Emptying Out

This morning I got up in the middle of the night – 7 a.m. – and got over to the church to meet Fred. We were going to coffee after he finished watering the lawn. Patty was there, watering the other side of the lot. I talked with her a bit, and she asked why I hadn’t shown up yesterday for counseling. I told her I didn’t think I needed it, so I let it slide. She was okay with that.

I told Fred that if we went to HEB for coffee, the other guys would show up and we wouldn’t be able to talk openly. So we came to my place, and I made instant. We talked for a while, then he gave me a treatment on my head – both to balance my brain chemistry and to help with my thoughts – and I worked on his face, where he got the shiner/black eye from running into a ladder, then his larynx. He was happy to get the treatment, I was deeply pleased to have him work on me.

He took off, had errands to run and a couple of people to meet. I called Vivian and offered her breakfast at the diner around the corner, but she said she’d already eaten. That shot that wild hair down. She offered me breakfast and I couldn’t refuse: she said she had biscuits! My weak spot! I got out of my street clothes, into my lounging attire, and went down.

It was a feast that couldn’t be beat. I reveled in the taste bud orgasms. I think she’s been watching too much Food Network. I loved every bite. The coffee was excellent, too.

I began quizzing her about what she had to get out of the apartment in advance of her inspection next Tuesday. We did a walk-through and she identified a buncha boxes. I insisted on putting them in my store room, out in the breezeway. After some reluctance, she let me win. I grabbed a box and headed up there.

As I got to the stairs, I spied Floyd. Got him to help me carry the exercycle up here. I felt a bit leery about not putting any note on it, so I got a sheet of paper and wrote “Jackie Don’t Steal This.” Taped it to the cycle. If she sees it, she’ll know her thieving reputation precedes her. And I don’t care. I just don’t want her taking it.

Went back down and got more boxes. I’m a really good packer – I worked for Bekins Moving Company in Houston while I was in college – and I could pack a truck like nobody else. I did that same trick here. Put the big stuff down first, stacked the small boxes up on top. Now I have a store room about three-quarters full of boxes about chest high. There’s a space where I could put a bunch more stuff, and there’s a closet rod mounted above the stuff at the back. I can hang some of her clothes up here. That’ll give her room in her closet so she doesn’t have stuff hanging in her shower. My God! At this rate she’ll have a neat apartment! What’ll her daughters think? They’ll probably say she’s been robbed!

After climbing the stairs carrying all those boxes in the heat, she sent me home for a nap. I didn’t argue, it was hot – 97 degrees and 78 percent humidity. Cooled off and finally dry, I slid into bed and got a good nap.

Jim called, I let the machine get it and went back to sleep. When I popped awake at 3, I called him back. He was out running errands and asked if I had tea. I said sure and he came by.

We seem to have reached a place where we don’t want to be DOING anything. Easing back and taking life a day at a time is very attractive now. I’ve noticed this last week that all my sturm und drang over all the stuff I’ve been worrying about has disappeared. I’m just not bothered anymore. This is one of the reasons I didn’t go see Patty yesterday – there’s nothing bothering me. Jim talked about inconsequential stuff, noticing that it all was just a tempest in a teapot. Staying close to home, walking regularly, taking naps, attending to business, being peaceful are the focus of his life. I realized I’ve got the same goals. I just don’t walk like I ought to. But I don’t want to DO anything big: no book to write, no sea to sail, no foreign lands to conquer, nothing to get all fired up about. I’ve taken my nap today and am crawling back into the sheets here in a minute. I feel very calm and am getting rested. That’s new, and absolutely wonderful.

Tonight Dorothy didn’t get a treatment because Jeannie said she was asleep. So I sat down here and spun this out. Amazing how easily these words come – flowing. Wonder what I’m going to eat for dinner?

Hairdressing

Ah, Thursday. Finally got here. My day to sleep in late. Yesterday was a hard one: not sleeping all night caught up with me late in the evening. At least I was able to get through the Board meeting without nodding off.

After the meeting, Fred said he needed to talk to me. I asked if he was watering the church lawn tomorrow. He affirmed, so I said I’d meet him then. We can have coffee.

Board meeting over, I called Vivian on the way out of the parking lot. She said she needed some groceries, and I needed milk. So I stopped and shopped. There was a problem – her choice of bread was gone off the shelves. So I called her again. Got a reasonable substitute.

And I realized that grocery stores couldn’t function without good cell phone coverage. I’m always amazed to see people walking the aisles with their phone at their ear. Of course, many are just yammering to a friend or relative, but there are those of us who need to touch base with headquarters and find out what we forgot. I mean, WalMart’s full of people on phones. And yeah, a lot of them are pushing carts the way they drive: willy-nilly. It doesn’t help that most of them have children in tow. Talk about multi-tasking!!

Groceries at home, I changed into dry underwear and loose shorts. Headed downstairs to see Vivian. And about halfway there, I got dizzy – REAL dizzy. I immediately knew it was from lack of sleep. I can’t miss sleep while on these meds. I stumbled into her apartment and sat down – hard. Seemed to stabilize some. She very kindly lubed up my feet. I had huge circles of dried skin. They looked like burst blisters. The entire soles were severely flaky, cracked, and sandal-worn. Viv got some lotion – where she gets all these ointments, I don’t know – and lubed them up. It felt…well, different. I haven’t had my feet lotioned in probably 30 years. As she was doing it, I sorta remembered the other time. This was soooo much better.

While the slippery stuff was being absorbed – I’m not sure, but I thought I heard a sucking sound as the dry skin pulled the moisture beads into the pores – I laid back and rested my head. Thankfully, most of the dizziness abated.

At midnight we got ourselves together and gathered our dirty clothes. Upstairs I pulled off my shirt – sweat-soaked – and popped my tank top on. Got us over to the wash room. The clock read 5:30. That wasn’t cool, couldn’t use that as a guide to how much longer. Glad I wore my watch. Pulling my dried stuff out, I glanced at the clock again. 5:45. MAN! These are the fastest machines in the world!!

At home again I hung up my shirts – they weren’t too wrinkled, I “iron” by hanging them up immediately so they’ll hopefully not look like they spent a week wadded up in the bottom of my laundry basket – and suddenly felt super thirsty. Heck, I’d had a Dr Pepper while washing, why was I so dry? Probably because that wash room is an oven, even with the two ceiling fans and the two box fans in the windows. I was sweating so bad my nylon tank top stuck to me all over.

I got an O’Doul’s and stood in front of the AC vent, cooling off inside and out. Finally dried off, finished the beer, washed my face with acne soap, and put my clothes away. That bed looked better and better and better and BETTER. I succumbed at 3:06 a.m., wiped out from the previous night’s not sleeping, the lack of a nap yesterday afternoon, and the heat in the wash room.

Now it’s 1:30 p.m. and I’m up. Vivian called at 12:30. That’s okay, I’d been tossing and turning since 11:45, which meant it was time to get up and go to the bathroom. I usually put that off as long as I can, because once I get up it takes an act of God to fall back into deep sleep. But now I was astir. Time for food. Might as well see what email I had.

Later

Went back to bed anyway. Dozed on and off until Jim called – a short conversation – then asleep again. The mowers woke me up. Back to sleep. Vivian called again. Sigh. Finally got up. Good thing, it wasn’t long before I had to take her to the hairdresser.

Two cups of coffee later, I got her into the truck and we were off – in the heat. Her appointment was for 4:30. Got her there about 4:15. When she was done – all pouffed up – we headed for WalMart. I bought her a coffee pot – a REAL steal at $25, I was pleased! Especially since the super-stripped down model was $10.88. This one has a timer, bells, whistles, color-coordinated décor color, a genuine glass carafe, and a cord with a plug on the end. Amazing! Now she won’t have to keep making pot after pot in that little four-cup model I loaned her.

Also bought her birthday present: baking dishes with lids. I’m a little abashed: I could have bought those for myself, if I’d shopped to see what was available. When I bought my baking dish, I just grabbed the first thing I saw – and no lid. Oh, well. I don’t use a casserole dish all that often anyway.

Vivian got some stuff she needed and a few groceries. Since I was along, we got some jugs of water. Before we checked out we hit McDonald’s for dinner. It was delicious, as it usually is when one is starving. I made the mistake of letting my eyes overpower my stomach, and got a second double stack burger. That, plus the ice cream cone for dessert, was too much. I feel bloated. Oh, well, live and learn.

Home again. Up here in the cool – sitting right in front of the AC vent in my undies – I’m beginning to dry off and lose some of the sauna-like baking temperature. I’m really glad I got that haircut yesterday (which looks even better today!) because I don’t have the extra fur on the back of my neck. I’m still wet back there, but I’m not dripping.

When I called Dorothy to see if she wanted a treatment, she demurred, saying it was time for bed. I think she was being polite, I think I woke her up already. Tomorrow I’ll get over there on time and give her the hour.

I’m getting up at 7 to go over to the church and talk with Fred. I think we’ll probably end up here, that’ll be fine. That way we can talk half the morning and not sweat the other guys having coffee at the grocery store. I’m looking forward to it.

Growth

Today’s been interesting. After not sleeping most of the night, I gave up and got up. After a while I decided to see if Vivian had coffee – what a SILLY question, she’s got coffee ALL the time – and try for a haircut with my new, untested hair clippers.

The coffee was great. The haircut was just wonderful, after she got over her newbie fears. Viv trimmed my tonsure terrifically. After a second cup of coffee – and getting hair on her other recliner – I came up here and got a shower. I had hair all OVER me. Yeah, even using the biggest comb/spacer, a lot came off. As I was getting undressed to run through the rain locker (Navy term for shower), Jim called. He exclaimed that he, too, wanted a haircut. I told him a Bushism: “Bring it on!”

He was adamant about not getting too much off. He had specific goals about this haircut. I listened, and ignored him. Got the clippers and the spacer and buzzed it over his bald spot. Nothing came off. I switched to smaller and smaller combs until I got his tall fuzz buzzed down to match his short fuzz.

He looks great. So there’s yet another talent I have: haircutting. Wow.

With the balcony swept off, it was time for tea. We sat and he talked about his dreams, his answers to prayer, trip to Peru, his failed date Sunday, and eHarmony – among other things. It was a real growth opportunity for him. I was glad to be there to share it with him. Watching my buddy process stuff – especially stuff he’s been carrying around for 30 years – is very rewarding. I told him I was the lucky one: Sherry died, cutting off all my ties to her. I couldn’t have any kind of relationship after she was gone. Jim’s got the constant reminder of Pat. They live in the same town, use the same grocery store, her church is just around the corner from his trailer park, his ex-girlfriend was in Bible study with Pat, and he’s got that old think-I’ll-just-talk-to-her misbegotten impulse. Thankfully, his spiritual advisor and I have been yelling at him to NOT do that. He’s at least paid attention, and hasn’t gone mucking around with her.

Today he got a lot of stuff straight. His perceptions of events in his life began to flow into a much calmer, spiritually aware frame of mind. He’s getting it that he is in a limbo spot, where he’s between two clearly definable stages. This is the fractal of newness – it looks like chaos, but it’s just change. I gave him several readings I got while he was going through what’s been happening. That was nice, to be able to help.

And of course, while he was talking out there in the warmth – it’s only mid-90s – I kept getting flashes about my life and situation. There’s the value of sitting with him while he explores his stuff: I get insights into MY life and times. I came to see that Jackie really is damaged, and that I don’t need to worry about her any more. She’s on her own path to self-destruction and I needn’t worry my pretty little head about it. Just stay out of the way.

Plus I had revelations about my years with Sherry, and how that whole marriage had played out. There were some new thoughts about it which brought me peace. That’s another interesting thing: during our talks, I get this recurring feeling of peace, of things working out exactly as they should. I like that. It brings closure to a place where soreness existed before.

Jim got a lot of closure today. And a damn good haircut. His growth during our talk was palpable. I felt really happy for him. And me: Jim looked at me very carefully and exclaimed: “That’s by far the best haircut you’ve ever had. It sure beats Ken’s and Len’s, both. Neither one of them ever got that good on you. Give my compliments to Vivian.”

I gotta remember to take Fred’s book to him tonight. I read the parts he marked, and got the gist of the work. What came through was the positive outlook on life, and 2012. Braden, the author, pointed out numerous instances of a giant shift. But the point of a giant shift is to something new: change. There’s an end to this old pattern, and a new one is emerging. It’s already started. That’s good – we need to have positive input on this change to counterbalance the horrifying fear that’s being pushed by the media. Hollywood has a movie coming out in November, “2012,” that shows huge cities breaking up and disappearing under the ocean. Cataclysmic scenes like these build on the sensationalistic views of the masses. There’s no rational approach.

Well, we’ve got this mass manipulation going on anyway: the media hasn’t been objective in ages, decades. The last eight years proved that. Oh, well, water under the bridges. It’s all part of a Divine Plan. I’ve got my part to play, too.

Now I gotta go give Dorothy a treatment, change clothes to go to the church for the Board meeting tonight, and get down to Vivian’s for dinner and iced tea – or coffee. We also gotta make plans to clean up her apartment for the big annual inspection next Tuesday. She has boxes stacked up which must be gotten out of there. Oh, well, we’ll do it.

Hmmm. Just talked to Dorothy. Not today, she’s got company coming. Okay, I’ve got more time to write. Funny how I like these free periods. It’s like recess at school! And when I’m busy writing, it’s like study hall. But then, life’s like school, anyway. Every day is a lesson, every day I learn something new. Like today, with Jim. He explored his issues – there were a lot of them – and as he did, he got AHAs and revelations, epiphanies, insights, clarifications and explanations: right and left. His messages were coming in hard and fast. Moved him to tears several times. That’s how hard this stuff hit.

Well, I sat there, listening – as I usually do – and felt my emotions wash over me. There’s a lot of stuff I have left to discover about my spiritual relationships with Sherry and Jackie. I feel like I came to grips with several aspects of those in today’s session. Funny, but there’s this very nice sense of relief, of unburdening, which accompanies these talks. It’s like spending an hour with my VA counselor – I get to delve into stuff I don’t usually get a chance to talk about.

What’s interesting is the compartmentalization of these talks. I can talk to Vivian about certain things – and not about others. I talk to Jim about certain things, but others we never touch on. And at the VA I approach things from a totally different angle. From a higher viewpoint, you might say I’m getting psychoanalysis on all fronts, all at the same time…leading me to believe I’m being prepared for something big. Well, I had my suspicions. It’s like the healing. Why me? How come my hands erupted into flaming hotpads over the last few months? Why doesn’t it work on some people, and do miracles on others?

Then there’s the question of what all my Earth-shaking revelations are for. The total paradigm shift of May 18th – when I lost my fear, all of it – and the giant leap in June when I was pronounced “normal” by my counselor…are merely lily pads to step on as I cross this lake of life. I’ve been pondering – here’s a picture of a child, turning a Rubrik’s cube over and over – what’s happened. In a large way, I think my months spent studying Eckhart Tolle’s book A New Earth broke loose a bunch of long-held ideas, opening me up to new thoughts. Learning about the ego and the damage it does to people was astounding. I think that crack in the old paradigm allowed this new way of thinking to emerge – quickly.

Sandy said in our telephone conversation the other day that there was a big shift coming in October. “Be ready for change,” she said. “There are a lot of people saying this is going to be a major shift.” She lives in Tucson, where seemingly half the population is psychic, gifted, spiritual, metaphysical, open to Divine messages. Yeah, it’s really a woo-woo town. But when I lived there, I felt this constant sense of okay-ness, that Something was watching over us all. It was All Okay.

I often wonder why I was led away from that enlightenment. Now I’ve come to see that I was needed here, in Central Texas. While I’ve been here, I’ve met more and more people who are of like minds, and we realize we’re here for a reason. Don’t know what that is, yet, but it’ll be made clear – or not. Maybe I’m just a cog in the machine, doing what I need to do to further the plans of Higher Beings.

