Moving Ahead

 OK, so let’s pretend like yesterday didn’t happen, I had a terrible day, dear reader(s), just upset, malcontent, so hard on myself, all that yucky stuff that seems to happen on Mondays (in winter, particularly). Today is a new day, and I have plans to go to mom’s to read her some of my Freshman year letters from Smith that Kristin gave me, plus work on two more art pieces, “Letter to Smith” and the third triptych panel. Mom will have had time to read the Smith Alumnae Quarterly, and perhaps she will like to contribute to my art? (Hee, hee.) We both are curious about that lawsuit against Smith that the conservative student lodged last year, or the year before—the one profiled on Fox News. I’ll be sure to ask mom to Google where that case stands right now. Can’t find any mention of it in the liberal press.

I’m keeping a very close eye on Legs, who is getting more spurts of feebleness yet still is hanging in there. He insists on his two walks every day, and is eating and drinking with gusto. We give him a pain pill every day, and I can just tell he’s not ready to leave us yet. I know when the time will come; former companions Big Lou and Miss Nell taught us what to look for and sent us the signs when it was time to go. I know it is going to be tough to say goodbye to Legs, but he will be with my other beloved hounds waiting for us at the Rainbow Bridge some day. I do worry so about Lily and how she will handle Legs being gone. We shall just have to take it one day at a time, as always.

I fell asleep in my chair last night, I don’t remember exactly when, but I do recall sweet Michael waking me up and sending me upstairs to bed. I know I was tired from that staycation, I didn’t get the best of sleep being in a bed other than my own. I’m glad to be home in my own environment, even though it’s messy and we desperately need a house cleaner. Fingers crossed Michael will locate some cleaners for us, and not chase them away if they request more money after a series of deep cleans (should that be required). The last cleaners said we were the messiest house they had, something that made me deeply embarrassed and wanting to hide in a closet.

Poor and messy, perhaps that’s my lot in life. Let’s give thanks to the bipolar meds, which make me feel like I’m in tar and can’t pick up after myself. Can’t tell you how many bipolars I’ve talked to who have to live in cluttered, dirty environments—who’s gonna compensate us for all the cleaning bills we have to pay to get a little respect for ourselves? No one, that’s who. Grrrrr.

Yes, I’m flirting with a continued bad mood today, and I definitely don’t want that. So how to turn this beat around? Go to YouTube and listen to playlists dreamt up by AI? Perhaps. I ordered a meaty Jasper Johns book from Amazon, seeing as I’m planning on paying homage to him in a new piece of art. He is deeply influential on my work, I would spend hours in the Museum of American Art in Washington, DC looking at his stuff when I was in my 20s. Ah yes, I have my favorite artists, I wish I could own a full cabinet of coffee mugs emblazoned with images painted by my favorites. 

Since when did woke politics make it into Pandora ads on my Classical station? “Brown, buttery pistachio lattes from Starbucks?” Good Lord, it’s only February 2023, the 2024 Presidental election is more than 1 1/2 years away…not taking any chances, I guess. Wonder if other Americans are wise to how political hucksters are working their way into commercial product ads? Where’s Andy Warhol to suss through everything and perhaps give a lecture on how to educate ourselves on free will and power of making our own decisions ourselves?!

Woke politics. Maybe I need to just take mom up on her offer to educate me on the more conservative black voices around the country today. Or maybe I need to take Dr. Levy’s advice and avoid politics all together. Or maybe I find my own way down the middle, with the majority of this country. I know I’m in a good crowd—with the Independents—and as a woman, my kind decides elections. Case closed. Follow The Wall Street Journal, Trust My Decisions, they chose that moniker for a reason. I like it.

OK, that’s enough for today. Time to warm up coffee, take a shower, walk the hounds. Nibble on some cottage cheese and tomatoes because I feel fat. And so are the days of our lives. Adios.

To Diet Or Not To Diet

 Well, I’m back from the staycation, and sitting here very unhappy with my body and the way it looks. It doesn’t help matters at all that I ate with abandon over the weekend, or that I’m on these meds that cause significant weight gain. I know how to take off weight relatively quickly—drastically cut calories and carbs, measure everything, weigh once a day, I did that last summer and took off 25 lbs. in three months. But I would go on to get terribly sick and ultimately be hospitalized (triggering photo from Facebook expediting matters). Dr. Levy is telling me to exercise but I’m just not motivated to do that right now. I try to get daily walks in, but it’s cold outside right now, I hate gyms, it’s Monday, it’s February, you get what I’m saying.

