Posts
We actually slept last night after we found out we got the heating rebate woohoo! For once the system worked for us and not against us and they will be paying $550 on our power bill. We'll still have another big bill but it won't be anything like the $657 bill we got this month and right now we're grateful for any help. It was nice to actually sleep last night and not have the worry of whether or not we would get it hanging over our heads.
Also, my dear friend Eden got the book I'd crafted for her, it finally arrived and she loved it which made me happy. I love to craft for my friends and it's great when people appreciate what you've made them. Can you believe that not everyone likes hand crafted gifts? I usually craft Christmas presents, just because gifts and have found that many people think of hand made gifts as less than store bought gifts. I'd rather have a badly made something than a well made store bought anything. I remember years ago when my step mother had made her foray into tole painting. She made a beautiful serving tray and if you don't know anything about tole painting, it's very time intensive. She spent hours and hours on this piece and it was just beautiful. Debby is one of those amazing people who can just pick up any craft she is interested in and excel at it. She just blows me away. Anyway, she was so proud of this tray and the person she gave it too gave a cursory thanks and just stashed it away in a cupboard as I remember it. Debby was crushed and on her behalf I was livid. Don't get me wrong, people who craft don't expect parades, awards or huge acknowledgments but at the same time it's not hard to tell when someone doesn't really appreciate what you've done. And that's hard when you put your heart and soul into something.
But it's easy to tell when someone likes what you've made them and Eden I was overwhelmed by your response to my little gift. And it warmed me beyond measure that L liked it also.
So, today is a pretty good day. I mailed out many cards and letters yesterday, I got my first PostCrossing postcard today and had an awesome day with my friend Jenny yesterday. We had a blast going to the dollar store and she treated me to lunch at Burger King - I hadn't had a Whopper in ages and it was an awesome treat. AND, Canada beat Russia last night and is hopefully on the road to gold in men's hockey.
Today it's good to be me and for that I am grateful.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Semantics are everything......
There are many stigmas attached to psychiatric illnesses and I'm always doing what I can to expose them for the fallacies that they are. My dream job, and one I hope to be doing at some point once I figure out how, would be working as an advocate with companies of any size; teaching what it really means to have a psychiatric illness and what companies can do for their employees who suffer from these conditions. These illnesses are the number one cause of time lost on the job in North America and there is much that companies could do to decrease this loss.
But as I said, semantics really are everything and I think the first thing we need to do is stop using the term mental health. Mental refers to the mind, not the brain, and it is the brain that is the genesis of psychiatric diseases. People tend to think of the mind and brain as being the same and they are not. The mind is a function of the brain, they are not the same thing. Depression, schizophrenia, anxiety disorders - these diseases and disorders begin in the brain and from there affect the mind. They do not begin in the mind. I believe that they are neurological diseases no different than Alzheimer's or Parkinson's. I'm not sure when and how they were labeled as mental and at this point I really don't care. Alzheimer's isn't referred to as a mental health issue but it's really no different in origin than depression or schizophrenia - the brain malfunctions and that malfunction spreads to the rest of the body in various ways.
I'm a little cloud-headed today and feel like I've been more coherent on this subject previously but here you go. I think if we can be more accurate in how we refer to psychiatric diseases and disorders that would go a long way in relieving some of the stigma that surround them. Alzheimer's isn't known as a mental health issue and Parkinson's isn't known as a muscular disease. Psychiatric diseases need to be labeled for what they are, diseases of the brain. Refer to them as neurological diseases , psychiatric diseases - please just don't refer to them as mental health diseases. Doing so keeps us all in the closet of ignorance and it's getting pretty stuffy in here.
Until next time, be grateful, be happy and if that's out of reach right now, reach out to someone who can remind you.
But as I said, semantics really are everything and I think the first thing we need to do is stop using the term mental health. Mental refers to the mind, not the brain, and it is the brain that is the genesis of psychiatric diseases. People tend to think of the mind and brain as being the same and they are not. The mind is a function of the brain, they are not the same thing. Depression, schizophrenia, anxiety disorders - these diseases and disorders begin in the brain and from there affect the mind. They do not begin in the mind. I believe that they are neurological diseases no different than Alzheimer's or Parkinson's. I'm not sure when and how they were labeled as mental and at this point I really don't care. Alzheimer's isn't referred to as a mental health issue but it's really no different in origin than depression or schizophrenia - the brain malfunctions and that malfunction spreads to the rest of the body in various ways.
