Moving forward

I found someone who is going to help me write professionally.  That's a good thing, as every time I've sat down to try and write I get overwhelmed by where to begin.  Also, I'll have therapeutic guidance if mania begins to intertwine with a creative project.  It will also be good to focus each week with someone who understands my limitations.  

All good stuff on the horizon.

art therapy group

So with the help of my therapist, I have located an Art Therapy group at a wellness center.  I was nervous as all get-out to attend my first group, but I got on that bus and took an extra Ativan and made it to the session.

The first session was odd because I was the only one to show up!  It was just me and the facilitator of the group, so we spent over an hour working on two separate art therapy projects to get started.  I spent the first half hour coloring in a mandala and discussing it afterwards.  Coloring, throwing paint on a canvas, doodling....all things I do to rest my anxious mind on my own and now I had someone to actually discuss the WHYS of how it's therapeutic.  The second project was even a bit more childlike and 'freeing' to do and I was so happy I went.

The group has been starting to build and I'm getting to know a few others, slowly.  It's hard to open up to a new group about stuff, but I love the artistic exchange of the group.  Everyone is so critical of their artwork they create, yet it is designed as a 'no artistic talent' needed group and none of us are masterpiece painters.  But they BECOME masterpieces once we tell each other what we like about each others creations and we lift each other up.  No criticism, just mutual respect of the EXPRESSIVE OUTLET in which we share our emotions and feelings.

It's exactly what I was looking for with the 'art' I create. 

I wish the real world were as gentle sometimes.

tumbleweed in the vast writing spaces of the interwebs

I like to write.  I write a lot.  I write on my iphone, in about five different notebooks at the moment, sometimes on the computer.  I fired up an old outdated laptop earlier to see what writings I could find.  I read through a few.  Some were written in manic fervor.  Some were written from a place of depression.  I've opened up old notebooks and have reread and reread.  I comb through the stuff with a fine tooth comb, hoping for an idea.

I tried writing poetry and it's really, really bad.

I've written many outlines for book ideas. They never go anywhere.

I bought a book on how to write a screenplay.  That's much too daunting for me.

No words seem to appropriate themselves correctly.  Timing and rhythm and flow always seems to elude me.  I take breaks for awhile.  I always come back to it, hoping something new will hit. I really don't know what else I'm supposed to do.

I do feel there are big questions and complexities stifling my ability to succeed in creating something substantial.  I feel blocked by the Whys, the Hows, the Whats and especially the Whos of it all.  If I could somehow discover the truth of it, I might be onto a brighter and more optimistic path.

Until then, I'm stifled.  Sleepless.  Even on the pills.  

Yes, there's imagination, but even imagination seems to elude me these days.  

Six more hours til I have to get ready for work.  I'm in for another brutal day tomorrow. Mr. Sandman bring me a dream.  Preferably not a creepy one.

In Focus

Life is peculiar at times, and for those with a mental illness, sometimes happiness and inner peace is something of a dream.  It is my wish and my goal to make that dream come true for those who struggle with these invisible illnesses.

I am doing much better.  Medication adjustments are still in progress, and I have found a delicate balance of resolution as I continue with these changes.  It's really rather boring and unnecessary to detail for you, so I won't.  But I'm on a Bon Chemin, and I'm filled with ideas once again.

I am reading a new book I found kind of miraculously in a used bookstore regarding Secrets.  As soon as I learn more of its contents, I'll be back with my thoughts on the subject.  I have also been immersed in the thoughts of Rudolf Steiner, and this rediscovery has led me to higher grounds as I continue my own writings and art-making.

turquoise

I experienced a strange day today.  Still getting used to my commute two days a week to a new suburb, I've been playing around with all the different public transport routes.  And sometimes they are disastrous.  Or maybe not.  Depends how you look at it, n'est-ce pas?

I SWEAR I read the train schedule last night and saw there was a 9:48 train.  So the Mr. drives me a few miles across town to the stop and I stand at the platform and wait.  And wait.  And wait.