Being sober now, I definitely enjoy food more, I like preparing it and yes, I like eating it. Maybe I’m addicted to food, heck I’m apparently addicted to everything and that makes me a bad person (cue up the woe-is-me music). Oh, it’s just a Monday after a “vacation” and I’m kinda depressed and hating myself. What’s new?

Some Words On Hotel Art

 Well hello dear reader(s), I come to you after a very restful sleep here at the AC Marriott Hotel in Dublin. My, what an interesting day I had yesterday, replete with the surprise appearance of Tiya the spiritual masseuse who brought wonder to me as she worked over my body with her masterful hands! As we discussed the importance of having God in my life, I did have to endure some pleasure/pain in my neck area, which was a mess of tight muscles that needed working out and Tiya delivered! She told me she was making a spiritual (or was it divine?) call on me yesterday, and I so, so appreciated and needed it.

I told Tiya that I very much wanted to go to a black church here in town to hear gospel music and meet some members of the congregation. I have been drawn to black churches for a very long time, for reasons maybe going back to housekeeper Lucy from my childhood. I spoke to mom last night about it and she is eager to join me—plus get her own massage experience from Tiya, who fortunately makes house calls. 

I explained to Tiya a little bit about my “quilted” seeing eye piece with black figurines and she very much wants to see a picture of it, perhaps display it in her spa, and maybe sell it for me! She also encouraged me to do more artworks about this Spiritual Awakening I had, and what I saw, though did offer up the caution that some have these type of awakenings and never come back—I’m thinking of my ancestor preacher Jonathan Edwards and what happened to him. Got booted out of Northampton, that’s what. Hee, hee.

So the photo accompanying today’s entry is of a piece of “art” on the wall next to my hotel bed. I think it looks like a morphed iPhone showing the way to an Open Door at the end of it. I know roommate Kristin probably hasn’t even noticed the picture, but hey, there’s still plenty of time to get her to the Columbus Museum of Art some weekend. I’m down to my last piece of nicotine gum, and the picture kinda captures the nervousness I’m beginning to feel about trying to get through this morning without my security blanket. I see the Open Door is there for escape—maybe the waiting box of gum at home, with Michael and the hounds? 

Yes, I’m ready to go home, how to nudge everyone along? Alas, must be patient. Again. It seems everyone is coming to Ohio…groundwork for the 2024 election? Definitely. I must stay put, as always, trying to steer clear of the land mines and just find my way to Tiya’s massage studio in Arlington. Or the one in Reynoldsburg. I’ve got options. Thank God.

Blissed

 Well greetings, dear reader(s), I come to you from my hotel room, way up in the sky in the AC Marriott Hotel in Dublin. Kristin, my roommate, is sweetly snoring away (my, was my own snoring disturbing last night?) as I do my early, early morning sleuthing of YouTube on my trusty, smallish iPad (with speakers). I have finally, finally(!) stumbled upon a beloved album of mine from my days trolling Washington, Baltimore and that corridor back in the early 1990s: Jesus Jones’ “Doubt” and my, aren’t many pieces to my personal puzzle coming together quite nicely. I tried my best to bring Google’s AI along with me down my trip down memory lane, but honestly I could have listened to the entire album without skipping around with my index finger like I did. Isn’t that the whole problem with today’s younger generations—skipping around, with no frame of reference, instead of just patiently waiting for the whole symphony to unfold? I hope you like the picture I snapped with my little red iPhone, meant to capture my waltz with Google, and spark a few other thoughts in your brain.

We are having a fun time on this staycation, though the gals did get into their sippie cups last night. I was firm in my sobriety, enjoying the food and mostly staying silent during dinner. I did enjoy the “pre-party” in our hotel room before dinner, regaling the girls with a reading of some old letters from Smith I sent Kristin, written on monogrammed stationary I had picked up from some preppy shop in Bexley. Kristin is storing the letters in her garage, she says there are tons of them, and I must say I had quite a zesty, dramatic flair in my youth. I’m delighted some of the letters have survived, and hope to share a few with mom at some point! 

We all had our furs on last night, as it was so darn chilly outside. I must say I think we looked absolutely fabulous, a well-heeled bunch (me in chunky black Uggs), yes, the loudest, bawdiest table at Oscar’s, we were the last to leave the restaurant, of course. Dear Alicia has been making money as of late, and she generously picked up the entire tab (much to my relief). Today is Colleen’s birthday and we have plans for another dinner out, this time at the rooftop restaurant here at the hotel. So there will be no long, cold walks outside, something preferred by me. I hope we get a breakfast room service—I love room service!—some beans on toast with an egg on top. Whoops, wrong country.