I'm a little cloud-headed today and feel like I've been more coherent on this subject previously but here you go. I think if we can be more accurate in how we refer to psychiatric diseases and disorders that would go a long way in relieving some of the stigma that surround them. Alzheimer's isn't known as a mental health issue and Parkinson's isn't known as a muscular disease. Psychiatric diseases need to be labeled for what they are, diseases of the brain. Refer to them as neurological diseases , psychiatric diseases - please just don't refer to them as mental health diseases. Doing so keeps us all in the closet of ignorance and it's getting pretty stuffy in here.
Until next time, be grateful, be happy and if that's out of reach right now, reach out to someone who can remind you.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
So here I am.....
.....feeling better but still not feeling all the way there. It's been almost a month now since the new drug regimen started and I'm at the awkward place - halfway between being sick and being back to myself.
And I'm so bored...... I've been crafting like a madwoman, haha, but my paper crafting supplies are running low and I haven't quite figured out what to move to next. I have a huge stack of handmade cards to send out next week when my disability comes in. (Oh Eden, I can't wait until your surprise lands in your mailbox! I had so much fun making it!).
But crafting with depression brings it's own challenges, it's own set of usta's. I usta be able to knock out scrapbook pages in record time, the ideas would come so fast I'd be writing notes on the blank pages so I wouldn't forget them. About 5 years ago I made a scrapbook for my best friend of 30 years and I spent days working on it, filling up the pages almost as fast as I could turn them. I love to make things for my friends, I actually very rarely make things for myself. And when I make something for someone, I spell it (sort of a pun on my most favorite net name Spellflinger), that is I reflect on the person, what they mean to me, the times we've shared - I imbue whatever I'm making with good thoughts and positive energy. In the case of my heartsib, who I haven't yet been graced to meet, I spelled it with thoughts of what our time would be like together when we do get to meet.
But after my last major breakdown in 2005, my creativity has been hampered and dampened and it's never really come back full force. The enjoyment and satisfaction I get are still there, but the ideas don't come as easily or as quickly. Blank scrapbook pages challenge me. Rows of beads taunt me and material just lays there in piles. I didn't realize until this happened how much of my sense of self was connected to being creative. A page can now take all day - and much of that is spent staring at the blank whiteness waiting for inspiration to occur. And the biggest obstacle is the usta's...... I usta be able to whip them right out, I usta have idea after idea........
And now I'm at the crossroad of being sick and being well and I'm bored. My motivation is paced ahead of my concentration and everything I think of bores me. Earlier this week I laid out all my beads and beading supplies - only to put it all away again as soon as it was all laid out. I get frustrated when the ideas don't come quickly - self defeating I know but there you have it. I have lots of ideas for paper crafting but who knows when I'll be able to replenish my paper stock. I'm hoping to be able to swing a packet of paper I saw at Wal Mart a few weeks ago - 2 inches thick of my favorite colors - and $30. Thinking that with our current power bill that just can't be done but I'll be setting aside my change and hoping in a few months it will happen. But I think a trip to the dollar store is doable, they have pretty good paper there.
And I'm trying to accept the fact that my creativity may never be as it was before. It's entirely possible that my previous level was really a manifestation of mania and I'm thinking that's too high a price to pay. I can still craft, it just takes longer and I'm thinking the extra effort makes it sweeter when it's done.
But right now I'm still so bored and hoping that something will grab my fancy soon. My paper is low, but there's still beading, sewing, polymer clay..... all sorts of stuff. If you'd like a handmade card, I have lots of those!, send me an email with your mailing address and I'll add it to the pile that's going out next week!
And I'm so bored...... I've been crafting like a madwoman, haha, but my paper crafting supplies are running low and I haven't quite figured out what to move to next. I have a huge stack of handmade cards to send out next week when my disability comes in. (Oh Eden, I can't wait until your surprise lands in your mailbox! I had so much fun making it!).
But crafting with depression brings it's own challenges, it's own set of usta's. I usta be able to knock out scrapbook pages in record time, the ideas would come so fast I'd be writing notes on the blank pages so I wouldn't forget them. About 5 years ago I made a scrapbook for my best friend of 30 years and I spent days working on it, filling up the pages almost as fast as I could turn them. I love to make things for my friends, I actually very rarely make things for myself. And when I make something for someone, I spell it (sort of a pun on my most favorite net name Spellflinger), that is I reflect on the person, what they mean to me, the times we've shared - I imbue whatever I'm making with good thoughts and positive energy. In the case of my heartsib, who I haven't yet been graced to meet, I spelled it with thoughts of what our time would be like together when we do get to meet.
