Last Day of the Year...end of blog as you know it

This is the last day of 2010. I've looked back a time or two. This week I had an appointment with my new psychiatrist and he suggested a medication change from Effexor 300 mg. in the morning to 150 in morning and at night. I had Chest pain on Thanksgiving after going without medication until 3:00 in the afternoon. I need to take my meds religiously and on time. I am going to stick with my meds the way they are. I don't want to start out 2011 with an adjustment. I'm doing very well still, I've had my anxious moments, the doctor said to keep extra Clonazapam on hand and take a half tablet if needed. I may do that today.

Yesterday I gave Bob the 16 x 20 photo of a Blue Jay that I took from the guest room. I am going to have a mat cut for it, as we have a frame that it will fit in. I used to do professional framing so I just need the mat. I gave up my mat cutting and framing many years ago, but the knowledge is still there. I wish I did have my mat cutter. Anyway I think I'll do that today when I go into town to go to the Y.

The weather is in the high 50's to low 60's. The snow is gone. The birds are out feeding somewhere else today.

I won't be transitioning off my meds for a while now. I am holding onto the hope that there will be a cure for mental illness sometime in the future. I wish there was as much funding for reasearch as there is for breast cancer. But the vast majority of people think that if 'we just think good thoughts" the illness will go away as if it were not an illness at all. In my case there is medication and behavioral theraputic action. I need to stay away from major stressors, and unhealthy relationships. I need to be open with my husband when something is bothering me and not suck it inside and suffocate me.

In the new year I do have goals, I am going to actively pursue the publication of a children's book called "The Visitors of Pompadour", and re-arrange and update my book, "Silent Witness", continue working on, "The Museum Collection" and drawing line art for reproducibles publications. I figure if I can read five books at once I should be able to switch gears and write five books at once. Although two are already written and one is partially. I also would like to write a Christmas book called, "When Santa Comes to My House" These things keep me busy and hopefully will be profitable. I will be tracking my submissions on the bulletin board above my desk, so it is right there in front of me.

Beginning tomorrow I will be blogging about going on the Dave Ramsey "total money makeover" plan and the effort to live like college students, at least the way we used to live when we didn't have any money. I think this year will go into a few extra days as we do a couple final purchases for 2010. My blog will still be called, "Pegs Perspective" and I may make the occasional detour from the blog's main content, as I have in this one. I will have updates in my condition as they may occur. It is so easy to be feeling well and forget the horrible feelings of depression that lie in wait like a timebomb ready to explode. I can only pray that with as many times as I have gone through it, I have learned more ways of dealing with it each time. I don't know when I will go back on True Hope. It is a wonderful thing, and I hope I can do it someday, but the thought of my failing and going back on medication scares me near to death. I was so anxious to start that I gave up a trip to Greece to see my brother there, and ended up back on Medication after all.
I can't dismiss it as an option, but it won't be for me in the very near future. I think I will stick with medication and psychiatry to keep me stable until there is a major breakthrough. We will see.

Otherwise Happy New Year! See you in 2011.

P.S. When our Dave Ramsey money makeover is through, not necessarily in one year, I want to buy a home on Bali. Homes are affordable compared to the U.S. and maybe we will be able to afford one.

Time on my hands

My fingers are itching this morning and there are only so many posts you can do on facebook without being completely annoying. I know I'm probably past that. Besides, few if any are going to read this and I want to type

Things I've done with my time this year:

I "work on" a lot of things. I don't however get a whole lot of things done. But this year I've managed to survive a wretched illness, experiment with drugs, remodel a kitchen and bathroom, keep a house clean constatntly trying to sell the house, visit the hospital emergency room three times, go on a week's long vacation to Colorado, sell a house, survive being separated from my husband for 8 months (while he got his new job out of state), work on a book, interview many people for the book, move, buy a house, leave my friends of 13 years, move farther away from my daughter (my least favorite thing), get a new house in order, keeping it that way is beyond me, find a place for everything, buy a new fireplace, decorate for Christmas, be in charge of the ward Christmas party, Sacrament program and New Year's Eve party and hey, start this blog.

Kind of a productive year. A productive year like verbs are productive. They make the appearance of doing something, but in the end, what do you have to show for it? I guess a house, a home, I made an advent calendar for my daughter out of tiny stockings and mittens I made and mailed them in a decent amount of time before Christmas.

Right now I'm working on a care package to send to my brother. Cookies, candy for Christmas. He'll like that. I've lost my box of best cookie cutters, so I'm free-handing the cookie trees and stars. I made him some of my mom's recipe of fudge and it really does taste like hers. I have her pan that she always used. In the box are also hershey kisses, starburst candy canes, strawberry his favorite, and imitation thin mints (like the girl scout cookie)

In a little more than a week it will be New Year's eve. One year ago that night a friend's little baby drowned in the bathtub. This year, in remembrance of that day, I'm taking part in a project that was originally done for this little boy's first birthday, and that was do something meaningful for someone else in his name.
So I have my thing chosen and will get it done before Christmas. I don't think his mom reads this, very few do, but if she does, know that it was started by someone who loves you very much and wants to help you through this difficult time. People are doing service in his name for you.

It is a small thing, but for many people participating, it IS very meaningful. I have had my trials this year, but I cannot imagine what it must be like for this young family. It is like a bad dream that you cannot wake from. I have had my illnesses and have gotten help and med adjustments. I worry about the day that I may not be able to get my meds and go into withdrawal and insanity, but usually 90% of the things you worry about don't ever happen. Tragedy happened to this young family, but so many have been helped in this little boy's name. Perhaps that was his mission.

I don't yet know what my mission in life is. I think I've done pretty well, living as I believe I should, following the commandments, but this year I had to make some serious decisions religiously, for sanity's sake. I know my Father in Heaven loves me, that Christ loves me and they know that I am doing what I can, the best that I can, in the stage I am in. I have felt huge loss in this area, and judgement by some. But I could not live with what was in my past experience any longer and continue to act as if everything was okay. It wasn't. But it is better now. My marriage has been affected, but because I have the most compassionate, patient husband, he does not pressure me. (he can be a little passive aggressive, but nobody's perfect. :)).

I think what I have to include in a mission statement for myself is to endure to the end. No matter what happens in my life, I must hang on. That scares the heck out of me. When someone passes away I envy them somewhat. They made it. They didn't give up, they stuck it out. If I can but do that I feel that I will win the biggest battle. So for the rest of my life this is part of my mission. I know there will be more and things I can't imagine yet that I will face, but I know my Heavenly Father loves and knows me, that Jesus is His Son and my Savior and Redeemer. He is my intercessor with my Father, He paid the price for me. Randsomed me from my sins. I must continue to remember this and remember to live as closely to God and His word as I can. Follow Christ's example. If I have to hang onto life with my fingernails, then I must do that. Hang on to the love of my daughter and husband. Live for others.

I don't make new year's resolutions. I make daily resolutions, such as, "I will not put one more candy kiss in my mouth today." Trying to make a plan for the year seems impossible, for a life even less so, but as we tell the youth about alcohol, decide now what you will do when offered it. Say no. Make the decision now, not on the spot. So I must decide for now and for the rest of my future. Hang on. Never give up. Claw with your toe nails if you have to. Know Christ is there and do whatever it takes to live. But if I must die, as surely I will someday, do it while serving or planning or thinking of good things. Try to stay spotless. Follow God's will. Do the best I can. I know I'll make mistakes along the way, that is where the Atonement comes in. Christ has paid the price. I need to repent with thankfulness and move on.

I don't know what my life will hold, but as of this moment, it is good. I will hold on to that.

Thanksgiving and Hope for the new year

The year is coming to an end. By March I didn't think I would make it through each day. Since my second hospitalization of the year, they were back to back (in fact the Doctor who was treating me is no longer practicing medicine. I can tell you why,) I have been doing much much better. I have enjoyed this season and just about all that goes with it.

I miss my daughter now that we live 4 hours away instead of just an hour and a half. I've been working on a book and would go back to her state and visit and we would have hot cocoa and lorna doone cookies, watch a movie and laugh. We always have so much fun together.

Next year I will be changing this blog. It will still be listed as Peg's Perspective, but it will be about trying to live as college students, cutting back wherever we can. might monetize it! Ha, just kidding. Hopefully I'll have some money saving tips. But there will be things that will be sacrocanct that will not go on the chopping block.

Looking back on this year I have gone from physically, spiritually and mentally ill, to physically strong and active, I have a healthy relationship with God, and my illnesses are under control. My diagnoses of Borderline Personality Disorder and Discociative Identity Disorder have been brought into question and two doctors have concluded that I do not have either of them. I have stopped seeing a psychologist.

This year we remodeled our kitchen and upstairs bathroom just in time to sell it. And now we live in a new state. I have been physically healthy enough to not see a physician after the eleven week disaster of the beginning of the year. And have not been hospitalized for mental health since March. The year improved.

This season we see a lot of runs of the movie "It's a Wonderful Life." My nephew reminded me on facebook when Clarence says to George Bailey, "you see George, you really had a wonderful life. Can't you see how it would be a shame to throw it all away?"

