yesterday my mood did plummet as I wanted for the doctor’s office to open. then I went inside and read a bit and didn’t think about my mood. then was called back and pulse was high and blood pressure stupid. I was low and swimmy.
very chattering you’re blah this bad thing you’re blah that bad thing then went to pool and I had it all to myself and I swam and allowed myself to pray. because I want to pray. I am tired of holding back my voice. I am not going to pray willy nilly. I am not going to go all OCD about praying like I did when I was growing up the guilty compulsion to pray over every morsel of food no no God will get you you better watch out.
I am tired of thinking that it makes no sense or that God whoever he is isn’t there to do the things I want. I am tired of being embarrassed and squirmy. It is okay to pray. To God. To that which is. I am that I am. I am I said.
My counseling session was a little rough a little odd because I ended up talking and thinking about things that I don’t need to think about right now. But my therapist did say that I have a choice. I can either dive in and explore all that negative crap at my core—don’t you know how much I hate myself hate ugly and gross and awful and stinky four-eyed ugly dumby fat fat stupid stupid snoop possum-stew-eating self. I can do all that and try to figure out WHY? Or I can stop it and let all that black tarry shit mess die off like little balls on a baby calf. Sorry, Herky, you are a boy and this is what happens to little precious black boy calves no matter how much I love them.
My counselor told me, “You can rewrite the book.”
You can rewrite yourself, your mythos. For so long I’ve wonder what is even real way way back there in my childhood. I’ve written so much about it and talked so much about it I can’t possibly be sure.
Then again, it is all there, in my writing. Everything. The whole case study.
So how do I go about doing this? I don’t know yet. But seeing myself as a child of God, which I obviously do no matter how squirmy I feel about the words, will be at the core. And learning that I can be good to myself. I have that right. That privilege.
So I will rewrite myself.
So there, Bipolar Gods!
recording press play--
better this morning. was groggy when I woke up (slept with new nose mask last night) but I actually slept. I did end up taking Trazadone when Dale came to bed and woke me up at 1:00. Then I slept. And my head was not chattering at all this morning. When I realized it, it shocked me a little. Then I hung up my coat and went to make breakfast.
Since blood pressure is up, I skipped the Muscinex last night. Will see.
Holding steady on Lamictal and Lithium.
My afternoon and evening were good, though I didn’t want to come home yesterday. I wanted to be in the sun and blue sky and clouds and skydive or hang glide or parasail or set up house in a tree. But I came home and watched some STNG and went into dozing a bit then Dale came upstairs and we went out together and spent the evening together, alone, and I saw that it was good.
TODAY I WILL NOT GET THE SATURDAY DISEASE!!!!
My right foot hurts, especially the thumb toe. This is because I am going to audition for the cousin in Every Man coming soon to a theatre near you. Or, wearing my Mary Janes instead of by boots. Or random chance.
Pain so much much better so I’d say so the SAM-E is helping.
Need to start watching blood pressure closely.
Turning the tree back toward something. I am not saying what it is. Some things are easily jinxed.