I’ve been told, over and over again, that I’m powerful. I’ve always poo-poo’ed that idea, because I was so emotionally battered by Sherry, then Jackie. Now, as I stand up from that masochistic viewpoint, I see that I AM strong. Vivian says I couldn’t have come through that miasma of pain and degradation Sherry put me through unless I was very, very strong. “You pulled yourself up by your bootstraps,” she has said several times. Now I’m stable enough to see that she’s right, all the readers in Tucson were right, Sandy’s right, Scott’s right, and all the others who’ve said I’m powerful are right.

No, that doesn’t give me a big head, or boost my ego. It merely says something I feel like I’ve known all along, and have purposely ignored. Now is the time the blinders have been ripped off my face, and I’m seeing it all with new eyes.

It’s far, far more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. Life is magnificent!

Mandy

An interesting Sunday. When I got to church Fred handed me his new book “Fractal Time,” which he flagged for me to read the pertinent places. He said the whole thing reads fast, but if I’m cramped for time I could just hit the highlights. That was neat.

Then I started saying hello to everybody. Michelle and Barbara showed up and I had a nice conversation with Michelle. I offered treatments. She said she’d call me this coming week. That was good.

Patty’s sermon was VERY good. “Conscious Living.” She pointed out that paying attention to what you say is the key to living powerfully. As she talked I got it that I’m giving my power away to Jackie. When Vivian talks about J, I tend to fall right into the trap and get fearful, angry, worried, frustrated. That’s making that woman the focus of my thoughts. I know better than that. I was doing fine, not thinking of her, and Vivian’s – and Dorothy’s - continuous mentions of her slipped under my consciousness radar. I’ve been getting sucked into it. I’m adding and strengthening my attention on her, which is giving her power: I’m making myself vulnerable to her. Remember, **I** control my world. I have to stop the continuing loss of my power to her by changing MY mind, Every Time. She is completely messed up ON HER OWN. Remember, there is no evil. There’s only perception. So LIVE CONSCIOUSLY.

I took those notes as she spoke, and every one of them rang true for me. I know this stuff – it’s basic Unity thinking. I just needed to be told again. That’s what metaphysics are for: creating your world with your thought. So I gotta be aware.

This is such a double whammy. Last May I lost all my fear. That threw me into a complete limbo place where I had no past experience to use as an automatic action. I am in the Now and have to choose what I think and create every moment. EVERY moment. This goes back to Eckhart Tolle’s book The Power Of Now. Let go of the past, make your choices right now.

Then in June I lost my bipolar crutch. Joann, the VA counselor, said I was “normal.” That threw me into a new limbo state where I don’t have the old label and subsequent behaviors to rely on. I have to decide from moment to moment what I think, what I feel, what I do. Back in the Now.

And today Patty says to be conscious, stop giving my power away. Back into limbo: now I gotta pay attention all the time to keep from getting wrapped up in J again.

I’m beginning to think the Universe is giving me this lesson over and over and over again so I’ll get it – completely. Now all I have to do is become totally aware of what I’m thinking. Yeah, that’s a really hard row to hoe. But completely worth it. Getting rid of all influence of the J deal is a fabulous goal.

After the service I introduced myself to a couple of new people. It was their first time there, and they were tickled pink to be in a church that wasn’t fundamentalist. They were so impressed they went over to the bookstore and read through lots of volumes. After Fred and I counted the offering, he took off for the bank and I stayed to talk to them. Quite a conversation. They’re escapees from Houston, too.

Then Mandy got to talking about her book, about herbal solutions to daily problems. It’s her deceased mother’s compendium from twenty years of herb store ownership, and Mandy wants to get it published. Unfortunately it’s in a format that seems to be a problem. Now we gotta see if we can convert it across platforms, to get it to my Mac. She’s gonna try some things tomorrow, and let me know.

Mandy asked me to be her “Secret Agent Man” for the talent show in November. She wanted to get her son Josh to skulk around while she sang the song, acting stealthy. He flatly refused. So she asked me. Now I gotta get a hat, a coat, some sunglasses, and practice skulking. She’s a great singer, I gotta skulk at least halfway good to compliment her. Hey, at least it’s only for one song.

I’ll probably read one of my short stories. That’ll get me a slot in the action, anyway.

In the grocery store after church, buying milk, I picked up a couple of cans of biscuits – in the five-count containers – and wandered down the beer aisle heading for the cash registers. I looked just for grins and sure enough, they have O’Doul’s non-alcoholic beer – in both regular and Amber – plus Coors NA. This is more selection than WalMart has, and the price is $4.99, instead of $5.49 over at WallyWorld. I’m tickled. I enjoy a beer ever so often. I never was able to drink the stuff because I got drunk so quick. Now I can enjoy the taste and not get messed up.

Later

It was a good nap. I needed that. Dorothy didn’t want a treatment, so I was able to sleep through that hour. Makes me want to sleep at this time every night. But I committed to doing her back. Now I’ve got my music playing – very peaceful – and I’ve gotten my stuff to take to the church tomorrow piled up so I won’t forget it. I’m taking my extra calculator down to put in the offering counting bag, because the one that’s in there has little bitty tiny buttons. Today Fred added up the checks and got three different amounts. I added them up and got two different amounts. I counted the checks and compared them against the copied sheets. I checked to be sure there were the same number of checks on the sheets as there were on the deposit slip. I went through and matched the names – and amounts – to the sheets AND to the deposit slip. I did the whole list – one by one, extremely carefully. I forced myself to do it consciously. With everything matched up, I began adding again. If I’d gotten a different total I was going to do it in tandem with him, somehow. I just didn’t want to have to go unplug the desk calculator and bring it into Patty’s office.

I got the same amount he’d gotten on one of his tries. That was a good sign. So I did it again. Got the same amount, again. Ah. Relief. And an unhappiness with that little bitty calculator. I have had these two solar-powered models since early 2000, and have only used the one. This spare has sat under a pile of paper on my other desk ever since I moved in here, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to donate it. I’m making room for new good. Now to go through my closet and pull out all the clothes I don’t wear. Then the kitchen and pull out all the stuff I don’t use. Go through my file box and pull out all the papers I don’t need anymore. Make room for new good. That’s the way the Universe works: can’t pour Good into a bucket when it’s already full.

I haven’t had to take an ibuprofen for almost two weeks now. That means I’m not grinding my teeth anymore, and it means my teeth don’t ache. So the dentist was right: I’d bruised the nerves in my teeth with all the grinding and jaw clenching. Thank God they’ve gotten better. For a while there I wanted to have them all pulled. Yeah, they hurt that bad. Now I can stop carrying a zip lock baggie with ibu’s in it. No more hypochondriac.

So things are looking up – real up. It’s getting close to mid-July and I still have money in my checking account. I still have cash in my wallet. I’m finding I’m happier than I’ve been in my life. Speaking of which, the half-dose of Wellbutrin seems to be doing quite well. I’m not super-bright like I was. That’s real good. I felt I was speeding along, and didn’t wanna be. Today in church I was outgoing, happy, and friendly – but not talkingtoofastForrest. I was able to let others join the conversation. I wasn’t “ON.” I interacted. That was new for me.

It’s been hot outside. I’ve been going places in the middle of the day, and NOT being flattened by the heat. Oh, I feel a LOT better when I get back inside and cool off, but I’m not feeling light-headed when I’m out in it. Then again, I limit my time out in the heat as much as possible. I get out there, go somewhere, and go inside. I leave my truck windows open as often as possible. WalMart and HEB are places where I roll my windows up most of the way, then lock the doors. There’s nothing in there to be stolen, anyway. Why come back to a kiln on wheels when I can leave a 2-3” gap and let the heat boil out?

Jim went to Boerne today. The church there is run by Eddie, Patty’s husband. That’s also halfway between Jim and the home of a gal he wanted to meet. So they went to church there. Hope everything went well. He was very – VERY – enthused about meeting her. I don’t think he’ll be calling me tonight, because he knows I’m going to be at Vivian’s. I’ll hope to hear from him Monday.

Nope. He just called. I was talking to Vivian – she wants me down there right NOW, not in fifteen minutes – and he said he’s taking Patra around to show her off to his friends. He’s at Ken’s – there’s an hour if I ever heard of one – and then he’s gonna come over here with her. That means I’ll be really late getting downstairs, and it’ll be tough on ME tomorrow, getting to the church on time. I gotta remember to get some cash from her so I can pick up rolls of quarters at the bank, too. The washateria – for her bedspreads – takes a bunch of the little round coins.

And she’s Miffed. Pissed. Upset. Angry. Hurt. And a buncha other stuff. This is going to be hard on me. She’ll want me to stay later, to visit longer, so she’ll have time with me today. And I’ll be dragging tomorrow. I’ll have to sleep after I get back from the church, and that’ll mean I’ll have to miss giving Dorothy a treatment because I’ll be in bed. This is rapidly turning into a mess.

Jim’s been so unlucky in love for so long – as I have been – that when he finds a gal he really clicks with, he is so happy he wants to share with his buddies. I’m one of his buddies, we go back twelve years. That’s like forever in guy terms. Now he’s giddy with good feelings and I want to meet this gal. On the other hand, Vivian’s hurt that I’m not downstairs for the usual visitation time. What do I do? Tell Jim to stick it? I gotta balance my time between my Friends – I can’t NOT do that.

I feel torn. I think I’m going to ask Patty for a counseling session, talk about this. I don’t know who else to turn to. This is just getting to be too much for me to try to balance. I haven’t had to make choices like this before. I’ve always just given in, let her – whichever woman I was with – win, have her way. That led to some pretty bad – BAD – years with Sherry. I was completely under her thumb. Now I care very deeply about Vivian and don’t want to hurt her, but I feel like I’m losing my autonomy. I feel like I’m getting codependent. I feel lost.

So I’m going to talk to Patty. She has a really good way of showing me different views on things, and suggesting things I can do. I gotta figure out some way to make Vivian happy – she really deserves that – and to make me happy – I really deserve that – and to still have my life with Jim and Fred and the church…yet still take a nap every afternoon, arrange my schedule to be able to sleep until noon every day, take time to go walk eight laps around this complex (two miles) and yet somehow have time for writing.

Shit. My calendar is too full. I gotta cut out damn near everything. Simplify, simplify. Well, if I drop almost everything, I can live peacefully. I’m just torn between what I WANT to do and what I CAN do. It’s like I’ve moved into a monastery and have scheduled prayers all day, with short bursts of time available for work. This is a new thought for me. I feel mixed, here: I want to have a full, active life BECAUSE I NEVER COULD BEFORE!!

I’ve always been at the effect of my mood swings. I never had the opportunity to go be happy, to go do what I liked, because I was never sure when my mood would swing off the charts. Now that I’m stabilized, coherent, alert and able to manage myself – I have a sense of continuity, I won’t be thrown into the trash tomorrow – I feel like I want it all. I want to interact with people, laugh, be spontaneous, go places on the spur of the moment, let myself be carried away with joy – the joy of living.

I’ve never had that freedom. Now, on the Lamictal, I have it. I have the capacity to think, to feel, to be joyous. And I’m finding I can’t have it. I have to make allowances for my needing to sleep ten hours at a stretch – to keep my meds stabilizing me – and my need to have a spiritual home at the church – which includes my friendship with Fred – and my intense desire to spend some time with Jim a couple of days a week…and be close to Vivian every day, every evening.

And that seems to be the extent of my life. I have this emotional opening up, and this intellectual acknowledgement of my world being encircled with a fence. I’m torn. Badly.

But I also realize I got myself into this. I chose to follow this meds regimen. I know the limitations of my prescriptions, and how they affect me. I chose to get into this relationship with Vivian. I chose to continue my relationship with Jim. I chose to get deeply involved with my church.

It’s just that somewhere, time ran out. There aren’t enough hours in the day to do it all.

I feel cheated. Life’s handed me this beautiful new outlook, and cut off access to it.

I gotta talk to Patty.

New Phone

It’s been a real good Saturday. This morning Fred and I hooked up over coffee at HEB. He thought the coffee wasn’t bad at all. That was the first time I’d been back in the eating area of the store in quite a while. The wooden chairs are still just as hard on my bony butt as they used to be. The coffee’s still the coffee: sometimes it’s real hot, but usually moderately hot. That’s warmer than lukewarm, but not steaming. Oh, well.

After coffee he came over here and we traded treatments. Fred had a run-in with a ladder and got a black eye: a shiner that’s colored almost the entire right side of his face. Pretty gruesome looking. I put some healing on it, and we’ll see if he’s made any marked progress tomorrow at church. Then I worked on his larynx. He IS sounding better since I began treating his throat.

When I sat down, he began by putting his hands on my shoulders. I got an idea that I needed him to do my head – for the brain chemistry. Well, I think it worked: I’m a LOT smoother. We talked a bunch and laughed and he got up to go. I went in and took a nap.

We’d tentatively planned on my going out to his house to get an introduction to Excel. After I got up I rumbled around here, then called. He gave me directions and I was off.

He’s got this really nice house: lots of skylights. That’s a wonderful touch.

Fred took me through Excel in just a few moments. I got the gist of it very quickly. He loaned me a copy of Excel for Dummies, so I can read up on the finer points.

I gave Dorothy a treatment this afternoon. She really appreciated it. I told jokes and she laughed a lot.

I pondered some facts. I got my Virgin Mobile cell phone a year ago at Radio Shack, for $15. I put $30 worth of prepaid air time on it. Since I didn’t use the phone except for emergencies, that $30 has lasted. There’s still $10.50 of airtime left. This number has to be recharged at least $20 by the middle of September to stay active.

Vivian’s got knee troubles. She doesn’t roller skate worth a damn. So there’s a danger of her falling – especially when she goes up and down the ramps around here. I got worried about her knee giving out sometime when nobody was around, leaving her without any way to get help. I talked her into getting a cell phone.

We went to Radio Shack again. The basic phone was now $20. The basic plan for prepaid requires a $20 top up every three months. Well, as much as I see her using the phone – it’s for her to carry in case she needs help – that recharge plan will cost her a lot more than it’s worth. So I proposed that we swap phones. The $30 charge up on my phone will last her a whole year, at the usage level I can see, and I can begin to use her phone as a daily calling point – which will make the $20 every three months work just fine.

Thus I spent an hour today swapping and programming phone numbers. She’s happy with my old phone – it’s simpler for her to use – and I’m happy that she’s got a recharge cost deal that fits what she needs. Now all I have to do is remind her to take it with her all the time.

When I got home – to eat some dinner – I called Jim. He was exhausted. He’d been on the phone for 8 hours today, talking to a gal in San Antonio. He met her online and they have clicked on damn near every facet that eHarmony asks for. He’s jazzed up. He meets her tomorrow at a Unity church halfway between here and there. He said he’d call me tomorrow and fill me in. He sounds really gobsmacked. That’s wonderful.

It’s time to put this to bed and go visit Vivian. I’m looking forward to iced tea and conversation. I really enjoy her company.

Adjustments

Today I cut out my evening dose of Wellbutrin. I’m still going to take it in the mornings, but I’ve decided to see if that once a day will do. It’s because I’m veering toward mania. Oh, I’m not, but I’m definitely hyper. I can’t seem to stop humming a random musical phrase. I do it ALL the time, unconsciously, obsessively. That stops me from calming my mind to a point where I can meditate.

And I am tongue-lashing. I have constant involuntary jaw movement, along with constant involuntary tongue movement. My tongue always is pushing, probing, pressing against my teeth. This causes it to hurt. I don’t have the clenching or grinding I had on the Zoloft or Celexa. I honestly don’t know if this is an aftermath of those two meds or if it’s new with the Wellbutrin. Cutting back on my dose will probably show something.

Everybody says I’m better now. I’m a bit afraid of this. It may just be because it’s new and I haven’t adjusted. That’s a very real possibility – the familiar was not fun, but it was known. I admit, I AM much more alert, I’m one hell of a lot happier, and I FEEL better: more awake, more energetic.