An elderly grandmother walks up to me, as I was the only person standing at the platform, and asks me if I've seen her granddaughter get off the last train.  It was a scorcher, and I was sitting in the shaded hut sweating like a pig while trying to fan myself.  I told her there were quite a few folks who got off the last train and wasn't too sure if her granddaughter was one of them.  She saw me sweating and asked me if I wanted to sit with her in her air-conditioned car to wait for the train.  I assured her I'd be fine (not wanting to go into the details with a complete stranger how my medication makes me sweat profusely) and she wandered off to look for her.  A few minutes later a young girl new to the city asked me if she was standing on the right platform for the outbound.  I told her yes, and that it seemed like the train was late.  She then informs me that there is not another train for over an hour.  WHA!?!?  I immediately panicked.  Of course, I check the schedule again on my phone and I had erroneously (or subconsciously?) added an extra 9:48 train in my head.  The Mr. turned back around and drove alllll the way back to pick me up and drive me to work so I wouldn't be late.  I walked with the new girl and asked her if she was going to wait for an hour at the platform.  She was unfamiliar with the area and I pointed out a nice cool coffee shop for her to wait.  She thanked me, I thanked her, and we were on our way.

As I walked down to the street again, the grandmother was still walking around with her cane looking for her granddaughter fifteen minutes later.  Some weird strange force compelled me to look a block away, across the street and pointed, "Is that her sitting over there by the diner?"  The grandmother's panic turned to surprise and I walked a few difficult steps with her to the corner and she exclaimed, 'That's her!  You found her!' and continued to thank me profusely for being there to help her.

So somehow it was a little slab of destiny or whathaveyou that guided me there to that platform at that particular time.  I ended up getting to work with fifteen minutes to spare, just enough time to slam down an iced mocha, but broke two fingernails within minutes of being there.  Weird.  And it was busy busy buzzing all day so the day fleeeew by...

But the commute home was a two-hour one.  I came home to stare at the canvas I painted turquoise yesterday.  I was trying to watch a documentary about autism that I picked up at the library but for some reason I kept looking over at that turquoise I painted yesterday.  What is it about that color that grabs me?  I'm sure any qualified color theorist would have a quick answer.  But I stared at it for so long that I am having trouble picking up another color to complete the third part of a five-piece set I have been working on.  I dunno.  I guess the right time will appear again and I will just know when to continue on...

climbing out of winter and more

greetings earthlings.

i am slowly rebuilding my world after the collapse that sometimes occurs with mental illness.  tired of hunting down my psychiatrist every time i need a refill on something, i have turned over a new leaf and found a new pusher.  it's a very daunting task....to go through one's entire mental health & subsequent life story all over again and answer all the same tired questions again.  but i did it.  and after four visits now, it's going well.  i have gone from four psychiatric pills to two.  and with some hard work and persistence, i hope to rid myself of anxiety through better health and exercise and discontinue my Ativan.

the life of pills, doctor visits, therapist talks and sleep can become a tiresome one really quickly.  i have lived on such a routine since my last hospitalization almost three years ago, just trying with all my might to feel like a regular girl again.  there was a year or two where i had to be in bed by 8:30 pm or else i couldn't function properly the next day.  but i write with GLEE that things are all changing.

as far as writing practices go, i have kept up a weekly journal of activities and thoughts.  but i have still not made progress on my chef d'oeuvre and don't know that i ever will.  i so badly want to expel the stories from my system and take on a whole new deliverance of cleansing and happiness again.  i just finished 'Brain on Fire' by Suzanne Cahallan and was impressed at her ability to construct a pensive narrative on her 'month of madness' as she battled an auto-immune disease of the brain.  mimicking schizophrenia, she experienced mania, delusions, voices in the tv, hallucinations, all of the things that i faced in my heightened moments.  it was an interesting diagnosis she was given.  i've often wondered if there was something more than 'bipolar' or 'schizoaffective' or 'depression with psychosis' or whatever the diagnosis du jour was in my case.  there is still so much more to learn about the brain and i'm not done sleuthing to uncover its many mysteries.

and on that note, i promise to myself right now (and whomever finds this post on the interwebs) that i am back to write all about it and more again.  there is so much mystery to unveil in our lives.

