swirl around in my head. All of this absolutely exhausts me, and keeps me trapped in my recliner most of the time. I need to break free of this. I can’t stand it anymore!

I’ve temporarily halted all my exercise, the weather outside is too oppressive for walking, and my thoughts are too disorganized and chaotic for me to operate a motor vehicle and drive all the way to the pool. My therapist Matt is going to challenge me, and give me a hard time for being cloistered inside and sedate. I don’t have the strength to argue with him. I’ll just say I’ll try to get back to my routine on Thursday, when the weather is better.

The worst thing I’m dealing with is a tightening of my mid section, my stomach area; it’s in a knot that won’t unwind. I’m thinking an Ativan or hit of weed would settle things right down, but no, that’s not for me anymore. Shawn says pray and the anxiety will go away. I don’t believe him, so I don’t pray. I’ve asked others to pray for me though, which they kindly have agreed to do.

Now back to my original assignment, telling this anxiety and fear monster to fuck off. I need to summon up some self esteem and a backbone to do that. Some self confidence to stand up and really challenge my central nervous system to get back in line so I can relax like I want to. 

I guess I took the easy way out and instead did an easy 4 minute session of Box Breathing on Insight Timer, followed by some 4-7-8 breathing exercises designed to help you release tension and find calm, in the face of an anxiety attack. Honestly this helped some, but the tension is still there. Will it always be?

I think I’ll compose a Haiku about my inability to architect a brutal response to anxiety. Did I fail this assignment? Maybe Matt will grant me some leniency.

FLIGHT NOT FIGHT

Feet far from the ground

Anxiety won this round

No fucks to be found

Challenges

 Hello again, dear reader(s). After a nice long run of fairly pleasant mornings, it’s back again to the early morning (4:00 am) wake ups, tossing and turning in bed until I arise around 8; then being gripped by worry and fear from around 8:00 am until 10:00 am. I’m on rinse and repeat, which exhausts me. 

I keep wanting to go down the rabbit hole of trying to figure out why this is happening to me. But my therapist tells me that’s a complete waste of time, and to just get myself the hell out of my chair and get out and get walking, to break the anxiety train in half. I have been forcing myself to do ten minute morning walks and I have to say that it’s helping!

Honestly readers, I’m getting mighty tired of complaining to others about my anxiety disorder. I just want to quietly work to manage this beast with the tools I’m getting in therapy, and keep to myself when I have the anxiety attacks. I’ve been using my elderly mother as my sounding board for too damn long. I need to remember that the anxiety is only bad on certain mornings, and only for a two hour window. Then it fades as my medication kicks in. I can get through this.

My other challenge, the bipolar with psychotic features disorder, is actually well under control and has been for a good long while. My medicine cocktail of Depakote (a mood stabilizer) plus Risperdal (an antipsychotic) has worked beautifully to keep my moods regulated and ensure I don’t experience manic psychosis. This means I’ve stayed out of the psych ward, and what a blessed relief that is! 

Now, all is not totally peachy keen, as my meds have some very challenging side effects, including cognitive impairment, memory loss, weight gain, hair loss, and fatigue and sedation. But as I said earlier, I’m getting kinda tired of complaining about my situation, and instead I’m kinda tempted to just quietly accept things as they are. “Acceptance is the answer” from AA seems fitting when thinking about my meds.

I’m much more than my mental health conditions, and I’d like to move forward out of the worry and fear and into enriching activities to fill up my days. I do have my water exercise classes, my cooking projects, and my gatherings with friends and family. I’m trying to identify a volunteer opportunity that I might like. I’m looking into planning a trip to the Hocking Hills with my husband and hound dog. Keeping myself occupied is important; it helps me to overcome challenges. 

Well, that’s all for today, thanks for tuning in, always remember to let whatever you do today be enough. Easy does it, and all that. Catch ya later!

Writing Prompt: I Just Don’t Feel Like Myself Today

 Prompt: Feeling out of sorts? Write about not feeling like yourself.