Just like I used to feel when I was flying on a manic high – only those were SOOO much more intense. I suppose I haven’t been this high on the emotion scale in so long I’m finding it scary.

So I’m cutting back on the dose to see if that settles me into a more comfortable place. Adjusting myself allows me to do the field testing without the Dr. changing the rules of combat. Now to see what happens.

I ran errands this morning, getting home before the heat hit. Vivian got me some tacos for lunch, so I stopped by her place and ate. Told her to go take a nap, and I headed up here for mine. Seems like the best thing to do during the blistering heat – 100s – is to siesta. Just stay out of it. There’s plenty of time to go do stuff after it cools off.

I filled up my gas tank. That was only $35. Pretty good. Scoped out the washateria next door to the gas station for Vivian, who needs to go launder three bedspreads. I found they had three sizes of gigantic washers. $3.25, $4.25, and $5.25. The attendant at the dry cleaning counter said the biggest one would take two bedspreads easy. I also found out something interesting: their dryers give you 8 minutes for a quarter. On some of the machines you can put in multiple quarters, on others you gotta do it one at a time. Strange. Still, now we know where she can go to wash.

I’m buying yogurt now. The local HEB has big tubs of flavored “light” yogurt for about a $1.60. I find I can fill up on a small serving. There’s protein in it, and the carbs make me feel full. Maybe I can get through this Summer on it. I AM feeling lighter.

Jim called. He was waiting on the air conditioning guy to come out to Jimmy’s. When Jimmy got home today it was close to 115 inside. His cat was almost prostrate. He opened all the windows and turned fans on, trying to keep the cat from being brain-damaged. Hope the guy can fix the unit tonight. It’s too hot to sleep uncool.

I’ve been getting Vivian to cut my hair. We’ve been using my battery powered beard trimmer. The last time she cut my thatch, it sounded like it was really slowing down – and it had been charging several days. So I got out to WalMart and found a corded hair clipper set for $10. Figured what the hell – if I get a year’s worth out of it, it was worth it. Lately Viv’s been telling me the back of my neck’s real hairy, and wants to trim it up. So I think I’m gonna try getting her to use the new toy tomorrow afternoon. That way I can come take a cool shower afterward, and nap comfortably. This afternoon, when I was trimming my beard, I took a swipe at the fluffing over my ears. I did pretty good, I think – it looks like I got a haircut last week. We’ll have to experiment on the spacing combs, however. I have no idea how close they’ll cut.

Got my annual truck registration renewal notice today. It’s due in August, so I can wait till I get my check. This year it’s $59. That’s not too bad for a 91 half ton.

I’ve been getting blitzed by car insurance ads on Vivian’s TV. Even on the Food network, they pump those ads every break. The latest has the Allstate spokesman saying people who switch from Geico save over $300 a year. I’m now convinced it’s worth calling around to see what prices run. All I gotta have is the state minimum. So it’s a matter of monthly cost.

Vivian’s birthday party is coming up sometime at the end of this month. I don’t have a date yet, apparently the older daughter hasn’t mailed out invitations. Or, more likely, she hasn’t mailed one to me. The younger daughter has offered to take us. Vivian’s adamant that I’ll be there. So it really doesn’t matter if I get an invite or not. I AM wondering what to wear: maybe my Guayabera. It looks formal in an informal way, and doesn’t have any stains on it. At least I’ll be cool in it.

One of her grandsons is visiting here on his way from Australia to Japan. Changing jobs. No, I have no idea what he does, but he’s apparently in great demand. Must be nice. Job security in times like these is better’n gold in the bank. And he’s having fun overseas! Maybe I’ll get to meet him.

Right now my biggest problem is trying to figure out when I’m going to walk each day. I have the place, the route, the distance figured out, I just don’t have the time. If I go too early in the evening, Vivian blows a gasket worrying about me being out in the heat. I honestly don’t think I’m in too much danger walking around 6:30-7, but with these seriously hot days, I have to watch how I’m feeling. The Lamictal has warnings that I need to be careful of temperature extremes. Still, if I do eight laps, that shouldn’t be too bad. And I will come up here for a cool shower immediately afterward. I’ll be fine, and the VA doctors will be happy with me. I NEED to walk, for my blood pressure, my cholesterol, my weight, my restless leg syndrome, but most of all for my mental health. Walking – what our bodies were designed to do – makes the whole package work better, from digestion to strength to lung health to brain function to sexual prowess to financial acuity to…well, maybe not financial acuity. But everything else has been shown to be better when you walk at least two miles a day. So I gotta bite the bullet and do it. Regularly.

I’m gonna eat something, then head down to see Vivian. She made coffee, even though I want iced tea. Oh, well, no worries.

Exciting

It’s after noon and I just spent 3 hours talking with Fred, the Unity Board president. He came over to see a demonstration of gmail on my computer. I sat him down and talked him through some of the options. He was wowed. That’s pretty neat, y’know? Anyway, found the button to click to send him an invitation to get a gmail account, and then he wanted to get one for his wife. I couldn’t figure out how to send a second one, so we went looking in the Google options. Up popped a document telling us we didn’t need an invitation anymore, gmail is now world-wide. So he can simply go to the website and she can set up her own account.

That was a neat thing for him. It solved his problem of changing internet service providers (ISP’s). He was worried about having to quick-email everybody so they’d know his new address. Now he can take his time. Less stress.

We talked about stress, time management, spiritual enlightenment (THAT was fun!) and October. I told him Vivian had been after me to cut back on my daily stuff so I could get a nap every afternoon, and write in the evenings. That really makes sense to me, and I’ve found that I NEED that quiet time. So that leads to time management. This week’s been a full one, with Monday’s church office stint, Tuesday’s hearing test, today’s visit from Fred and then the VA in the afternoon, and Friday morning I take Vivian to the beauty parlor at 10. Thursday looks open. Although Jim’ll probably call and we’ll spend some time together. That’ll be good, though.

So Fred and I talked about time management. He’s getting really tired, trying to do everything at the church. He can’t, and I almost yelled at him about it. He SAYS he’s gonna cut back, then takes on more. He gets up three mornings a week and comes to the church to water our Bermuda grass seedlings. It takes about an hour. Then he either kills time until a scheduled event or he runs errands. He doesn’t have any serious downtime. Hell, he WAS coming to the church EVERY morning to water the grass. But water restrictions cut back on that.

He’s got, hopefully, the last meeting in a long series on the building committee, today. Maybe not. He’s looking forward to having that over with. He’s been meeting with that group since last Fall.

He jumps right in and takes over stuff that he needs to let alone, let someone else step up and take it on. And then he has all the stuff he needs to do at home. We went over his schedule and he found all sorts of places he can adjust his trips, places he can stop and take a nap, and where he can be quiet. Then we touched on the coming spiritual uplift, which will probably hit in October, according to Sandy. She’s living in Tucson, a hotbed of psychics, who have gotten messages that October’s gonna be important. Well, MY lessons are coming hard and fast. Fred’s feeling that same intuitive pressure. So we both need to be taking quiet time, naps, calm periods, meditative time. I feel like I should be reading, but can’t get interested in any books. Nothing seems to reach out to me. So I’m letting the Universe bring me what I need to read.

Meanwhile I pay attention to my Higher Self, listening carefully for hints and nudges. There have been strange messages lately – like “Check your belts and hoses, it’s going to be a hot Summer.” I’ve gotten that several times, then I overheard people talking in the grocery store about them. I don’t want to have a belt give way while I’m out and about. Next week I see Charlie for an inspection.

That’s just one of the “signs” I’ve gotten. Yeah, they’re faint, but as I’ve grown I’ve found the messages aren’t as loud. The Universe expects me to be paying attention. Since getting the HUGE lessons of May and June, I’m much more alert. Gotta be, I’m out here completely unfettered with any subconscious mind habit patterns. I HAVE to be in the NOW. A real change.

Fred and I talked about his getting a Mac. I referred him to my Mac Guru, the local expert, for consultation. Then we went on for a good while about the advantages of PCs versus Macs. He spent years as an analyst and consultant, so has been immersed in PCs. Yet he’s reaching for a Mac. Well, James can talk him through the process.

There were so many little side notes we gave each other. It was an intensive three hours, filled with laughter and mind-opening thoughts, new information and observations on life around here. We had a blast.

So we’re gonna plan on spending some time together to talk and hang out. I think I’ve got a new Friend. He’s sure on my wave length.

July is a long month. That means the dates line up awkwardly for the arrival of next month’s check. There are five weekends this month – the first of August counts as a weekend because the check won’t hit the bank until Monday the third. Gotta be alert about spending.

Last night was a short one. I didn’t get to bed till 1:30, and got up at 7. That’s only five and a half hours, when I’m supposed to sleep ten hours at a stretch, for my meds to work in my brain chemistry. I’ll get a nap this afternoon, but it won’t be the same. I need that ten hours in one block. Tonight won’t be any better – I’m going to wash clothes at midnight with Vivian. She usually needs three or four machines, and the only time to find that many open is late night. I find washing at that hour means I don’t have to put up with the hostility of the gossips. And there are a lot of them around here.

It’s almost time to do a serious sweep of my desk. I have been piling up papers and stuff for a good year, year and a half. I’m feeling like it’s time to clear the decks. I gotta change most of the stuff on my bulletin board. April’s forecast is still up there. July’s is buried under loose papers down here somewhere. Yeah, it’s time to straighten up.

As I was checking my email this morning I saw again the last message from The Three Musketeers, being Tom, Bruce and Stan. I owe them a message so they won’t think I’ve stuck my nose in the air. Well, I’m getting closer to writing one. Today was another step in the right direction.

I’ve got my Real Music CDs playing. This is the first time I’ve turned them on in – well, months. I haven’t been in a place where I felt like having these mellow sounds in my life. And now I seem to be moving into a spot of quiet, so the smoothness is appealing. I sure feel better, that’s for sure. Music has a way of filling your space with its vibes. Calm music means calm atmosphere, jangling sounds mean hyper activity. Rap means anger. Oh, well, to each his own.

Vivian’s been opening up about her past some. As she lets go of the traumas she lived through, she’s aching and hurting all over, having headaches, etc. I do the best I can to help her because she did the same for me. She smoothed me out all through the Spring when I was nearly out of my mind. That kind of love heals. I hope I’m giving enough back. A kind ear – a compassionate listener – can be all the therapy one needs to get it all out and clear. During that really hard transition getting off the Risperdal, I know she was scared I’d commit suicide. She kept calling me every hour or so, checking. That’s caring, love, concern, commitment.

Yeah, at times I just wanted to curl up and be left alone for days, to let my body work on getting the chemicals out. It wasn’t just a body thing, it was a brain chemistry problem. I really suffered – and I know she did, too. I’m glad we got through it.

I remember a time when I had an upcoming therapy session with a long-ago counselor. I had been working on a particularly tough emotional block and was feeling the physical agony of my muscles holding the fear and anger from that incident. I kept getting more and more worked up, until I was puking and had serious diarrhea – non stop. It was bad for a full day. The closer I got to the appointment the worse I got. My body was fighting to keep from hurting, fearful I was going to make it hurt more.

An hour before I was due in the counselor’s office, I was suddenly fine. I showered, got dressed, and was there on time. And yes, that day I broke through all the barriers I’d erected over those incidents. There was trauma involved in the session, when I had to really fight to get the shit dug out of my psyche, but as it came up it disappeared. And I walked out of there so much lighter, freer, and happier than I’d been in years. I know emotional trauma can hurt, physically. And I know how wonderful it feels to let it all go.

Later

I’m back from the VA. I had an appointment with the psychiatrist for a meds review. Got out there and the doctor was off a couple of days due to surgery. Shit. I was all primed to tell her the good news about how I feel.

Instead of sending me home, however, I was scheduled to see someone else. She was an intern, which didn’t thrill me a lot. But she had a large printout on me, and had read it all! She asked questions that showed she’d gone over the whole story. Anyway, I got my meds problem lined out – the computer had cancelled one of my scripts – and then she asked me how I was doing.

I looked at her and said, “I’ve never been this good in my entire life!” I proceeded to talk about how great I was feeling, how nice everything was going, etc. etc. She asked very pertinent questions, showing me she was familiar with my case. When I ran down a bit from spewing how wonderful I was, she began asking questions. She had a page and a half of them. The first ones were standard, then she got into queries that focused on my situation. They were very perceptive. I was impressed.

She asked me if I always talked this fast. I said no, I was all prepped up to do an information dump to the doctor – because I only have 30 minutes with her usually – and needed to say a lot, fast. I went on about asking Jim how I was doing, and his reply that I was slightly high, not bad…then when I asked him again an hour later he said I was back to normal. He added that he wanted me to tell the doctor not to change my dosages because I was happy for the first time in the 12 years he’d known me.

I was really impressed with how quickly I’d come back to normal after being so “up.” I told the intern about that, filling her in on how long Jim had been watching me. She was impressed.

Anyway, it was a good visit. She asked good questions, I gave great answers, and things are peachy keen, mentally.

My cell phone rang when I was in her office. I looked and it was Fred. I couldn’t talk then so I punched the phone off. Didn’t take time to read how to cut off the ringer.

When I was headed for the parking lot I called him back. He filled me in on the church flash drive dance: Patty’s handling it. I felt this huge weight lift off my shoulders.

Then I asked him if I’d been acting manic during our three hour visit this morning. He said that on a scale of 1 to 10, he’d put me at 6. I said, “So that means you don’t think I was manic?” He said no, and told me if he thought I was too wild, he’d tell me. Then he said he didn’t think I was wild any more. That was good. More good validation from others.

Went by the grocery store to get tea bags for Vivian’s. She’s been brewing iced tea one glass at a time, using a bag for each. I got her a box of tea bags, and picked up a box of pitcher-sized Cold Brew tea bags. She was amazed at the technology. Now she can pop one of those bags in the water and simply stick it in the refrigerator. No more boiling water, then steeping the tea. Easy, eh?

Ran into Joyce. She was in the same aisle, buying coffee. We hugged and laughed and had a great five minutes of just being happy in each other’s presence. I like her, she has good vibes. She was laughing about her older sister Anita. Joyce had helped Anita take Mom to the doctor this morning and Anita had thanked her for being there. Joyce had gotten on Anita for thanking her, because she said it was her Mom too, and she’d enjoyed being there.

I understood her point – no need to thank your sister for being there – but I also saw how Anita felt: glad that she hadn’t had to do it all by herself. Joyce saw my point and we laughed over it.

When I got on line again, I found email from Fred. He’s already on gmail. I updated my Contacts list. He’s happy.

Later

I’m getting ready to go take a nap. I’m sludgy. I haven’t eaten very much today. That’s a new thing. I used to eat regularly, every two and a half to three hours. I was hypoglycemic – low blood sugar. If I didn’t eat, I wouldn’t have any oxygen going to my brain and I’d be in a stupor. Food – sugar – gave me the energy to do what I needed to.

But now I’m not feeling like eating. I don’t know if this is an aftermath of the Risperdal – which caused me to go into the kitchen automatically, like a robot that homes in on food, and eat whatever was there – or if it’s a whole new pattern of eating that will help me lose weight. The intern told me that I needed ten hours of uninterrupted sleep, to balance my brain chemistry, but I also needed to be walking at least two miles a day. I confessed that I haven’t been walking, I’ve been all wrapped up in other stuff, like spending time with Vivian, napping, etc.

She said I would get a LOT of mental benefits from the walking, because it’d keep my body chemistry in line, in harmony. I know she’s right, I just can’t get up in the middle of the night – meaning, before 9 a.m. – and go walking. I need to have a couple of cups of coffee and let consciousness sneak up on me. And in the evening, it’s still hot. Right now it’s 7 p.m. and the weather service says it’s still 102 out there. Walking in the parking lot puts me in even more heat, as the sun-heated concrete radiates back up. All I can think is to go walking just before bed, somewhere in the middle of the night. Well, it’s cooler then, and I could walk without running into anybody. That’d be good. Okay, got to try that.