Wonder how Michael is doing, most likely sleeping away, like everyone else. I spoke to him last night right before turning in, and he had a fire going in the fireplace. I’ll check in with him later this morning to see if he’s having trouble preparing his brunch. Something tells me he’ll be fine. I do miss him, and Legs and Lily. No, I don’t like being away from my family too long…I’ll be ready to return tomorrow! OK, that’s it for now. Me thinks I’ll try to get a little more sleep. If I can. Night all, good morning, whichever you prefer. See ya.

Onward!

 Well good morning, dear reader(s), it is a gorgeous sunny morning, though a very chilly one with temperatures in the teens. I have a very busy day, meeting with AA sponsor Shawn at 10:30 a.m. at Starbucks; run down to Dr. Sears’ clinic to get more pain meds for Legs; then back home to pack for my staycation in Dublin. I’ll be bringing my iPad in addition to my clothes and new black faux fur hat—Arlene has invited me to a Zoom of the Single Payer Action Network (SPAN), which I will try my best to attend Saturday morning at 9:00 a.m. I wrote a little introduction of myself for the group, which I hope sounds OK. I’m still feeling my way around things, and whether I can make a small contribution to health care reform efforts in the state. 

I saw Fetter yesterday, taking ripped up flag “Cassandra Calling” to his office. I had it wrapped up in a white trash bag, and as I looked at it in the waiting room, I saw that the back of the piece was covered in mold—once in Fetter’s office, he did a quick search of black mold on his iPhone and sure enough, it looks like black mold is now affixed to my work. We discussed possible ways for me to treat it (buy pricey chemicals or paint from the hardware store), but after giving it thought on my drive home, I just decided to chuck the whole thing in the trash. (Even though Fetter said the 2004 piece was worthy to be shown in a gallery.) I was so, so tempted to pitch it in Thurn’s green trash dumpster in their parking lot when I stopped there to get Michael’s bacon and cheese for the weekend, but just instead put the bag in our city trash can (Phil Kientz has been given enough pieces). Let’s be honest, the only thing that could save the work is probably professional restoration, and you know I don’t have enough pennies for that.

Dear mom, she’s at the dentist this morning, getting work done on her 9th implant. Poor thing, I’m thinking of her and will check in before I depart for Dublin when friend Kristin picks me up at 2:30. Mom’s such a trooper, giving out haikus to all her doctors, it’s true we shall not know a good deal of people who come to her funeral. Wonder where we shall have the service…Schoedinger’s on State Street, like we did for Dad? That would work for me. I’ll have to ask mom what she thinks. I’d like to write a poem for the service (if I can keep myself together enough to read it).

And dear, sweet Sir Little Legs, he continues to hold in there, though I know now I most likely will not be leaving the Columbus area until he passes. There is a possibility I might be able to go up to Kelley’s Island with Shawn and other AA sponsees for Memorial Day weekend, but it will all now depend upon Leg’s situation and whether I feel comfortable leaving him. For now, he’s ok (at least what can be expected for a 13 year old Basset) so we shall continue to take it day by day. OK that’s it for today. Anyone who’s interested in a little dumpster diving and has some cash, there’s an intriguing art piece in a can in some random alley in Columbus. I don’t think the City has picked it up yet—or maybe they did. Oh well.

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

 Well hello there, I’m up during the night again, why, I do not know. Could be perhaps because I followed Dr. Levy’s instructions and took a quarter of the Simply Sleep med; could be that I had a nightmare (but cannot remember it); could be I shouldn’t have watched “South Park” with Michael last night; and could be I never should have read the Smith Alumnae Quarterly magazine that arrived yesterday…oh, any of these things could have contributed to my disrupted night’s sleep, so I’m trying something different—just took 1/2 a Simply Sleep pill and will wait for it to kick in and go back asleep (instead of staying awake here at 2:32 a.m.).

I’m absolutely furious at Facebook for allowing that triggering picture in my football group that someone posted at 3:00 a.m. one morning. It put me over the edge and made me so very sick and I’m still not recovered. I’m tempted to share that picture with you here, but don’t want to make anyone sick like I got. I’m tempted to join that Class Action lawsuit against Facebook, but know I don’t have the strength to get through that. I’m so upset at all those who trigger vulnerable people and get away with it. I want to be normal again, sleep through the night, feel calm, I want to feel whole again. I can’t stand these early morning wake-ups, I’m sick of them!

I probably shouldn’t be writing right now, I should wait for the Simply Sleep to kick in (which thankfully it is). I really want Dr. Levy to give me a sleep med, why won’t he? 