How many times have I struggled to not throw it away. Everyday has its struggles. But for the most part my life is GOOD! I have a wonderful husband who drives me nuts sometimes all on his own, I have a beautiful daughter and a great son-in-law. We took a trip to Colorado to stay in a cabin this fall.

I have learned that it is right to have joy. Not only is it God's will that men are that they might have joy, but it is okay to be happy about it. That sounds funny, but I'm serious. I sometimes feel guilty for feeling so good. I can be reminded in a second of people whose lives are far far worse than mine. If I dwell on that in the name of compassion (without action) all I do is bring myself down. It is good to do service and help people less fortunate. When you see someone having a hard time walking and you recognize it as what you remember feeling when your back was "out" help them by opening the door for them. If you have been in someone's shoes, you can understand their needs better. So look for opportunities. Those things bring joy. But it's okay to be happy. We each know well enough that there will be an end to that at some time, and it will come back again also. Enjoy the happiness while you have it and be compassionate to those who don't. It will be returned.

One of the greatest acts of compassion for me aside from Christ's atonement and my husband's care, mother's love, daughter's hugs and therapist's knowledge and friends' who have been in tune with the Spirit, came in the form of a nurse called Barb.

Barb worked in the psych unit and was peaceful and non-judgemental. I've known her for many years now. The last time I was in her unit was in March and I was having faith issues. I had lost 20 pounds in a month due to malnutrition, dehydration, depression, illness and stress. She was like a watchful angel. She knew me so well. She could see me struggling to get out of the deep hole that only I and God could truthfully could bring me out of. She came to my room and sat in the corner while I slept. And was there sitting in the same corner when I awoke. She didn't say much. I told her some things that only my minister, husband and therapist knew. Things that had been bottled up for 30 years, that had a strangle hold on my heart. So on top of the weight loss and illness and regular depression, I was fighting for my spiritual life and I felt very alone. She listened and didn't judge. Was not shocked by my behaviors in the past and not so at my new problem. But these "new" problems were old. I just had not dealt with them before. I swept them under the rug and pretended everything was okay. She was there.

I've often heard that when a person is grieving sometimes the best thing that you can do is listen. That was what she was doing. She wasn't just sitting there. She cared about me. She was genuinely investing her time in ME, not just a patient, a person. I have been in and out of this particular hospital probably 9 or 10 times. I even vowed not to go back due to the actions of one nurse. But I knew that I needed MY doctor this time. The one who knew my meds, not someone who decided to play russian roulet with my meds and a staff who were there for the paycheck only. I love Barb. I felt compassion from her. There have been others, many many others who have shown me compassion. But to be able to listen to me as if I were a sane person with a sick brain at the moment. I can't thank her enough. It has been months, but I'm going to send her a card.

Going into the new year I am filled with hope. And where there is hope there is everything.

Be There For Me, But Let Me Do It.

A few days ago I felt more than normal. I felt GOOD. It was wonderful. I remember day when that was something so normal to me. Life gets complicated and mental illness does not make it any easier. I'm sure anyone with a chronic illness has felt that way, that the everyday struggle makes it difficult to have those good days. It was just so unexpected.

I'm trying to merge into the life here in my new state, the people here are wonderful, very accepting. So nice and welcoming. I was worried about what our home was going to look like, where we would live, how was the city...but they were worries that were unfounded.

But sometimes I make my own trouble. I say things that should just remain unsaid so often. I finally blew up at my husband. As I said before, I like to drive myself because it gives me a feeling of being in control of something. I don't have control over the illness except trying to keep fit and try every technique in the book to keep myself up. That's a full time job in and of itself. Anyway, we live right next to a slow-moving river that we like to go down to and sit on camp chairs and read. We were doing that the other day, My husband carried the chairs down the small hill to the water and pulled mine out. I started to put it up but he took it and finished it for me.

There is a book called The Five Love Languages. His language is service. When he does things for me he is telling me that he loves me. So he was just being nice and loving to set my chair up for me. I tried to take it back to do it myself. I got so frustrated. I wouldn't be here if it were not for him. But I need to do some things for myself. Many times I have started doing something and he has taken over for me. If I were a loving grateful wife I would just accept it and say thank you. He is such a gentleman. But no, I got frustrated and he told me to "relax, you don't have to prove that you can do everything!"

So that is how I came across. All the times of my trying to do things for myself, giving me some "control" that is so lacking in my life, it came across as trying to "prove" something. I had no idea that that was how he saw my attempts to finish a task by myself. This is why I like to drive, usually by myself otherwise I will get directions. I know that I can drive where I need to go without assistance. It is just one way to have some control. I often give it up or fight it. He has taken it to mean I can do it myself and I am "proving" it by my frustration. I will never have a GPS. I can't stand to have someone tell me how to do something that I have "proved" to a state agency that I am fully capable of doing. I already have someone in the car telling me where to turn, why would I go out and purchase a device that does the same thing?

This sounds so bitter. It's not bitterness, it is simple frustration. There are so many ways and times that help is gladly welcomed, getting something out of the car, helping me in the kitchen, tucking in a blanket when I'm sick and laying on the couch, bringing me some hot cocoa, holding my hand on a slippery walkway. This past week he surprised me with pancakes that I didn't even know he was making. See! He is a wonderful man! And I know this. I just think that we cleared up a very long misunderstanding.

There have been years where most of the time I was in depression and slept all day, did nothing around the house and know that he carried me through all that time. But now, I am capable of these things. When you have been incapacitated for any length of time and not able to do things for yourself, you welcome the opportunity.

Several years ago I had two herniated disks in my lower back and litterally could not walk. I needed help with everything or I had to drag my body across the carpet to get to the bathroom. My husband would help me up and carry my full weight to get me there.

I've been helpless. I'm ready for some control. But I don't want to do it all alone all the time either. I need to learn to keep my mouth shut and appreciate the wonderful man to whom I am so blessed to be married.

A New Psychiatrist, Sans Lables

I have a new psychiatrist.

After moving I tried seeing the one closest to me who was covered by my insurance. The man was arrogant, kept his back to me and asked me for a list of my medications. He recorded them on a prescription pad and gave me a month's prescription for all of them whether I needed them or not. When I told him my medical history. He asked if I was married. I told him I was and that we had been married for 30 years. He told me I was lucky, most people would have left. When I talked the the receptionist I asked if I needed to sign anything for him to obtain my records from my last psychiatrist, she said, "well you can sign something, but he probably won't request them. He likes to find things out for himself."

So.

My new psychiatrist has the same name of a famous Olympic Ice Skater. Makes it easy to remember. He's an hour and a half away, but that is alright. I'm not seeing a psychologist anymore, I just need to have my meds regulated.

After filling out forms, I met him at the door as he called me in. My husband sat and waited in the waiting room. The doctor shook my hand. He was very gentle. That was a good sign, especially when you have PTSD. We walked to his office and he pulled out a chair for me and he sat directly opposite of me with his desk inbetween. His computer was on the desk so that he didn't need to turn away from me to enter data. He asked why I was there and so I told him of my move and that I needed someone to keep an eye on my medications. Then I told him of my diagnoses.

I told him that I had asked my former Dr. to remove the diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder from my chart and why. I never ever want to have to be treated the way I was by a nurse at the hospital that bordered on abuse. One look at a chart that says, BPD and they assume you are all..anyone...manipulative...doing things for attention. The worst part is, is that they think you are doing this on purpose... I don't have BPD, so I don't know if some of my actions came across that way. I don't know if people with BPD do this on purpose.. But I was assured by my psychologist and then my former psychiatrist that I do not have the disorder. Maybe I will have better luck in the future with hospitalizations. But I don't ever want to be treated in the way I was with a lable on my back.

He asked me about substance abuse. I told him that that was also something I requested to be removed from my chart. About 8-10 years ago I was on Seroquel and ONE day I felt so bad that I took one during the afternoon to sleep through it. Both he and my former doctor agreed that that did not constitute drug abuse as it is normally defined. No Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes. I stay on my medications religiously because I know what it feels like when I have been taken off of something cold turkey. I will turn around if I've left the house without taking them and drive back and be late to something rather than go even one or two hours beyond my normal time of taking them. For some reason people will go off of their meds. Feeling good, they think they are better and don't need them. But what they don't realize is that the reason they feel better is BECAUSE of the medications.

So anyway I told him a little of my background, the reasons for my PTSD, that I am bi-polar with the emphasis on depression and that I only become hypo manic, not hyper-manic. Again I used my, "I don't go out and buy a plane" analysis for my mania. I might go out and spend $70 that we don't have and clean the house and bake a cake and design a card and write a book while coloring my hair manic, but that only lasts a couple of days and then it goes down from there. I told him of my self-harm addiction which is a symptom of BPD, and that I have been "clean and sober" of it since July 1 of 2009. He was happy to hear that. I told him that I had been diagnosed as having DID or Discociative Identity Disorder (formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder) but told him that that was from a doctor at a trauma unit and she said that I had been in an altered state. No one else has ever observed behavior such as what was displayed there, and that I believed the doctor had used some kind of hypnosis and that the experience was vague. Being a five year old with a tiny voice curled in the fetal position then climbing the couch is not my norm. So he dismissed that! Thank goodness!