I Just Don’t Feel Like Myself Today

When you have to deal with bipolar disorder, and add to that contend with a wonky thyroid gland, it’s been my experience that you go through many, many days not feeling like you’re supposed to. I went through a three month stretch this past winter of feeling completely overwhelmed with anxiety, caused by doctors making changes to my thyroid medication dose. It was awful, and I wore down my support people with all my angst and complaining. Thank God I’m finally adjusted to my medication.

When my bipolar medication isn’t at the correct dose, or I’ve embarked on strange diets that alter my metabolism which in turn affects my bipolar meds, I can quickly escalate into psychotic mania. I lose touch with reality, and I definitely start behaving in ways that are not like my normal self. 

I get grandiose, believing I’m a superstar or a prophet, with special abilities and talents. I throw random things away in the trash, believing I need to send “messages” to the City. I can go on spending sprees, buying bizarre items that when I return to sanity, I end up not liking and wanting to get rid of because it’s painful to look at them.

In a way, my manias traumatize me, because I do things and say things (like wander downtown, talking out loud to myself) that later cause me deep embarrassment when I think about them. I know it’s not my fault and I shouldn’t feel so ashamed but I can’t help it. Losing my mind is not something I’m proud to admit.

Writing Prompt: Cheap Sunglasses

 Prompt: Write about something you got for free.

Cheap Sunglasses 

In the ‘80s there was this store in the mall called, “Sunglass Hut.” They sold all manner of cheap sunglasses, a much bigger selection than what you could find at the neighborhood drug store. I didn’t frequent the Sunglass Hut, as I was saving my pennies for a pair of Wayfayer Raybans like Tom Cruise wore in Risky Business (are you guys too young to remember that movie?). The Sunglass Hut didn’t sell Raybans. That wasn’t their groove.

Fast forward to today, and to the collection of cheap sunglasses, some broken, my husband has on display on top of the brick wall that runs in front of our house. He’s collected these glasses on walks throughout German Village, most if not all of the glasses lost in the environs of Schmidt’s Sausage House, which is a stone’s throw from our abode.

Michael has carefully aligned the sunglasses on the wall, thinking that perhaps someone will come looking for their missing pair. But alas, nobody does. I chuckled when I saw a pair of blue swim goggles had joined the collection, I guess they can be considered an eye covering like sunglasses, and what the heck, they add an eclectic touch to the already eccentric flair of our home. 

I guess that’s the draw of cheap sunglasses, you lose a pair and they can be easily replaced. Me, I can’t wear these types of glasses because my eyes need prescription lenses. I have to drop a small fortune on eyewear, so I currently just have one pair of glasses with transitions lenses built into them, so they can double as sunglasses when I’m outside in the sun. But I do feel like I’m missing out on all the fun of buying plastic frames at CVS. 

If you can wear cheap sunglasses and you’re looking for a freebie, swing by our place and take a look at what we have on display. These sunglasses here need a new home. And could you use some swim goggles? Hurry, before they’re gone!

Writing Prompt: Non-negotiables

 Prompt: What do you NOT want to change about your life?

Non-negotiables

It seems we are always talking about things we want to change in our lives, what one needs to implement to better oneself. I don’t know about you but I never seem to just be content with the way things are in my life. So this week’s prompt is intriguing, what do I not want to change in my life, and what characteristics about myself have I accepted as desirable and worthy of keeping? 

I took the opportunity to talk to Shawn and my mom about this prompt before I started writing, just to see if they had any ideas for me. Their feedback was interesting and helpful. I loved how Shawn told me I’m someone who doesn’t want to change their priorities of maintaining good mental health and a solid, strong marriage. I call these two things non-negotiable. Let me elaborate on that a bit.

I went through an extremely tumultuous 15 year period between diagnosis of my bipolar disorder and ultimately hitting rock bottom with alcohol and weed use. There were numerous hospitalizations and my marriage almost broke up. Eight years ago I said enough was enough and embraced a new way of living.

