Mental Health

I went to my psychiatrist Friday to check on my sanity status. I took a Zanax before my husband and I left the house. I had a few serious questions I wanted answers to. After my extreme manic phase last Spring and Summer I have been really immature and hating the fact that I have to see a psychiatrist. To me all of a sudden my sanity is important, whether I am sane or insane, I still have serious questions. I’m realizing that without Xanax I behave in a behavior not becoming to me at my age. If I’m only going to a few places such as our Home Depot or the local vegetable market, I’m fine. If I’m out going places that I’m unfamiliar with or will engage in with people I don’t know, I either get scared or say immature things like when I was a teenager all over again. Being a teenager was immature for me as I never developed the skills to communicate in an acceptable way due to being ripped from my bipolar medications and thrown into Straight, a drug rehab that was pure hell. That experience resulted in the development of all sorts of alters who protected me throughout the harsh circumstance they put me through, that and not taking drugs and being ridiculed for denying this. I won’t go into that – it hurts to this day. The appointment with my psychiatrist went well. He said Retalin was safe and for me to take it once again. I cannot sleep but 3-5 hours which I thought was unfavorable to my brain and body, but he told me it was perfectly normal at my age. Now I understand why seniors sleep in the late afternoons. I’m afraid I’m a senior. I should hold on to my alters and perhaps will sleep to my previous schedule of eight hours. On the Enemy front I once again repeated everything I must have said before – that would be every other week that I see him. Some times I think he is just putting in his time and getting paid $120 for 45 minutes as an excuse to see me. I wish I could get better with the current situation of the alters interfering with my life and relationships of friends and family. I don’t do Face Book and my friends do which means I never hear from them much. I take it personally yet know some where in the back of my mind they are not ignoring me, just communicate differently now. I’ve also noticed they cannot carry on a conversation on the phone as well as they used to. This makes me sad and lonelier than I already am. I am alright in the depression side of things, I am mildly depressed yet functioning O.K. on the outside. I feel I should not share my thoughts about myself to friends and family as this perhaps is the mature way to go. I am sorry I exist in this world, yet my husband loves me so much, I can’t hurt him. He is the greatest husband and friend.

Another death to report. This time it was an old friend from Texas. The worse part of this event was we learned that his younger brother had died a year or so ago. What a bummer to hear this now especially through a damn website. We were like family; being close friends to their other two older brothers we exclusively hung out with. Having not seen the family in some years, we don’t know what to do other than send sympathy cards with out mentioning the first death. We will be in Texas Wednesday through Sunday, yet don’t want to crash a funeral. I feel so sad about the younger brothers and his family and wife. The old adage of mothers and fathers should die before their children are not adding up for this family. Their mother lost her husband when their youngest son was 5 or 6 years old.

I have to offer a little bit of my crazy predicament to liven up this entry. Waking up at 5:00 in the morning or earlier is awesome. I get to catch up with the shows I have recorded at an earlier time. The bad news is after a couple of early morning awakenings, there is nothing to watch for I have wiped out all shows due to waking up early. I have nothing to do and am pissed off that this is happening. I cannot run the vacuum cleaner or us the kitchen appliances. Why I would run a kitchen appliance I don’t know, but I know that I can’t. I have cleaned out all of the closets due to sheer boredom at this point and can recognize the Goodwill employees. Actually The Goodwill is nice to look around. Menopause is a bitch. I need 100% cotton T-shirts and Goodwill has them for $3.99 or less. I buy name brands and am quite pleased with shopping in a thrift store. Night sweats are a bitch and the heat without any warning is just awesome – NOT. My husband and I will be sleeping in a bedroom in the basement this summer. I can’t justify running the air condition for my situation when the basement is much cooler and beautiful as well.