It was difficult to talk about some things, telling someone new, things of the past, things I'm ashamed off, and life events that helped form who I am. When I am doing as well as I am now, it is nearly impossible to recall the person who did such harmful things. (not that I'm a different person....) we have established that I don't have that disorder. :) I was surprised that my eyes watered and got choked up about it.

But I have to say that it was a very good session. Lasted an hour! I'm so thankful for insurance. We would be on the streets with the cost of my meds and doctor appointments. Psychiatrists ARE NOT CHEAP! But you cannot get the medication you need without them. Many people who can't, self medicate with illegal drugs and alcohol. I can understand that. I might choose that path too if I didn't have any other choice. So I cannot condemn those who choose to go down it.

I told him shaking hands that I was happy to meet him and I feel like I have been blessed once more with the right person in the right place at the right time. Most likely if I need to be hospitalized again it will be within the area I live and will probably end up with the arrogant...person whom I rejected, but at least I won't be saddled with the handicaps of some of my former lables.

There is a certain freedom in that. And my heart is lighter today.

"Just" Depression

Yesterday I attended an orientation with the Vocational Rehab in my city. It was an overview of what I can do to earn money while still receiving Social Security Disabiliy.

We were encouraged to find something that will give us work within the number of hours allowed under the law and still receive the benefits. I thought, "what the heck? I thought Voc Rehab was supposed to aid you in getting OFF disability. That is my plan for the future anyway."

There was nothing brought up that I didn't already know from living in the last state I lived in but there was something that the presenter said that offended me. I can take all kinds of insults and let them roll off my back, but when it comes to my mental health I am a fighter. I'm an advocate for those with mental illness in any form and I try to educate those who do not personally have an illness. I honestly thought that when we came into the 21st century that the general public as well as physicians would be more enlightened than they surely are not. But for someone who works with Vocational Rehabilitation to make an uneducated remark, the presenter herself, I was offended.

It was at the end of the presentation and she was winding up and made the remark, "so whether you are physically disabled or just have depression, we can help you."

My own psychiatrist had to ask me about pain that I feel with depression. Severe clinical depression. I have come to the conclusion that I am somewhat different. I don't seem to fit in with the commercials, ads in magazines or even with my psychiatrist's definition of the pain of depression.

The counselor I met with after the orientation talked about pain of depression, forget the craziness of mania, we just talked about the depression side of it, and he made the observation that people with depression have body aches similar to fibromyalgia. This is where I am different.

My closest friends have not seen me at my worst. Only my husband, daughter and God are my witnesses, aside from in room cameras that capture images in the psych unit. In deep depression I double over in pain. I can hardly breathe, I beg God to take it away from me, I read my scriptures quickly out loud so I don't give a space inbetween words for any other thought to come into my head. The pain continues. It is gutteral major grief, except for one major difference. With grief, the pain which is excruciating comes in waves, whereas my pain is constant and I don't get relief except from sleeping, I open my eyes and the nightmare begins again.

This counselor had never heard it described in this way. My psychiatrist had never heard of it described in this way. Are there others out there who can relate to this?

The counselor said that when (or if) I get a job in a regular setting, that I didn't have to tell them anything, I don't have to tell them I have depression. So I said, "what kind of employer is going to keep my position open when I am hospitalized up to five times a year for a week at a time..that being my lowest, where a great amount of time I am "just" depressed and nearly unproductive?" He decided that the average workplace probably wouldn't work for me. So we are working on ideas that I can do at home.

I was going to sell my greeting cards, but after a feasiblility study determined the profit would be too minute to give me enough to replace my benefits. I have three other ideas: re-train in sign language interpretation, type term papers for college students since there are several colleges in the area, or go to Mr. John's college of cosmotology and become a nail technician. I think I could do the typing and the nail tech job. Both are self employment, and when I go into one of my grief periods I can step back for a time. The last two are short term goals the long term is being a certified sign language interpreter.

When I told my counselor what the presenter said, "just" depression, he said, "well that's why she's "just" a secretary.

Dear secretaries, are you offended?

Control Isssues

Being bi-polar for me is a matter of begging for mercy at times. Someone over the past few days asked if it was scary not knowing when I will have the next episode. It terrifies me. I know that I will read scriptures out loud, quickly, I will pray and have physical pain. Deep gutteral pain. There is little control in these instances. So when I am "sane" I have a need to control things. Things that I CAN control.

I discovered over the weekend that I have a need to carry a task out: preparing and cooking a dutch oven dessert from start to finish without assistance. My husband was helping me. I understand his need to help me with things he CAN help me with. I know that there is very little he can do in helping me OUT of depression. But tasks around the house I think he helps me with because he CAN.

Anyway, back to the weekend. My husband set out the pie filling, pineapple and I found the butter. I appreciated his getting these things out for me. He set out the charcoal and doused it with fire starter. I told him it needed to sit for about 20 minutes to really get soaked in. He wanted to start it right away, that would burn off the fumes too quickly. So he waited. I combined my ingredients in the dutch oven. He helped by opening some of the cans. That was fine. I started to feel a little cramped when I went to melt the butter over the campfire and he questioned, "why don't you just slice off pieces of butter and let it melt in the oven?" I hadn't thought of that. I had my own way of doing things and it was not his. I ended up slicing the butter. I have made this dish for, I don't know, nearly 30 years. I didn't need to be second quessed. I didn't appreciate his help, but now see it really was love he was showing me.

Before I had the chance, he was covering the lid with hot coals. He asked me about how many to put up there. 15. After about a half hour I went to check on its progress, I used the end of a crowbar to lift the lid, it didn't quite fit, so my husband went and got another utensil to lift the lid so he wouldn't get burned and I checked it. I had to quickly remind him to not let the coals fall into the dessert. It was done, The other cook needed some coals so I was going to take the dutch over over and let him have the coals off the top, onto his oven's top. My husband did that. He then took it to the picnic table and got it ready to serve. My stomach was in a knot. WHY? WHY couldn't I just let him do these things as a nice person and thank him?

Because it was my need to be in control of something. Something I really knew how to do. My life is a bit of chum waiting for the sharks of deep depression to get their teeth into me. I'm basically floating at sea not knowing when the next shark will strike. If the chum had arms it would be doing all that it could to...what? get away? How do you get away from a predator that you can't see and have no idea how close it is?

So, I wanted to complete the entire task by myself, all with my own two hands, start to finish. It is a weakness to not accept help. Accepting help blesses others who do the service. But to one who has a constant shark waiting to attack...please hand me some amunition! As long as I can do things for myself, I feel somewhat normal. This is why I have a hard time riding in a car with other people wanting to go and stop different places, I need an itinerary. I need to know what is going on, where we are going, when we'll get home. This is why I drive my car when a car pool is needed. Sometimes I just need to drive completely by myself, I miss out on the camaradarie, but I get to have my hands on the wheel and know I have an escape at any time..(but that is getting into the PTSD part of me.)

At the camp out I met a person who also suffers from bi-polar disorder. They didn't have the same need for control, wished for support in fact. And here I was WITH the support and not appreciating it. I later had a talk with my husband explaining my need to have some control over some things in my life. I'm trying to control my weight, it has crept up after losing 65 pounds. I'm up by 18 lbs. I'm working on it. That I have control over.

So I do what I can and mostly I am grateful for my husband's help. But leave the dutch oven and my driving up to me.

We Were the "A TEAM"

There were four of us. Not BEST friends, but the closest among the rest of the class. There were ten "kitchens" and we were separated out to three to a kitchen. Someone had to be left out of the four. It was me.

Eigth grade cooking class. I wore a women's size 18, was painfully shy, had unruly kinky hair and wore silver-rimmed glasses.. After splitting up the class into kitchen groups there were two guys left, Eddie Smith, blonde, blue eyed and an outcast and Antonio Rodriquez* more of a thug type. I could put two and one together. We were to be partners.

Of course we knew each other, we had been going to the same junior high for two years and Antonio and I knew each other from elementary. Eddie and Antonio were two good-looking, guys who rolled their cigarettes up in the sleeves of their white t-shirts. No that was just Eddie, but not on the school grounds. Neither one of them were what you would call "academic."

Each one of us was a little on the fringe in one way or another of the social norm. Antonio lifted weights and played football. Eddie cruised the food court. Both could frighten you out of your lunch money. And There we were. The three chefs at the end of the row in the fifth kitchen. I was scared.

What we lacked in social graces, we made up with competitive spirit. Our first assignment, after learning what every utensil and pan were indended for and knew their where they were to be stored, we as a class were to see which kitchen could put them all away the fastest. We won! The teacher came over and checked...everything in it's place. Boss!