I’ve got my thermostat set for 77 degrees. It runs a lot, and keeps this place relatively cool. Of course, after sitting here for a while, my body adjusts to it and begins to feel warm again. Glad I’m sitting under a vent. It blows directly on my right side, pouring onto my desk. Keeps me mostly cool.

Hearing

Today I got a hearing test. The results showed I have a mild loss of high frequencies but nothing to worry about. That’s a relief. Vivian’s daughter Kay runs the office there. As I was going out the door, she said (not jokingly) “Don’t hurt my mother!” I didn’t have the time or the mental calm to tell her I wasn’t gonna do any such thing. I just let it ride. I gotta be careful not to piss her off. She’s my only ally in this whole thing.

After finding out I was okay, I went out to see Charlie (the honest mechanic) for an inspection of my belts and hoses. In the last several weeks I’ve heard remarks from three different people about belts and hoses, so I thought I’d take the Universal hints and get the truck checked. I got an estimate for $350 to do the whole thing, but Jim said I probably didn’t need to do it. So out to Charlie’s to see what he said.

He was up over his ears in work. Said to come back next week when he might have time. Okay, so I came back to town, stopping at WalMart. Got four bottles of hydrogen peroxide. I gotta clean my CPAP humidifier. The water, sitting there all day in the warmth, is probably growing mold or something. I need to clean it. Maybe that’ll stop the sneezing I’ve been doing every night when I first put the mask on.

When I got home I stopped by Vivian’s to say hi, see how she was doing, and then got up here. A bite to eat and the bed called me so loudly I was amazed nobody in the adjoining apartments called the cops. Stripped down (put my sweat-wet underwear out to dry) and flopped on the mattress. Didn’t even pull up the sheet, I was too hot. Popped my mask on and sneezed several times, then lay my head down and I was gone. That was somewhere around noon, I think.

I didn’t come out of that Na-Na-Land until someone called around 3:30 or so. When I finally found the handset and managed to punch the talk button, they’d hung up. Put the phone back, go back to sleep.

Later I got up and Vivian called, we made plans to go wash clothes Wensdy midnight. She offered coffee and I’ve shifted to tea for now. I like hot tea, iced tea, regular tea, British Blend tea, Lipton’s, Tetley’s, Luizianne, HEB, WalMart, whomever. I like tea. I’ve got a box of Tetley’s British Blend – the ones in the little round bags – that makes up a wonderful hot cuppa. I’m off coffee for a while. Oh, it’ll come back – it does every year – but it’s tea now.

Tomorrow’s Wensdy. I’ve got Fred coming over in the morning for an examination of gmail.com – he’s got an opportunity to get a new email – and then I get to see the psychiatrist at 2. I’ve been thinking about what to tell her about my new mood since I got on the Wellbutrin.

Jim called. Just who I needed to talk to. He’s been watching me and my moods for the past 12 years. I told him about my insights into how I’m doing on this antidepressant, Wellbutrin, and asked him for his opinion.

He said I’m brighter, happier, more outgoing. I’m better now than I’ve been in a long time. “If there’s an option of getting meds adjusted to make you more depressed, don’t do it. You are a LOT better slightly manic than you are when you’re down.”

So I have outside viewpoints to show the doc. I think she’ll leave me on this dose for now, see how I do over the next few months.

Here it is, 7 p.m., and I’ve managed to blow past writing to Tom, Bruce and Stan. I owe them an email, and I was planning on doing it today, but there just wasn’t the OOMPH I needed to get the mood flowing. I’m really not in the mood to write emails. But shit, I do these blog posts. Why not emails?

Because I’ve been going through such humongous internal changes. I’ve been working on me and my spiritual self. My emotional health has dominated my life since May 18th. I’m beginning to come out of that phase, but I’m still in it. Maybe there’s hope on the horizon after all.

Furniture

Today was the church office. I went in early – after coffee with Vivian – so Fred and I could talk. We had an interesting conversation. Among some of the stuff we hashed out was how to prepare checks to go into different accounts (something I’d been stymied about), how to read auras, and why blueberry muffins are better than banana nut (you don’t want to know). I gave him a treatment on his larynx and he poured energy into my shoulders. That flowed all down through my chest, and I could feel the heat all through my rib cage. Very interesting. Very nice, to GET a treatment instead of giving them all the time.

After I finished the weekly email reminder for the congregation (see “Summer” in the next paragraph) we went over to the grocery store and got our Mega Millions lottery tickets for the next month. That was nice because he’s still unsure of himself enough to want guidance. I was glad to help. Then he went off to buy ink cartridges and I remembered I needed milk.

(“Summer” from the email reminder I sent out:)

Summer’s Here!
Sorry to disappoint those of you who crave a cold snap - it’s gonna be hot some more. With daily temperatures hitting the 100s, be sure to drink lots of water and avoid the afternoon Sun. Hats are a necessity, not a fashion accessory. Sunscreen will help keep you from becoming a fried chicken. Stay cool! Stay indoors and read some Spiritual books!

Now back to the post:

As I was headed for the dairy aisle, I flashed on my face problem. I have this amazingly oily face. When I shower I wash it pretty vigorously with the face cloth. I have Oil of Olay bar soap. After I get out, I’m pretty slick on the forehead three hours later. So I need something to cleanse and keep the oil at bay. I’ve been getting little whiteheads all over.

I have an astringent lotion I’m using, but I forget to do it three times a day. I know it cuts the oil – the lotion is mostly alcohol – but I don’t know if it’s really doing the job. So when I was heading back to get milk I thought I’d ask Billie, the store clerk who’s been there years and years, what she’d recommend.

She took me over to the men’s toiletries aisle. “The men’s stuff is cheaper, and works just as well. Most of us buy our stuff from this aisle.” Faced with a plethora of choices, I grabbed a Neutrogena face wash. $5. I used it this afternoon for the first time. Interesting. Doesn’t make my face feel drawn or tight, just clean. So we’ll see what develops.

On the way home from the store I stopped and got an estimate on all new belts and hoses for the truck. No, I haven’t looked to see if they need it, I’m just going on the feeling that it’s been years since that was done and I need to check it out. The quote was $350. When I asked Jim what he thought, he strongly suggested I go see Charlie, the honest mechanic. I’d forgotten him. So I’ll plan on running out there tomorrow or the next day. Get an unbiased honest opinion.

In the morning – Tuesday – I’m going to get my hearing checked. I’ve been having trouble understanding Vivian when she speaks a certain way, and I’m not sure if she’s just being too soft or if I’m losing parts of the sound spectrum. Of course, she could be speaking softly because she hasn’t had to speak up for so long, but then she could be talking perfectly okay and I’m just not hearing. So I’m off to find out.

Wensdy Fred’s coming over to see what gmail.com looks like. He’s getting high speed internet connection and will be dropping his dial-up he’s had for a long time. He was agonizing over having to tell all his correspondents of his change. I told him he could keep the dial-up email for $5 a month – Jim’s kept his – and he could shift to the new provider’s email, or he could get a national email that won’t change – like Yahoo or gmail. He doesn’t like Yahoo – just like me, I had an email with them and got so much spam I simply stopped using it. So I offered to walk him through gmail. He’s going to be at the church Wensdy morning to water the grass, and then has a couple of hours to kill, so I told him to come look at my email. We’ll probably end up laughing our asses off.

Tonight Jim called. He has a new phone. Same number, just a new piece of hardware. He hasn’t figured out all the bells and whistles on it yet. Some frustration, I know. But he has an owner’s manual, so he’s gonna pore over it.

This afternoon I ate lunch with Vivian – great northern beans, VERY tasty with the sausage in it – and headed home for a nap. Had to go talk to Lois, and while we were catching up she mentioned that she had a rocker to give away and maybe a bed. I immediately thought of my neighbor, Terri, who is sleeping on a futon on the floor. I made contact with Terri, and introduced her to Lois – and Claudia, her daughter. They all seemed to be very happy to find each other, and I was able to come up here and crawl into bed.

But I didn’t sleep. Just lay there and rested. No, I didn’t toss and turn – I was in the same position the whole time – but my mind was going a mile a minute. I realized I need to be sitting and meditating again. I need that stillness. I’m getting to where I’m humming a stupid phrase of some song – ALL THE TIME. That’s too much noise in my life. I gotta get back to the silence. I had it, before I got used to the TV at Vivian’s. Now that constant barrage of sound floods my consciousness, and that’s very bad for my spirit. So I have to take the time to sit quietly.

And I gotta start writing to my correspondents. Tom, Bruce and Stan – friends from college – have been trading emails. Bruce made a comment in one the other day, saying Forrest would take his sweet time getting a 30-page reply out. I felt a bit strange, reading that. Yeah, I DO tend to run-on – just like these blog posts – but I mean every word. It was when Stan – who NEVER writes – sent one telling us how he’s doing, that I knew I couldn’t ignore them anymore. That’s a letter I gotta write.

I need to email my beautiful sister. Pooh hasn’t said a thing since the wedding – that I missed – and I need to make amends. Hope she isn’t too pissed at me for not being there.

Then I gotta write to the rest of the family – and friends. Catch everybody up on the goings-on. I’ve been in such an internal place I haven’t felt like communicating with them all. Growth is an inside job, and I’ve been doing a lot of it. Since May 18th I’ve been in a whole new world. That’s taken some serious conscious adjusting. I’ve intensified my relationship with Vivian, and have been ignoring my need to write, my old joyous playing around with words, and my meditation. I gotta get back to that. There’s a part of my soul that needs feeding. Hmmm, that means spending more time with me. Okay, so I have to plan my time better. Need to talk to Vivian about that. I know we can work something out.

Overall I’m feeling very good. VERY good. I see the psychiatrist on Wensdy afternoon, for a medication review. I’ve gotta tell her about the Wellbutrin, how I’m doing on it. So far all I’ve gotten are rave reviews from my friends: I’m brighter, I’m more “myself,” I’m happier. Of course, the other day I asked Jim how I was doing and he said I was “close to manic.” I respect his opinion because he’s seen my moods for the last 12 years. But after an hour I asked him again how I was doing and he said I’d leveled off, that I was fine. So I was only “high” for a short bit. Then again, I was feeling really happy right then and that may have kicked me into a higher feeling state.

Mostly I notice that I’m more alert, aware, and able to read people. I’m not as “head-down” introspective as I used to be. I feel more outwardly directed. I think going back to the Wellbutrin is good for me.

I really am going to have to spend more time with me. I realize I need that quiet – and not just naps, I need to be QUIET. Meditating, reading, writing. No TV in the room. I know I’m always jumping back to the screen, looking at the jangling images. The producers have seen that people didn’t watch when the picture just sat there. So they cut back and forth maniacally all the time. It makes for a VERY disturbing mental state. I can’t handle it. I have been walking into Vivian’s and turning the sound off, but I realize now the jumping pictures capture my attention too. I have to face it: I’m a TV-holic. I can’t not watch. And when I do, I’m trapped. I can’t break away from it.

So I gotta get back to the quiet. Back to where my mind has peace. I’m feeling real stressed on a level I haven’t had to think about in a long time. I need that peace back. Well, it’s up to me. I gotta take the time, nobody else can do it. THAT means I have to decide, from moment to moment, what I do, what I think, how I create my world. All I have is NOW.

Speaking of which, for some weird reason I bought a copy of Eckhart Tolle’s first book, The Power Of Now. Fred said it was different from his second volume, A New Earth, in that it didn’t talk about the ego, but the various reasons to be in the NOW instead of the past or future. I’ve been working so long on my past – digging out all the traumas and feelings and mistaken decisions from my life – that I haven’t given much attention to my future. And I’ve completely ignored my true point of power, right now. This present moment is when I need to be totally aware of everything. It’s the only moment I have. The future may never come, the past is over and gone, all I have is NOW.

Of course, I don’t know how to BE in the now. What do I do? Just be more conscious? Try to analyze what’s going on? Or just sit quietly and experience the moment? Well, I’m going to read the book and see what Eckhart says.

It’s time to go see how Vivian’s doing.

Work Week

Okay, okay, it’s Monday. I’m up and at’em. Well, at least I’m at church, running the office. Got here early today to count the Sunday offering with Fred. Stuart was out yesterday and Fred needed to leave early, so we postponed counting till this morning. We had some prosperity banks to add in, then we found Building Fund money. So there was some to do.

Fred and I traded treatments. That was nice. I really like getting treatments, it feels so good. The energy flowing through his hands really helps. We worked on my energy levels, on my shoulders, and the base of my skull, where it still hurts pretty often. In turn I did his throat. That’s working, his voice is changing from the raspy sound to a mellower tone. If I can keep after him, he’ll probably get a lot better – so much better no one will recognize him on the phone. Well, stranger things have happened. I’m just glad to help.

Dotti came in. We got to talking about creativity – she asked me how my book was coming along. I told her I didn’t have a story yet. She told me it’s not just inspiration, it’s craft. I told her I’m writing every day, learning how to do the “Return, Tab, Quotes” dance for dialog. “It’s just porn,” I told her, “because that’s easy – there’s a beginning, a middle, and an end already established. But I’m finding that the dialogue is the interesting part. I’m building my skills at writing what’s being said. And I can say some interesting things.”

She seemed non-plussed that I was wasting my time on smut. Oh, well, at least I’m writing.

And yeah, smut it is. Although as time has gone by and I’ve gotten into the intricacies of dialogue, there’s less action and more interaction. That’s interesting.

The hard thing to remember is the ubiquitous “Return, Tab, Quotes.” I’ve been so used to just “Return, return” which I use for this blog (it doesn’t recognize tabs) and my generic writing that’s not for publication. Getting used to using a standard format for manuscripts has been interesting, to say the least. I used to find myself halfway through a story and realize I’d dropped the R-T-Q way back on the first page. Grrrr. Perfectionist that I am, I’d go back and correct the mistakes – even though I was going to delete the finished tale. No reason to keep something nobody will read.

Hmmm. Seems like I really ought to go delete all the blog posts from 2005 thru 2009. Nobody’s gonna read them, either. I’ve saved all those posts for some unknown reason – maybe ego, that I wrote something all through those hideous years of Sherry and Jackie. And when I read many of them, I found I didn’t adhere to the originally-stated premise for doing the blog: keeping a daily record of my mood swings, for the doctor. Usually it was just a whine about how bad my life was. When I scoured the posts to make a mood chart, in 2007, I found I had to infer what I’d felt like by the tone of my writing. Still, I got a pretty good chart. Dr. Shaw looked at it and realized I was still bouncing around, mood swings galore. At least I was reasonably regular in the timing. I remember she upped my dose without a quibble.

I see her again the 8th of July. I’ll talk about the Wellbutrin, and how I’m settling into a good behavior pattern with it. Vivian says I’m brighter, more “myself,” whatever THAT means. Jim allowed as how I’m doing better now. That was good, he doesn’t usually tell me what he thinks of my moods – or actions.

I’m noticing I’m happier these days. As I related to Joann, my counselor, I’m “normal” now. I talked about this development in an earlier post (see below this one) and belabored the idea that I’m normal. Well, I guess I am – in psychologist’s terms. I’m not getting real wild mood swings anymore. THAT’S a major gift from God, and Lamictal. The Wellbutrin’s helped cut the deeper depressions. I’ve noticed the small bounce that comes some days (not all): I’ll be running along in my usual feeling mode, and suddenly there’ll be this boost, a lifting. It’s like the sudden kick-in of pot, there’s the high without fanfare. I usually notice it, feel a sense of relief – and sometimes happiness – and go on. The thing is, I DON’T feel a dropping off. I know those drops are in there, during my three mood swings a day, but I don’t have a noticeable feeling of it. I suppose I just accept that I’m further down, and keep plugging along.

Right now I feel “normal.” I’m happy, in that I’ve finished the weekly email update for our church members, and I’ve had a couple of cups of coffee that Fred left for me. I AM getting hungry, however. Vivian said there’d be food when I got home. Okay, so I won’t stop and pick up anything. Tonight I gotta grill the steak I pulled out last night. George Foreman to the rescue!