I talked to my psychiatrist about this wonderful process in my life. He understood as his wife is in the same predicament. My psychiatrist is 2 months younger than me, so I feel a little significant as I am his senior. Basically since I already am on a shit load of drugs, moodiness won’t be so bad for my dear husband. I asked my husband why men don’t go through a medical senior process and he tried to cheer me up saying that perhaps his balls will shrink. That reminds me, my breasts are sagging also. I have been wearing bras since the girls began to develop and was told that if you wear a bra the sagging issue would not happen. Oh well. I bought four pairs of underwear yesterday and tried them on later last night. They are called “boy shorts” and are cute if your thighs and butt were perky. I will work on that, but mean while will wear them. They are cute. Bra shopping is a bitch, when I find one that fits, I by my girls four of them at the same time. There must be over fifty styles hanging on the racks at Macy’s. I hate bra shopping!!

Well I have found something to do at this ungodly time of night/morning – blogging. Hope it was interesting. My Chihuahua sleeps well.

My Dog died – It Sucks

Ginger my 16 ½ year old dachshund died last week. It sucks. She relied on my husband and me for all of her needs, including unconditional love. She could no longer walk and was uncomfortable sleeping in our bed. It killed me to leave her in her doggie bed at night. My husband would check on her before he went to bed between 12:00 P.M. to 1:00 P.M. Ginger was the sincerest loving dog – anyone would be privileged to have. We were blessed to have her in our lives. I cleaned all of her blankets and bedding the following day after her death, when I found one of her shirts in the laundry hamper I realized I had to keep it without cleaning it. I have that and a small stuffed tiger she used to prop her head on. It has her scent on it which I sleep with every night. I am very stupid I know, but it is difficult to get rid of someone who accompanied me every where I went night and day. Both of my dogs had/have their own doggie car seats so that they can see out of the windows while we drive. Gin had a doggie stroller she enjoyed when strolled her around the lake in our neighborhood. She had a good life although dieing was not in my plans. It’s weird not having to be home within three hours to care for her. We feel a great loss, yet relief in an odd way. She was ready to go but we didn’t know what or why she was not passing in her sleep. We think she was blind the last few days of her life. So it goes we are doing well with the alpha Chihuahua and three cats. Enough for us. Now we will be traveling with just one dog, how very odd this will be.

On the psych. Front I feel that my meds. are not working as well as some have in the past. Everyday is different from the past days. Some days I wake up only to feel with great regret that I have hours to stay awake until I can go back to sleep for the night. Some days I will not be with the program of life. I don’t really hear nor do I care. I see myself physically, but not mentally. It’s like when you drive for twenty minutes and “wake-up” and wonder how you got to where you are. Sometimes I’m on auto pilot and the next day I feel the world around me. I never know what the next day will bring. I’ve had problems sleeping lately. I can’t fall asleep well at all. I take an extra xanax, but it’s 50/50 if it will help me to fall asleep. Then I wake up at 3:45 A.M. Unless I have recorded T.V. shows and can watch them until the national news comes on, I’m bored to no end. We can’t figure out why this is happening, although my sister said that I used to check on Gin around the same time every morning and then go back to sleep. It sucks to have your dog die. We’ve had so many deaths this past year; why not throw in your life long companion?

The end of April we will be going back to Texas for a week. We will see my sister-in-laws garden urn wall – what ever it’s called. Sense I’m numb ½ of the time, this should go well. My PDOC has not returned my call so getting an adjustment for meds. is not going well. Maybe I’ll bring a bottle of Champaign to her urn wall and toast to her awesome life.

Enemy appointments are a waste of mine and his time at this point. I skipped last week and two weeks prior he had something going on. There is simply nothing to talk about. I often wonder when the scientists will come up with a surgery that will take away past events you do not want in your present life. I look at it as a canvas with colors on it. If you could cut one piece of the canvas with just one color out, wouldn’t that make the bad memories go away? None of this makes sense, but I will think out loud this time. Memories that are bad are of no use to me. Someone on Word press wrote informing me about a blog about Straight Inc. http://straightinccopouts.wordpress.com. It is so ironic how that place turned my life upside down. I will tell my story on that blog some day. Every Straight Inc. was a little different. The one I was in was in its’ infancy. The hatred for that place and my mother will never decrease. Therapy was supposed to help, but no one in the mental health field can digest what went on in there or how worse it was when the people in it were mentally ill. Some committed suicide. My attempt failed. Life.