The gauntlet was thrown down. We continued this trend with every "competition" winning some little prize and an "A" for each of us. We made crepes, Buenelos, sopapias, chocolate chip cookies... and some savory dishes. Then we would sit down at our kitchen table and share our meal. These guys were pretty hilarious in their own rights, and I had a fair sense of humor... skewed, but that was just the right mix. Sometimes we laughed so hard tears were rolling, and that wasn't just over the onions.

My friends asked me about the guys. It was golden, the feeling of having what I thought was the funniest, greatest kitchen in the room. We just blended well. Who would have thought that these three extremely different individuals could become friends. I think we each had a sense of what it was like to be quiet on the inside and stereotyped on the outside. These weren't thugs at all. Just decent guys who had a low self esteem. You would never have known it to look at us, but we were the "A TEAM."

*names were changed, their discriptions were not.

Was It Worth It?

Was it worth it?

As I was driving yesterday toward the Illinois border I thought about how I used to drive this route to work at the small weekly newspaper in a very homey, "Mayberry-type" town. I decided after some time there that I wanted to consider IT my home town since L.A. is too busy busting crime to truly feel at home. I made great friends there. Salt-of-the-earth people who will drop everything to help you find your keys (that were in the lining of my purse all along.)

I worked as a typesetter after filling in as temporary graphic artist for the gal that was out with surgery. We all hit it off right away and I knew it was going to be a great experience. It was. One of my goals of life has been to live and work in areas as close to Mayberry as possible, or at least out in the country. This town was the proud owner of the "very first traffic light in the county" which was put in in 1996. When I left that was still the only traffic light in the county.

I worked as a: reporter, typesetter, photographer, photo processor, graphic artist, political cartoonist, columnist, and updated the website for a while. The publisher offered me a job at their sister newspaper across the river back here in Iowa for a $2 an hour raise (a lot when you are only making $7 an hour) as their composing room manager. I've known too many composing room managers and it wasn't worth it. Besides, they already had a great manager who had been there for 24 years and her system worked well, so why change it?

I loved the people at this newspaper in the town with the town square and an historical courthouse where Lincoln stood on a rock to give a speech. There is a placque on the rock. I had not gone into a deep depression while there, I hadn't been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder, I still had my issues, but when I worked at the paper it was more like working in a living history museum. A little bite out of the past, still doing the pasting up of the paper rather than sending it straight to film. It suited me just fine. But to call this "just a weekly paper" were fighting words to all who worked there. Everyone played many roles and the paper was an award-winning paper for layout and design, stories, advertising and circulation.

I left the paper and started working at the sister paper. They warned me not to go, that I wouldn't like it. I still got the raise. But they were right. Little did I know that when the publisher of our paper (who was also the publisher of the one in Iowa)would come over to Iowa he would go on about this woman who, according to one person there, was "the next best thing to sliced bread." For those who worked in composing at the Iowa paper, a daily, they didn't take kindly to hearing about this new person. They didn't know that I was offered the job as their boss, but not knowing me they had a resentment started for me long before I ever stepped foot in their department. That was evident and later proved very truthful. I didn't stay too long at the paper, after hearing snide remarks, having someone mess with my computer changing the setting to "backward" where all the ads printed backward, the screen itself had everything spelled backward. They were very disappointed when I figured it out and changed it back. But it didn't make for a warm fuzzy feeling. So after talking with my husband, I left.

After working later as an Art Director for a book and magazine publishing company and going into my deepest depression, unable to pull out of it for a year and a half, partly a vicious circle of my depression, their reaction, my depression, ostacization..I left after spending time in the hospital.

The first newspaper offered me a job back there, less pay, but they knew who I WAS as a person. Something the book publishing Co. knew nothing about. But after going through depression and suicidal ideation I was NOT the person I was before. I still had bouts of depression, not so severe, or mood swings and the former publisher with whome I got along great was replaced twice, once with a really nice guy and then with the Publisher from Hell. Tension mounted, it wasn't the happy place I had worked at before. My mood was a wreck, med adjustments didn't help. Everyone was patient with me. Except the publisher.

He rearranged the departments at both newspapers, and decided due to my mood swings to dispose of me. Had I not gone through the attitude of the paper in Iowa or the ostracization of the book publisher or the general stigma of depression and the misunderstanding of mental illness in general, I would not have gotten to the point I was at. I was told my work was excellent, but it was another reason for my being fired. When I asked what that was, I was told of my mood swings. Guess what? That is against the law. I had had it. I sued and after five years we settled. Not for much but it was the principal of the thing. So, was it worth it? No.

I did it to make a point. The EEOC got involved, no one from the paper would testify for me but that was okay, they wanted to keep their jobs. Can't blame them for that. I had many others who would testify. It turned the whole newspaper office upside down, tracking down every bit of paper, file, ad, column, photo, sketch, cartoon, article that I had produced while I was ever employed there. I didn't want to do that to my friends...but it was the principle of the thing. I was tired of being told to "snap out of it" and then having it end my job. Was it worth it?...No.

Now I am leaving the area and I have lost contact with the people at the paper. I am an awkward acquaintance who put them through the wringer. Even though there are those who thought I was in the right and doing the right thing. It is detrimental to their job if they are caught talking on the phone to me.

Putting my friends through that was not worth it. The settlement? When all the taxes had been paid and the lawyers fees and extra expenses that weren't normal lawyers fees were paid, it was less than $5,000. It was the principle of the thing, I felt vindicated somewhat. Not the $18,000 that I was awarded after paying everything out, but like I said, it was the principle of the thing. And it was not worth it.

I'm leaving the area, didn't pick up any friends at the sister newspaper, or the book publishing company, and with the collateral damage at the homey Mayberry paper I don't have them anymore either. In hind sight it was definately not worth it to me personally.

However, if people with mental illness sit back and don't fight, the stigma will continue. Action has to be taken to bring this out into the fore more often. It is still so misunderstood. I pay for it everyday. Fight the fight. Eventually... it will be worth it for the whole, but personally there is a lot to lose. Years later..without seeing any more understanding, losing friends...It was not worth it to me. Not by a long shot.

One of the Necessities of Life, (Not Bare)

Yesterday I was tired. I had a tough time getting to sleep and woke up fully before 3:00. So I watched M*A*S*H. Tried to sleep at 5:00 got up. I had spent too much time earlier in the week working out at the Y.

The Y's shower room (there are two private ones) is extremely humid and damp. I started going in here because a guy walked in while I was dressing in the locker room twice. Other times the guy that cleans the locker room has been in there and I've had to ask him to leave. Too close to home for me. Anyway...

When I work out, I sweat big time. I hear that's a good thing. But three days in a row, sweating and then going into the dank room for a cold shower only to continue to be sweating when I got done made it tough to think about covering all this sweatiness with fabric. Then I remembered something my daughter said to me when she was little.

It used to be nearly impossible to get her ready for school on time. She hated getting dressed. She still can't stand shopping where she has to try on clothes. I can relate to that, for different reasons...size for one. But one day she came to me very upset and crying. I thought her best friend had died she was so upset. She was about eight. "What's the matter honey girl? What's wrong?" I asked. "I just realized I'm going to have to get dressed every day for the rest of my life!" sobs.

I don't remember if I laughed. I'm sure I wanted to. I don't know if I did, I don't know what I said...

And then I find myself finding reasons not to work out just so I don't have to shower and get dressed all over again. I think I could cry too.

Mrs. Wilbur and Me, The Last Straw

I was thinking back to when I was little and in kindergarten. I loved birthdays. On your birthday you got to sit at a table in the "house corner" with your milk (which was always provided)for snack time with Graham Crackers. Then you could choose three friends to sit with you. And if you were lucky when it was someone else's birthday they would choose you. I wasn't very popular except with Lynn who flunked out.

I thought about my Kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Wilbur. She was close to 70 and really had no business wearing heels in a skirt with a bunch of kindergarteners on asphalt. That is just a fact. That is the reason she had to retire. People blamed it on me. They didn't actually say so, but when Mrs. Wilbur had to retire in the middle of the year because of a broken arm, I had the distinct feeling that it was all my fault.

Broken arm? At 70? What the heck was she doing with a broken arm? A hip I could understand. That would have been much worse. All we were doing was playing "Farmer in the Dell"

As luck would have it I was the "mouse" in the center and of course it goes without saying that. Okay I'll say it. The "mouse" picks the "cheese." So being the little brown noser that I was I decided to go for teacher's pet and chose Mrs. Wilbur. I grabbed her by the right elbow and spun her around and kept running when I heard a thud. That didn't matter. I ran all the way back to where I left her, knowing I would get there before her, old as she was and she would end up in the "mush pot."

Well, when I got to her place she was still on the ground. Crying.

I don't remember what else happened that day. I know for days after we had a substitute, but can't tell you anything about that.

Back then and through my entire elementary and junior high years, if I were laughing or crying or embarassed my round face would get as red as a tomato. Who knew that the PTA were planning a retirement party for her? I should have, my dad was PTA president and my mom was vice president. But I was oblivious to just about everything unless it had sugar in it.