Eat, Pray, Love

I am past the halfway point of this book, sneaking short reads at work on an e-reader device.  I actually love Elizabeth Gilbert's writing style.  Perhaps because I hear a lot of my own thoughts in her writing voice.  She is very skilled at taking a thought that is normally written in two sentences and spreading it out over two pages.  This is something I am striving for, but blogging formats aren't the best place for such a practice.

Peut-etre when I write my spoof of Eat Pray Love (which shall be called Sleep, Pray, Take Some Pills) I can streeeetttttch out my split second thoughts into two dozen paragraphs.

Je cherche un editor.

And an actress to portray me in the film adaptation.

Seriously, when Liz heads to the ashram in India and achieves an essence of divinity, I was thinking, "Holy Guacamole, that's what schizophrenia is like too!"

I was always told Mary Stuart Masterson should portray me in a film.  She plays, you know, quirky characters.

Le Retour

it wasn't as glamourous as i imagined it would be.  my return to work, that is.  i had hoped for a triumphunt trumpet sound as i entered the building and a deluge of happy and promising thoughts from coworkers.

i was absolutely brain-dead today.  it was like walking in a haze, and not some majestic purple haze or anything of that nature.  it was more like a dulling, zombified glossiness of everything i came in contact with.  some coworkers offered support and praise, while others asked a million questions of 'Where Have You Been.'  I am always so careful to answer this question, while at the same time I find I want to educate people.

It's about building that filter.  There are those I can speak frankly too about goin' away to the crazy house and they can banter a few lines all their own back to me.  Then there are those who are still left in the dark.  The ones who ask question upon question and still not pick up on one's discomfort in reply.  But I shall manage this, just as I have managed two other hospitalizations and a total of FOUR 'breaks' now.

A break occurs in a strange fashion, almost like a panic attack but more intense than one could imagine.  it's as if life turns into Film Noir.  at least in my own personal experiences.  trust shifts, strangers are suspicious of me and I of them.

But this, too, shall pass.

And how could I possibly survive without these gems:

awakenings

in my overwhelmingly creative thought processes lately when i write in my journal or paint canvas after canvas turquoise and splashes of word-related things, i pray for a day when it will flow from me the way it is supposed to.

the way God intended it.  the quintessential story that i want to write.  i want to write a Jane Eyre, or a To Kill a Mockingbird, or perhaps a small poignant fable.  i would even write a children's book if i felt so inspired....  i know i have it in me, but....

.....WHY WON'T IT COME TO ME!?!?!

perhaps it's the pressure of having to move and create at a rapid pace so it can go through the big machine gun hands of 'getting it out there' and perhaps it just completely overwhelms and stresses me out.   i have tried many different approaches and discussed many things with people in my research i.e. living-my-life.  when i explained to an old coworker friend (whom i no longer talk to) about my plans to take my time and gain enough life knowledge to WRITE THAT BOOK THAT I HAVE IN ME, she said something that doesn't leave my mind and plagues me.  It was a big mumbo jumbo escapading conversation about living for the NOW and answering that call NOW.  Life is too short to wait for a perfect moment.

And now I suffer from intense creative anxiety.

I am working on some short stories in the meantime to at least just practice the craft.  But I am not pleased at all with them.

Awaking from a big long dream can be quite torturous.

And the face of Mr. Rochester to my Jane Eyre is so clouded over with all the other bullshit that clanks from behind his high-speed out-of-control rabid horse-drawn carriage.  Seriously, my muse or destiny or love or WHATEVER THE HELL IT IS is just like Pigpen from Peanuts.

Maybe one day he'll clean up to be Charlie Brown.