I’m still watching the Jody Arias trial. A therapist was another defense tactic trying to get the jury to believe their defendant was a battered woman, although she was stalking Travis before she killed him. Amazing how the jury doesn’t believe this theory! The jury members are allowed to ask questions which are so cool. Juan Martinez is a dynamic lawyer. This trial is one of my three reality shows I keep up with. It’s just amazing how the experts in the mental health field are being crucified by this lawyer. Perhaps I’m biased when it comes to people in the mental health field.

My PT is going well. I am looking for a used Bosu ball. It looks like a large speed bump and costs way too much in my opinion. I put a post on Craigslist asking if anyone wants to sell one. Perhaps next week someone will email with one. My exercises are boring. I prefer walking, but that is not stretching I guess. Old, old, and old my body is! I am playing brain games from the computer. I may not be too stupid as I am getting higher scores. At 4:00 A.M., after I get my coffee, brain games can pass the time some what. I have no art projects going at this time. When I do they just pop up in my mind when ever and then I have about a week before I must implement it. Very odd, yet this blog is about my twisted mind.

All in all, things are fine up here. The weather is interesting. It will be in the seventies one day then go down to the teens the following day with snow. No hail yet. I’m anxious to get the flower seeds planted. I grow huge. tall sunflowers in the front of the house, three different heights, staggering from top to bottom. The tallest ones are generally 9 feet or taller. I have three different packages of various flower seeds that I will also be planting. I give up on vegetables other than butternut squash which I saved the seeds from one that I bought this past winter. I used to grow plants when I was a child. I never wanted to be in the house. Gardening was my outlet back then. We’ll finally put a sprinkler system in this year. Thirteen years of dragging hoses with sprinklers attached all over the yards is a pain.

This is going to be an interesting endeavor; I am going into business for myself. I need to put social security money (for lack of a better term) into my account for the future. I will be making soft dog bones. I’ve done this for years for my own dogs, so this should be any easy transition. I’ll put some free biscuits out in packages in a basket at my husbands work with my email address wrapped in ribbon and info about price, etc. I just have to watch my stress level after being out of the human environment for a while. But it will be all done at home and my husband will deliver them. Petco was interested with my product, but I was higher than a kite last year when I approached the local management. We’ll see if I can rebuild my self confidence some what. The biscuits are cool, just oatmeal, brown flour, can of mashed vegetable or fruit (squash, bananas, grated zucchini, etc.), eggs with a little vegetable oil. I also put a little bit of baby formula when I have samples. I have a food dehydrator now and may add bits of dried fruit such as apples in the biscuits also. I am excited sometimes with this idea, and then I feel a little over whelmed with the prospect of having responsibilities again.

So, I’m concluding my perimenpausel stage in life – yeah. Now I’m going into pure hell, menopause. Supposedly since I’m already taking a lot of psy. drugs, this too should be a breeze – NOT! I swear I’m going to die this summer. I am either very cold or extremely hot mostly at night. I read that at this stage in life, my body is just going back to its normal self once again. I didn’t like life when I was 14 and now I am to experience life as I was before my period. I don’t see myself climbing trees or running around the neighborhood exploring life‘s gifts. Nope, not revisiting my past, although climbing trees was a lot of fun. Michael Jackson was still climbing trees in his adult years, but I wouldn’t get away with climbing trees in the neighborhood, they would report me knowing my sanity is questionable at times. I don’t like some of my neighbors after one neighbor mentioned that I had the bipolar 1 disorder. I feel they look at me in an odd way. Paranoia is a problem with me.

Life can be so complicated, yet unique if you keep at least a little window open to allow life to continue until you can catch up.

Off The Wall

Confused….

Yikes – April is just around the corner. We got 12 inches of snow yesterday. It is beautiful, yet my cats and short legged dogs do not share in my enthusiasm. I do have to admit that I’d love to be on the beach, even for a week. I just find comfort in hearing the ocean and palm frowns late into the night as I drift to sleep. My husband and I can not live in St. Petersburg, Florida where I grew up because of the trauma it represents. I do love this one condo on the beach. It’s within five minutes walking distance of the beach we went to as teenagers. Life was so simple in 1976. It’s what followed the year later that is the kicker. Life wasn’t given to you until you were eight-teen and could leave home.