One night there was to be a special night at the school. I didn't know what it was for, I just knew that all of the kids who had ever been in Mrs. Wilbur's class got to stand on stage and that was exciting! That meant my sister and both brothers and I got to be on stage since we had all gone through her class. The taller kids stood in the back with all the kindergarteners standing right in front. We sang something but I don't remember what. I held one of those hollow "fish shaped" percussion instruments that you slide a stick down for some noise.

I looked out at the audience, and there was Mrs. Wilbur in a special chair, which looked like a throne, a robe around her shoulders, a crown on her head and her right arm in a white cloth sling. And it was only then that I realized what I had done. My face got bright red and I couldn't take my eyes off of her. The reason she was sitting on the throne, never to be teaching again, was because of me. (I always had the suspicion that the whole of the Canaga clan broke her down...) but it was I who was the last straw.

I don't remember being too sad that she was gone. She was a sweet old lady. I did miss her when the new teacher put me in a locked room with a window that I threw my shoe at, screaming at her to let me out. I don't remember why I was in there. I'm sure it was for my own good, but I wasn't going to go down without a fight. I think the teacher finally gave up. I know I didn't calm down. I don't know how long that teacher lasted.

Things were looking up. The next year I was going to be in first grade. Scotty-watty-doodoo left for another school so it wasn't going to be as much fun. But at least I would get to go to the cafeteria once in the year on my birthday for a birthday cupcake.

Unsettled But Stable

I started writing today needing to vent. So I wrote what I needed and then deleted it. I do a lot of complaining on facebook and a good friend disagrees with my political view. It is not worth losing a friendship over. I'm tired of complaining. I also see footage that is upsetting and isn't too good for my health. I am thinking of cancelling my facebook account. It is fun seeing what others are doing and saying. But I have such strong opinions about things, I'm afraid others are tired of seeing my face or reading my status. Facebook is supposed to be fun, not confrontational. I either need to lighten up, quit reading the news or get off of it.

Mentally, I have hit paydirt on my medications. I have been "normal" for a few months now. I have been cherishing every single day. And they have been good. It makes it easier to let go of some smaller things that in the past would seem huge, because I don't know when my mental state is going under again. I suggested to my psychologist that after a couple months in our new home, I would try the vitamins and minerals again. She said, "Why don't you get settled, have a good Christmas and try again in April or so..." I disputed it thinking surely in the next few months I would be settled and ready. But she said, "I know that's what you THINK, that's why I said it...I want you to wait seven months or so, so you are stable. Your medication is working well, you are in a good streak. But neither you nor I know how long that is going to last. But while you are doing well let's just have you stable for a while." We both laughed. My appointments with her are for maintenance, and because we do like each other it is always good to see her.

She is calling a friend she was in school with who practices in Champaign, Ill. to see if she takes private patients. She'll refer me if she can. I asked, "So,..does that mean we could actually be 'friends' then, if you aren't my doctor?" She said, "I think we could work something out.. :)" That made me smile too.

The year has gone so fast. I don't feel I have recovered fully from my illness in February or the snow into April, or being alone in the remodeling and selling of the house. But my doctors see a change and I have been coping better with those stressors. The house sold. We close on July 30th and we have found a home in Lovington, Illinois, 20 miles from Bob's office. I have not actually "seen" it in person. Bob described it over the phone. It is four acres of about 100 trees, a half-circle drive and a river running behind the property by about 10 feet or so. When he came home for the weekend, he showed me the pictures on his phone. He saw it and told the Realtor, "my wife would LOVE this." I told him to go ahead and make an offer, one counter and then she threw in the $8,000 John Deere lawn mower. It will be interesting mowing between the trees. But we were approved for financing and should close before the 4th of September (my mom's birthday)This just may be a bit of heaven, and a place to rest my bi-polar mind.

I have strong political views but am tired of ranting about them. I think I was better off without a daily voice. I used to write a column and had a lot of stories to tell. I think I will begin writing a daily column here on whatever is on my mind. And try very hard not to get into politics. (although, for history's sake, I may type a line or two of facts.")This is a forum I am used to. Column-style.

My book: I have seven people I am interviewing across the country and will be interviewing and photographing more in the future. One key "element" in the book is the fact that chemically we are worth less than $2. I've talked with a couple people at the Museum of Science and Industry in Southern Cal. The name of the book is called "The Museum Collection." I've been doing quite a bit of research on the internet and in the library. It probably sounds like a dry book, but it has a heart to it. I feel that writing this book is one of the reasons I was placed here on earth. That can be disputed but that is what I believe.

Disjointed and jumbled, that is what this post has been. Maybe you can decipher it. Good luck and have a GREAT 4th of JULY!!

Acceptance

My gosh it HAS been awhile since I have written. I have been working nearly endlessly on our house to have it ready to sell. Everyday a new project and just when you finish one you see something else that really needs to get done too. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming!

This morning we accepted an offer on the house about $9,000 less than priced but that is okay. Hopefully soon my husband and I can live under the same roof again! He's not coming home for Father's day which disappointed me. I was going to take him to the IMAX in Davenport to see the 3D documentary of astronauts fixing the Hubble space telescope. I went with a friend a few days ago. It was so amazing! Just solidified my need to write my book called the Museum Collection. I'll tell you about it later.

I don't know if I wrote in here about my experience...yes I did with the hospital in Clinton Iowa. That was where I came about my release and acceptance. It was on the same lines as spirituality. I was fighting the disease, fighting the pain, feeling like every cell in my body was saturated with tears. I was raining tears unchecked down my face and I couldn't open my eyes. Finally I gave up and let it consume me. A choice, an element of control. And my spiritual wall that I have been fighting for thirty years came down and it was as if a knife was removed from my chest. This time it was more than depression, it was an awakening for me.

Not much has changed, I just feel like less of a hypocrit. I feel I have a very strong relationship with God, my heavenly Father and his Son Jesus Christ. Those are the basis of my core beliefs.

I have been feeling better over the past few weeks than I have since July of 09. I did what I had to do and said what needed to be said, and I feel I am on the even keel of God's good graces again. I won't discuss this, but it has given me the ability of choice and the acceptance of the pain passing through me cut my pain in half. Now I Know that I have more amunition to fight through, go through another bout with depression. Also I have been celebrating my good days, Thanking God for the knowledge of choice. The next bout, I will breathe, suck it in, sit quietly and let it happen and beg God for the strength to endure it.

Also lately I have been troubled by politics. I feel we are under a tyrant's thumb. When we have to sign petitions and beg for off shore drilling to continue and the answer is no.. and the president clearly does not care or listen to the people. I would like to hope that we have a chance to vote in November, but I think tyranny, unemployment, martial law are all posibilities.

I do not think I am out of my mind when I say I believe these to be the last days. Obama wants to be a dictator, he has the following of a rock star. Our country is at stake and I think it is dangerous for the president to sign executive orders that remove opportunities for this county's economic restoration. More unemployment, environmental disaster that he is s.o. yawn..p a s s i o n a t e about. His agenda is what he is pushing and doesn't give a crap about any one or any thing this country is telling him. we have elected a king, and we are peasants without a voice. I don't know if we will have the opportunity to vote, and in one city with a large latino population, they started a new voting system that gives the latinos 6 votes. They can use those votes in different areas of the ballot, or use all 6 behind one candidate. What has this country come to?

Am I afraid? I have to say that I am. But my feeling of acceptance of things is what is going to get me through. All I can say is buckle up America we are in for the ride of our lives!

God Was My Co-Pilot

It has been a while since I have written. Mostly things have been going well. I had a car accident which has changed my perspective a bit.

I was on my way home from Decatur Illinois, merging into the Interstate 72 around Springfield. It was one of those.. you get on while someone is crossing to get off. I do not know how this happened, I just know I ran into a semi while trying to get on. Going about 65mph. My driver's side mirror crashed against my window immediately and I had a vision that "this is it" I didn't think I was going to make it. I said, "Oh, Crap!" as I straightened my steering wheel out. I was sure I was going to jerk the wheel and over-correct I was sure I was going to spin and end up in the bottom of a lot of metal. But I straightened out, the semi kept going straight. And we both pulled over to the shoulder.

All I could say was "I'm sorry". I didn't cry, wasn't too confused or distracted. Called my insurance, called the police, talked to a witness who pulled over behind us. The truck driver was fine, he checked out his damage and it was basically a couple scratches. I was fine, my car didn't really get hurt too bad, the mirror was hanging by a thread, there were deep gashes along my side of the car, bent fender and bumper and the driver's side back window shattered.

I had been working on our house so long and concentrated on that that I didn't realize that my licence had expired as well as the tags on my car. So two tickets. Illegal lane usage and driving without a license. I have a court date of July 8 in a courthouse in Springfield.