Today I prioritize my mental health treatment plan and complete sobriety right up there with the health of my 24 year marriage. I am religiously med compliant, I work on coping skills in my weekly talk therapy sessions. As far as my marriage goes, I strive to be open and honest with my husband, and to never go to bed angry. I’m working on not trying to manipulate and control. We keep communication open, and work to diffuse conflicts. We still have rough patches though, just like everyone else. But we are committed to weathering the storms.

As far as characteristics about myself I don’t want to change, my mom helped me identify a few things. First of all, as I’ve matured in sobriety, I’ve become a very good listener. People open up to me and share what’s troubling them. Often I can provide helpful feedback. As I’ve evolved from extrovert to slightly more introverted, this listening role has taken on more prominence in my life. I think it shows wisdom, and an ability to move beyond self-centeredness. What do you think?

The other thing I wouldn’t want to change is I’m a survivor. I’ve been to hell and back and refused to give up. When you’re hit with the kind of diagnoses I have, the alcoholism and addiction, the bipolar disorder, and the anxiety disorder, things can get mighty overwhelming and dark unless you get a grip on treatment. This didn’t happen automatically for me, I had to go through some extremely challenging times. But I hung in there, acquiring knowledge and experience along the way. I’d say I’m in a good place today. Took me long enough to get here, but I made it.

These are just a few things in my life that are important to me and I don’t want to change. I don’t need to change them, actually. They add positive things to my life. Not everything needs to be changed in order for one to be happy. Are we coming back around to acceptance again? Something to ponder!

Concerns

 Good morning. The same things are bothering me: we definitely need a new car. It’s summer time. Will I be inside in this recliner the entire time? What am I going to do about my sedentary nature? My husband wants to travel but I am terrified to leave our town. It’s morning and I’m fearful again. 

I’m a terrible housekeeper and our house is cluttered. I struggle to do chores. I lack motivation and it’s extremely difficult for me to get started on tasks. I blame the medication but no one wants to hear that. I complain to Dr. Levy but he doesn’t change my meds. What am I going to do about this? I guess I must dig deep and summon up some energy, no matter how little, and just do a chore. Like organize a drawer or a cabinet.

I came clean to Matt and said there are basic things like eating enough at breakfast and lunch and showering that I’m not doing enough of. I told him I needed help with these basics, that I’m struggling. Look at me, I sit too much, I’m frightened, I don’t eat enough, I need help getting clean. What in the hell is going on, why do I agree to take these meds? Oh I know why, if I don’t take them I end up manic psychotic and in the hospital. 

How does my husband put up with me? In a chair all day, except to cook dinner. Why have I given up, or is it not giving up, it’s just all I’m capable of doing? I cannot tell which aspects of my disability cannot be overcome, and which can be changed if I just push, push, push. God, I hate summertime, it’s so debilitating for me. 

***

Spent an hour on the phone with mom, venting about my difficulties. Finally peeled back the onion enough to see that I’m just not a morning person, and if I’m in the chair, so be it. I get out of the chair throughout the day and accomplish things. It’s not as horrible as I paint it in the morning. If my biggest concern in life is I’m sedate I don’t have much to complain about.

Here we are getting closer to noon and I’m starting to feel better. More optimistic and not feeling as challenged as I was earlier. I’m going to try and set a goal today of putting away some clothes or maybe cleaning out the cutlery drawer or organizing a pantry cabinet. I can do small chores inside when it’s unpleasant outside. 

God bless mom for putting up with my morning calls! I need to do a better job of shielding her from my angst, which always dissipates as the day goes on. Things are not as bad as I make them out to be! Mom is wearing herself out trying to find answers for me, trying to fix me. I need to give her a break. I must make this a priority.

Ok I’m going to get on with my day. Easy does it. Let whatever you do today be enough.