the imagination to improvise

The snow is sparkling like a million crushed swarovski crystals strewn across the white ground, each tiny gem casting a rainbow in the bright sun. It’s cold, but the dazzling display drew us outside for a little bit. Yesterday, Carm snowblowed a big loop in the field so that we could have a little stroll and as a racetrack for Adia. She didn’t need no stinking racetrack - her long legs could fly through the deeper snow puffing up billows of snow as she ran. 

There were tracks of other creatures in the snow, perhaps a fox was hunting for mice.

Pat came for supper last night - a good diversion for my sluggish brain. I felt drained and a bit confused most of the day yesterday - not sure if it was my horrible dream or the lack of sunlight for the last several days. I cludged a few recipes together to make a burrito bowl in the instant pot. It turned out great and got 4 ½ / 5 stars by both Pat and Carm.

The other day I was talking with Carm about some of the things I do to keep mentally well and the subject of writing a book came up. I’ve thought about it but don’t feel that I have the skills to bring the reader into my head so that they could experience my rocky ride. Telling my story in a matter of fact way would not only be boring, it would rob the reader of true understanding. I think that part of what I would say might help others who also struggle with mental illness as I’ve discovered so many things I have control over that help me.

I feel that after all these years of trial and error I am in a good space. I still get punches of anxiety that are unexplained, but even these can almost be managed with what I’ve learned. I no longer get frequent bouts of depression - it’s been years since I’ve thought that life is too hard to go on living. I didn’t get here by accident, I’ve worked hard in so many ways but it’s been worth it!

It is easier in some ways to let life just happen - there is a sort of comfort in stasis. Taking responsibility for oneself is hard. But it must be done, otherwise I would have continued living in a gloomy fog, with no recollection from one day to the next, waiting for the next hypo-mania to breathe some life into me. Not a good way to live.

After I took care of the basics: regular sleep hours, fresh air and a bit of exercise, regular meals; I could start learning the harder things, like controlling my thoughts. I have learned through lots of reading, trial and error, help from my niece Shenna, more reading and lots of practice, that my own self-talk can be controlled to a degree and that it, more than anything else, determines my mood. If I think to myself that I am tired, gosh darn, I’m tired. If instead, I think that I’ve got more energy and feel like doing things, then that’s what (mostly) happens. Of course it isn’t as easy as it sounds but requires constant vigilance, awareness, and lots of practice. My illness has its own voice and I have to drown it out with mine. Sometimes it shouts but I shout back.

All this being said, I still have to take medications. It’s possible that with my practiced skills I could reduce some of them, but I don’t have a doctor to help me through this, so I stay with the status quo - it’s working after all!

“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”

~Sylvia Plath