Now here is the interesting part. In my mind's eye at the instant my mirror got hit I just KNEW that my number was up. Now knowing my past history of depression and suicidal ideation I realized when I got to the side of the road...I missed my golden opportunity. Had I over corrected or swerved at all, I wouldn't be here. Or there would be little left of me. To me that meant that God wants me to stay around here a while longer. I felt a little upset, because I have only had three tickets in 30 years, and I don't think I will be in that situation again. I would be gone in an instant and not on purpose. But I am still here. And I feel fine! I feel good in fact. And I did have an opportunity to be gone and with God's help at the wheel and organic self preservation I avoided it.

As I said, I didn't cry, I was calm, was interviewed by the insurance adjuster for the other vehicle and was very calm with the police. I think he must have thought I was having a difficult day, therefore he didn't give me a ticket due to expired plates (the front of which had been stolen the week before!)

I have been feeling well and have not been dreading the future. It can all change, I understand that, that is the nature of the beast of Bi-Polar, but I have a lot of ammunition in my coping skills department.

Monday I had an appointment with my Psychiatrist and he couldn't believe how well I was doing. The med adjustment was spot on, and because Irecord! Actually I may not be living in Iowa, we are negotiating a price with potential buyers for our house! I am making the most of every day I feel good! I practice my skills when I start to get edgy. But most of all I am allowing myself to ENJOY my day! It's a wonderful life at present.

Just don't get me started on politics and Freedom. My anger there would fill volumes.

Have a great day!

Blown Glass on a Mountain Top

I love analogies. Any way to describe in terms that are more concrete than my thoughts I use to explain the nearly unexplainable.

The past two days I have felt like glass. Like those blown glass figurines. Beautiful works of art, SO delicate. I used to love going to Disneyland and watch a glass blower at work. I was fascinated. I'm not even sure if they have that talent on display there anymore.

A few years ago I had an idea for a huge work of art including different colored glass Orbs (thank you Sue!) that would hang from a sky light and cast rainbows around the room. So, I approached a local glassblower to see if he could do this request for me. It was during "Grape Festival" in Nauvoo, Illinois, and he took me back into his studio workshop and showed me bags of purple glass balls. Then he told me, "I'm so busy doing these "grapes" that I don't want to see anything round anymore. It would be easier if I just showed you how to do it." Great! What an opportunity! So of course he taught me how to get the molten glass onto the five foot long blowing tool and continue rotating the pipe, blowing, rolling, and before it got too cool, he taught me how to score it and snap it off of the end. Viola! A glass ball.

He didn't have all of the colors I needed but I did what I could. At the same time I was suffering from Cobalt blood poisoning and could barely use my fingers for anything fine. I could do this, but later learned that of course cobalt blue contains cobalt and so do the fumes in the studio, the kiln and the molten clear lake of glass. Through this experience I learned just how sturdy glass can be but don't drop it. It is extremely fragile. And my turn as a glass blower was brief.

So I have felt a little like a piece of stained glass on a mountain peak, bright when the sun shines on it but liable to fall off the edge and break. A breath of air strong enough and my depression will come back. We are all breakable. It is tough coming out of depression about 90% sure that I'm going to go back into it at any time for whatever reason. The nature of the beast.

I read a study back in 2000 about Cancer and Severe depression. People who had experienced both said that depression was the toughest. Because people can't see it. They barely understand it and it comes labeled "character flaw". Cancer, on the other hand doesn't carry that stigma. There is a huge support base. In depression, what one can't see, is the illness but you're still standing (you'll crash later, but until then it is a constant pain.) People get irritated, they've done their best to bring you out of it, and everyone has a breaking point.

The unknown is frightening. Sometimes I think our bodies would be a better communicator if we were made of fired clay. Chinks cut out here and there, cracks as we age (wrinkles cover that pretty good), and wanting so badly to just crumble into dust. I'm extremely fortunate in that I'm beginning to see depression as a temporary condition. Reading through my blog it is easy to see that I struggle and that it can affect just about every part of your life...but in comparison the good times are more often.

Awareness of that fact is crucial to survival. I don't say that flippantly. It has pushed many people over the edge. I am thankful for my core beliefs, my support group, my husband and daughter. People I used to work with might not even recognize the new Peggy with depression. And when I started a new job the day my dad passed away, these people have yet to see me as "normal" for me.

I've belabored the point. I'm just feeling at a precipiece and a breeze could take me down. Therefore I had to do some real soul searching to give myself a life I could live with, spiritually, mentally, socially and physically. I do as much as I can while still giving everything up to God. I do what I can for that day, this moment, one second and pray that I get through another bout.

"Fragile" now that is one word that I would never have used to describe myself. I was always a Tom boy, in the dirt constantly, trying everything my brothers did, almost. But for now "fragile" is an apt adjective. I look far from fragile! It is so funny. I have huge shoulders that narrow down to two sizes smaller at my waist and hips. I look like a "superhero" That just goes to show that you really can't judge a person by their shape. My skin holds it all in, but I am broken. I would really like a nice long remission to heal. There is no cure, just management and treatments.

I am thankful to all of my friends who have been so accomodating to me, who love me for who I am and still like me. Everyone on this earth is here to learn things. We'll each get the lessons we were sent to learn, not everyone is going to have the same experience but each will get what they need. And with God all things are possible. So let's get up and seize the day, thank God for it, and charge in without fear.

A Drizzly Day Brings Freshness

It's drizzling. I can't say "I'm under the weather" because the weather has been pretty consistently rainy. Today though it feels good being up early listening to the birds that love this weather. I've always loved rain. Except in Los Angeles. Smog (years ago) dirtied the screens, and since it really doesn't rain much in So. Calif my dad would take a hose to the windows and screens. I would watch him from inside the house as he got all of that gunk out of the screens. It was fun watching the water comming right at you and the effect the window barrier had.

Different people would say they loved the smell after a rain. To me it always smelled like dirty screens. Except here in the wild midwest. Freshly mown grass, the authentic smell of cleanliness. One of the first things I noticed about the midwest on the morning I woke up (I got in at night)to the cleanest windows I had ever seen. No gunk anywhere. Spring green and freshness. Even the birds had color, yellow finches, cardinals, blue jays, robins. The first time I saw a yellow bird in someone's backyard I said, "Somebody's bird got loose!" My friends laughed and told me it was a yellow finch and that they had tons of them, I was truly in awe.

Where I came from we had crows, sea gulls, wrens, doves and pigeons. Trees turned out to be the same thing. Green in summer then their leaves would turn brown and fall off. I needed to move to the midwest just to see the color version of life. The free feeling, few fences and sidewalks, not too much graffiti around here. Life here is colorful, opulent, quiet and the grass is so green. Our grass in L.A. had to be watered by the hose or with a sprinkler system. I think that was one of the things that amazed me. My house growing up, our lawn didn't need to be mowed very often. And it was often dead dry grass when the area had to conserve water. I'm so glad I moved.

People all the time ask me why would I leave L.A.? These are usually people who have maybe been for a visit, or haven't been but have watched the Tournament of Roses Parade with it's "Always blue skies" How mother nature pulled that off year after year is beyond me. Through our picture window in our living room we could see Mt. Baldy, a mountain with usually snow on the peaks. My husband, who was there for the first time didn't believe me when I said we had a view of the mountains through our window. We had apartments across the street. We had to wait seven days for the smog to clear out (usually after a rain!) before he believed me. He was amazed. We used to joke that "I don't trust breathing air I can't see."

I like clean air and the green grass, colorful flowers and different colored birds. I have a philosophy about birds such as the cardinal and the yellow finch. Their purpose here on earth is for our enjoyment. Neither one of them have colors and markings to camouflage them from enemys. They don't blend in to the blue sky or green trees and grasses or snow. I love to see them, it is always a treat.

Well, I think it is obvious that I am doing well today. Now to go downstairs, it's kind of chilly, I'll make myself some Abuelita hot cocoa and some breakfast. Then go to worship God.

Have a great day!

Normal Day, Planting Flowers & Cleaning

I still have my heavy duty knee pads on from planting flowers. I'm having a very good day. Missed my opportunity to go to the Y. I was up early enough I just found other things to do.

I had to go to the bank and pick up our new checks so I can pay bills. Feeling free from anxiety. I think it is my mind set concerning my Faith. I am so comfortable with my beliefs now I don't feel like a fraud. What else? Made the bed, opened the windows, Killed the TV (I wanted to watch a few episodes of 'The Office' but figured out how to revive it.) I uploaded several pictures to my facebook profile of the house in summer.

I was going to mow but grass is too high and the ground too wet again and had to farm it out to a guy that does that as a business. I feel so hopeful for the house. I still need to stage it. Yesterday I went to Lowes and spent about $100 on plants and flowers. We have some beautiful perennials that accent the house, but we have a flower ring around our bird bath so I planted some creeping phlox, columbine, hostas and mini daisies. The bird bath I scrubbed clean and when all was dry I sprayed it lightly with white spray paint. Looks naturally aged, just not horrendously aged.

Today I am still going to exercise by running up and down my stairs for a half hour. I have some free weights and I'll work out with those too. I'm staying home so I can be here when the lawn care guy is here. I have been watching my calories. I have an appetite again and it is not helping me keep the weight off, so I am writing it all down.