But after my last major breakdown in 2005, my creativity has been hampered and dampened and it's never really come back full force. The enjoyment and satisfaction I get are still there, but the ideas don't come as easily or as quickly. Blank scrapbook pages challenge me. Rows of beads taunt me and material just lays there in piles. I didn't realize until this happened how much of my sense of self was connected to being creative. A page can now take all day - and much of that is spent staring at the blank whiteness waiting for inspiration to occur. And the biggest obstacle is the usta's...... I usta be able to whip them right out, I usta have idea after idea........
And now I'm at the crossroad of being sick and being well and I'm bored. My motivation is paced ahead of my concentration and everything I think of bores me. Earlier this week I laid out all my beads and beading supplies - only to put it all away again as soon as it was all laid out. I get frustrated when the ideas don't come quickly - self defeating I know but there you have it. I have lots of ideas for paper crafting but who knows when I'll be able to replenish my paper stock. I'm hoping to be able to swing a packet of paper I saw at Wal Mart a few weeks ago - 2 inches thick of my favorite colors - and $30. Thinking that with our current power bill that just can't be done but I'll be setting aside my change and hoping in a few months it will happen. But I think a trip to the dollar store is doable, they have pretty good paper there.
And I'm trying to accept the fact that my creativity may never be as it was before. It's entirely possible that my previous level was really a manifestation of mania and I'm thinking that's too high a price to pay. I can still craft, it just takes longer and I'm thinking the extra effort makes it sweeter when it's done.
But right now I'm still so bored and hoping that something will grab my fancy soon. My paper is low, but there's still beading, sewing, polymer clay..... all sorts of stuff. If you'd like a handmade card, I have lots of those!, send me an email with your mailing address and I'll add it to the pile that's going out next week!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
And so it goes.....
If you read my last post, you know all about the whopping power bill we got. Well, I called out local MLA (member of the legislative assembly) and he put us in touch with a department at Social Services that may be able to help with the bill. Seems we may qualify for a heating rebate of up to $500 and we have the ball in motion to see if we qualify, fingers crossed.
Poverty is often referred to as grinding and I cannot think of a more accurate description. There's a reason that people from lower incomes suffer from depression more than those who live in a higher tax bracket. Grinding is exactly what poverty does - it grinds away at your pride, your self esteem and overall sense of self worth. Right now I'm hoping we are considered poor enough to qualify for a drug card that would cover my medications. We're so far below the poverty line we can't even see it and yet the last time we lived here I was disqualified for the drug card. My Dr will be able to get me one through the clinic if social services (doesn't that just sound better than welfare? same thing but less stigmatic to me) declines me yet again. Still, it's demeaning enough to have to apply for one but then to be denied for not being poor enough?
But, if it gets me my meds I suppose it's all for the best. As I said before, Tom and I are the little people. Eating out means having enough for a value meal at McDonalds and that usually still emans a coupon of some kind is involved. I've made my own pads for out if both economical and environmental concerns. We rarely buy meat and only then if it's on sale. I've been making do with underpants that fall off if I'm wearing a nightgown and despite our huge power bill, we're living in a cold house. In the past I've used shampoo to wash dishes when the dish soap ran out and we didn't have the money to buy new right away.
But, we get by. We always have food, sometimes from the food bank, the cats always have food and clean litter. We have the internet. We have a roof over our heads and clothes that are clean. Except for underpants, all my clothes come from the thrift store but that's also a preference not just an economic necessity. Reduce, reuse and recycle people, it's what it's all about. I've been a thrift store fan since I was a teenager thanks to my stepmother. Retail is for suckers.
Inasmuch as we do get by, it's still a struggle and to then be told that you aren't poor enough? That's a slap that stings more than going to the food bank. I felt much of my progress slip away when we got that power bill last week and I'm working hard to get back to where I was so I can continue to improve. It sucks to have something outside of yourself take away progress when I work and fight so hard for every small bit of improvement. I'm still feeling more engaged that I did before the meds started, but I've lost a fair bit of my new optimism. It's tilting at windmills to be sure, but things shouldn't be so hard all the time. So, cross your fingers for us that we are considered poor enough for the rebate to help with our power bill. We should find out in the next few days.
