I am having a weird day. Not bad - I feel....suspended. I feel like I am making strong efforts, but they are muted, somehow.
Could be the weather. Last weekend, gorgeous, warm....full of fresh air and springlike tendencies. And then on Monday, it snowed. It snowed and slushed and rained, and we know it won't stay on the ground but we are sick of it!! Enough cold and raw weather - let's get on with Spring already!
I started a diet, of sorts. I have been drinking more lately, out of boredom, so I feel sluggish and thick. I don't look bigger, but my jeans are too tight and I hate that feeling. So I bought a huge box of Special K and I eat it twice a day with fruit, and then I eat one other regular meal - I will lose five pounds in two weeks, says so right on the box! I had to chuckle at myself though, on that first day...because there I was, pouring myself a big fat bowl of flakes, like three times the recommended serving size (one cup of cereal...is that even remotely humanly possible to eat just one cup of dry cereal?!?).
I have been enjoying food so much over the last six months or so - it is painfully obvious that I have been immersed in the art of cooking and eating...lots of sugary, buttery baked goods...rich chocolaty ice cream bars...pasta, oooh yeesssss bring on that pasta, baby. It brings me such satisfaction, it pacifies me and moves me in a way that not much else is doing at this time.
Mama needs some lovin'. Mama needs to kick ass at a fulfilling, creative job and make lots of money and pay her silly outrageous phone bill! Girlfriend needs to kick up her heels and feel sun on her face - I want to be cute and be noticed! Sister needs to laugh and make new friends, expand on the creative, social and intellectual fronts.....Mama wants to get in that groove, honey, I am a free woman! I no longer have the disadvantage of a controlling, jealous, condescending and somewhat unpleasant husband - and he never really stopped me from striding forward, but he sure as hell let me down by not believing in me; by dragging his feet on future growth and prosperity, by filling me with the certainty that I have sort-of wasted the last five years of my life trying to be happy with him.
And I am not angry with him, or even disappointed anymore - I am full of hope and full of desire again. Just bring on the warm weather, and give me more motivation to work out. Allow my stomach to shrink back to it's normal size, and for the love of all things Holy, give me the strength to resist baking cakes and brownies...Jesus God, they will be the death of me!
So, although this week is a bit of a - pill - a slightly bitter pill, still, I have completed some long-awaited tasks. I reworked my pdf portfolio, and it looks so much better. My work is evolving, and I like the way that imagined possibilities come winding through my thoughts as I view my collection of professional works....they can be better, and will be better, even still. Just give me a shot - someone at an urban, hip design studio....just let me in and give me a chance to grow with you. We will bounce incredible ideas around, like silly colorful crazy balls, zig-zagging around the open studio environment! Come on - there has got to be an interesting and groovy place for me, with other capable and creative designers who are expressive and curious about the world!
Jeez, lots of adjectives flying around in this post...but, I am filled to the brim with the explosive desire to succeed at this creative work! Just give me a chance...somebody.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Off meds - an Update
Ummmm...hello, Crazy Girl? What are you thinking?!? Going off the meds, eh....do you think that is wise, at a time like this, etc......just cold-turkey and so-forth...
Hah. Shameless copy of the writing of Salman Rushdie, that last paragraph. I am reading The Ground Beneath Her Feet and loving it...I love his writing style. The month of February had been a feast of Indian culture, Rushdie's book, and then I saw Slumdog Millionaire. It has been what I like to refer to as my "Bombayitti Themewalla". I have had a few random fantasies about Indian men - that's new!
Coming off this medication has been. I don't know yet. The jury is still out on this verdict - I am not weeping in a corner, nor am I steering clear of those usual fearful, wimpy thoughts that I hate. Those insecure thoughts, and the subsequent self-hatred that comes after, they were the reason that I decided that I had had enough and began to take medication to begin with.
Intrusive thoughts? Yeah - you could say that. When you misinterpret the words of others, or use them to fashion an assault on the Self....that's intrusive. When you get so worked up and dizzy and frustrated at life's little burdens, that you want it ALL to stop...that's intrusive. When you have an airhead moment and can't remember something....intrusive thoughts barge in and make you feel small and sniveling and worthless. Not good.