I’ve been lonely and up and down lately. I sometimes wish I could speak to some one openly without judgment. Enemy is not one of those people of course. I can’t speak to my friends because they have lives, full filling lives that would make me sound trite. I am 52 years old and have no goals in life. I can’t speak freely without feeling I’m going to make a mistake. I have nothing really to talk about. I feel like I’m just done here. I must sound pathetic because I have everything a wife could want in life. I have a generous and loving husband, comfortable living arrangements and caring friends. What I feel inside does not make sense for all I have in the physical world. Medication is a bitch and I don’t know if it is really helping any more. I don’t want to live with chemicals in my body, yet it doesn’t work out to well if I don’t. I am exercising just a little bit lately. I’m in physical therapy again for the sciatica nerve thing. That’s another thing; I don’t want to be around people like that – one on one communication. The art of communication eludes me at the moment. My husband is always listening to me I feel while in public or on the phone regarding business. He means well, but this is not who I was a few years ago. I was out going and loving every aspect of life. Slowly it began to unravel inside of me, not so much in the physical world. I feel it’s a game of hiding -go-seek. It’s what is inside of my mind that I am so screwed up with.

Current life. We have finally refinanced our house, leaving equity in the loan and will pay off our rental property in May. It took only 4 weeks to do this which is a short time compared to other people we’ve talked to. We will be looking into purchasing a piece of land from my in-laws who are tired of paying the taxes on something they never intend on using. It’s cheap – $4000.00 but the taxes are around $500.00 a year. If we build a small house for a retreat, it may be an idea although I don’t want to be tied up in a loan for a new house. It’s just a lot, close to Travis Lake in Austin, Texas. Very nice neighborhood, yet vacant land means a commercial developer may be able to change land usage in that area. I just want another project to keep me busy. Building a house is cost prohibited at this point of time.

Since my father died in August, I’ve only spoken to my mother 2-3 times. She likes to talk about all of the activities she is doing and places she is going. Her current plan is to go to India. She tells me she paid off her house and the rental she co-owns. I wonder if she misses my father. He was ill for three years in which she had little involvement with his care. She was rarely home and I struggle with the thought of why she wouldn’t hire a nurse as my father required. We are two extreme opposites. She is uncaring emotionally where I am the nurturer as my brother and sister tells me. I am trying to keep her in my mind as just a women connected to me by genetics. It ironically helps. My husband sees her in another light after he read the websites on Straight INC. which she threw me into when I was prepared to go back into the hospital. That’s another story. I’m tempted to ask her why she is spending money on herself and not on my father when he was ill, yet what is the point? Perhaps that is why I won’t return her calls and am keeping my distance from her. It’s the past. Maturing is one of my goals in therapy, which of course isn’t happening. I try to make conscious decisions while dealing with myself and those around me. I keep asking myself if there is an ulterior motive before I speak when I share my observations.

On the Enemy front, nothing is being accomplished. He may see it in a positive light, but I see no difference in my life. I’m no longer frustrated with any progress in his scope of the lunacy field. I want to discontinue, yet I don’t know if this is a smart idea. If I ask, he’ll just say something along the lines of “whatever”. There is no “why am I wasting your time” communication between he and I.

I’m watching the Jodi Arias trial – the girl who stabbed her boyfriend 26 times and shot him twice in the head. The State attorney calls it “dissociative-amnesia” while she did this. She can remember before and after and perhaps the camera that was found in the washing machine after and during the killing was helpful as the police were successfully able to extract the pictures of the memory card. Oops – didn’t think far enough on how to take the memory card out of the camera. The defense attorney feels the “dissociative-amnesia” is a crock of bull, especially after she told three different stories of the event. The psychologist is a nut and became emotionally involved with Jodi and his creditability has been trashed, even the State attorney can’t undo what he has said on cross-redirect. I just don’t get how a psychologist could diagnose anyone with any disorder after only seeing a person 12 times in 4 years, actually it may have been 2 years. Total nut job. Richard Samuels is his name. He admits half of the time he was interviewing her, she was telling another story about “Ninjas” coming into the house and killing her boyfriend. Mr. Samuels couldn’t see that she was lying. People put too much trust in professionals who practice in the mental health field. Just my opinion at the moment.