***

OK, it’s 8:40 a.m. now, I successfully got back to sleep and feel much better. Michael was downstairs when I came down, and immediately told me I was unstable, had weird eyes, was making a mistake going on the staycation, was “recklessly spending” (a $16 hat?), just all these things that honestly, I understand his concerns but do I ever question his sleepless nights? Do I ever question his accumulation of very expensive basketball shoes? His bizarre hair, his strange expressions? I’m on a hospital dose of 4 mg. Risperdal/ 750 mg. Depakote, and I’ve been on it for 3 months. I saw Dr. Levy yesterday, he isn’t changing my medication, and no, he’s not giving me Trazedone for sleep or anything else for that matter.

While I understand my husband’s love and concern, I also know today is the Quarterly reporting for Apple, Amazon and Google, and he is stressed about that, and that drives how he reacts with me. Yes, I’m going to go to Fetter and ask him if he thinks I’m nuts, if he thinks my eyes look strange, if he thinks I make poor decisions, oh everything lined out in the “BP Hope” newsletter, which I have memorized by heart.

It’s funny, right when I am making steps towards independence, working with Arlene perhaps on these mental health initiatives, it is Michael who is questioning my fitness? I know he comes from a place of love, but maybe I ought to be allowed to spread my wings just a little bit? Can’t I just go for a hotel staycation less than 20 miles away and not be interrogated? Can’t I be trusted to make good, healthy decisions? Who knows me and my bipolar better than me?

Michael takes an ambien and many times one full Simply Sleep pill to sleep. Sometimes he takes two ambiens! I have a few bad nights and now I have to be frightened that I’m going nuts again? No, this is not right. I’m going straight to Fetter and see what he says. Am I crazy. Or am I being gaslit again. Who knows me best. Is making small purchases at Amazon and Target OK. Is Michael simply stressed about the stock market. Are eyes the window of the soul. You get the picture I’m trying to paint. Maybe in all my drives around Columbus I’m getting closer to the truth. Maybe I’m already at the heart of the matter. Who knows.

So with all this, I bid you adieu this morning. Keep questioning. I sure am.

Everybody’s Working For The Weekend

Well good morning, dear reader(s), I am here refreshed after about 12 (!) hours sleep. I feel great and ready for my consult with Dr. Levy this morning. Thinking we spend our 20 minutes talking about sleep, and whether he thinks I can be prescribed something safe to use for intermittent insomnia that seems to plague me after late-night comedy shows? It’s all very strange and I don’t understand it, except it involves vivid dreams that wake me up feeling somewhat rattled? All I know is I’m questioning my use of Simply Sleep every night, it concerns me, and I know plenty of bipolars who are prescribed sleeping aids, so why can’t I get one? We shall see what Dr. Levy says.

Next I meet Arlene for lunch to discuss her Medicare for All group, and whether there is a place for me to perhaps provide some smallish input on mental health reform in this great State of Ohio. I’m actually quite flattered that someone would want to talk to me about it, though I’m unsure if my ideas would be well-received, as I am a big-picture thinker, I was trained to be that way by the University of Maryland where I got my Masters in Public Management. I did not concentrate in Social Policy, rather Environmental Policy, and although my dear Advisor Peter Brown wanted me to adopt a more liberal “flavor” to my studies, I was more firmly conservative. I’m chuckling though, for we did have some lively conversations in his office!

It continues to be chilly outside, but the sun is out today. Michael is eagerly awaiting the quarterly reports of Amazon and Apple on Thursday—for good luck I put a scoop of Starbuck’s Pumpkin coffee in the machine this morning, and I have to say it doesn’t taste too bad. Fingers crossed maybe we get some much-needed good news, and I can get $200 out of my meager Chase account to pay towards my staycation this week-end. I’m not going to ask Michael how things play out for us financially, as it makes me extremely nervous, as you know. I did give him a list of things I must have done in 2023, including chimney repair, paint the trim, get us a new car, and hire house cleaners. I’m also throwing in get all my dental work completed, including teeth whitening, and I may ask dentist Dan to explain to Michael why my teeth need so much work (and perhaps show X-rays). 

Michael is angry I bought a new $16 hat for the staycation and I feel terribly guilty for ordering it. I know Fetter would want me to stand up to him, but I always just crumble and say “I’m sorry” and all that groveling shit. I wish we could just win the lotto and he would never complain about my purchases again, but that’s just a pipe dream that will never come true. I hate being poor, I wish I could earn my own money and buy what I wanted without guilt. It’s terrible I can’t, but then again mom feels guilty about everything she buys, and she has money. Oh well, gonna try not to worry about this and by the way, wait for my new Target clothes to arrive today too!

I know I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m not on a manic spending spree, I know those, it happened once before. I’m just trying to feel good about myself for this special week-end, and there’s nothing wrong with that. OK off I go to get ready for my day. Take care all, enjoy the sun if you have it!