And I was supposed to have an appointment with Dr Sanjay today but I had to reschedule. We didn't have the bus fare I needed to get there and back. But we get by. Barely.
Poverty is often referred to as grinding and I cannot think of a more accurate description. There's a reason that people from lower incomes suffer from depression more than those who live in a higher tax bracket. Grinding is exactly what poverty does - it grinds away at your pride, your self esteem and overall sense of self worth. Right now I'm hoping we are considered poor enough to qualify for a drug card that would cover my medications. We're so far below the poverty line we can't even see it and yet the last time we lived here I was disqualified for the drug card. My Dr will be able to get me one through the clinic if social services (doesn't that just sound better than welfare? same thing but less stigmatic to me) declines me yet again. Still, it's demeaning enough to have to apply for one but then to be denied for not being poor enough?
But, if it gets me my meds I suppose it's all for the best. As I said before, Tom and I are the little people. Eating out means having enough for a value meal at McDonalds and that usually still emans a coupon of some kind is involved. I've made my own pads for out if both economical and environmental concerns. We rarely buy meat and only then if it's on sale. I've been making do with underpants that fall off if I'm wearing a nightgown and despite our huge power bill, we're living in a cold house. In the past I've used shampoo to wash dishes when the dish soap ran out and we didn't have the money to buy new right away.
But, we get by. We always have food, sometimes from the food bank, the cats always have food and clean litter. We have the internet. We have a roof over our heads and clothes that are clean. Except for underpants, all my clothes come from the thrift store but that's also a preference not just an economic necessity. Reduce, reuse and recycle people, it's what it's all about. I've been a thrift store fan since I was a teenager thanks to my stepmother. Retail is for suckers.
Inasmuch as we do get by, it's still a struggle and to then be told that you aren't poor enough? That's a slap that stings more than going to the food bank. I felt much of my progress slip away when we got that power bill last week and I'm working hard to get back to where I was so I can continue to improve. It sucks to have something outside of yourself take away progress when I work and fight so hard for every small bit of improvement. I'm still feeling more engaged that I did before the meds started, but I've lost a fair bit of my new optimism. It's tilting at windmills to be sure, but things shouldn't be so hard all the time. So, cross your fingers for us that we are considered poor enough for the rebate to help with our power bill. We should find out in the next few days.
And I was supposed to have an appointment with Dr Sanjay today but I had to reschedule. We didn't have the bus fare I needed to get there and back. But we get by. Barely.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Today is hard.
I know that I have much to be grateful for. I have a husband and we actually love each other, family and friend that I love - and they love me.
But today is hard. We pay for our electricity here and the house is heated with electric. We keep the thermostat on 15C/58F - in the living room. The rest of the rooms the heaters are on basically just enough to prevent the ice from actually forming. The things in my house are cold - furniture, utensils - my fingertips get colder from the keyboard. We are cold. As I write this I am wearing 2 pairs of socks, slippers, leggings, flannel pants, turtleneck, sweatshirt, cardigan and fingerless gloves. And I'm cold. By hanging a sheet in the living room doorway last week, I'm able to trap heat in the living room and it's not too bad. So that makes one room kind of warm.
Last month our hydro bill was $154. Apparently that was an estimate. This month the employee actually got out of his heated truck, walked 6 feet from the street and read the meter. So this month we are paying for what we actually used this month and last. And our bill is $657.
Our rent is $480. I'm on disability and Tom is getting unemployment. We are so beyond being able to pay that bill it may as well be a million dollars. The bright side, haha, is that after several people froze to death last winter after NB Power cut their power off, they changed the law and they can't turn your power off in the winter months. So spring will be a double edged sword. The bill will go down but we won't be able to afford to keep it.
We're the little people. We pay the outrageous taxes and banking fees. We're not vegetarian but we may as well be for as little as we can buy meat. If I don't get a drug card from social services I'll be hoping that every month a drug rep leaves enough samples of my medication.
Knowing that there are others, literally millions, who have it much worse and would trade places with my situation in a heartbeat doesn't make it any easier to deal with the situation.
Today is hard.