If I were a teen-ager and got caught in the back seat of my boyfriends car with my cloths off, I’d plead “dissociative-amnesia” as I got dressed trying not to hold off a laugh in front of a cop. Apparently this defense could work but not in the Jodi Arias trial.

Humor: I saw an infant car seat on a commercial a few days ago. They now have two cup holders! What the hell? One for liquor and the other for chips? The kids can’t even travel to their destination without two cup holders? And we wonder why the children are over-weight? I thought the DVD player was too much, but now cup holders in a child’s car seat are added. When do parents actually communicate with their tots? They plug them in at home also. The toys are do-it-yourself manufactured crap. The parents are too plugged into their computers gadgets and IPhones to have the time to actually play with the tots. Toys with flashing lights and obnoxious noises – WTF? It gets worse; the parents no longer know how to converse with the tots and now bring these obnoxious toys to the restaurant to avoid having conversations with them. Then the parents wonder why tot has grown up and only communicates through Face book and email/text to them. An eight year old having a face book account communicating to a pedophile dressed as Mickey Mouse? These same parents comment to their friends that they don’t know why older tots never talk to them, that they are self reliant and have friendly people in their lives who give them extravagant gifts. I just don’t understand a tot with two cup holders unless tot is really a teenager with real cups to maintain.

Speaking of cups – where did mine go? I don’t like getting older.

I went to a cosmetic counter at Macy’s last week after learning of a new age reducing wrinkle cream that actually takes years off of your face – not breast though. I ended up getting a make-over because I wanted to learn how to apply make-up due to my older age. Nothing has changed other than eyeliner for me. The first two attempts, I looked like I had black eyes. I initially told the Este Lauder rep. that I felt very outdated and older than I am. After she talked while this process went on, she said that she was 57 years-old. I freaked because she looked well into her 60’s! She said that she had been using these products for over 20 years. My husband agreed that she looked older than 57. Perhaps I will have my 28 year-old daughter teach me how to use $80.00 worth of make-up. I declined a lot of her recommendations for new this and that. I’ll continue going to Walgreens drug store and save 75% on the same stuff. As for as breasts, my girls will have to enjoy the built-in pillows in the bras I buy. At least they stay warm in the winter!

Condition & Imagination.

Condition. I don’t assume what I think about my experiences a “condition”, yet I don’t know if or what people think on a routine basis. Some days everything is normal and I do not question what I’m thinking. Other days I struggle with thoughts that envelope me so strongly that I wonder if it is all worth trying to join the Normal’s. I have been diverting the thoughts as well as I can, but it takes strict discipline which I am apparently not doing well. Yesterday I finally conceded that I may just be evil with the thoughts that persisted. Xanax is just a band-aid that falls off at any given moment. Today was a good day. I have not a clue about what each day will entail. There are no triggers that I can put together. I am again taking Ritlan after discontinuing it for a week. It seems to give me a little energy that I normally wouldn’t experience without it. I’m increasing my Lutuda by an extra 10 mgs. Depression is a bitch.

My neighbor retired last Friday at the age of 60. He is down to earth and it’s wonderful to retire so healthy. I’ve been retired forever as I cannot hold down a job more than 3 ½ years. Tax bracket makes a menial job not worth the gas to get from and back home. We are not wealthy by no means, just living in Colorado our income keeps us on track for providing the necessities. We are currently refinancing our primary house that will enable us to pay off our rental property. Not a big deal, leaving equity still in our mortgage account in our primary house.

I had a birthday and feel I’ve been a disappointment to my family, know this is far from the truth. But I feel this way. I keep in check to make sure I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I just feel tired and have no purpose in this life any more. My Aunt, Uncle, Father and sister-in-law all died the year of 2012. I mostly miss my dog that died two years ago. I want to see him when I die. Funny how humans are not a priority to me as far as death goes. Just in a philosophical mood perhaps.

