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.


About crystallball7

Creative,some say "eccentric", dark sense of humor,sensitive. Never the same for too long. Running from lost time. Longing to be on the beach, at the ocean, New England. Afraid of life, extremely afraid of life.
This entry was posted in bipolar disorder, Decorah Eagles : Decorah, Humor, mental health, Mental Illness, psychology, psychotherapy, "The Enemy",psychologist and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s