But today is hard. We pay for our electricity here and the house is heated with electric. We keep the thermostat on 15C/58F - in the living room. The rest of the rooms the heaters are on basically just enough to prevent the ice from actually forming. The things in my house are cold - furniture, utensils - my fingertips get colder from the keyboard. We are cold. As I write this I am wearing 2 pairs of socks, slippers, leggings, flannel pants, turtleneck, sweatshirt, cardigan and fingerless gloves. And I'm cold. By hanging a sheet in the living room doorway last week, I'm able to trap heat in the living room and it's not too bad. So that makes one room kind of warm.
Last month our hydro bill was $154. Apparently that was an estimate. This month the employee actually got out of his heated truck, walked 6 feet from the street and read the meter. So this month we are paying for what we actually used this month and last. And our bill is $657.
Our rent is $480. I'm on disability and Tom is getting unemployment. We are so beyond being able to pay that bill it may as well be a million dollars. The bright side, haha, is that after several people froze to death last winter after NB Power cut their power off, they changed the law and they can't turn your power off in the winter months. So spring will be a double edged sword. The bill will go down but we won't be able to afford to keep it.
We're the little people. We pay the outrageous taxes and banking fees. We're not vegetarian but we may as well be for as little as we can buy meat. If I don't get a drug card from social services I'll be hoping that every month a drug rep leaves enough samples of my medication.
Knowing that there are others, literally millions, who have it much worse and would trade places with my situation in a heartbeat doesn't make it any easier to deal with the situation.
Today is hard.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Be grateful. Inspired by Jinxi Boo's poem.
I knew it was tme to get postign but I was ahving a hard time figuring out what to write about. Then I read Jinxi's poem Grateful in my Google Reader and a topic that had been dancing around the edges crystallized. I love Jinxi's work, it always speaks to my heart and as I said when I posted it here, I hope it speaks to yours. I also read another poem today that spoke as loudly and brought with it healing but my edges are still somewhat raw and Ill write more on that another time as I need to get permission to repost that poem.
It's very easy to get caught up in what we don't have and lose sight of what we do have. It's a human trait that seems to be increasing these days but it's always possible that it's my perspective that makes it seem so.
I work to live a life of gratitude but it wasn't always that way. In 2002 I'd had yet another massive breakdown, lost my job and my apartment. I was forced to move into a rooming house, the only place I could afford on what little money I would be getting from unemployment - 55% of just over minimum wage isn't very much money. When I was younger my Dad had dated a woman who lived in a rooming house and I had a somewhat romantic view of the whole thing. Well, there was little that was romantic about this rooming house. Across the hall from me lived a couple that the week before I had moved away from on the bus. On my second day there was a knock on the door from a local church group offering me a sandwich and a pop. ("Sandwich and a pop?" called out in a sweet singsong..... I can hear it to this day......). Apparently they came around every other Sunday. I was horrified. I declined their offer and would later just sit quietly when they knocked until they went away. They'd leave the sandwich and can of pop outside my door and I'd give them to the guy who had the closet sized room beside mine. Eventually the day came when I had to eat the sandwich myself. Eventually the day came when I realized that I'd lost enough weight that my jeans slipped off my hips and I had to accept the fact that I was now one of those people who went to the food bank instead of being someone who made donations to the food bank. For the longest time food bank food gave me heartburn. Eventually that passed taking more of my pride with it.
I'd go the the library to use the internet. And to steal toilet paper. On Saturdays I had to remember to take enough to last until Tuesday when the library opened again. I cut up all my towels except for two to use as pads. I eventually remembered to take my toilet paper with me when I woke up in the night to use the bathroom - the one I now shared with people I didn't care to share bus space with previously.
One day I was feeling especially bad and quite sorry for myself. I'd been forced to feed my two beloved cats rice for a few days while I waited for my unemployment check to arrive. I was out of cat food, out of tobacco and pretty much out of hope. I sat by the window and watched the street three stories below. The I saw him. I always thought of him as the guy in the red coat. He was a street person and no matter the weather, he always had on a red winter coat. I saw him at the library all the time - full bearded, dirty and usually talking to himself. I watched him walking along, bumming change form passers by and picking up butts from the street. And I realized that as bad as I had it, it could always be worse. True, my cats and I had only plain rice to eat, but we had a roof over our heads. And even though there were many times when I used to bathroom sink wo wash out my underpants, I still had clean underpants to wear. I didn't feel better than him, but I did feel luckier. And I felt pretty small for feeling so badly for myself.