I was serious about treatment when I finally admitted that I needed a hand dealing with my troubled mind. It is a huge barrier to push through, that admission that you aren't exactly normal like others. Or, that you need something to make you more stable - yikes. It took a few years of the bi-polar express ride.....first you are up, up and away!!!! You are impervious to the mindset of mere mortals, you scoff at the stout and hardy mentalities of regular folks...because in your mind you are a dragon, a rock star, an unimaginable talent whose only weaknesses lie in the trappings of modern life...how you chafe at any restrictive force - you want revolution, you want anarchy, you want utopia, you want outer space!
And then you fall down into the well. You cannot save yourself or anybody - you are inertia, you are a worm in the dirt. Your dreams are deluded fantasies that revolve around your pathetic need to be loved, and you see in brazen clarity that the ones who are near you only pity you, wish you would go away, laugh at your crazy convoluted struggling and grow weary of your inept attempts at maintaining structure - you are too much work for anybody to want.
Well. Come on now.
Don't be such a bummer, alright Sayid? (Thanks Rushdie)
I. Am.
OK.
I'm OK! Not great - I'm poor, divorcing, out of shape, childless and jobless (not to put TOO fine a point on it!).
But still - I am alright. Sometimes I am fine, and sometimes I am dandy (but still waiting for that divine moment when I can be both fine and dandy), and sometimes I feel great! Not pack-my-bags-I'm-moving-to-Paris great....not I-just-won-a-Pulitzer-Prize great....but I am great. I painted last week, and I really liked what I did - I design on a daily basis and get paid almost-top dollar for it, so that's great. I paid my bills last month, amazingly, and boy that was great! I am getting my hair cut this weekend, finally, after over a year of neglecting it - and I am positive that I will feel great after that! Five-dollar yoga this Saturday - great! Dinner party here at the new digs next weekend - great! That martini I made for myself before dinner this evening...great!
It is very solidifying to realize that I actually did the right thing by taking medication. I also made sure that I coupled the pharmaceutical treatment with some psychoanalytical. It was not easy, but the journey was worth it, if not for any other reason but to make my lady-shrinks chuckle at my observations and my stories...and I'm pretty sure they were laughing with me, not at me. They liked me - they really liked me. If you can endear yourself to a psychologist and make them smile a genuine smile, then I guess you aren't all bad.
Suffice it to say, I may be jumping the gun by coming off meds right now. I was listening to NPR last week, and was startled to hear a show about depression and the effects it has on the spiritual lives of people. There was a guy on the show that was on five different types of medications and was calm and sure of the fact that he would be, as most depressives need to be, on medications his whole life. Fucking NPR. It was NPR that sent me into a tail-spin several years back because of a show about scientific evidence that suggests a person who experiences any form of child abuse, is literally brain-damaged as a result. What the F!!!!! Brain damaged. Yup, the scientists claimed that a victim's brain is permanently wired in a dysfuctional way after an abusive childhood...and this is compounded by the views of society as it pertains to depression and other psychological malaise, that people just need to "get over" things, which apparently is impossible if your brain is replaying scenes from childhood, the whole needle-in-a-groove complex.
Brain damaged. Is it ironic, or what...that most forms of abuse are instruments in diminishing a person's sense of self - that a child who is told repeatedly that she is stupid and made to feel worthless, will grow up with a phobia about being unintelligent, and then later, come to find out, has to learn that she is brain damaged!
Well, be that as it may....I did the work I needed to do. I learned a lil bit about self-love (and will practice it diligently). I gained some technique in the art of acceptance and spiritual growth - simple philosophies to guide and protect the more sensitive of my sensibilities. I'm going to fight to be alright off these meds....and if it doesn't work, I will willingly climb back into the safety net, knowing what to expect and how it will all go down. I will know that it will not change my personality - I'll know that it will even me out, not numb me down (except sexually, haha).
I really have nothing to lose!
Clap if you want to : )
Hah. Shameless copy of the writing of Salman Rushdie, that last paragraph. I am reading The Ground Beneath Her Feet and loving it...I love his writing style. The month of February had been a feast of Indian culture, Rushdie's book, and then I saw Slumdog Millionaire. It has been what I like to refer to as my "Bombayitti Themewalla". I have had a few random fantasies about Indian men - that's new!
Coming off this medication has been. I don't know yet. The jury is still out on this verdict - I am not weeping in a corner, nor am I steering clear of those usual fearful, wimpy thoughts that I hate. Those insecure thoughts, and the subsequent self-hatred that comes after, they were the reason that I decided that I had had enough and began to take medication to begin with.
