step by step

I'm tired and groggy and my brain is full of cobwebs. Yesterday was definitely a drop...irritable and snippy. I avoided people as much as possible and I took some meds and was in bed by 8:30. Except for Beloved nudging me a few times, I slept through the night, but getting up at 7:30 was a drag. Two hours and two cups of coffee later, I am still not really functioning. Icing on the cake is a light pink tinge...my moontime is kicking in. That is about 10-12 days early, but it accounts for the pimples.

Thanks to Issac, the weekend forecast is rain, rain, and more rain. It's desperately needed here, and it will fit my mood. I just am sorry it happens to be the holiday weekend.

55 hours...

I'm starting to get overwhelmed.

The Plan is to head to the cabin for the weekend. I'm looking at the house, the packing, the laundry. I get snap-shot, zoom-in mental pictures of all the things that are out of place. I can't focus enough to get anything done.

That Girl is asleep on the couch and Boy is content watching television is a sheer blessing. If they were at each other or whining at me, I'm pretty sure I'd lose it...

documenting

If my UP switch was flipped Monday night, then I am about 52 hours past it. I am definitely crashing...it has a very physical feel to it, like a caffeine crash with jitters. Mentally, I am having trouble following conversations and communicating with Girl is agony (she likes to try to talk with her thumb in her mouth, on top of the 3-year old logic and word mispronunciation).

My eyes are gritty and I desperately want to curl up and go to sleep. I did try to lay down, but I was interrupted and my thoughts kept wandering over things I *should* do.

Icarus and recognition of a familiar pattern

In Greek mythology, Icarus attempted to escape from Crete by means of wings that his father constructed from feathers and wax. He ignored instructions not to fly too close to the sun, and the melting wax caused him to fall into the sea where he drowned.

I am Icarus today.

It isn't ignoring instructions per se, but today I have flown waaaaay high. It's been building up for the last couple of days, and last night the wave crested. I couldn't get to sleep, and when I DID, I didn't stay asleep. I was up at 5:30am and couldn't get back to DreamTime.

I was productive...I made pancakes and started laundry. When the kids got up, I laughed and played with them. I teased Beloved mercilessly as he walked out the door. I blogged about all the good stuff going on. I got all the gear together that I needed for an afternoon away from home and set off for my 1pm counseling appointment.

It wasn't until my therapist realized that I was cracking her up that something clicked. "I have never seen you like this before. What changed?"

Nothing. No diet changes, no relationship changes, no big breaks in responsibilities. This just is an UP day.

She started quizzing me about all of it. I admitted that there was an edge...that I will crash hard and by Thursday afternoon, I expect to be a complete mess. That is the pattern...every couple of weeks, for about 36 hours, I'm high as a kite. I slip a day later, and then the sleep deprivation catches me and it's utter hell of depression and misery for about 3 or four days before I "normalize" to my typical dysthymic level. It doesn't seem triggered by anything specific, it just happens. It's been happening for years and years.

She got up and got some tests, and while I was doing them, she said, "You even look different...animated."

I scored borderline bipoler.

Duh. I could have told you that. The problem is my UP is extremely short and I don't think any medical professional has really seen one in progress before. Sure, I will TELL them they happen, but the general low is much more familiar, more typical. I don't have a "normal emotional baseline" or something like that. The dysthymia IS accurate, but I do present the hypermanic very briefly before a spectacular crash.

*sigh* I'm still high. Despite being up for 20 hours, running all day, and a hard workout at the gym, I can't relax. I'm writing all of this up and having trouble sitting still. I don't know if I will be able to sleep soon at all.

But tomorrow...and the next day...and the weekend...

*sigh*

More good stuff!

I did in fact manage to spend Saturday cleaning house. I knocked out almost all of the weekly chores, took four showers to prevent overheating, and managed to actually ACCOMPLISH something.

Sunday, the family met up with my dad and his wife and we fested on Ethiopian food. Going back to their place, we enjoyed a rustic blueberry pie and squeezed in a couple of hands of bridge in before the kids were too squirrelly for company.

Monday, I took advantage of the cool day to pull about 12 bags of stuff out of the attic and scheduled a pick-up with a local charity. This morning, it is all gone. Hurrah!

My moods are still rocky at best, but I am getting things done and that helps a lot. Tonight, Beloved wants to meet up at the gym and has given me the option of taking off for the evening. I'm debating on doing my own workout. I could use it, if I can summon up the energy and motivation to do it...

Not all bad

I write about a lot of crap. It's easy fodder, people love drama, and it's good to vent. Sometimes, however, something happens that smacks me in the head and reminds me WHY I am doing all of this.

This morning was one of those.

Boy got up at his usual 6:30am, but for once he didn't go slamming his drawers or wake Girl up. Instead he came into my bedroom and crawled into bed next to me, laughing because I was sleeping "upside-down" (head at the foot of the bed). He curled up behind me and gently played with my hair, patted my head, and told me that "even if you died, I'd still love you." That's quite sentimental from an almost-6-year-old who is fascinated with zombies!