My new neighbor, Terri, hasn’t been home in a week. Hope she’s okay. She’s got problems, may be out embroiled in one. She’s gotta come back by the third to pay rent, maybe I’ll see her then. And maybe not. She’s too messed up to be social with.

The stalking seems to have tapered off. Maybe there’s resolution on their part, maybe it’s just no longer “hot.” Probably I’m boring to them. Oh, well, at least they aren’t sitting out on their porch, staring. I haven’t heard any gossip. But then, I don’t fraternize with those who do. My primary contact around this complex is Vivian, then Dorothy – who feeds me all the gossip I wanna hear – and Edie. That’s enough. I’ve realized everybody else is so caught up in What’s Happenin’ Now that they don’t have a life. Then again, everybody else is an MHMR patient. Well, no, not true. There ARE some VA clients here. Still, there’s a high level of instability in these parts. Thank God for good meds. Speaking of which, Mary 2’s been out walking at odd hours again. She has a cell phone now. Wonder who she’s talking to? Not important, I’m glad she’s got SOMEONE to talk to.

It’s almost time to go wash again. I only have a couple of shirts, but keeping up with them is a lot easier than letting them pile up and take two or three washers. I’ve been thinking about stopping by the resale shops to look for more short-sleeves, but then I realize it’s like my shorts: I’ve got six or seven pair and I don’t ever wear them! This pair of jean shorts I wear everywhere gets washed every week, and there’s a second pair of them I change into when I don’t get to the laundry. The khakis I wear to church get hung back up after a very close look at whether I got them dirty or not. But I have six other pair hanging in the closet AND two pair sitting on top of the chest freezer! I don’t ever wear those. Now, Jim wears khakis every day. He pulls them out of the dryer, then irons the creases in. But I’m not going around like he does anymore. I tend to come to church – which, other’n Sunday, is very casual – and the grocery store. Otherwise I’m either in my relaxed terry cloth shorts or a pair of extremely casual ones I like to slip into when I’m putzing around the complex. I tend to wear just the minimum when I’m going between the dumpster, the mailboxes, Dorothy’s, Vivian’s, and the washroom. That’s all I gotta do, is have enough clothes on to not scare anybody with the glare of my belly. If I had less hair I’d wear a ball cap, too, to keep the reflection from blinding folks.

Later

Had another reading. This time on the way to Jim’s to talk this evening. It was very clear, too: there’s this huge pool, where the water level is slowly rising, rising, rising. It’s very tranquil. It’s my life. In this pool are Jim and Vivian, Pooh and Bruce. The area where Jim is feels so wonderfully warm, filled with love and peace. It’s different from the usual way he feels, which is very masculine, very action oriented. This is a whole new way of being for him.

The area where Vivian is feels perfect. It’s all about love and peace and acceptance and support and kindness and joy and…you know, everything good. It’s wonderful. There’s a little buoy floating around that represents her birthday party coming up in July. I don’t know what that means. Will have to see when it gets here.

I told Jim all about the feeling I got for him. I see him being happier than he’s ever been in his life. Completely happy. He took the reading under advisement. He talked some about the revelations he’s getting about Susan and Pat, the similarities. He’s still making connections between the two. That should last a while. All that insight doesn’t come overnight.

Okay, that’s enough. I’m goin’ for coffee – or tea, whichever comes first.

Exploding

I’m exploding into a whole new world. My head is so light – and unsettled – that I’m walking around floating. I’m completely changed.

Joann my VA counselor and I had a wonderful conversation yesterday. She made some excellent points and led me to many revelatory insights. After sleeping on those last night, I’ve come to see HOW different things are. I’ll try to make some sense here.

Because I’m now “normal,” I don’t have the old crutch of bipolar to rely on. I’ve spent my first 59 years living on automatic, never knowing from day to day how I’d be emotionally – whether manic or depressed. There was no reliable schedule, no way I could plan my life, no sensible way to present myself to the world. I was out of control.

Now I’ve been on Lamictal since 2005. I’ve come to see that I’m capable of being a “real” person. I have stability, I can expect that I’ll be “normal” for the next year or so. I don’t have to worry about – or be afraid of – getting depressed so badly that I can’t function, or manic so I’m completely out of it. I have a life.

Sweet Jesus! NOW what do I do? I suddenly – upon this realization, which is from the cosmic life shift I had in May – have no subconscious base from which to conduct my daily affairs. I’m having to look at myself as a whole new person. I can’t relax and let old habits prevail. I gotta make all new choices.

That’s frightening. I don’t know if I’m choosing wisely, or correctly, or if I’m just out here and thrashing about. As I told Patty Wensdy, I feel like the Eckhart Tolle book A New Earth has suddenly become personified in me. I no longer have the old ego structures to fall back on. I’m in the NOW. Every decision, every choice, is based on this new me.

In a large way, that’s exhausting. I have to spend so much energy thinking about being here now. In another way, it’s such a huge relief that I don’t have to be bound by the old behaviors. It’s very freeing.

Joann understood my confusion and gave me some strong advice: Simplify, radically. Get loose of everything you don’t HAVE to do. That means dropping all the stuff and things and people I don’t absolutely NEED every day. In a large way I think I’ve already started to do that. I haven’t been working at corresponding with my email family and friends. I’ve just fallen off the face of the earth, according to them. I used to send long letters, telling what was going on with me. There’s no drive to do that now. I’m different. I’ve come down to three things: my church, Vivian, and Dorothy. Everything else is being let go. The church is Sunday and Monday and one Wensdy a month. I’ve taken on working on Patty, for 30 minutes on Wensdy and Saturday, but that’s the extent of extracurricular stuff there.

I have Vivian. She feeds me so deeply on so many fronts I can’t pull back from her. I can relax and let that relationship happen according to the Flow. And Dorothy gets an hour a day of treatment – which she needs and is grateful for.

Everybody and everything else is gone, now. I’m planning on napping EVERY afternoon. I’m going to write blog posts IF I feel like saying something. I’m going to sit here at this keyboard and see if any words come through. I’m gonna make my runs to HEB for groceries, a monthly run to WalMart for the extraneous stuff, and while I’m over there I’ll stop by the bank and swap my flash drives in the safe deposit box. That way all the stuff I need to do on that end of town is taken care of in one trip.

Joann made it clear I have to sleep at least 10 hours a day in one solid block. That’s because the way the antipsychotic works. It needs time to rebalance my brain chemistry so I won’t go through my mood swings. That means no more washing clothes at 4 a.m. It also means I gotta severely limit my getting up at 9 or 10 in the morning. Once or twice here or there is okay – I will get some rest when I nap – but I have to maintain my sleep block. And she told me to take my meds at the same time every day. Egad. Now that might be a problem. But I’ll work on it.

That’s the physical part of my world. The mental – emotional part is far, far more complicated. I’m having flashes of floating, free of any Earthly ties. I’m unbound for the first time in my life. I don’t have all the old stuff, old patterns, holding me down. I’m free.

And I’m infinitely more responsible. This freedom brings with it an unfathomably gigantic onus of being totally in charge of everything I do. All the reading I’ve done over the last decade has all pointed to the line, “What You Think Is What You Get.” I’ve proved this to myself over and over and over – by telling the Universe what I want, and usually getting it. Now it’s in large letters, lighted, flashing on and off, right in front of me. I’m being given the message “Pay attention to what you think – it’ll come into being.”

YOWWW!! The huge burden of that idea being true – as I’ve seen demonstrated in my life – looms over me. I have to be AWARE at every moment what I think. Well, that’s the meat of all the consciousness books I’ve read, including The Secret. Life is all about picturing what you want - prayer – and holding that image in your mind – meditation – and being thankful it’s ALREADY come true. Voila – it manifests.

I never thought it would come down on me this hard, this completely. I’ve skirted the issue adroitly all these years – use it, but not embracing it totally. Well, now the Universe has snuck up on me and handed the whole megillah to me. I’ve been put in the Driver’s Seat. There’s no ignoring it anymore.

Interesting how the ego can ignore the stuff it doesn’t want to see. Or think about. And VERY interesting how the Universe (God) moves, to bring me to a point where I HAVE TO consciously create my world.

In one of her sermons Reverend Patty introduced these purple wristbands. They’re consciousness raisers. Embossed on them are the words “A Complaint Free World.org” and the idea is that every time I complain or gripe or get nasty about something – anyone – anything – I have to move the wristband to my other arm. And to get clear of the old pattern of complaining, I have to have the band on the same arm for 21 days straight. So far I’ve changed wrists as many as 5 times a day. But I’m a lot more aware of what I complain about. I’ve found I DON’T complain as much as I did. After all, if what I think is what I get, then complaining brings me all the negative backlash from what I’m thinking. Complaining outwardly brings negative effects inwardly. Complaining is another form of fear. And I dropped all my fear May 18th.

I think about that again. I think about it a lot. All the fear dropped away. I was running on a constant underlying horror of losing control and falling into a mania or a depression. That’s pretty bad, but it was a reflection of where I was, mentally. You see, that’s changed, now. I haven’t had that fear for over a month. It’s thrown my head into a totally unsettled state. I don’t have the old mind set to fall back on.

I’ve lost my fear of women. I carried around this deep seated fear of making Mommy angry, and being abandoned, left hungry, spanked, ignored, not loved. That’s from way early in my childhood. Suddenly that fell away. Suddenly my relationship with Vivian looked totally different. So did every other woman I encountered. I’m not afraid of them anymore. It’s thrown my head into a totally unsettled state.

I’ve lost my fear of being loved. I had learned that love involved deals, negotiations, agendas, “I’ll do this if you’ll do that” kinds of arrangements. Now I see – very clearly – that it isn’t that way. Vivian’s totally matter-of-fact approach to caring for me has broken through the fog, and I now see me differently. I act differently, too. That’s unsettling. Oh, I’m getting used to it real fast, but it’s still unsettling.

I’ve lost my abject, total, unconscious and all-pervading fear of money. I’ve spent 62 years walking around scared that there wouldn’t be enough money for anything I really needed. That I had to hoard what I had so I wouldn’t go hungry. All THAT was from my childhood. Yeah, I learned well. But now I’ve changed, a complete flip-flop. I kept getting the message that I needed to tithe – not for the church, but for me to understand that I had money to give.

That didn’t sit well, as you can imagine. It’s an idea that doesn’t sit well with damn near everyone. Why give 10% off the top when you could invest that and get interest? Giving money away is totally crazy! So I got brazen and dared God to show me what I’d get from tithing.

It didn’t start all at once. There wasn’t a door that opened and when I stepped through I was suddenly in the land of milk and honey and hundred-dollar-bills on every flat surface. No, it took a while before I relaxed into it and just ALLOWED it to happen. And happen it did.

I used to focus intently on the cash in my wallet. I watched it leak out of my pocket. My bank account seemingly emptied itself by the tenth of the month, and I’d spend the remaining days praying – PRAYING – that I wouldn’t have to write a hot check for something to keep me alive. Food stamps were always spent way too soon. Food baskets from charities went all too fast – even the pinto beans cooked down a lot further than I expected. I lived in abject poverty.

But after I’d tithed a while, things got miraculous. I found myself walking around with extra cash in my wallet at the end of the month. There was still money in the bank. I had plenty of gas in the truck. The refrigerator had plenty of food. There were several bags of pintos in the cabinet – which meant I wasn’t farting all the time. I have money. I don’t have fear about it. Now THAT is unsettling. Oh, nice, gives me a peaceful feeling deep inside, but unsettling. It’s a new behavior I have to get my mind around.

And I lost my fear of life. That nagging fear that life would deal me a bad hand. That I’d end up destitute, in prison, living under a bridge or sitting in a mud puddle in rags, shivering as a cold front blew in. Shit, I pictured that one so clearly I created a month where Sherry and I LIVED IN OUR CAR!! Honestly! Parked in the church parking lot most nights. That was horrifying. But we’d already practiced that one, we slept in the car one night in Victoria Texas while waiting for a clinic to open so I could get meds. Yeah, a mess. NOW I realize I created all that. I can take responsibility for it. I can see how I did it. And I see how I don’t ever have to worry about being afraid of life again – it’s going to be clear, happy sailing from here on out to the end of my life. There’s a peaceful feeling. And it’s unsettling, too.

What all this – and a couple of hundred pages of other examples I haven’t typed out – means is that I now project myself differently to the world. Because I no longer carry all this fear, I no longer see myself as subservient. I’m not beneath anyone any more. There’s something the church has taught me – that I’m equal, that I’m accepted JUST AS I AM. I don’t see myself as trashed, mentally or emotionally, I know I have money, I have my health, I am loved, I have a gift I can give, I have a beautiful apartment I can afford, and I have more than enough to eat.

NOW THAT’S UNSETTLING. But it’s also something I can get my head around, something I can accept, something I can grow into. Although I don’t really need to grow into any of it, it’s already here. I’m already it.

And I’m still feeling unsettled. Well, I suppose that feeling this way isn’t a bad way to be. I can handle it.

Then I realize – FLASH – that I’ve ALREADY gotten my head around it – or I wouldn’t be able to write about it. All this rumination wouldn’t be coming out if I hadn’t gotten my shit together and done it. It’s only been a month – no, 38 days – since this humongous Cosmic Shift, and I’m already getting used to it. THAT’S amazing. In the past I’d have taken months to assimilate new stuff. Maybe life really is accelerating.

Now I feel more complete. I don’t know what totally complete feels like, and can’t get an image of it. But right now I feel like I’m a whole person. This has changed the way I see myself, and the way I AM in the world. I see myself as prosperous, healthy, whole, balanced, happy – HAPPY, think of THAT – and loved by more people than I can think of. My seeing ME as different means I project this new image, and people react to me differently. That’s changed the world I live in. That’s changed the way I live. That’s changed WHO I am.

And that completely shifted the Universe. I no longer live in the same Universe I used to. All that anguish and pain, unhappiness and fear, is gone. This is all new. I’m all new.

Life is good. God loves me. Vivian loves me. Jim loves me. My family loves me. My church loves me. Everybody loves me. What more could I ask for?

Dawn

It’s 6:00 a.m. and I’m in here again. Just popped awake. The alarm is set for 9, I didn’t get to bed until 2, and I’ve gotta nap today. Well, after the VA appointment.

Went over to Diane’s new house yesterday. She needed me to come look at her mess of wires that connect her computers. There’s a giant plastic storage box FULL of cables. It was a complete disaster. Totally jumbled. So far over my head I got confused just looking at it all. She needs to call in professional help. We talked quite a bit though. Gave her a reading. I don’t know if she takes those to heart or not, but then, they’re HER readings. I just pass along what I get. She took me for a ride in her turquoise HHR. It’s two years old and has a whopping 14,000 miles on it. She’s babying it, James bought it for her and she cherishes it. Can’t blame her: it fits her perfectly.

She drove me around her mobile home park – very impressive, a LOT nicer than the park where Sherry and I lived. Then we went up the hill and looked at the view. That whole area is nice. From there it was out to the Wilderness, another park I knew was there but had never been in. That place is really nice, too. So I got some sightseeing. Her dog, a micro-poodle, is so placid it’s amazing. Rides in the car without a whimper, goes and sleeps without a complaint. She really got a good dog there.

Talked to my new neighbor the other night. She’s so messed up it’s horrifying. Abuse on every front: sexual, emotional, physical, alcohol, mental – a complete psychiatric manual. So stupid. Well, I can’t ever go into her apartment, that’s for sure. There’d be all sorts of accusations. Stay away.

It’s 6:45 a.m. I’ve been messing around reading emails and some web sites, checking out our weather (hot, sunny, just below 100s). I thought I’d crank out my appreciation letter to Mandy.

Got more coffee and sat down. Sure enough, the words came out easily, readily, very sincerely. I did pretty damn good. Now to get the letter to the church.

