For Those Of You – The Kind Ones …

Who come visit me here and see what madness springs forth on any day, I deeply appreciate your support. You are the ones I cannot see but who are there nonetheless.
At this time, unfortunately, I am not able to reciprocate as much as I would like to. I tried to organize my subscriptions, to feel less overwhelmed, but that just made it worse. The list is even more overwhelming because it’s a list!
And it’s long.
It’s everything I want to see, but cannot at this time.
Let me see.
What is the best way to put it?
To say I am juggling several matters at the moment would be a sublime way to put it.
Instead – more accurately – would be to say my life is up in the air right now and I’m scrambling to catch the pieces as they randomly approach ground and reassemble myself.
Luckily my former training as a dancer has helped. I happened to notice when I take off my boots at the end of the day, they are in what is known in Ballet as fourth position – accidentally, unconsciously, and consistently. So you never know exactly how your artistic tendencies will manifest in a time of crisis.
I have no idea what this new arrangement will look like –
I am hoping I will fall into place –
No.
Wait.
That’s not right.
That would be way too optimistic, as well as nonproductive. The missing pieces – the empty spaces, the dark spots, the bright ones, the broken navigators, the storms, the stuff that does not fit – are essential to our creative angst, right? That’s what makes us go tick-tock and say things like, Blink, Blink.
So we shall see what emerges.
Thank you.

Up, Up and Away!

Had a really good time with my buddies, George and Sarah, yesterday in Rockville. He’s going to take me to Ocean City so we can just walk along the shoreline. We haven’t managed to work that out yet. We’ve been talking about it for a while, but now he understands it’s urgent to get me there, so we’re waiting for a good day (weather, no rain) to go there on a Sunday, Monday or Tuesday (his days off). Sarah (later) bought me two sketchbooks, cause I’m running out of paper, and we had this really (earlier) palatable (I can’t seem to handle meat, anymore) meal, something with fresh spinach and cheese melted and wrapped in a crepe. It took forever for me to order. I asked the guy very detailed questions about the menu selections, while trying to select something, make a decision.

Why are decisions sometimes so difficult?
But I did it!

And then, I needed more coffee, before I drove back to Baltimore, so Sarah went home and George and I went back to Starbucks for two shots of espresso. While they were making my coffee, the barista said (not to me): “The truck’s here.” to her coworker, in a funny way, and I looked outside and saw a semi, and I asked if the truck had coffee, and she said, “Yes.” And I said, “I wanna get on that truck!” And she laughed.

So George and I sat outside, while I drank my coffee, and the trucker had unloaded lots of stacked boxes, which were on a crate, and they were just sitting there, and I said to George, “Let’s hijack the truck!” (Not seriously). And he started laughing and said, “That would be really bad for your divorce case right now. And I’ve worked so hard to get stable (George has the greatest manic stories in the world! I was laughing so hard, I ended up on the floor, when he first told them to me.) it would be really bad for me too.” But he still thought it was funny. (And, tempting.) But the boxes just sat there. Filled with coffee beans.

Luckily, I had emailed Dr K when we first sat outside, and told him, I may be Hypomanic, but I wasn’t sure. And I think we need to increase my Trileptal. But he didn’t email me back until 2:00 AM. (I’ll get to that part soon.). So George asked me if I was okay to drive back, and I told him how much I love driving at night and cranking the music up, and that I would be okay.

So it was, like 9:00 PM.
And the boxes were still there!

And then the driver (he had been doing other stuff) was there too, and I asked if there was coffee in those boxes, and he said, “Yes.” And I said, “I want some!” And he said, “Which one do you want?” And I said, “French Roast, please.” Well, I didn’t get any. And I realized, I answered his question incorrectly. The Smart was a few feet away, and I should’ve said, “I want all of them. See the Smart, there? Just stack the entire block of 60 boxes on the roof, and I’ll be on my way.” Still, we had a lot of fun. As soon as I got home, I increased my Trileptal by 150 mgs, and the oddest thing happened. Within an hour, all the tension in my shoulders had vanished, the headache I had been battling since morning sprinted away, and I felt level!

Not normal.
Never normal.

Well, Dr K wrote me back at 2:00 AM, and I told him what I had done (With the meds. Didn’t dare tell him about the events leading up to the increase of meds.). Went back to sleep, and saw he had written back to me, and told me to keep the Trileptal at 500 mgs, not above, and divide it into 2 doses, morning and night. But I have no explanation for Giddy Attacks.

Fuck!
Oh, well.
George to the Rescue!
Once again.