My god, life is so strange.

mystery

i am often amazed, and i don't know why, that mystery and intrigue is such a mandatory sensation (is that the word i'm looking for?) in many people's lives.  whether it is through the films we watch or books we read or simply the LIVES we choose to live, it is always the element of the unknown that keeps people clinging for more.

i'd even go so far to say that i think there are people walking this world who simply cannot be satisfied without mystery in his or her life.

i bring this up for several reasons.  the main reason due to an ongoing conflict i have going on mentally with one person in particular in this world.  while i consider myself to be a very exploratory person and even perhaps seek inspiration in the UNKNOWN, i am just rattled to the point of CREATIVE BLOCK in my lack of clear vision in regards to this ONE PERSON.

and another reason i bring it up is that i often wonder how much mystery in the world is created with full intent. manufactured mystery.

and yet another reason i ponder all this is that why is there such great fear among some folks to let this mystery fade?

i suppose i grew up as a child and have lived a life thus far never feeling quite certain of really anything that probably seemed quite simple to others.  was i loved?  was i ill?  would i ever succeed?  would i ever have enough money to assert a comfortable life for myself?  in turn, would i ever have a family of my own?  and even more questions and uncertainties plague me each day...

so i suppose that is where the line must be drawn...between MYSTERY and UNCERTAINTY.

i won't even pretend to know science but often wish i did so i could apply some sense to the wackiness that my mind sometimes creates.  this is an interesting concept:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncertainty_principle

Greetings from the year 2010

Hard to believe how much life has passed by.  I certainly thought by the year 2010 we'd all be riding around in hovering space cars and wearing lots of metallic.  Although if you stop for a moment while in the midst of a public place like a bus or subway car and actually look up only to find the world around you tapping on infinite numbers of electronic gadgets, it's really not a far cry from what I thought 2010 might have been like as a little girl....

I'm still a bit lost at the moment for any sort of creative focus.  I thoroughly enjoy catching up on darling Amanda's photography adventures.  Years ago we used to write silly stories on the internet and what a gorgeous friendship root planted itself back then.  She has found her expression through photography and it suits her well.  :)

I sometimes poke around the world of Mr. Coelho for a new thought.  I refrain from participating in the discussions, mostly because they tend to cultivate a worship of sorts rather than the introspection in each of us as individuals as (i believe) they are intended to do.  But then again, an introspection dpesn't really need to leave the self now does it?

While the husband works (happy 'cotton' anniversary Mr. T) I filter through the years of friendships and acquaintances via Facebook and take the silly quizzes and find out what punk rock star i am (patti smith) and look at pictures of everyone's travels, families, new homes and new toys and wonder what it is about Farmville that entrances the masses the way they do.

I screen the NPR Songs of the Day that I collect in my inbox daily and sift through YouTube's that make me smile like this one:


And just like everyone else in the world from time to time, I feel happy, sad, secure, uncertain, proud, shamed, lonely in public places, overwhelmed in solitude, angry, empathetic and forever wandering.

Happy 2010, everyone.

Happy December!

I have not taken this writing venture on any particular and carefully-chosen path, now have I? I was hoping by musing for awhile, some fantastic light-bulb would have popped over my head by now.

(to the tune of Air Supply's All Out Of Love)
I'm all outta blog.
I'm so lost without words....

Community is essential to any creative endeavor. I haven't really had the time to 'socialize' in the blogosphere for this (tiny) writing venture to take off. I veered away from my local art community after mayhem befell me. Perhaps this has left me traumatized in some aspect. Whatever the case may be, it's December.

Which means a New Year is just straight ahead.

pulling a Madonna

Well, not THAT Madonna. Ca serait sacrilege!

But what I mean is that I am reinventing myself.

In a small way.

Kinda.

Well, it's more of the journey, I suppose, so it's not a Reinvention.

I am GOING BACK TO SCHOOL! Over the next few weeks I will map out the Big Plan. Going slowly, semester by semester, but I am moving into a new field of work.

It's such a lengthy, cumbersome, problematic, HAYWIRE kind of territory, but all the more reason for me to pitch in a helping hand.

The rehabilitation of those in crisis mode.

I refuse to say 'mental health,' because I firmly believe that EVERY SINGLE HUMAN BEING has an ounce of mental crises at some point in his or her life. If one cannot confess to this statement, then one is a liar.

I have been spending days with Grandmere. She is still frail. Was not healing from a back surgery and now going back in for another hip surgery. Her spirits are down. She does not want to talk about everything. But I love her. And I understand her....



My grandmere told me she started to look forward to going to the shelter during class when Air Raids alarmed because one of her older classmates used to play Blue Danube on the piano...

coming into focus

I envy those friends of mine who knew early in life what their calling might be. Particularly those of the creative persuasion, and how productive their hobbies and passions actually turn out.