This morning I’m due to go to Vivian’s for breakfast – somewhere after 9. We were gonna go wash clothes last night at midnight, instead of her usual 4:00 a.m., but the conversation we were in got convoluted and emotional, leaving us sitting there exhausted until almost 1:30. Don’t let anyone ever tell you grieving is no big deal. It’s hard! You need a good support system. Vivian’s got me, I’m almost through with Sherry. Viv’s got some time to go on her sister. I think she feels abandoned – Lou was her last sibling, and now she’s all alone. I can feel that, I was thrown for a loop when my mother died, leaving me the oldest child/sibling. It’s a mantle not to be taken lightly.

Finally we agreed to go wash at midnight tonight. She likes to go then because all the machines are empty and the other tenants don’t come in to gossip and yammer. After going with her several times I see her point. Besides, I don’t have anything on my agenda on Thursday, and can sleep late. The only item that might intrude is if I gotta take her to the beauty salon at 10, if her elder daughter can’t. Don’t know yet.

I’m going to call Reverend Patty to see if she wants a treatment on her thumbs. It’s been a couple of weeks and I don’t know if she’s still interested. I gotta go over to the church anyway. Now I’m wondering if I oughta take that letter to Mandy. It IS a bit over the top. She just got up there and sang. But she did it so well, Fred commented favorably. I thought I’d pass the kudos on. Now I hope she doesn’t get too embarrassed.

Since I’ll be on that end of town, I’ll run by WalMart and pick up a few things. I don’t usually go in there, don’t need that much.

This new antidepressant, Wellbutrin, is doing very well for me. I read up on it and found that it has the least side effects of all this type of drugs. I’ve seen that in my general interest since I got on it.

Vivian says I’m brighter, happier, more animated, more “myself.” I’m feeling better. I have more interest in life. Oh, I’m still exhausted from talking with her every night, but overall everything is a LOT better. I gotta remember to tell Dr. Shaw all this.

I’m still jiggling my right foot, a Risperdal effect, here in late June – after stopping the drug in mid-April. My thumb no longer erects, but the foot is still going. I’m not grinding my teeth like I was on the Zoloft. I am now clear of the jaw clenching I had on the Celexa. Problem is, portions of those side effects linger. There’s the bruised nerve in a tooth – it still carps at me when I drink cold stuff, like yogurt, milk, iced tea. Heat doesn’t bother it. Dentist said no decay, just bruised. My tongue is a whole other problem. I’m still working it against my teeth – hard. It’s a constant activity. I’m usually sore on at least one side, all the time.

And there’s the biting lips thing. Since I don’t have all those teeth, my lips flap in and WHAMMO!! I’m bit. God, that hurts! And the hole where a filling fell out has jagged edges, which cut the tip of my tongue. It’s a never-ending battle. I need to go see if I can get another filling, without breaking the bank.

Then there’s the pain in my neck. It’s still there. It began with the Celexa: a serious tightening in the center of my neck. That was compounded by the ghastly headache at the base of my skull – which is gone now – but the neck pain still comes back regularly. Ibuprofen helps, but doesn’t eliminate it. I’m down to one tablet at a time – just 200 mg ever once in a great while instead of the 400 I was gulping every two hours. But overall I’m doing pretty damn good.

I gotta get an estimate on replacing all my hoses and belts. It’s time, and it’s gonna be a long HOT summer. Don’t want a failure.

I’m proud of myself for writing that letter to Mandy. I hope she takes it in the vein it was written in. I hope it thrills her. She needs an uplift.

Diane said she reads my blog regularly. That’s scary. It means she’s paying attention. Egad.

Getting up at 6 means I got four hours’ sleep. That’s not enough. I’ll have to crash after the VA, and set the alarm for 5 for Dorothy. Then hope I can sleep afterward. And Viv will be as yearning as ever. She really does have a huge hole in her heart that needs filling – by me. So I’ve stepped up to the plate, and I gotta take the bad with the good. Oh, well, it’s a very tenable position. I’m getting so much out of it. There’s the adult interaction, the partnership, the love, the hugs, the matter-of-fact aspect. And it’s ALL so natural. Jim’s real firm about her being my best possible relationship, and maybe for life. I can handle that.

Patty said I needed to be careful I didn’t get back into a caregiving relationship. I understand that and have to be wide awake to keep from it. Then again, I don’t think she’d let it get that bogged down. At least, I hope not. I feel like she knows I couldn’t survive that. She’d cut me loose before that happened.

It’s Wensdy the 24th. A week and two days until payday. I have enough money to make it just fine. That’s another thing: since I started tithing, I have enough money EVERY month. I usually have money in my wallet at any given time. I always have gas money. There’s plenty for groceries. And I have so much food it’s almost obscene. I have more food than I can eat in a month! There’s ALWAYS more – and still more coming in! Between Dorothy and Vivian, I’m gonna get fat. I have to remember to stick to my cottage cheese and yogurt diet.

Which leaves the lunch gorging. Vivian likes Taco Casa. I love their food. The beans sing to me. Then I sing with the beans, but hey! That’s beans. I want to go to Cici’s Pizza again. There’s a whole gamut of flavors there, and I’m not stuck with just one. Besides, Little Ceasar’s doesn’t have the $5 special anymore. Cici’s it is. Now to get Vivian to go along, if she wants. It’ll have to be lunch.

And Paw-Paw’s Barbecue – I’ve got a hankering for ribs. Messy, but tasty in the extreme. There’s another lunch date.

It’s already 8:30. I need to get dressed and go down for breakfast. That’s the really nice thing about writing: my usual uniform is my underwear. Coffee’s in the kitchen, just 10 feet away – I measured it – and the foam pad under the keyboard keeps the top of my thighs comfortable. Plus it holds the ‘board from sliding off. This really IS the best of all worlds. Now all I need is a serious writing project. Oh, well, in time.

Later

It’s 1:15 a.m. Thursday. I’m just back from washing clothes with Vivian. We got it all done, and she’s headed for bed. Hope she can sleep.

Yesterday was the VA appointment with my counselor. Joann listened to me run through all the changes since Sherry: Jackie, Linda, hives, Vivian. Then the Risperdal withdrawal, and church viewing/acceptance. Vivian’s watching me, too.

Then the May 18th revelation. How deep, how sweeping: loss of fear of angry mother, loss of fear of angry woman, loss of fear of money, loss of fear of life in general…raising my head to see I’m a real person, that I’m in a real relationship – adult, even steven, peer to peer, no agendas, no control, no codependency, and no mothering. Just two adults meeting in the middle. Love all over, Viv demanding more and more of me, but when I ask for time off, she’s okay with that. Doesn’t like it, but it’s okay.

I’m happy. I’m having three moods today: happy, REAL happy, and slightly depressed. Most of the day’s been happy. I’ve had several points of being REAL happy. Most of that was after being at the church this morning.

Joann said this is “normal.” This is what normal people live like. Mostly happy. Satisfied for the main part. I’m scared of it because I spent 59 years in bipolar shit. All I know is mania and depression. Now I have a new way of living to get used to. I’m “normal.” Have to integrate it, assimilate it, get my head around it.

I wrote my books on automatic writing because I was in such deep despair I had to have something to get me through it. So out came the books. Now I don’t have the despair – and won’t, the rest of my life. I’m “normal.” I used the writing as my journal, my escape, my refuge when I was under so much pressure. Now I have nothing to say, so I don’t write blog posts every day. I DO write the Notes, but those are personal and don’t belong online.

So I’m in a new place. May 18th was like, well, jumping from one Universe to another. An entire new part of the sky. Complete change.

I walked out of there with my mind exploding. I am normal! After all these years, I’m normal, I’m okay! Holy Shit! I gotta learn all new subconscious behaviors to be able to get through a day without having to spend all my time being super conscious of where I’m putting my foot or placing my hand! Much less what I think or say!

So I’ve cusped. I’m on the other side, and it feels great here. I’m home.

Jim and I talked some yesterday evening, about my change. And he made some interesting comments. I took them to heart, and feel better. We had a good guy talk session.

I had a shocker, at the VA. Joann told me to cut back on my activities, radically. I have no business getting stressed, getting wrapped up in outside stuff. I need to be sleeping in a long block of uninterrupted hours. I need to take a nap in the afternoons. I need to be VERY wary of getting in too deep around this complex, as in, giving too many treatments. Yeah, I have this gift, but I don’t need to be doing it willy-nilly. I told her about my friend Diane, who just lost her husband. I was told to pull back, get MY shit together. I’m still not able to take care of me. So I gotta call Diane and tell her I can’t help anymore. I got a reading there, that I was crimping her from growing up and taking charge of her own life. Well, I don’t know how that’s gonna go down with her, but I gotta get me healed first.

And I’m off to bed. This is just too late, and I’m just too tired.

Solstice

Today is the longest day of the year. In my note about SAD I read that there’s a syndrome of Reverse SAD. That’s a hypomania, heightened anxiety. I don’t know if this tongue-lashing and biting is from that or left over from the Celexa. Have to give it time and see. Meanwhile, I’m not having to take ibuprofen very often. In fact, I’m almost completely off it. That’s REAL good. I’ve gone through one and a half bottles of that med, out of a two bottle package of 100 tablets each. I was taking two every three hours when it was bad.

Last night I got home from Vivian’s and got on line. Surfed some, finished reading Coffee At The Zoo, and dragged my ass to bed. Then I lay there and tossed and turned, snoozed and woke up, tossed and turned, until the last time I looked at the clock it read 5 a.m. Then I slept until 1. At least I got some sleep.

Didn’t call Patty to see if she wanted a treatment. I’ll have to ask her tomorrow if she wants to continue them. Last night I asked Vivian what she saw for me with this healing gift. She said, “Nobody from this complex.” Well, that’s for sure: Jackie’s fighting tooth and nail not to let anyone get near me. That’s her bad karma. Anyway, Viv said I’d find people to work on at the church. But for me to remember that most people don’t want to get better. They’re also afraid of it. So I’ll just have to wait, and offer when they open up. Seems sad, when I’ve got this boiling hands syndrome. Must be SOMETHING I’m supposed to do with it. Okay, Universe, I’m open to being a channel for healing. Make my Thy instrument.

After crawling out of bed this afternoon, Vivian called and offered coffee. Being no fool, I got down there as fast as possible. Two and a half cups later, I was sloshing inside and her son-in-law was due any moment. Back up here I got online and deleted some emails, read a few things and got ready to hit the grocery store.

I’ve had a real bad case of red rash and pus pockets on my face and forehead. I even have pimples on my nose. So I bought a bottle of astringent and a package of cotton wipes. I figure if I keep my face squeaky clean, it’ll cut down on the pores clogging up – and the zits. If this doesn’t do it, I’ll go get a store clerk – hopefully Billie – and see what she suggests. I may need both an astringent AND a face cream. I don’t know about the cream, the oil comes back gangbusters after a shower, but it might be worth a try. The next step is Merle Norman or Mary Kay. Maybe Kay has something in the Avon line, don’t know. I really don’t remember any big splash of cosmetics in their catalog, though. Still, worth a call.

And after all that, there’s Speck. Or Stawowy. She’s cash up front, but might be able to tell me what to do, conclusively. If she gives me a script I might not be able to afford it…but at least I’d know for sure.

Today the store had the Light yogurt. Last time they were out of that and I had to get the regular. Doesn’t seem to be a great difference in the taste. So I have enough options that I don’t need to walk out of there empty-handed. That’s good to know.

Tomorrow is Third Sunday, which is Abundance Sunday. That means Prosperity Banks and Potluck afterwards. I’ll be counting the offering, so I’ll have to get a plate first. Mike helps count on Thirds, and his wife’ll bring us something. Then I’ve got to go to Subway – with the coupons – and get a couple of 6” subs. Vivian gave me money for it. A six inch is two meals for her. It’ll be supper for me. And maybe I won’t have to go to the grocery store tomorrow.

Third Sunday is when I run the podium, too. Gotta remember to talk about the Building Fund Bucket by the door.

It’s in the high 90s outside. That makes the truck real warm when I go out and just hop in. I need to wait for a few moments before I get in, let the heat boil out. But I usually just jump in and roll the window down after I’ve started the engine. I gotta remember that my meds make me less able to tell when I’m hot or cold. That can be dangerous if I don’t watch out.

I’m sitting here and these words are just flowing out of me. I’m a bit jangled, because there isn’t a story line behind them, but the actual words are flowing. That tells me I can still Make Stuff Up. All I need is a tale to tell.

Hmmm. I could take one of my characters from Coffee At The Zoo and go do an in-depth study. Make up a whole book about them. Or write a new Choices. I could sit here and crank out a bunch of short stories, all tied together, and make another book. I could even put together all my present short stories and get that on Lulu. All I’d need is a cover.

Monday is the Cactus Party at the new church property. We gotta go rake up the pieces of prickly pear the site clearers left. If any piece is still there it’ll grow. Thus, time for leaf rakes and tongs and hoes. Shouldn’t take long, there’s not that much on the ground, but it’s gotta be done. I have this open pickup, so I’m hauling the trash cans over there and back. Fred’s truck has a camper top so he can’t sweep it out easily.

Today I’m feeling pretty good. I’m not depressed, not elated, just sorta here. Yeah, blah. I think I need a nap. Not sleeping regular hours is really hard on me.

Writing

I’ve spent the evening re-reading my novel Coffee At The Zoo. I’m amazed, all over again. It’s the fact that I wrote this! It’s really an engrossing work. I am swept along in it. Yes, it’s a bit hard to follow at times but it works. And it’s well written.

It’s sort of like re-reading Artesia or Last Train. I am amazed that I wrote these words. I can’t imagine re-writing them.

As I am going through Coffee I’m thinking, What a lot of sex! It’s like everybody’s horny and trying to get some. But then, I think back to the original Zoo and remember how everybody talked about sex all the time. I mean, there were days when the guys would discuss politics – not a good topic – or religion – also not a good topic – but almost every day there was a section/time frame devoted to sex. When I talked to other people who also frequented the place, and even the other coffee shop, they all seemed to remember talking about sex: who was getting it, how much they wanted it, why they weren’t getting it, how many times they’d gotten it, ad infinitum. And the sexual innuendos were as thick as flies on watermelon. I mean, women the same as men! I sat there alone, often, waiting for the guys to get there or sitting after they’d all gone, and I’d eavesdrop on the tables around me. Yep, the society matrons – all dressed to the nines with diamonds dripping – were talking about who was doing who. And HOW. There were several discussions on different days about different people and their sexual attraction to their horses. Yeah, it was definitely weird.

But it got me to thinking about the frequency of sex talk in our lives. There are sexual inferences on TV all the time, there are thinly-veiled sexual comments made by just about everyone, and everywhere we go there are teenagers, who live breathe and think sex all the time. Sex is pervasive. I tried to convey the general tone of the denizens of the coffee shop – and I think I did it pretty accurately. At least, the ones I knew.

So there’s sex in the book. No, not pornographic details, but a lot of people getting into each other’s pants. And a bunch of references to old (60s) men getting randy as they face the waning years of their interest/ability.

In other news, I’m getting closer to writing again. Re-reading Coffee is warming me up. No, I don’t have a new novel idea yet, but I’m getting warmed up.

And I’m thinking about getting out a broadside to send to all my email correspondents, talking about how I’ve been and what’s going on. My cousins are sending me emails asking how I’m doing. And they don’t EVER write. So it’s time.

Today I’m pretty level. I don’t feel bouncy elevated nor do I feel down. I’m here and happy, for once.

Breakfast

It’s 3:30. I got up, finally, at 2. Vivian called and reminded me we were gonna do breakfast whenever I got up. Well, I was starved, so I headed down. She served me three scrambled eggs, 5 slices of dry-cooked bacon, and 6 huge biscuits. Extremely tasty, and I stuffed myself. With meals like that I’ll put on weight super fast.

Last night I was visiting with Vivian and about time to come home I suggested we go wash clothes right then instead of waiting till 4 a.m. That middle of the night stuff just messes with my sleep pattern too much. She said that would be okay, and we were off. Done by 2, she invited me to breakfast and I demurred, because I needed to get up here and she needed to get to bed.