Living on Carleton St wasn't the best place to live, but I learned some invaluable lessons there. I learned to truly live in gratitude there and I still do. It's been pretty cold here this winter but I remind myself that it would be even colder living on the streets. When we were without a stove and fridge, I'd remind myself that we were lucky to have had the money to buy a hotplate. I felt overwhelming gratitude when the parents of a dear friend gave us $150 at Christmas to help us get a fridge and stove - we'd never even met them but they knew of our situation from their daughter, my dear friend Jenny. (We moved back to the Miramichi in December and the only place that would allow my cats was a house that had no fridge or stove - thanks to Jenny's folks, we now have both!) And there isn;t a time when I use the stove or open the fridge that I don't think on that amazing gift.
When Tom and I fist got together, he used to bitch about going to the laundromat. I'd tell him, be grateful! Going there means we have the ability to walk there, we have the money to wash the clothes and we have clothes that need to be washed and clothes to wear while we go. And besides, it was all of two hours out of the day, not worth letting it ruin your whole day!
I never did express my thanks in words to the guy in the red coat. Last I knew, he was still living on the streets in Fredericton. But I used to buy a sub when I could and leave it on his coat at the library when he was away in the stacks getting a book.
Oh, and the awful rooming house that destryoed my image of rooming houses as being a romantic place to live? There was some romance there. It's where I met Tom my husband.
It's very easy to get caught up in what we don't have and lose sight of what we do have. It's a human trait that seems to be increasing these days but it's always possible that it's my perspective that makes it seem so.
I work to live a life of gratitude but it wasn't always that way. In 2002 I'd had yet another massive breakdown, lost my job and my apartment. I was forced to move into a rooming house, the only place I could afford on what little money I would be getting from unemployment - 55% of just over minimum wage isn't very much money. When I was younger my Dad had dated a woman who lived in a rooming house and I had a somewhat romantic view of the whole thing. Well, there was little that was romantic about this rooming house. Across the hall from me lived a couple that the week before I had moved away from on the bus. On my second day there was a knock on the door from a local church group offering me a sandwich and a pop. ("Sandwich and a pop?" called out in a sweet singsong..... I can hear it to this day......). Apparently they came around every other Sunday. I was horrified. I declined their offer and would later just sit quietly when they knocked until they went away. They'd leave the sandwich and can of pop outside my door and I'd give them to the guy who had the closet sized room beside mine. Eventually the day came when I had to eat the sandwich myself. Eventually the day came when I realized that I'd lost enough weight that my jeans slipped off my hips and I had to accept the fact that I was now one of those people who went to the food bank instead of being someone who made donations to the food bank. For the longest time food bank food gave me heartburn. Eventually that passed taking more of my pride with it.
I'd go the the library to use the internet. And to steal toilet paper. On Saturdays I had to remember to take enough to last until Tuesday when the library opened again. I cut up all my towels except for two to use as pads. I eventually remembered to take my toilet paper with me when I woke up in the night to use the bathroom - the one I now shared with people I didn't care to share bus space with previously.
One day I was feeling especially bad and quite sorry for myself. I'd been forced to feed my two beloved cats rice for a few days while I waited for my unemployment check to arrive. I was out of cat food, out of tobacco and pretty much out of hope. I sat by the window and watched the street three stories below. The I saw him. I always thought of him as the guy in the red coat. He was a street person and no matter the weather, he always had on a red winter coat. I saw him at the library all the time - full bearded, dirty and usually talking to himself. I watched him walking along, bumming change form passers by and picking up butts from the street. And I realized that as bad as I had it, it could always be worse. True, my cats and I had only plain rice to eat, but we had a roof over our heads. And even though there were many times when I used to bathroom sink wo wash out my underpants, I still had clean underpants to wear. I didn't feel better than him, but I did feel luckier. And I felt pretty small for feeling so badly for myself.
Living on Carleton St wasn't the best place to live, but I learned some invaluable lessons there. I learned to truly live in gratitude there and I still do. It's been pretty cold here this winter but I remind myself that it would be even colder living on the streets. When we were without a stove and fridge, I'd remind myself that we were lucky to have had the money to buy a hotplate. I felt overwhelming gratitude when the parents of a dear friend gave us $150 at Christmas to help us get a fridge and stove - we'd never even met them but they knew of our situation from their daughter, my dear friend Jenny. (We moved back to the Miramichi in December and the only place that would allow my cats was a house that had no fridge or stove - thanks to Jenny's folks, we now have both!) And there isn;t a time when I use the stove or open the fridge that I don't think on that amazing gift.