While dawdling in a little bit of everything, or as I like to say 'Jill of all trades, master of nothing,' I want to fine tune all of my interests into one sweeping finale. I am not a photographer, I am not a sports fanatic. I can knit the most minimum of all basics, paint when I feel inspired, play a few songs on the piano and strum some sounds on the guitar. I truly enjoy writing, but have been having major struggles finding things to write ABOUT.

On a day like today, where the snow and antibiotics have kept me indoors baking banana bread and zoning out on television, all I can do is sit and watch the thermometer fall and rise to zero.

So my grand focus is a rather broad one. I just want to tell stories.

Stories.

iLike

I woke up this Saturday morning with my cup of coffee, relaxing before I head into a much-dreaded closing retail shift this afternoon. And every Saturday night for that matter. Not much to comment regarding the news. I am an Obama supporter and that's all I have to conclude from the latest political farce. The economy sucks, sales are slumping, everyone is on edge (both co-workers and my customers) and there are a million problems to be fixed. No sense dwelling on the bad. Instead I shall focus on a few of my favorite things à la Julie Andrews.

In no particular order.

1. The new yarn I bought this week. It's knitting season! I haven't picked it up the last few years so I had to borrow a knitting dvd from the library to refresh my memory on a few steps.

2. Ricky Gervais. He has a particular twinkle in his eye that entertains me so. Have I already commented on this? I don't remember. After watching the film Ghost Town I have concluded that the Ricky Gervais eye-twinkle is similar to that of the Tin Man in Wizard of Oz.

3. The new Lucinda Williams release. This one, Little Honey, is like listening to Car Wheels on a Gravel Road for the first time. Not so much in its sound, but in the sensation of hearing something so incredibly new and rockin and refreshing. I have seen her in concert several times and was even invited to the Soundstage taping at WTTW long, long ago. She is just the coolest. Incredible record.

4. Blindness. This film was genuinely disturbing but I was captivated throughout the entire picture. I was unfamiliar with the book but plan to read it once I get through all the other thirty books in line before it. I don't know why I seem to be drawn to apocalyptic themes so often....hmmm.

5. Halloween music. In particular, the latest Little Steven's Underground Garage release Halloween-a-Go-Go, the Classics from the Crypt album and an old Rhino release Halloween Hits with all the whimsical favorites such as Monster Mash, the Blob and Ghostbusters. You cannot deny the magnificence of the Monster Mash. I wish someone like Nick Cave or David Byrne would do a cover...

6. The 7-11 voter cups. I had no idea when I wandered into a 7-11 on my way to the train yesterday morning that I could CHOOSE an Obama, McCain or Undecided cup. I know I said I wasn't going to mention politics in this blog entry but I got a lot of questions about that cup I was holding. I told them it was a new blend at Starbucks - the Obama blend: a smooth, rich flavor with hints of anti-anxiety medication for a rich, robust experience.

6. Pretenders' Break Up the Concrete. Fantastic energy in this one. This is one to purchase and not download because the packaging includes a paper sleeve you can plant in soil and see some sprouts. I've always mentioned what an incredible incentive it would be to buy physical discs if there was a Willy Wonka golden ticket factor played in the surprise of it all...

So speaking of avalanched cd sales, I must now prepare myself for work.

SIGH!

summertime blues

while i have no means to travel, and i have major writers burnout due to long, excessive work hours and commutes into suburban terrains, and i don't have much money, i am trying to discover some new hobbies. or perhaps just rekindle old ones i should say.

1. exercise. i've always lived as a pedestrian and haven't thought too much about exercising with the exception of an occasional yoga class here and there. but i have developed an at-home and outdoors workout system for myself which i shall tell you more about after i lose 20 pounds or so. may the force be with me.

2. art projects. i recently took a quick inventory of store-bought materials and found objects i have collected over the past decade or so. it was like stepping on a land mine of my former creative self. one which was quickly buried in settling dust of......hmmm....life.

these two are substantial beginnings methinks.

dear little blog,
i will keep you 'posted.'
ba-dump-bump.