I am anxious for Spring to arrive. I think that will help drive away the blues. I just would prefer to sleep the rest of the winter.

My husband asked why I questioned him about surfing the other day. My question was: “If you are on a surf board and saw a shark, would you try to swim to shore or sit on the board without moving.” I don’t surf, but this just came up in my odd mind. He did not have an answer, of course the following “where did that come from?” referring to any question I come up that does not pertain to a normal thought. Creativity may be the source of my imagination. My odd imagination.

I am trying to think positively about people’s behavior in general. Yesterday we were at our produce market and while leaving the parking lot a van passed me. I noticed the driver was chubby (nice word). We followed behind her while she turned to the new Pizza event in the other side of the parking lot. I mentioned to my husband that I knew Chubs was going to stop at the display. He smiled at my observation. I like guessing how humans will react to situations that are unpredictable.

At Costco I’d like to think that the Chubs who go there are just filling their carts with 20 packages of pastries and every unhealthy food in the store, are giving to charity. They hit the food sample stations at least twice taking away samples from the starving children in the store. My husband loves Costco and averages going twice a week. If we need just one onion for a soup I’m making, he must buy 8-10 onions telling me we are saving a lot of money because the pound ratio is less than the supermarket. One time he bought a carton of 18 eggs when I just needed two. Another time I just needed 3 potatoes for a recipe and he insisted buying 20 pounds because it was cheaper per pound. I think I’m into the fourth or fifth month of using the rest still in our refrigerator down stairs. Mouthwash is another large item purchase I have to store. It comes in 2 large bottles, combined it would probably be a gallon. I don’t use it, nor do my pets. We have storage in the garage for his Costco purchases. Tampons – I must have over 200 and am no longer menstruating. The good products to purchase at Costco would be the supplements and salad. We do not sample all the food stations much. I heard if you did this activity, at the end of your shopping experience, you would, could have acquired 1100 calories. Snacking always is demise to keeping your calorie intake low. I’m always aware of the calories I eat/drink.

Therapy was alright this week. Enemy actually indicated I was doing well in therapy. I guess that is a positive observation of my endless question and answer appointment. If I take Xanax before I come in, I’m often reflective of the past, present and the future. If I don’t take Xanax, I am more hostile, defiant and all different types of moods. I do take Xanax when my husband and I go out into the public world. Who knows what is going on with my life. Sometimes I want to be like the Normals, but I am so afraid of them. I’m confident and relaxed when my husband and I have friends/ family over for dinner and BBQ’s., but isn’t that the way it always is?

I watch Jeopardy almost every day, although I seldom know the answer to the categories. I like it when Alex Trebek looks at the contestant who just got an answer wrong – he glares at them like he can’t fathom how the contestant even came up with the answer. It’s like Alex wants to physically eject them from their buzzer. This isn’t all of the time, just questions randomly that appear on the board. The contestants who go into the negatives over $3000.00 are fun to watch also. I don’t feel so much a fool. I’m smarter not to apply to the show than the contestant who is trying to hide under a mask of intelligence. Than proceeding Jeopardy is a show called Wheel of Fortune. The contestants introduce themselves, mention their “beautiful wife/husband/partner and go further to say how their attributes have effectively made themselves fortunate, and a wonderful all around great American. I keep waiting for the day that someone actually says: “Hi Pat, I’m currently married and having an affair with my lovely, co-worker Cindy. Cindy and I have three children all of which my wife does not know about. Cindy and I travel often to countries my wife cannot track on Cindy’s credit card. I have two dogs – one lives with Cindy and the kids and another dog lives with my wife. My wife is also lovely, yet in an ugly way. How are you Pat?”

Imagination. Perhaps mine is from another time in life.

Who are the normal ones??