He stayed until 7:03 (which he called seven-thirty, until the number changed to four, which confused him). Then he got up and without arguing(!) went to take a shower.

A taste of heaven. Maybe I AM doing something right!

My therapist says...

Are you getting tired of reading that? heh.

Working though crap in my head lends itself to a very selfish inward attention. I don't know how else to describe it. Right now, I am having a hard time empathizing with anyone. I feel incredibly disconnected and lonely, even though I know all I have to do is pick up the phone and call any one of a million people. I just don't know what to say, and the idea of hanging out hold zero appeal.

What I'd LIKE to do tomorrow is be zen and clean, clean, clean. I'd like to feel good about accomplishing stuff and I'd like to look around the house with satisfaction. It's been a long time since I really did that.

It's going to be hot again tomorrow...mid-90s and humid. I don't like that kind of heat. It squelches my motivation. *sigh*

So, I'm back to pondering my precarious sense of self and wondering if I will ever be not-broken. Between my physical complaints and my mental complications, I'm kinda doubting it.

My therapist says don't think about it. Reserve such contemplations for therapy. I wonder if she realizes how impossible that is?

Tired? Lonely? Confused?

All of the above?

I feel like I have botched a number of recent conversations with people. Nothing serious, at least I don't think there's any major fallout, but maybe some hurt feelings or disappointments. I don't know.

I've been talking about Big Work for a while, so I had to restrain a laugh when my therapist said that was what she'd like to start into. She agrees that I have dysthymia, but believes that it stems from primary PTSD. It isn't just the points that are obvious, either. She wants to go digging into early childhood experiences and situations that I had mostly discounted. It wasn't until I was eight that things got hard, right?

Maybe not. Maybe it was as early as two, when my sister was born with both ventricular and atrial septal defects. A desperately sick baby who had lots of doctor appointments and hospital stays means that I wasn't with my mom...I was taken care of and loved, but I didn't have any one caretaker consistently enough to form a "secure base" for attachment. I found an interesting paper on the subject, but I haven't digested the whole article.

Such talk in therapy has lead to other discussions. Why does "tough love" seem so easy for me? Do the relationships that I drop not mean as much to me as they do to the other person? Am I emotionally independent to the point of being unhealthy?

*wry smile* If that were true, I doubt my family would label me fragile, but I don't know. I can't tell if it's fear or loneliness, but I am feeling something painful and it all makes my head hurt and I want to curl up and hide.

Anyhow...between all of this and the last week of summer vacation (oh my god! I made it and no one is dead!!!), I've been too busy to put it all into words. Even this is rough and took three sittings to write out. Ah well...school starts soon!

(PS - the kids' school, not mine...my classes were cancelled due to low enrollment. *shrug* The Universe seems a little determined to keep me home a while longer.)

Lost: six years

It's been a crappy day. I'm running low...still, I'm resentful and angry and tired and I am hating my situation with a fierce passion.

Six years ago, I wore a suit. I had a respectable paycheck. I received luncheon invitations. I spoke with members of Congress, and was even offered a job in Washington.
I cling to those memories bitterly because they are all I have that remind me that once upon a time I WAS SOMEONE.

It's only been five years, ten months, and 25 days. Not that I'm counting or anything.

Yeah...No.

I'm not in a good spot. I haven't been in a good spot all week, although I have been trying really hard to muddle through. I feel like I am slogging though mud to do ANYTHING.

The list of what's "wrong" is the usual vague crap. My weight has been pretty high lately. It seems that everyone around me is losing weight while I can't motivate myself to do the laundry, let alone work out. I feel horribly fat and bloated and my back and wrist add to the discomfort. The worst part is my clothes aren't being comfortable, which says that it's not *just* in my head.

Beloved has been awesome about staying on top of the general pick-up with the kids. A lot of other chores have slid off the radar, though. I spent several hours this morning doing yardwork...there's three full waste bags and materials for another two easy. I *should* feel good about getting that done, and I don't. There's no sense of satisfaction.

I have been staring at my room for over a week, trying to figure out how to re-arrange it. Instead of inspiration, the laundry catches my attention, which fires the guilty accusations that I don't do enough around the house and I can't handle that right now so instead of doing anything I pick up a book because I am trying to avoid my computer...

blech.

What *happened*??? I thought I was doing well. I thought I was breaking through and having incredible, life-changing self-discoveries. I though at least I was managing my moods. Why did everything fall apart?

I think it started last week...I took Boy and Girl up to the family cabin Thursday night. The drive as fine, I got everyone situated and the car unpacked, but then I could not get to sleep. I was up until 4am, and the kids were super-excited and got up at 6:30. I was in a surly mood a good part of the weekend and I haven't shaken it since getting home. Even the nearly 10 hours of sleep a night hasn't been much help.