Intrusive thoughts? Yeah - you could say that. When you misinterpret the words of others, or use them to fashion an assault on the Self....that's intrusive. When you get so worked up and dizzy and frustrated at life's little burdens, that you want it ALL to stop...that's intrusive. When you have an airhead moment and can't remember something....intrusive thoughts barge in and make you feel small and sniveling and worthless. Not good.
I was serious about treatment when I finally admitted that I needed a hand dealing with my troubled mind. It is a huge barrier to push through, that admission that you aren't exactly normal like others. Or, that you need something to make you more stable - yikes. It took a few years of the bi-polar express ride.....first you are up, up and away!!!! You are impervious to the mindset of mere mortals, you scoff at the stout and hardy mentalities of regular folks...because in your mind you are a dragon, a rock star, an unimaginable talent whose only weaknesses lie in the trappings of modern life...how you chafe at any restrictive force - you want revolution, you want anarchy, you want utopia, you want outer space!
And then you fall down into the well. You cannot save yourself or anybody - you are inertia, you are a worm in the dirt. Your dreams are deluded fantasies that revolve around your pathetic need to be loved, and you see in brazen clarity that the ones who are near you only pity you, wish you would go away, laugh at your crazy convoluted struggling and grow weary of your inept attempts at maintaining structure - you are too much work for anybody to want.
Well. Come on now.
Don't be such a bummer, alright Sayid? (Thanks Rushdie)
I. Am.
OK.
I'm OK! Not great - I'm poor, divorcing, out of shape, childless and jobless (not to put TOO fine a point on it!).
But still - I am alright. Sometimes I am fine, and sometimes I am dandy (but still waiting for that divine moment when I can be both fine and dandy), and sometimes I feel great! Not pack-my-bags-I'm-moving-to-Paris great....not I-just-won-a-Pulitzer-Prize great....but I am great. I painted last week, and I really liked what I did - I design on a daily basis and get paid almost-top dollar for it, so that's great. I paid my bills last month, amazingly, and boy that was great! I am getting my hair cut this weekend, finally, after over a year of neglecting it - and I am positive that I will feel great after that! Five-dollar yoga this Saturday - great! Dinner party here at the new digs next weekend - great! That martini I made for myself before dinner this evening...great!
It is very solidifying to realize that I actually did the right thing by taking medication. I also made sure that I coupled the pharmaceutical treatment with some psychoanalytical. It was not easy, but the journey was worth it, if not for any other reason but to make my lady-shrinks chuckle at my observations and my stories...and I'm pretty sure they were laughing with me, not at me. They liked me - they really liked me. If you can endear yourself to a psychologist and make them smile a genuine smile, then I guess you aren't all bad.
Suffice it to say, I may be jumping the gun by coming off meds right now. I was listening to NPR last week, and was startled to hear a show about depression and the effects it has on the spiritual lives of people. There was a guy on the show that was on five different types of medications and was calm and sure of the fact that he would be, as most depressives need to be, on medications his whole life. Fucking NPR. It was NPR that sent me into a tail-spin several years back because of a show about scientific evidence that suggests a person who experiences any form of child abuse, is literally brain-damaged as a result. What the F!!!!! Brain damaged. Yup, the scientists claimed that a victim's brain is permanently wired in a dysfuctional way after an abusive childhood...and this is compounded by the views of society as it pertains to depression and other psychological malaise, that people just need to "get over" things, which apparently is impossible if your brain is replaying scenes from childhood, the whole needle-in-a-groove complex.
Brain damaged. Is it ironic, or what...that most forms of abuse are instruments in diminishing a person's sense of self - that a child who is told repeatedly that she is stupid and made to feel worthless, will grow up with a phobia about being unintelligent, and then later, come to find out, has to learn that she is brain damaged!
Well, be that as it may....I did the work I needed to do. I learned a lil bit about self-love (and will practice it diligently). I gained some technique in the art of acceptance and spiritual growth - simple philosophies to guide and protect the more sensitive of my sensibilities. I'm going to fight to be alright off these meds....and if it doesn't work, I will willingly climb back into the safety net, knowing what to expect and how it will all go down. I will know that it will not change my personality - I'll know that it will even me out, not numb me down (except sexually, haha).
I really have nothing to lose!
Clap if you want to : )
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