The Normal’s are frustrating me currently. Interacting with such species will result in dissatisfaction in my world. One Normal has put me on Methyphenidate (Ritalin) which I of course can choose to take or not. He doesn’t know that I am still taking control of my medications. My PDOC appointment lasted an hour last week with my husband speaking on my behalf. I just wanted something for my memory issues. My husband mentioned the “change of life issue” and asked if my moodiness had something to do with that. He went on to explain how his mother threw knives at his father during this time. My PDOC looked at me and I reassured him that we didn’t have that many knives. We actually have a lot of kitchen knives, but I wouldn’t volunteer that information. My PDOC related to my husband like I was not present. They often do that lately. I do interject on my behalf about what medications I will take and the ones I won’t take. I won this time – no Seroquel yet. That one puts on weight, which means I have to take an additional drug to keep my weight down. It’s difficult at times to keep up with the medications I will entertain and those I simply will not take. I do have the prescriptions filled as my husband makes sure of that, but if I take them, he has no idea. It’s important that I stay in control of my mind even when my mind is not co-operating with me currently.

That is where Normal #2 comes in. Enemy is getting forgetful and asking me the same questions again. My euphoric episode was his focus Tuesday. Much of that time I do not remember other than enjoying the energy. Enemy seems to be going in circles with his techniques. I want to take a break due to lack of substance in regards to the therapy. I’m not sure how my husband would feel about that. Previously, my Enemy in the 90’s would break up the session with three or so techniques. Who knows what the current Enemy is doing. I’m just bored with idle conversation. I just want my social skills to be appropriate with the Normal’s environment, although I strongly feel my world is the correct environment. My art projects demonstrate how I can communicate and I feel satisfied with the results. Those who see my completed art projects like them, although they don’t know what pocesses me to create them. That in it’s self tells me that I am healthy and fine within the confines of my current mind-set.

Football, my favorite sport, is almost over for the season. I love watching the replays and love it especially when the head coaches throw onto the field the red flag requiring the referees to look at the plays over and over to make a ruling on the play. While the referees are doing this chore, the T.V. station commentators also will show you all angles in super slow motion which is the most entertaining aspect of the game. The tight uniforms in slow motion, tight thighs, massive biceps and of course the unmentionable. The commercials are secondary and are not as creative as they once were. Did I mention the yellow flags? The referees will throw those onto the field and we, the fans, get to review the play, but not as many times as the coach’s challenge. I do enjoy seeing the red and yellow flags during the game. The principle of the game between the two teams is confusing as the rules change often between seasons. Again, it is a contact sport yet the players get penalized when they contact the opposing team’s player in most situations on the field. I will certainly be watching the Super Bowl this Sunday!!! I wish I could be there and get some of my own flags to throw onto the field….

Just Rambling On

Two weeks until February. My calendar says it is still December. Add one more to my list of things to get around to. Communication in Therapy 101 is none existent. Normally Enemy would have gotten rid of me as he did last time I began seeing him. I can’t figure him out sometimes. I do ask often if we are making progress, he says yes. I know we are not. He says that about it’s a trust issue and will take time. I think it’s a medicine issue honestly. The intrusive thoughts have all but stopped. After reading that article a few times, I am able to think “anxiety” and it goes away. I wish I had known of this technique a long time ago. I just hope “they” aren’t just plotting for another way to drive me crazy; oops I am there already! I am moody, very moody. I have to watch myself around my husband mostly. I am very selfish when he goes out of his way to make my life work in society. He doesn’t like the way my hands shake due to the medicine even after I insisted it was O.K. He called my PDOC and explained what was going on and now I am to take 10 mgs. of Latuda and vitamin E which should stop the shaking. It has made it worse and now I have a few bruises for no reason. I also am having equilibrium problems.

I’m totally out of synch with the days, I think its Wednesday when it’s Tuesday. We have a contractor coming in to put a new floor down in our entry way and laundry room. I thought it was this Thursday, when it’s next week. I was on the phone with my talkative sister (she talks for an hour and I listen) when I started pulling up the old floor. It’s pretty easy, parquet, when I’ve run the steam carpet cleaner over it for years. The parquet just comes right up! Imagine my husbands surprise when he came home to no floor covering! I often surprise him it seems.

We were walking one of our dogs and had the 16 year old in a doggie stroller yesterday. I don’t get why people with dogs always stop to talk to us. We exchange
stories/information about our dogs and then stroll on. I should walk with an urn securely strapped in the dog stroller around the lake and see what the dog walkers would say. My husband asked what one dog walker was talking to me about. I had no idea who my husband was referring to. My husband explained that Bubba was a dog – his master was talking to me. I had not been listening to Bubba’s master and re-laid this to my husband. He asked why, I answered that I don’t listen to what people have to say very much any more.

