Let the Sun Shine In

Hello all,

Well, yes indeedy, it's been an awfully long time since I posted. And, I am VERY happy to say, it's because I've been very busy. Not, as you might expect, keeping up with work (although that has been keeping me on my toes), but also with a SOCIAL LIFE. Yes, folks, seriously.

Here's the deal. About a month ago, I found a prescribable person (a nurse pracittioner) who actually LISTENED to my story, examined my history and made a judicious and reasoned decision about the medicines I was/am on. You see, it seems that although the anti-depressants I first went on seemed to help, given my condition (and I am not ashamed to admit to the diagnosis of bi-polar, look it up, descartes, dickins, carrie fisher - great company all!), anti-depressants by themselves often tend to exacarbate the condition in the longtime. However, when combined with additional meds - voila! And I have to tell you - I feel great!

I've gone out to a Reiki workshop and met amazing people. I've been to the Cape Ann Farmers Market board meeting, I've met up with friends I haven't seen in years, I've taken day trips, I've eagerly enjoyed lunches out with the girls....

I realize that these things seem par for the daily course of normal human beings. But for someone who was lurking in her "cave" - my bedroom with blinds and dark curtains drawn - under her bedcovers as long as could reasonably be allowed and who avoided any and all contact with the unkown outside world, these steps are huge, affirming and, frankly, amazing.

And, if that is not enough, CBL isn't driving me crazy. Yes, she's still insane. Yes, she is still up to her antics. But whatevs. She is what she is and I yam what I yam and ... I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a VeggieBurger today.

So, yes, I still drink my herbal teas and eat my kale every morning. But there is indeed something to be said for reasonable, considered, and measured meds.

I pulled open the curtains today and saw the bright sunshine and let it shine on my face.

Feeling Like Any Accidents are Happy Accidents

I have been a fitful blogger. And for that I once again apologize. I've been travelling. I've been sick. I've been (clinically) depressed.

But, I do finally once again feel like I am on track back to health and vitality.

Despite surviving the stomach flu on the heels of bronchitis (yes, Universe, please, I WOULD like to spend an entire night coughing while curled up on the bathroom floor with my robe and a blanket, desperately trying to keep juice/water/ice chips / Gatorade down...) I finally feel like I have found my way back into the flow of energy that will serve me.

Whilst waiting for my prescription to be filled at the local pharmacy, I noticed a flyer promoting a local Reiki workshop. It was free and being hosted by a practicioner who'd I seen before. So, what the heck.

I wound up going and meeting not one, not two, but about six truly amazing souls who have so much to share with me. We had hours of amazing conversation, truly intense meditation and powerful energy work like little else I've ever experienced.

It was just in time because I was really and truly starting to wallow.

Of course, the Reiki master warned us of the possibility of detox symptoms.

Flash forward to last night's nightmares. Five in all. All of them set in the same general venue, so I know that more was at work than fever dreams or cough-syrup induced dreams. (Yes, I hate to admit it, but I did have to indulge in the TusseinX.) Dreams of GoodBuddy on OD. Dreams of fights with the Parental Units. Dreams of hysterics from CBL. Dreams of travel nightmares. Dreams of getting lost in transit, of falling down stairwells, of being late for departures or meetings. Each time a dream would wake me up, I'd fall back to sleep and re-enter that scary, screwy world.

When I awoke this morning, I was feeling unsettled. And just a tad exhausted. But as I continued to swirl around the dream images, I realized that all of the scenes had brought up issues I've been struggling with. And they all pointed out important - insistent - realizations.

So, maybe they were just dreams. But maybe they were, in fact, my soul detoxing the very important messages raised during my healing.

You probably have to be a NewAge FreakyDeaky like me to buy in to any of this. But I know how vivid the dreams were. And I know how many "hot buttons" they hit upon. And, well, when they're all put together they really did come out like and M. Night Shamalin film. So....

How Can I Sleep With Your Voice In My Head?

Back and almost back to normal. Still slightly jet lagged - I have no idea what day or time it is, but is that really important?

I feel a tangible difference between how I felt pre-London and now. My shoulders are visibilly less hunched, my voice audibly less tight. There are so many things that likely have contributed to this.

I love the UK. My soul sings over there. People seem nicer. Culture seems sharper. Fashion is more forgiving (curves are good!). Food seems more varied (despite the dependance on mayo). Music is more my type, comedy is more my type, news is more inclusive, focus is less exclusive. Suffice to say, I want to be based there. For sure. For ever.

I love the people I work with. I know this is a shock, but the people I work with are smart and funny and sweet and caring. And they seem to actually like me and respect the work I do. Without questioning me or second-guessing me or micromanaging me. It's refreshing.

All that validation in one week. And then there's these two additional factors.

One. I threw CBL under the bus. No safety blanket. I met with HR and told them what's what. It was a risky move, but I finally came to the realization that it was her or my sanity. And, well...