After writing last night’s Note I stayed on line. Went looking at sheet sets – 300 to 400 thread count, Egyptian cotton, etc. They’re running $40-$60. Too much, even if they ARE beautiful colors and patterns. Then again, I might treat myself anyway. I’m worth it. And got carried away. Didn’t get to bed until 3:30, then lay there half awake until 5. Gotta get leveled out on a regular schedule. The doc told me quite clearly I need to have a set schedule. It’s part of my medication regimen: take the meds at the same time EVERY DAY and get at least 8 hours of sleep a night – uninterrupted - or better yet, 10 hours. My mind needs the sleep. Getting up in the middle of the night to go wash at 4 a.m. really wrecks my head.

This morning at breakfast Vivian had the Penney’s ad. Tomorrow and Saturday there’s a big sale. Sheet sets are on for $40. Good colors. I gotta go over there anyway to get a pair of sandals. They have some that look like they’ll adjust over my high arch for $35. That’s not WalMart prices but then these I have are two years old. I don’t want to be without the coolness. And I DO have the money.

Vivian was miffed that Terri parked in my space, when nobody else was here. I came in and parked next to her car, not wanting to go get her to move. This morning – well, this afternoon – Viv urged me to get up and move my truck into the first slot. That’ll put Terri back in her assigned space. Maybe she’ll get it, maybe she won’t. If she parks there again, I’ll ask Edie to say something to her.

I called Marilyn and told her I wasn’t going to the party Friday night. I wasn’t personally invited and don’t feel good about just showing up. Kathleen is one I don’t wanna get on the wrong side of.

I feel good. I am taking time for ME again. Getting back on here is good. I’m not spending the whole afternoon at Vivian’s, watching TV. I HATE TV. I want to shift around to a schedule of going down for morning coffee, then coming back up here and writing. If not writing, then surfing the net. Or reading, even. It’s time for me to do for me. I may not be moving into writing the next great novel, but I’m writing. That’s pretty big for me, after this past year’s mental gyrations.

It’s almost Solstice. That’s a big cusp for a lot of people. I’m thinking it’s gonna be one for me, too. I really am getting better. The Lamictal is leveling me out, as I get used to the 450 mg dose. The Wellbutrin is doing good, I’m leveling out on it. I think I’ve got a good mix this time. We’ll see how I am in a month or so.

Today I’m pretty happy. Well, I have been all week. There’s a definite undercurrent of anxiety, evidenced by my clenching my jaw and bruising my tongue – not to mention biting it – and there’s some of the soreness/stiffness in my neck. But it’s not bad. One ibuprofen ever so often tends to take care of it.

I think this being happy is my new “natural” state. Allowing for the emotional dances of gossip – and Jackie – in this complex, and allowing for my emotions while at Vivian’s, then keeping in mind my responsibilities at the church, I think I’m doing exceptionally well.

Right now I’m wrestling with taking on part of the watering chores. The new Bermuda grass we seeded needs a daily sprinkling to help it grow and take over the bald spots. It’s doing fine in some areas, not doing at all in others. At the Board meeting last night, Fred asked for help. I want to step up and take on some of the load, but: I don’t do well in the mornings. I tend to get up around 10 or 11. A lot of days, later. I don’t go to coffee with the guys anymore because I can’t get up regularly. So there goes the watering. Evenings are taken up with Dorothy’s treatments – she sits there all day in pain, in spite of the pain meds – and I seem to give her an hour or so of relief. I don’t feel like I can cut that out.

When I put the pencil to my schedule, I think I’ve got a pretty good balance. I sleep till 11 or noon, have coffee with Vivian, take time for me in the afternoon, go do Dorothy, try to visit with Jim for an hour or two, then go over to Vivian’s for coffee and conversation. Get home anywhere from 11 to 1. That’s giving her a treatment on her knees almost every night, working on her hands and eyes and sinuses, and listening to her grieving process. She’s still going through the process of letting go. Well, that’ll last anywhere from a year – as I did with Sherry – to the rest of her life. You never really get over it, it just becomes bearable. And she’s still going through her sister’s things, which are stacked up all over the apartment. That brings her into some serious sadness. I sit and listen to her reminisce, and offer what solace I can. Often that’s merely listening, understanding her feelings, and being there.

So I’m realizing my life is pretty well balanced. I’m not stressed out by doing too much – although there ARE days when I want to get into bed and pull the covers over my head. I feel like I’m doing about as much as I can at the church, even though there’ll be events where I pitch in above and beyond the regular stuff. I’m not going to be like Duke and do EVERYTHING. He threw himself into that church and was the ramrod on every committee except the music. I’ve followed that pattern, here. I do a lot, when I think about it. At Volunteer Recognition Sunday I got quite a few ribbons for the various things I do. Yeah, that threw me. I didn’t realize I was so involved.

And I feel bad for not being able to step up and relieve Fred of some of his load. He has taken on so much he’s starting to flag, with his wife’s sickness. Now that she’s clear of cancer, he’s beginning to crater from all the stress he’s been under. I understand that, I’ve been there. And he can’t do it all.

Still, I’m retired. I’m disabled. I have this mental thing where I get depressed when I get stressed. So I’m having to look very carefully at what I take on. There are days here where I feel like I’m overdoing it real hard. And there are days when I feel like I’m on top of the world. That’s what this week feels like – on top of the world. I’m relaxed. Now to see how long this lasts.

Notice how I qualified that “I’m relaxed?” I still have the mind set of not expecting something good to last. That’s a major hold over from the 59 years of wild bipolar mood swings. Subconsciously I still feel like it’ll change – for the worst – and I’ll lose all this progress I’ve made. Takes time to get one’s mind wrapped around a whole new behavior pattern. Maybe I need a bell – have to ask Pavlov if he has a spare. Every time it rings I start salivating or something.

Patty said she’d called Barbara several times and left messages, but no response. I wanted to send my best wishes, and realized that if Patty wasn’t getting anywhere, then I’d have to do something different. I’m going to try to write a letter, and see if it gets any response. I figure there’s some heavy shit going on with Michelle right now. Having her ankle and elbow shattered beyond recognition doesn’t help at all. Sure miss Barbara at the board meetings – and church.

Fred

I’ve just had an amazing three-hour conversation with Fred, the Board Chairman. We talked about all sorts of stuff, but what was important was his advice about Jackie.

She called me, out of the blue, Saturday about 4. I didn’t answer the phone – something told me not to. She left a message. Acted like all the shit she’d dumped on me over the last two years never happened.

I went into knotted stomach mode. I was angry beyond words that this bitch would try to blow past all the horrible stuff she did. I was livid.

Vivian said, “Let it all go. You’re still loving her. Put it away.” Hmmm. Today I realized I DO still love her – just as I still love Sherry, in spite of all the abuse I took. You see, I opened my heart to those two women, and I’ll always carry some of that love I had. Regardless of what happened.

I was talking to Fred about Jonathan Cainer’s Zodiac Forecasts, and how they ring true for me. Sunday’s forecast, for the coming week, focused on the past:

“The key to progress lies in your past. Think now about some event which left you disillusioned and disappointed. Remember (even if it pains you to do so) an experience or encounter that generated a sense of loss. One of the things that you 'lost' was an aspect of your own inner power. You must retrieve it. It is time to make a brave decision, and to conquer a fear. You can't do that unless you first take a break from a tense or confusing situation that is eating up too much of your time. Use that time to reconsider an unresolved part of your history and you'll feel much clearer about what you want from your future.”

So I have to deal with her and all that mess. Well, to be honest, I’ve been watching her stalk me, watching her get the neighbors across the courtyard to keep track of my comings and goings, and her constant driving by to see if my truck’s there or not. She hasn’t even been subtle about it.

Now, I’ve dismissed her, put her out of my mind, ignored her, paid no attention, not worried about her or the watching neighbors, but I realize now all that’s keeping her in my consciousness. She’s always at the edge, even when I leave my apartment for the mail – a quick run down to the main building and back, perhaps 5 minutes – and I obsessively lock my door because she might come try to get in. Yeah, she has a nasty habit of just walking up to a door and trying to get in. So I’ve been obsessed with locking up.

And that awareness keeps her in my mind. Well, thoughts are things, and she called. And I got really upset. I lost my inner power, as Jonathan said. “It is time to make a brave decision and conquer a fear.” Hmmm.

So last night, as I crawled into bed and put my CPAP mask on, I turned it over to the Universe. I asked that the Jackie situation be handled for the highest good of all concerned. And I let it go.

Today I come over here to the church where Fred and I were talking. And he tells me of his experience with hateful people: Put love all around them. Send them love. He related a story about an abusive boss and how the situation was resolved by his sending the boss love.

This rang a LOUD bell in my head. Way back when I was first involved with Jackie, she was all freaked out by the vicious gossip about her from many of the tenants. I talked her through several sessions of her putting pink healing light around them. She did as I said and it was barely 4 days later that everything turned around.

Yep, I got it. So now I have to sit down and be quiet and put pink healing light, the light of love, all around her and her apartment. Love her and release her, and let the Universe handle it. “Love is the most powerful force in the Universe.”

This works. I know, I’ve done it before. It took my turning it over and then listening to Fred to get it this time.

I also talked to him about my getting messages from the Universe. Long ago I asked for guidance on a daily basis, that was clear and concise. What I got in return was several references to a web site. It was www.cainer.com, and I reveled in the dead-on commentary Jonathan was giving. Well, in the last year or so, I’ve taken to copying his forecast and pasting it into a Word document. I space down and write what I THINK it means, what I think it’s saying. I save it and go on to other things.

When I come back to it a few days later – sometimes I re-read the whole week in one sitting – I am almost always blown away by the accuracy. And I’ll write further on the forecasts about what actually happened, and how I felt…what I did, what I thought. Thoughts ARE things.

A lot of times – hell, almost always – I’ll be typing out my thoughts about the forecast and I’ll get the answer to my questions, automatically. The thought will just come out as I’m keyboarding. It’s like God’s flowing through. And there’ll be some great wisdom there.

Fred says that’s automatic writing. Interesting, because that’s how I got my first novel, Artesia. I sat down and it came out. Now people say it’s a great book, they tell me how well it’s written, they want to know where it is (not believing this is a novel), and they tell me they never understood depression until they read it. So there’s something.

Anyway, there’s how I get answers. I sit here and type, not thinking about the words or the keyboard, simply watching the words appear on the screen, and stuff comes out. Lots of times, worthless stuff, but at times, great stuff. As Sherry used to say, it comes and goes, like the tide. Apt metaphor, me being in the Navy.

Here it is the middle of the month and I just got my flash drive into the safety deposit box at the bank. I gotta remember to back up at the first of the month – might lose some writing if I’m not careful. Paying attention is the easiest way to be here NOW.

Later:

Just got off the phone with Jim. He’s an Alpha Male, and very testosterone-driven. So he runs through all the confrontational stuff I could do with her, then he delineates all the legal stuff I could do – have to have some witnesses who’d sign the complaint, which won’t happen – and finally he says, “Let the Universe handle it.” Same as Fred said. Same as I KNOW.

I spent a good hour lying in bed, trying to nap, and my mind kept running all the confrontational stuff: stalking her, setting her car on fire, pouring oil on all her plants, getting a petition together to get her thrown out of here, etc. etc. And it all comes back to me not having the power to do any of that stuff. I’d mess it up. So it’s time to sit down, center myself, and send her love.

Then I’m going to Vivian’s and drink coffee or tea and talk half the night. Tonight’ll probably be all about Jackie again. Maybe I can redirect the topic to something else. Oh, well, at least I enjoy her company.

This week’s getting busy. Tomorrow, Tuesday, I’m going over to Jim’s in the evening. Then Wensdy I’m going to the Board meeting. Then Friday I’m going to a party in the next town over. Sunday I’m running the podium. Gosh it’s nice having a life!

Flat

I’m not feeling anything. Not too depressed, and definitely not up. Flat. If this is normal, I’m ruined.

Slept in this morning, until Jim called at 11:30. He wanted to go to breakfast. The only place in this town is Denny’s. So we wandered over and found out they have a new blend of coffee. They’re getting closer and closer to Starbuck’s all the time. Denny’s doesn’t have that burnt bitter taste, though.

Jim talked about ending his relationship with Susan. He’s doing very well at finding all those little nuances which show him the similarities between her and Pat. I think he’ll be getting these flashes for some time. Then again, he tends to sit and worry something to death. He may have it all figured out by next week.

Anyway, he’s doing real well. Got a couple of irons in the fire, which may or may not give him something to work with, and he’s evaluating his social circle here in town. So far he’s figured out that he needs a wider net. So we’ll see what he comes up with. All he’s really sure of is that there’s no action here. It’s all “how much money do you have?”

The next gallery showing is in November and he has some work to do to get ready. At least he has a good rapport with the owner. That helps a lot.

Today during our conversation Jim kept bringing up the lack of guilt. I thought about that and realized that I had tons of guilt with Sherry – especially when she was in the nursing home and all I could do was run back and forth trying to placate her demands for stuff. It was guilt I felt for not being able to take care of her. Jackie, thank God, broke me of that burden. And the codependency. I came out of THAT relationship a real winner.

Since I’ve been talking with Vivian, I’m really getting better every day. I’m finding I LIKE myself. My view of me is improving all the time. I no longer jump to offer to help everyone. I remember to take care of me first. Now, Vivian will exclaim in anguish that I’m NOT taking care of me, I’m too busy doing things for everybody else and not getting a nap in the afternoon. Well, when the writing begins again, I’ll be blowing straight through naps. Hmmm. If I walked regularly I’d be far better balanced and a lot healthier. Now: when to walk? The heat of Summer is already upon us – it’s been almost 100 every day here for the past week – and whenever I could go it would be too hot. No, I don’t walk in the mornings. I’m too slow to get started.

But I feel flat. Maybe I’m just tired. My neck is sore – very sore. Feels like I seriously strained it somehow. I don’t have the headaches at the base of my skull like I used to, and the jaw clenching is easing up. My one tooth that keeps being super sensitive is slowly getting better. I’m not ramming my tongue into my teeth as much, it only hurts ever so often. All in all, I’m getting better. Now if my neck would calm down, I’d be over all the agonies of side effects from Celexa.

The shift onto Wellbutrin seems to be going very well. I feel no drag and no squelching. Flat, yes, there’s that, but no noticeable cropping at the top and bottom. Then again, I was on Wellbutrin for ten years in Arizona. Did just fine. Now to get the Celexa out of my system. I see the doctor next in July. I think I’ll be fine by then.

I haven’t been on this computer for what seems like a long time. I just haven’t felt like writing. No blog posts, no stories, no daily notes to myself…I haven’t even backed up my files and taken the flash drive to the safety deposit box. I’ve just been in free-fall. I missed my niece’s wedding at the beginning of the month – didn’t have the money or means to get there. Not sure how I feel about that. In one sense, I missed a big booze bash of all their friends, and in another sense I missed a family reunion that doesn’t happen very often – if ever. But it’s over, and I missed it. So there’s no use crying over spoiled milk.

I’m eating unconsciously again. Just stuffing myself whenever I go into the kitchen. There’s too much food sitting there. I feel like I have to eat the huge amounts I have on hand. I’ve got to get back to my cottage cheese and yogurt diet. I feel GOOD on it. I like the lightness, and the yogurt gives me the sweetness I crave. Simplify, simplify. Live a simple life.

I wrote in my previous post about the “want to” begin writing again. Well, that went away quick. Overall, I think I’m getting closer to wanting to sit down here at the keyboard, but I’m bouncing around in my desires. Most of the time I spend down at Vivian’s, helping her and talking. We do so well, hashing out the stuff we’ve carried all these years.

This evening I spent 30 minutes helping the apartment manager learn how to back up pictures to a flash drive. Once we figured it out, I ran her through the process from start to finish several times so she’d have it. She was real happy to learn how. I was real happy to have shown her something on her Windows machine, which I don’t know very well. Macs are so much easier.