I guess when people you care for die you begin to realize communication is trivial. My words to my previous relatives are gone and will never come back. When they died, that was it – no more conversations. Sometimes I feel speaking is uncomfortable when it will never matter. I can say the wrong things and it will still never mean a thing. I guess I’m a listener because my friends can go on and on without asking me a thing. I certainly have nothing to say as I don’t have a career or hobbies to expand on during a conversation. It is funny when my friends will stop talking and I apparently am supposed to comment when I was preoccupied with watching my hair grow.

My husband has taken up running. I don’t understand why when we have two perfectly good cars parked in the garage. I bought him a special watch for Christmas which gauges his heart rate, speed, altitude and GPS map. I’m sure it does more, but I’m still stuck on why the running. Maybe I should discuss this with Enemy. He may have insight on running since I think I am to ask questions that I am unable to comprehend.

I watch home improvement shows lately. My husband cringes when he walks into the room and sees the program contractors tearing down walls and I’m so excitedly pointing to how much fun that would be. He knows how I hate our 70’s fireplace. He’s talking about getting two upholstered chairs to put into our great room where I won’t have to watch the home improvement shows facing the fireplace. I already have the stones picked out for the project. My husband goes to work four days a week which will give me plenty of time to start demolishing the ugly fireplace. The excuse for my relapse in judgment will be that my Latuda wasn’t working and it really wasn’t “me” who did such a bad thing. He’ll take it like a trooper – I think. After thirty-one years of marriage, he can’t get rid of me; we don’t know where our marriage license is!

Another show I watch is House Hunters and House Hunters International. The House Hunters International is the most comic relief I get from a show. An American couple with children will be looking for a “flat” or home for their family to live in. Of course the homes/flats are small in Europe and various countries. Foreign folks don’t need a bunch of crap to store in their homes like we do. I don’t get why homebuilders add garages to the houses when the typical American will store a lot of crap in it instead of their cars. Any way, the realtors are the most fun to watch as the Americans explain how little these places are for their family. I guess the realtors don’t get that American children play video games for days and only come up for food and bodily function release. The funniest expressions the realtors give while showing the properties are when the American adults look at the beautiful balconies over looking the city or water and say “little Prudence Idiot” may fall, we don’t see our family living here, it’s unsafe. They also say that when they see stairs. The realtor gives them this oddest look. The homes/flats have been built centuries ago and probably have never heard of children falling from balconies. I think “are American children that stupid???” The looks from the realtors are priceless. When I grew up, if I fell down the stairs it was known as a “wake-up” call. Our generation learned quickly what was a “feel-good” relationship with our environment and what was a “painful experience” fault in our society. We didn’t have a “time – out” unless you call that a spanking or “the look” that would haunt you for years. Maybe the American parents in the foreign countries are really thinking the balconies are too tempting to forgo the time-outs and instead pushing the ruthless child over it. Just thinking out loud.

Children. I have a degree in Child Development which means I can make up to $10.00 an hour and actually after taxes I’d only clear perhaps $2.00. I’m a truthful person I’d like to think, but telling a parent how cute their ugly baby is wouldn’t fly in a daycare facility. My friend had a really ugly baby – teen agers would get on the pill if they saw this baby. I never told her how ugly it was, but the photographer took a profile picture of it during her first Christmas. Wouldn’t a parent have to question why the photographer wouldn’t take a picture with the baby facing the camera lens? Cute cloths do not make an ugly child any prettier. I almost told my friend to stop buying cute cloths, as they were more expensive than the cloths made for the ugly kids. It’s like me going to Victoria Secrets and attempting to buy lacy lingerie when my breast are tiny and I don’t wear panties that goes up my cheeks. They would point me to the ugly rack where people are measuring their hair while conversing to themselves about how great their “Bubba” is with his new leash. Of course I would be holding the urn with “service dog” proudly adhered to the urn..

Some times speaking is something I need not do.