My moontime started with a slight pink-ish show Monday that was actual blood by Wednesday. Three months later, ablation has definitely improved the blood-loss. While that should be a relief, there is the nagging irritation that I have a moon at all.

I have had very little down-time with the kids. Boy is done with camp, and being true siblings, they have been needling each other constantly until it seem I am screaming all the time. Even Beloved has lost his patience with them a few times in the evenings, and HE is the most even-keeled person I know! Of course today at my counseling session, they were absolute angels during the appointment and my therapist points and says I must be doing something right. Fills my heart with hope, only to have to pull the car over on the 15-minute ride home to scold them about hitting each other. ARRRRGH!

The icing is Beloved talking about GenCon next week. I do not harbor bitter feelings about his vacation time as much as I simply dread being without his steadying nature. I had loose plans, but I haven't tried to confirm them and in my current mood I am not likely to. Double-edged blade...if I haven't heard from them, possibly-probably the invitation was more politeness than truly meant. Gotta love that internal dialogue.

So...I guess that's what happened. A couple of my triggers met up and decided to have a field day. I'm tired. I hurt, physically and mentally. More than anything, I want to escape from myself. Unfortunately, whereever you go, there you are.

Time slippage

I injured my wrist a while back. I was hoping it would heal up on it's own, but life with a small child includes lifting 40 lbs regularly through the day. I broke down and bought a good brace which makes typing a challenge, thus there is some time slippage. Maybe this weekend I'll get a thoughtful post in?

Core Value: INDEPENDENCE

Last night, Beloved pulled out a letter that I wrote August 19th, 2011, a letter roiling in depression and dependency. I wasn't accomplishing anything and only barely getting through the day. I was miserable, Beloved was miserable. I was in a major depression. I had lost/given up on several things that I genuinely take pride and pleasure in. I was mired my stay-at-home life, struggling and suffocating in the dependence the last five years produced, feeling like I was unable to break out.

Nothing lasts forever, though. I did break the cycle. I lost some weight. It took nearly a year, but I found a counselor that I am comfortable working with. I have been digging in deep, cutting ties, and making changes.

After reading last year's letter aloud, Beloved and I talked a little about it and about changes I've been working on. Beloved commented, In some ways, I think I was more comfortable a year ago..."Comfortable" doesn't mean "healthy", but I think I was more comfortable. That stings. Oh lordy does that sting!

I've been meaning to get back to the values work, but I haven't had much time to really delve into the concepts. I'm not sure I understand what I am looking at...for...

Core values are traits or qualities that you consider not just worthwhile, they represent an individual's or organization's highest priorities, deeply held beliefs, and core, fundamental driving forces...Core values are made accessible by translating them into value statements. Value statements are grounded in values and define how people want to behave...

Peering back at my "happiness" statements and considering my letter a year ago, the one value that jumps at me is independence. I am happiest working in my garden or working behind the scenes. I crave the quiet solitude of natural settings. I long to be independent, both accomplishing things for myself and unfettered by demands from others. To be able to finish a single thought without being interrupted.

I don't think that this is an absolute by any stretch of the imagination. I like bringing people together and I need intimate relationships as well, but even within those situations, *I* prefer to function independently of others.

Exploring this concept, I also see shivers of panic when people around me aren't being independent. In the last six months, I have been rather exacting of such relationships. Curbing my relationship with Shado, ending my relationship with Sir. I have even talked about leaving Beloved; his constant offer to "manage" or "rescue" me ultimately cost self-esteem and confidence. Bring Boy and Girl into the picture, and there is a perfect storm developing, because babes-in-arms are the ultimate in dependence. All I want to do is shed my skin and fly away.

But in most cases, I can't. So, I am doing this work here. BleuAme said "the true work is to know yourself", and it is slow, hard, painful work. Sometimes, I want to DO scream at the interruptions. Sometimes, time gets away from me...I have been working on these thoughts for three weeks! Sometimes, I withdraw, and well-meaning friends ask over and over if I'm okay and I falter, questioning if I *really* need to do this if so many people are uncomfortable.

At the same time, there is little doubt that *in my head*, things are getting better. I feel more emotionally balanced, although that is perhaps lower or quieter than people are used to. I am demanding that the boundaries I set be respected. I am trying to manage my own affairs while being true to my mission and accountable to my family and friends. It is a balance that is tenuous at times.

On the outside, both Boy and Girl are growing up and discovering their own independence (it's wonderful, and I am cheering at every milestone we reach). I am working on communications with Beloved, how express our core values without smothering or shutting each other out. I have an assignment with the forest preserve that has potential for proprietary responsibilities. I am sorting through classes for the fall. I am striving for my Lioness, my cougar, my independence.

Busy...

Boy is out of summer camp, so I don't have much downtime. I have "values, 2" started, but...*half smile* We are skipping state again this weekend, so who knows when I'll get it posted, but I am working on it. :P