Two. I am going to see A-ha. Live. And in concert. Two nights in a row. There have always been four people in this world that I have longed to see. Eddie Izzard. Check. Mikhail Baryshnikov. Check. Morrissey. Check. Morten Harkett. dot dot dot

Now is my chance.

There's also some stress in the week ahead. For one, GoodBuddy lands at Logan tomorrow for a few days. I am not honestly 100% certain that I am happy about this. But, as always, it will be good for a story or two.

Stay tuned.

Some Changes

A week-long stint in my most favoritist place in the world is coming to an end. Sadness ensues. But also happiness. Because I really like the peeps I've been priveleged to spend time with and I had much laughter. Also much sneezing as a head cold has been riding around with me for the past three days, but even that's been tolerable. I got to see a wonderful friend who I haven't seen in 8 years, learned more about my colleagues and myself, and generally had a lovely time.

I was also - very kindly - warned that this blog may be a bit "too familiar" for the comfort of our Corporate Parental Units. So, you might see some changes to make it slightly harder to track. And you might see a fair fewer amount of CBL stories - although, never fear, they will still be shared.

I just don't want to get fired before she does.

I'll have more stories of my travels and wanderings once I get home. Jet lag will inevitably ensue and I am sure much of this weekend will be spent in bed, curled up with the kittens.

Is there an antidote Dr Bruce Banner?

As a young kid, I was incomprehensibly afraid of The Incredible Hulk. The show starred a local hero, Lou Ferigno, who resided just outside of my hometown. For years, every time the show came on, I hid in fear. My father and brother took sadistic delight in tearing off their worn undershirts by flexing and growling, tearing the worn cotten into shreds while chasing me around the house. It threw me into panic attacks for years. Green giants hunted me in the night, ready to turn me into an abomination.

It was only recently, after a particurly intense energy session and a fortuitous watching of the remake of The Hulk (I do love me some Edward Norton), that I seemed to put a bunch of stuff togehter.

The basic premise of The Hulk is that he has all this stuff inside of him that, literally, is too big.

The basic premise of how my parents treated me as a kid is that I had all this stuff inside of me that was too big, too much, and couldn't be handled. Thus, mytemper tantrums. Thus my temper tantrums being subdued with a wooden spoon, a turn in the shower with a freezing cold spray, a hearty spanking or a faked heart attack. No one thinks at the time that they're abusing their child, but who pays for the therapy?

In many way, lately, I've felt like GoodBuddy felt the same way about me. He wasn't interested or couldn't hear what I had to say - he was just going to tell me the what's what. Because taking in my side of things was really just too much. Too big. Too intense. I honestly don't think that was his intention, but that was the result I walked away with. It's the difference between what is said and what is heard.

GB told me that I don't get to get upset at anything he says because I should know he unconditionally loves me. My response was to point out that when I mock his mumbling (he oftentimes speaks too quickly or too near/far from his cellphone and is unintelligable) he gets pissed. Wicked pissed. His mother used to mock him that way and it triggers his anger. So - HELLO - Mr Pot, please meet Ms Kettle. We all react to people in our lives the way we've been conditioned to from childhood. When he disregarded my feelings - valid or not - I flashed right back to being chased by an older brother embodying The Hulk or a father who wouldn't listen to my pleas as he grabbed the wooden spoon from th kitchen drawer. And, that, my dear readers, is some powerful recall.

As you can tell, I've been doing a lot of thinking about this. Thinking that maybe it was time for me - GB and I - to redefine our parts in one anothers' life. If I am trying to heal, to get centered, to become comfortable with who I am, does it make sense for me to be expending all this energy, all this love, on someone who can't seem to allow the reality of who I am to evolve...?

Then...

Tonight, I was leaving him a VM. It was nothing really. Watching a movie. Going to bed soon. Had a good day, hope you did too." In the midst of it, he beeped in. Somehow (technologically ignorant as I am) I managed to switch over.

"Just leaving you a message."

"I saw. Can we can call it a night?"

"Um, yea. Sure. Everything OK?"

"Yeah. I was getting some texts from someone and they really pissed me off and I'm raging and I don't wan't - should't - take this out on you. Cuz I'm fuckin angry and frustrated and I really don't want you to get caught up in that. And even if we try to talk normal, I'll bring it out on you. So, can we talk tomorrow or something?"

Wow. How decent. Seriously. How thoughtful and kind. Just when I really wanted to tell him to take along walk off a short pier, he reminds me of one of the reasons I love him. Of course, he spent a bunch of time in the water today and that probably helped a lot. But I'm wicked glad to see shadows of Dr. Jekyll in lieu of Mr. Hyde.

So, as many conclusions as I come to, alone in my bed on a Saturday night, maybe, just maybe, I shouldn't take any definitive action. Because our past isn't always our present, and definitely doesn't have to be our future. Maybe things - people - evolve.

Sweet dreams, good buddy. I'll think good thoughts.