Bob is looking at his schedule to see if he can take a couple vacation days to drive with me out to Colorado to handle my mom's final things since she passed away. I am doing well right now, but sometimes things or people trigger me. The stuff is in my brother's house which used to be my moms. I get triggered around my brother. So I really need Bob to come with me. We can't make any decisions about what to do with the stuff if I don't know what is there.

My brother is not doing too good. Had a recent angiogram and doctors are going to do a vein re-route on one of his legs. He has diabetes and it is not totally under control. I feel sad for him, my tumultuous life is like a trip to the park beside his.

You know in the movie "What About Bob?" (which I ask myself that everyday...)Bill Murray yells from a boat he is strapped to that, "I'm a sailor, I'm a sailor, I'm sailing!" Today I found out that I like planting flowers and taking care of them. I actually talk to the plants. I have never done that, people who do that are...eccentric...so now I fit right in. I felt like calling one of my friends and saying, "I'm gardening! I'm a gardener! I'm gardening! When I was 60 pounds heavier bending and kneeling was really hard, hard to breathe and tough to move around. So today when I got in the moist earth I didn't hurt anywhere. That was a relief.

Not really much to say here. That makes me so happy. I'm going to take a break and go read Jane Eyre. This is one of my better days. I'll take it! Have a good day!

Calm Seas Don't Produce Skillful Sailors

Well it seems if there isn't one crisis, I have to have another going on. Spiritual this time, can't elaborate but I am tired.

I want the house finished and listed. It is taking a long time. Bob and I have been apart nearly 5 months. At least we are in driving distance only three and a half hours in between.

Yesterday I fell back into depression for a time. Couldn't wait to get in bed and read Pride and Prejudice. I worked out pretty good yesterday. Had a lot of pent-up frustration to get out. Swam for a half hour, did free weights, Cross-train eliptical for 35 minutes and treadmill for 30. I have little control over the state of the house, but I have control of my working out and what I put in my mouth. I'm back to not eating very much. I have to watch it. I don't want to lose another 20 pounds in a month. Losing weight would be great, but not by being depressed and alone. I had Monday and Tuesday were excellent. I was just this side of hyper manic and was slightly hypo manic.

It's great to have fun and I did at relief society this week. I look at these women and love them, and have loved them for a long time. But knowing I'm leaving I see these women as ghosts that are going to evaporate with my move. I will always love them and respect them. They just wont always be there. My spiritual life is inverted. My husband I think is hoping my spiritual downfall is due to depression. But this has been something I have struggled with for 28 years or so. I've just now found the need for bringing it to the surface.

I've been reading Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, and am now reading through Pride and Prejudice. I love reading. But my pursuit of happiness at this point is getting the house ready. Take some pictures, make a flyer for the realtor and ourselves and get it out on the market. I still take time for my Meditation and Chakra balancing.

See, right there I sound like a nut case. Good thing I have drugs. I can't wait to get back on the supplements. A friend has been taking something and I want to see what it is. She is feeling great.

That seems to be my life. Running around like a mouse hunting for cheese, I search and reach and look over the maze searching for the promised land of normal. I'm better able these last couple of times as bringing to mind the suffering of others which is worse than mine or comparable. Just knowing that others, some, have no relief at all in their illnesses and conditions gives me a feeling of guilt because I complain, live through it by the skin of my teeth and then at least have a break of a few days. I wanted to leave today to go to Illinois but I want the kitchen done first. Maybe tomorrow.

I like getting in shape, like I said it is one area that I can control. I suppose I should close for now since it is nearly noon and I haven't even started my chores.

I'm going to make it! Failure is not an option and the saying, "Calm seas don't produce skillful sailors" is my new battle cry. I'll just keep riding the waves and know there is relief at the other side.

Birthday, Mother's Day, Novel and Lemonade

It has been a few days since I wrote in here. Mother's day was wonderful! Heidi gave me a plush, hotel style huge robe. I love it! Bob was home for the weekend and we went out to dinner, and then on Sunday he made me pancakes the agreed to stay just long enough to get some sleep..(I hate sleeping without him) and got up at 3:00 a.m. to get back to Decatur.

For my birthday, it was Anne of Green Gables' theme. A recording of The Lady of Shallot, by Alfred Lord Tennyson - his poem set to music. The recording artist sounded like one of Celtic Woman. Then I got a puzzle that looked like the house of green gables, then a quote from the book framed: Tomorrow is fresh with no mistakes in it., I got season 4 of Greys Anatomy and if the weather was sunny Heidi had people lined up for a tea party. She even make a sparkling grape juice labled "Raspberry Cordial" like Diana drinks in the book and movie. Also, they got me a book of Alfred Lord Tennyson's poems to read. And then the famouse cake. Best cake I have ever had! Better than the cake I had around eight years old made by a neighbor - butter brickle. It was even better than that. So on Thursday this last week, Heidi and I went to Deluxe bakery and pastry shop in Iowa City and tried their morsels. I asked if I could have some frosting (to try to make my own cake) and they gave me both the frosting and the filling. They had never had that request. Hmmm I'm a little; hmmm; bizarre? embarassing? ah, a character is what my mom would call me.
Let's just say between my birthday and Mother's day it was all good. Slight depression, very short lived.

I had an MRI to check my head out to see why I was having mini seizures or shocks in my head. There were some things they found. One was sinusitis, another was cerebral Atropy. My brain is doing what happens to people more in their 70's. My memory is attrocious. I also learned that there may be a way to treat my PTSD physically. I don't know how but I definately will ask my Doctor about it on the 18th

The medication changes were right on the money. I'm feeling so much better! It is hard not to look to the future because I have been down this road so many times. I have a brother who thinks my "vacations" to a psych unit is a cop out. He has depression and PTSD and is miserable. But even my psychologist has said that with what he has dealt with his entire life, therapy might be more harm than good, but with the right medication he could feel much better and wouldn't find the need to self-medicate.

Depression is widespread in my family. Environmentally was an easy culprit, but abuse and psychologically we each came out damaged. There were a lot of mind games and you never knew when you were in the clear and away from dad's belt. Each of us has a bit of PTSD and depression.

I am going to try to change this blog somewhat. Since I am not following TrueHope at this time, I am going to be finding ways to cope and share them here, talk about what life is like on meds. When I am securely planted somewhere else I will attempt it then. I have been doing my 'house of the week" reward thing and giving a rose to someone every Monday. These two projects keep my mind occupied. I've considered making my life story into a book, but there would be too much collateral damage I think. As scattered to the wind we are, I still have love for my brothers and sister and their family. Maybe I can do something, change the names, give instances that are similar but not the same. I think it would be obvious to my family even if I altered facts and sold it as a novel. Maybe I need to do it to get it out of my system. I am ready to turn all those lemons I've been tossed into lemonade. I have actually been making homemade lemonade and orangeade. Way better than store stuff. I have decided I will answer when someone asks how I am, I will say, "Need to make some lemonade today,, otherwise I'm great" If I could look at it that way that would be great. Something that comes with Bi-Polar and depression is that you are in hell and even making lemonade is impossible. But I am going to attempt it.

I'll keep you posted.

Good Morning! Shaping up to be a Good Day!

Good morning! It is great to have a window right next to me where I can look out and see the leaves on the trees and the lush grass. I was up at 5:30 talking to my husband. He was in Bloomington, IL airport getting ready to board for a trip to Dallas, Texas where he will go through supervisor training.

I had set my alarm for 5:30 anyway so I was just waking up. My plan was to go to the "Y" early. But now I will probably wait until after the guy who has been chopping our grass (our mower was broken and we couldn't mow so we have to bring in the big guns) and the friend who has been working on our remodeling are done for the day. I have plenty of things here to attack.

Last night I carried several boxes down stairs to put in the garage. My house is still in a messy transition, but I think with a few hours the kitchen will be done, I'll stage it and I'll call the Realtor to come back. I'm very excited about how the bathroom came out and how the kitchen is looking. It feels like living out of a suitcase trying to keep everything neat.

I'm doing great this morning. My "picture of the day" is of a rocking chair on our kitchen porch with a sign that says "Tea Time". I love to have people over for tea. It's not TV, or a project or trip, it is just time to sit and talk. I don't think we do enough of that as a society. Maybe that is where I get into trouble. I don't like to be inundated with auditory input. I hate going in to Walgreens the one in Fort Madison. For some reason the music they play is slightly too loud I think. I don't know how the people that work there can stand it.

It is Monday! Buy a rose day. This is the day that the florists get fresh flowers and they are healthy and great to give to someone. I might make a trip to Keokuk and give it to one of the librarians who has always been so helpful. I picked out my "house of the week" for last week. This yard is so relaxing and a perfect extension of a cozy porch. You just want to be there and visit. Maybe that is what is wrong with me, I seek out opportunities to visit people and avoid television as much as possible. Unless it is something we have recorded on DVR I don't usually turn it on. THERE'S my problem..too much time in my own head.