Tomorrow church is gonna have a guest speaker. Patty’s gone to national conference, and will be back Tuesday, I think. She always comes back from these affairs charged up and ready to try new stuff. Really helps our congregation get involved. I’m just not sure about the speaker, though. Haven’t heard anything about him. Oh, well, I’ll be there.

Growing Up

I’m at the church running the office, filling in for Mandy who’s off celebrating her son’s birthday. Fred’s just given me a treatment, and it’s really helped my jaw and teeth. This pain is residual from the Celexa, and my tongue has been in abject pain for the last week. I’m unconsciously pressing it very forcefully against my teeth and jaw. Soreness unbound. I’ve been living on 400 mg of ibuprofen every three hours to keep myself from crawling into bed and shaking in agony.

So Fred gives me a treatment – after I did him – and it’s taken away the pain. That’s a miracle in itself. Plus, my shirt’s wet on the shoulders where he had his hands. Now THAT I don’t know if it’s from his hands or from me. Oh, well, not important. I feel better, that’s what counts.

Last night I was helping Vivian get around in her apartment – she’s to stay off her right leg for a week following the surgery just below her knee – and she wanted to wash up. So I wrestled the wheelchair into the bathroom and got her all set up to sit in front of the sink. Then I stood outside the bathroom on pins and needles, waiting for her to finish. I was so afraid she’d fall, and I’d have to call 911 to pick her up.

I was so scared because I was back into the caregiving mode that I lived in with Sherry. I felt responsible for her, I felt like it would be bad for me if she fell. After all, I’d have to tell her daughters what had happened, and I was afraid they’d blame me for it. I know, I know, all fears from the past. Well, I still have those fear reactions.

The fear did me in. After she got ready I helped her back to bed, got her set, and brought a chair in to sit with her. And I cratered. All the old tapes from taking care of Sherry flooded in and I began to get sick to my stomach. I realized I was going to end up shaking and crying from the old traumas if I didn’t get stabilized. So I up and left, going upstairs. Crawled into bed and tossed a bit before I was able to fall asleep. I was in bad shape, mentally.

That was about 8. During the night I woke up and called her. We had an hour’s conversation about my “running off.” I was lying there in bed and shaking in fear again, this time afraid of her being mad at me. That’s been a major factor in my life, and was most of the reason Sherry was able to abuse me so viciously. I tried to get across my problem and we sort of reached a point where there was understanding. I fell back asleep, exhausted emotionally.

This morning I jerked awake. Got dressed and a bite to eat and went down. She was upset – badly. She felt like she hadn’t cleared her feelings from last night. So we spent an hour trying to hash out all THAT stuff. I had to leave, to get over here to the church, and we left it for later this afternoon. I’m going back over when I’m done here, to keep her from getting up and walking. Yeah, caregiving again. I just can’t seem to get away from it. But then, I’m her Friend – with a capital F – and we’ve already been through too much for me to abandon her when she needs help. Not to mention that I need her Friendship just as much as she needs mine.

In another area, I’ve been feeling like I want to write again. Want, not need. There’s a big difference. Wanting means I can skip it for a while, let the ideas rumble around in my head, build trains of thought to spin out in pixels. NEEDING to write means it’s past thinking, it’s GOTTA be done. I HAVE to sit down and let the words come out. That’s what happened with the books. That was a need.

So I’m wrestling with the writing desire. I realize now I have to spend some time in the recliner, letting my mind freewheel so I can gather those thoughts. I have to have time alone, quiet time. Meditate, maybe. There’s something I haven’t had time for, since I met Vivian. I’ve been too busy talking and exploring aspects of my life, my relationship with Sherry – and Jackie – and listening to her talk about her life. So I’ve been too busy. Maybe I need to meditate again.

But right now I’m knee deep in taking care of her. Being the Friend she needs, to get stuff for her, to make coffee, to sit there and listen to her while she’s in bed – under doctor’s orders to stay off that leg for a week. We’ve worked out how to get her into the beauty parlor tomorrow: I’m going to take the wheelchair over there and be ready to wheel her in, after her daughter brings her over in the car. Vivian really doesn’t need to be climbing up into my pickup. And the wheelchair’s too heavy for the girls to lift. So I’ll go over and wheel her in. Then when she’s done I’ll go pick her up and her other daughter will bring her home in her car. I’ll bring the wheelchair back. Seems like the only logical way to do it. The ramp at the salon is a real killer for her – especially coming down. She doesn’t do well coming down steps or slopes. I figure this is the least I can do.

See? See how I’m throwing myself into helping? It’s the way I was raised, to help out. Duke did it all his life. He was totally involved with the church, he was always available to help people who needed a hand, he volunteered at various community charities, he organized people to get things done. He was a GREAT organizer. But he spent hours and hours and days getting people to take the steps they needed to get their projects done. He neglected his family.

Now here I am, taking care of Vivian, taking care of Dorothy, helping out as much as I can at the church, stepping in to help the complex manager, being a good neighbor…and neglecting ME. I don’t take time for naps – even though Viv keeps harping at me to stop running all over the city helping people – and I don’t take time to fix decent meals for myself. The only way I wash clothes is when I help Vivian take her wash. Otherwise mine would just build up until I didn’t have any clean shirts or underwear left. I mean, totally outwardly directed. Just like my dad.

And there’s the point of my caregiving Vivian. It’s just something I do, because I’m here and there’s nobody else to do it. So I step up and help.

Makes me wonder if my tongue and jaw and teeth problem isn’t partly fueled by my tension over whether I’m helping Vivian or hindering. I try to give her all the room she needs to take care of herself, but that equates to her getting up and standing around in the kitchen making dinner, putting groceries away, washing dishes, making another pot of coffee, and piddling around. Hurting her leg. She’s so used to taking care of herself she can’t let me do it for her.

I mean, it’s almost like pulling teeth from a wildcat to get her to sit down so I can give her a treatment on her knee. She says they work, she gets pain relief and her incision is absolutely beautiful – NO inflammation around it – but she’s too busy to let me take the hour to channel all that healing into it. I mean, I get such a different reception from Dorothy – she sits there and holds still because it brings her so much relief.

Oh, well, at least I can help some.

This morning while we were talking about the emotional hour we spent on the phone last night, I had an epiphany. I have been given a Gift. A Huge Gift. I mean, a LOT bigger than my healing hands, bigger than my writing talent, bigger than my helping others, bigger than helping at the church, bigger than anything else in my life. I’ve been given the Gift of healing ME, getting all my internal emotional walls knocked down, clearing my spirit to get me to true Inner Peace, the peace that passes all understanding. And to do it now, in this life. To get there, I’m trusting that Vivian will be there for me to talk to, to pour out all my angst and hang-ups. I mean, I’m there for her, wide open and listening to everything she has to say. And I really am going for it, going for the goal of becoming peaceful inside.

When I was growing up, and living my life for those 59 years, I spent hours begging God for Inner Peace. All I knew was manic-depressive cycles where I wasn’t functional most of the time. I was always at the mercy of my messed-up brain chemistry. Bipolar disorder is horrifying. So when I got on the Lamictal, in 2005, suddenly there was stability, calmness, a huge peace. That med has been a lifesaver. But now that it’s been 4 years, I’m finding I need more depth. There’s just not enough peace. I’m finding corners of my mind that are so convoluted I can’t be still.

And there’s the Gift: a Friend with whom I can work this stuff out. I have Jim for some aspects, I have Vivian for the others. And I have the VA counselor for the real nitty-gritty. At least I’m covered, I have help. This all gives me the opening I need to delve into it and clear up the bad parts. I just hope Vivian’s taking the same opportunity. I think she is, but she’s got her own timetable. Well, we’ll see.

CS: I finally wrote the interview with Danny. He approved it as written, and I’ve emailed it here to be picked up and added to the church bulletin, which comes out every two months. Usually I knock those out the same day I do the interview, but things have been a bit topsy-turvy recently. I’m hoping that my life will calm down here soon. Problem is, I LIKE my life. I just wish I had more free time to write. I miss it.

Later, at home:

I’m back from Dorothy’s, and she feels better. I’m going down to Vivian’s soon, to help her with her supper and if she needs anything else. Gotta go get her mail, too. I’ll have a couple of cups of coffee and we’ll talk and maybe I’ll work on her knee. It’ll be relaxing.

Life

Life’s been happening. I’ve been growing a lot closer to Vivian. There’s a love there that I’m still exploring. It’s all very engrossing.

I’m happy. Haven’t been writing, but I’m smooth about that. I realize now that it’s a matter of cycles, of flow. Sherry once said that my writing was like the tide: sometimes it comes in, sometimes it goes out. Vivian said the same thing in different words. Jim said not to worry about it. So I’ve finally gotten to a place where I’m not afraid about it anymore. I have the writing talent, I have the words and the ideas – just not right now – and it’ll come back. My intuition tells me that when I get truly leveled out on these meds – that is, when my brain chemistry has gotten over all the changes I’ve been through these last eight months – I’ll step into a whole new world. I’m getting there now, and it’s really very soothing to my soul.

May 18th I had a life change. That Monday I lost my fear. I stopped being afraid of money, of Jackie, of Sherry, of relationships, of worry about my truck and my health and my sanity and my writing and so many other facets that I still find new ones here and there. I mean, it’s been a TOTAL life change. I’ve smoothed out so much I’m not the same person. I opened up. I realized my feelings for Vivian, I realized my intrinsic worth, I accepted self-confidence and self-esteem. I felt the acceptance I’ve been getting from everyone at the church, from Vivian, from the manager here at the complex, from Jim – and the guys at coffee – and, surprisingly, from people I say “Hi” to at the grocery store, WalMart, etc. I mean, EVERYTHING opened up.

To say it’s been a huge shift is to say that a volcano erupting is a simple pimple on the Earth. I mean, this has been absolutely world-changing. But I’m not upset, not frantic or depressed or manic or anything. I seem to be standing up, getting up from a kneeling position I had been in since I was a child. No more bowed head. Very interesting. I keep getting little epiphanies every day.

I haven’t written/posted here recently because I’ve been in a floaty place. Life suddenly seemed to take on a texture like smoke. Very loose, flowing, soft, comforting. I did an interview with one of the church members and just couldn’t get to writing it – until today. Got out my notes and the whole thing was on paper in 15 minutes. And I thought I needed to keep up with this blog.

I started this exercise to keep a journal of my mood swings. I think I’ve done pretty well with it. And now I’m in such a state of flux I don’t even THINK about my moods. I mean, the Lamictal is at full dose, and I’m getting stabilized on it again, like I was last year. I’ve had problems with the antidepressants, but Dr. Shaw put me on Wellbutrin last Friday. This med is the one that has the least side effects. So I’m hopeful I’ll be rid of this Celexa jaw-grinding soon. I still have the jiggling foot syndrome from the Risperdal, however. Hope it goes away soon.

I’m very calm. I’m very level. I haven’t been this stable in my life. No manias, no serious depressions, just a nice smoothness. Thank God for Dr. Shaw and the VA. Things are so smooth that Jim and I barely have anything to talk about these days. He’s really smooth, too. He’s gotten into a VERY good place since he dropped Susan. Now he’s expanding into his independence, and finding he’s really, REALLY happy.

I’m finding the same thing. It’s interesting how happy I really am. Having Vivian to hug and hold and kiss and talk to – although sometimes we just sit there, together, quietly – is a magnificent balm to my soul. With her there’s this depth of feeling, an acceptance, a…trust. I trust this woman not to hurt me, not to be cruel or cutting or sarcastic. Not to manipulate me. This is a VERY adult relationship: we’re not kids groping to see what we can get from the other. THAT’S totally new for me. But as Jim said, I had to get rid of the grotesque codependence I had with Sherry. I have. I don’t feel grasping with Vivian. I feel complete. That’s a new sensation, too. From what she says, it’s the same for her. We’re still exploring areas we’ve never known. It’s all new to me.

I’m in a whole new arena where my emotional experience is. I haven’t ever been this calm in my life. I just don’t fear anything anymore. It’s like it’s ALL okay. Books tell of people who’ve had near-death experiences, and how they no longer fear anything. They’re at peace. Well, I feel like that. There’s a deep inner knowing that it’s all okay, that it’s just a tempest in a teapot. No sweat.

And love. I feel this love for everybody. It’s like we’re all family. Of course there are those I don’t like, but hey! It’s alright! And this feeling with Vivian is astounding. I’ve never, ever been accepted for who I am so intensely. There’s a clear understanding that I can talk about anything, freely. She talks to me, freely. We’ve waded through a lot of grieving about her sister Lou and her other siblings. I’ve waded through a lot of stuff about Sherry and then Jackie. I’m coming up out of this subservient role I was in. I’m beginning to stand up and acknowledge who I REALLY Am.

Pain

It hit me on Thursday, hard. Left side jaw, all my teeth, tongue, my neck, and a raging headache at the base of my skull. Really bad. I started on 400 mg. of ibuprofen every three hours. No real relief. And sleeping was agony.

This lasted up until late yesterday afternoon, when I gave myself a treatment on my jaw. That cut the pain a bunch but didn’t take it away. And after a while it came back.

This is withdrawal from the Celexa. God, I hope that stuff gets out of my system fast. This pain is really hard to deal with.

My moods seem to be stabilized in spite of it all. I mean, I haven’t noticed a real drop into depression or anything. I’ve been off the Celexa almost a week now, so if I was going to see variations they’d probably start showing up about now.

Tomorrow’s the VA all day. I’m going to see if I can wait and see Dr. Shaw, or leave her a note – get me on some other antidepressant.

Jim’s Mail

Jim left this morning. He’s on the road somewhere now. I have to go over and get his mail before long. Then come back and give Dorothy a treatment. Her back’s messed up, my treatments seem to help her a lot. After that I can get up here and see about maybe writing.

I woke up at 11 – Jackie was pounding on my door, and I didn’t answer. Then I went back to sleep and finally got outta bed at 12:30. Sure enough, Vivian called and it was downstairs to fresh-brewed coffee, conversation, and friendship. I get great calm from her. And I know she enjoys my company. That’s a good mutually beneficial deal.

Jackie seems to think I’m going to talk to her again. She’s not paying attention. She can go jump in a lake of fire as far as I’m concerned. If she comes to the door sometime when I’m not paying attention, I’ll yell at her to get the hell out of here. That MAY give her a hint – and she may be so stupid that she doesn’t get it then. Oh, well. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Gave Vivian a treatment on her knees. She was hurting this morning, and still planned on going to the dumpster, then to get her mail. That slope is hard on her. I’m just glad I’m able to help.

Today I feel pretty good, in spite of Jackie’s intrusion. I’m smooth, I feel very calm after spending a few hours with Vivian, and I’m NOT worried about writing. If I get back up here and manage to whip out a story or maybe a couple of paragraphs, then wonderful. If not, then I’ll surf the net and see what I can learn. Or maybe read emails and think about responding.

Today was the last day for the half-and-half mixture of Zoloft and Celexa. Tomorrow morning I begin the full 20 mg. dose of Celexa alone. This is to see if my teeth-grinding goes away with this change. I sure hope so, I’m living on ibuprofen, trying to keep the pain in my jaw from distracting me too much. Or my lips, which are badly bitten inside. And my tongue hurts from pressing it against my teeth so hard. Man, I need to get stabilized.

But overall I feel smooth. I’m not bubbling over with energy or mania or anything. I’m not really up at all. I’m just here, smooth. I haven’t even noticed one of those mid-day drops I talked about a while back. Those have probably happened, I was either napping or doing something that disguised it. They’re very subtle – yet very real.

Now to get ready (sandals, wallet, keys) and go get Jim’s mail. Hit the grocery store for some cookies and get back here to work on Dorothy. That’ll be a day for me.

No, didn’t go to the church this morning to do Patty’s thumbs – she’s in San Antonio getting that pin pulled out of her left one. Let’s trust it went well.