When Tom and I fist got together, he used to bitch about going to the laundromat. I'd tell him, be grateful! Going there means we have the ability to walk there, we have the money to wash the clothes and we have clothes that need to be washed and clothes to wear while we go. And besides, it was all of two hours out of the day, not worth letting it ruin your whole day!
I never did express my thanks in words to the guy in the red coat. Last I knew, he was still living on the streets in Fredericton. But I used to buy a sub when I could and leave it on his coat at the library when he was away in the stacks getting a book.
Oh, and the awful rooming house that destryoed my image of rooming houses as being a romantic place to live? There was some romance there. It's where I met Tom my husband.
Grateful: A Poem by Jinxi Boo
Yet another great poem by Jinxi Boo. Her words always speak straight to my heart and I hope they speak to your as well.
Grateful
Be grateful for mistakes.
Mistakes are what teach lessons.
Be grateful when you are tired,
Your hard work often means that you have made a difference.
Be grateful for unaccomplished goals.
If all were reached, what would there be to work towards?
Be grateful for shortcomings;
they provide the prospect for improvement.
Be grateful when you don't understand;
It gives you the opportunity to learn something new.
Be grateful when times are trying.
Those times make you stronger.
Be grateful for progression. And persistence.
And days, good or bad.
Be grateful for difficulties.
How you handle them, speaks volumes to your character.
~j-boo
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Well, it's been a week now.....
....and I have to say that there has been a definite shift in the internal dialogue. I am feeling more engaged with myself and the world in which I live. This is the forgetting time, when how I felt two weeks ago fades and it hard to explain exactly how I felt. The difficulty with the dark time is that there is no energy to chronicle how it feels and by the time I start to feel the energy, the sense of how I felt is fading away. It's like trying to remember an amazing concert - as time goes by, you remember the feeling of the concert but the small precise moments have slipped away. And the further away I get from the dark time, the hazier the details are.
But I do know that when I wake up in the morning, that sense of dread is gone. The sense of oh crap another day and how am I going to fill it this time and how will I pass enough time before I can go back to bed....... even going to bed has gotten better. Instead of laying there cataloging all the things I didn't do I can go over the things I did do and the things I'd like to do tomorrow. I'm still not doing everything I'd hoped to - the bedroom is still unorganized and there are still boxes to be unpacked, but the thought of these things doesn't overwhelm me like it did two weeks ago.
Yesterday Tom and I did a major grocery shop in celebration of our new mini fridge. (The house we moved into last December didn't have either a fridge or stove..... but we have a stove and a mini fridge now woohoo!!!!) After we got home and put it all away, I did the dishes, made corned beef hash for supper and a lazy daisy cake for dessert AND THEN I DID THE SUPPER DISHES!!! So I figure either the Lithium is working or we have a new sign for the coming of the apocalypse...... and it was nice to get up today and go into a kitchen that wasn't a disaster zone. Please don't rat me out to Germaine Greer or Betty Friedan for my little woman behavior....
And then after supper I made a small folding book for Tom for Valentine's Day that turned out well and being me I gave it to him last night. We usually don't bother much with V-day, I would have made it for him regardless of the season. It's not easy for him by times and that is another thing I struggle with - the guilt I feel over him having a wife that isn't always there the way she'd like to be. But I did find an incredible quote that was said to Tsar Nicholas by his wife Alexandra:
"I love you - these three words contain my whole life"
Here's to a whole life!
But I do know that when I wake up in the morning, that sense of dread is gone. The sense of oh crap another day and how am I going to fill it this time and how will I pass enough time before I can go back to bed....... even going to bed has gotten better. Instead of laying there cataloging all the things I didn't do I can go over the things I did do and the things I'd like to do tomorrow. I'm still not doing everything I'd hoped to - the bedroom is still unorganized and there are still boxes to be unpacked, but the thought of these things doesn't overwhelm me like it did two weeks ago.
Yesterday Tom and I did a major grocery shop in celebration of our new mini fridge. (The house we moved into last December didn't have either a fridge or stove..... but we have a stove and a mini fridge now woohoo!!!!) After we got home and put it all away, I did the dishes, made corned beef hash for supper and a lazy daisy cake for dessert AND THEN I DID THE SUPPER DISHES!!! So I figure either the Lithium is working or we have a new sign for the coming of the apocalypse...... and it was nice to get up today and go into a kitchen that wasn't a disaster zone. Please don't rat me out to Germaine Greer or Betty Friedan for my little woman behavior....
And then after supper I made a small folding book for Tom for Valentine's Day that turned out well and being me I gave it to him last night. We usually don't bother much with V-day, I would have made it for him regardless of the season. It's not easy for him by times and that is another thing I struggle with - the guilt I feel over him having a wife that isn't always there the way she'd like to be. But I did find an incredible quote that was said to Tsar Nicholas by his wife Alexandra:
"I love you - these three words contain my whole life"
Here's to a whole life!
Monday, February 1, 2010
Getting over the ustas......
Earlier today I posted a poem by Jinxi Boo that I really liked - especially the part about memory lane being a stop on the journey, not the destination itself. I am prone to getting the ustas and that part really spoke to me.
Ever had the ustas? I usta be able to work 2 jobs and go to school full time. I usta be able to handle simple decisions like which socks to wear without having an anxiety attack. I usta have a strong self image of myself as a strong, independent and capable woman. I usta be able to bounce back from depressive episodes in a matter of days. Now it can take months. I usta have a firm and toned jaw line.......
Living in the past can be seductive, destructive and oh so easy to do..... and paralyzes me. It undermines where I am now and what I'm accomplishing at this moment. And I'm realizing that it's not just the bipolar and accompanying disorders that have changed things - it's also the fact that 44 ain't 24 and 44 can't do everything as easily as 24 once did.
But it's hard, especially with my husband's family. They know me largely as someone who is "sensitive", who is unable to handle certain things like the mall on a busy weekend afternoon. I feel more defined by my limitations than my abilities. I wish I could turn on a time machine screen and show them who I "usta" be, introduce them to the woman who maintained A's in Honors Philosophy while working 70 hours at 2 jobs, have them meet the me I usta be, the me I mourn still.
I'll never get that woman back, she's long gone and I'd be loathe to give up all I've learned and experienced since then. But I'm hoping that this new drug regimen will introduce to the 44 and fierce me I know I can be.
Ever had the ustas? I usta be able to work 2 jobs and go to school full time. I usta be able to handle simple decisions like which socks to wear without having an anxiety attack. I usta have a strong self image of myself as a strong, independent and capable woman. I usta be able to bounce back from depressive episodes in a matter of days. Now it can take months. I usta have a firm and toned jaw line.......
Living in the past can be seductive, destructive and oh so easy to do..... and paralyzes me. It undermines where I am now and what I'm accomplishing at this moment. And I'm realizing that it's not just the bipolar and accompanying disorders that have changed things - it's also the fact that 44 ain't 24 and 44 can't do everything as easily as 24 once did.
But it's hard, especially with my husband's family. They know me largely as someone who is "sensitive", who is unable to handle certain things like the mall on a busy weekend afternoon. I feel more defined by my limitations than my abilities. I wish I could turn on a time machine screen and show them who I "usta" be, introduce them to the woman who maintained A's in Honors Philosophy while working 70 hours at 2 jobs, have them meet the me I usta be, the me I mourn still.
I'll never get that woman back, she's long gone and I'd be loathe to give up all I've learned and experienced since then. But I'm hoping that this new drug regimen will introduce to the 44 and fierce me I know I can be.
Today by Jinxi Caddell
Today
Now is not the time
to live in the past.
You are not your past...
you are so much more.
Make memory lane
a destination on the journey;
not the finish line.
Use lessons learned
to guide your way.
Be proud of days gone by…
but be bigger;
and better;
and brighter than ever before.
The past is there
to learn from.
The present is here
to live.
The future awaits
with open arms.
Don’t be the old version of anything.
Be the best version of yourself
... today.
http://www.jinxiboo.com/blog/2010/1/27/today-a-poem-about-the-past-present-and-future.html
I've been subscribing to Jinxi's blog for awhile now since I stumbled it. Jinxi has an infectious enthusiasm for life that I find refreshing and this poem really spoke to me. Especially the lines about memory lane being a stop on the destination and not the finish line.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)