No. It is just my condition, I need to latch on to anything that gives me the chance to do something for someone that is mutually beneficial. I walk and look and send a reward, give someone a flower. I get a good walk in, appreciate the hard work that someone has put into their home, print out a "certificate" and send three dollars. Then for about $3 I get a rose for someone specific. Warm fuzzies all around.

On that note I will give my guys a call and see what time I can go to the "Y" after my meditation time.

You have a good day! I'd say "Happy Cinco de Mayo" except for the fact that it was shoved down my throat so much growing up. I suppose giving ballet folklorico and black hats with white pom poms and trumpets their own special day once a year is okay. It's going to be a beautiful day!

Good Morning! Is Depression Selfish?

What a wonderful start to a day! I went to my first Tai Chi class this morning that started at 8 a.m. at the Y. SO refreshing. Before I left home I meditated for a half hour.

I was able to do my chores before leaving. I did get up at 5:30. Just couldn't sleep. I keep dreaming of the cake Heidi, Travis and Bob got for me at a specialty bakery. I'm ready to travel the hour and a half just for that. I won't be going to Iowa City until next Thursday, but Heidi and I will definately be going to brunch!

Things I did this morning before 11:00 a.m.

Took a shower, made the bed, opened the windows, ate yogurt and a banana for breakfast. Went to the Y. Did tai chi, then went down to the weight room and worked my quadracepts, Lats,arms and chest. Then I went to the Cross-trail eliptical and did that for 35 minutes and finally I swam for about 30 minutes. I know it is possible for me to weigh 167. I just want to do it nutritionally sound and exercise with it. I probably could have stayed all day, but the house still needs attention.

What? Do I feel selfish for taking that time for myself? Should I?
To many people depression means nothing, because the average person has been "depressed" over an inconvenience. Those diagnosed with Severe clinical depression, bi-polar disorder, PTSD, and mood disorder know to the depths of dispair because they have been the lowest. Sometimes people don't believe in depression because there are breaks in between episodes. Dispite this being the 21st century, there is incredibly faulty thinking of this illness. I remember my first time in the psych unit. I couldn't find enough information outside the hospital, but once I was there there was a plethora of pamphlets and sheets and brochures. My doctor has not released me for work. I have to fill my day with things to do. I volunteer at church, scouting and the Red Cross, I'm writing a book and keep sending another to get published by someone. I take care of the house. The library is getting to know me better. And when I have episodes, I am not much good to anybody. So, although it may appear selfish, the things I do to occupy my mind are there to distract myself to survive.

Today is the day I normally see my psychologist. We are at every-other-week now. Today has been great, the weather perfect and I feel good. I still take my medications as prescribed knowing that going off of them cold turkey would be a way to become increasingly manic or suicidal. As I have said before it is such a delicate balance.

Yesterday I got some results of an MRI, due to what I consider small "seizures" in my head. I have mild chronic sinusitis (never would have guessed that), right mastoid effusion and mild diffuse cerebral atrophy. My doctor, not the neurologist interpreted it for me. The mild diffuse cerebral atrophy is something that happens as you age, but I am too young to have this condition. So I will wait for the neurologist to reassure me that the the seizures are medication related and not organic.

One more reason to get off medication. I have no idea what all of the medications I am on have done to my body. Hopefully everything will be fine. My husband and daughter have remarked about my memory loss as more significant. So I stopped using Ambien as it tends to have that effect. But I haven't been on it for long. No seizures identifiable during the period since I started taking Ambien.

There is no pattern to the spells. I can go two or three days and have them each night, and I can go weeks without symptoms only to have a terrible night fighting to stay awake so the seizures don't zap me. I'm like a neurological bug light!

Anyway it is a seriously glorious day outside. I think I will paint the window boxes.

Reading, Pictures and a Schedule

Another beautiful day. I sat out on our porch swing having biscotti and hot cocoa. Took some pictures. I have decided to take my camera everywhere I go. The point of taking pictures is to help me identify the beauty in everyday life and to appreciate each day. Then as I look back at them I will see more good days than bad.

I've been having trouble with my memory. I think it is from Ambien. I going to try going without it. I usually fall asleep reading. Even if it is an exciting tale, I can only read for so long. One memory I have that is good is reading with my husband in the evening. Being apart I think this one pasttime is one I miss most, aside from the ache I feel to be held.

Reading out loud? I know, some might consider that a snoozefest. We purposely enclosed our living room and banished the TV to a room upstairs so we could use the space for visiting people and for reading and playing games. The longest I have ever read aloud was eight hours...on the road to Colorado. My throat got sore, but it was a great book. Can't remember now what it was, but most likely a Christian-based novel.

Reading helps quell my depressive feelings. Thank you God for this day and for feeling so good. I must acknowledge my Father in Heaven in the way I am feeling today.

My mind is going in many directions right now. Not manic, just "normal-me". Last night I took a nice soak in our claw-foot tub, put on my jammies and went to bed with, I have to say, a pretty sorry excuse for a book. I would love to re-write it, just for fun and add in a few adjectives. But life is too short. I have my own book to write. I think I'll go to the library today, turn it in with my other books and hopefully find a good one. I have learned that I do best with a schedule. My everyday list so that I can see a beginning and an end to tasks, a reminder that whatever depression I might feel, it is temporary just as is everything else. And reading is a part of my list. I need several things from which to choose as a NOW activity that doesn't involve a credit card.

I'm doing better now that I'm adjusting to Bob being gone. My physical illness is gone, the house is almost finished, and I have the opportunity to go visit Bob whenever I want. I'm happy with the med change. I'm working toward several months of well-being so I can take EMPower supplements again. It is easy waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I am feeling fine as of today. In a while I will go and do my meditation, take some more boxes to the garage and clean in general. Dishes. Why did I let that get out of control? Oh well, it is something to do. As my grandmas used to say when we would come to visit, "Same old decorations."

The picture of the day is of our Hostas near the house. I just love their varigated colors. It looks like someone took a paint brust to them.

On the road to wellness...you have a good day too!

Grab the Day by the Tail and Squeeze

It always feels a little funny blogging in the morning. My Heidi gave me a framed quote from Anne of Green Gables that says, "Tomorrow is fresh with no mistakes in it"
Then miss Stacy corrects and says "yet"

I'm feeling good. The grass is so green it nearly hurts my eyes to look on it. The sky has cleared up to a clear blue. Now if only an ice cream truck could come down our gravel road I don't think it could be better than that.

Yesterdy the crown moulding was finished and today I think the floorboards will be finished as well along with the wainscoting. This is taking so long!
I cleaned out my computer desk yesterday, hoping to put a new desk in, the but desk would hove been too open and cords would be all over. So now I am looking for a home for the computer desk.

Had my hot cocoa and yogurt out on our back porch swing. It is just such a magnificent day. Time to take a walk around Fort Madison and pick our my "house of the week." Get some exercise. I worked out really hard yesterday and want to keep it up, I may walk and then work out. It is nice to feel well again.

My home is feeling more open and free with so many things taken out of the house. Meditation is wonderful and the chakra balancing mists make the house smell good and gives a great feeling throughout.

I have nothing of importance really to report here. I'm stable and am taking charge of this day. I intend to squeeze every good drop from this day as possible. Enjoy and thank God for this day. I'm finally convinced it is spring. We have flowers in the flower boxes. I may paint them today.

Have a good day!
Talk to you tomorrow!

Rain or Shine, Keep Goals in Sight

I have started my "picture of the day" post on facebook to help me appreciate all that God has given me. So I will be putting that picture up where my own photo is.

My Honey is gone back to his job and right now two guys are finishing the crown moulding in the kitchen. I'm going to make this quick because I am going to the "Y".

I like watching the Biggest Loser. I've lost 65 pounds over a two year time period and the courage the contestants possess in getting on the scale in front of the world is amazing to me. They must have to pass some psych evaluation before having a chance at the show. Several years ago I would have loved to be on it because I thought I was tough. I don't think I could take the intense workouts that their trainers put them through. It is inspiring though. I doubt that there is a contestant on too many drugs for mental health, they wouldn't make it past the test, and goals beyond survival at times feels impossible.

I can feel my clothes closing in on me and know that I need to take the bull by the horns and take care of it.

It was tough saying good bye to my "Reet" (wierd nickname we both go by)as he drove away. I just hope he makes it there safe. He is tired.

On a day like this, it doesn't matter what weather there is, my joy is full. I'm better than stable. Thank You God!

I'll write tomorrow. Have a great day! Going to the "Y" to keep my goals in sight!

The picture at the top is of a statue in Rand Park in Keokuk, Iowa.

My Birthday Put Together by "Professionals"

Yesterday my daughter and her husband, my husband and I enjoyed celebrating my birthday. Oh my gosh! The cake was incredible! a vanilla and raspberry cream layer cake with frosting so good I could not help myself! The weather played a part since my daughter had planned an old fashioned tea party for outside in the style of Anne of Green Gables. (very much a fan).

Between spending the day with Heidi and her friends on Wednesday and yesterday it was one of my favorite birthdays! Heidi and her husband take on birthdays as seriously as some people engage in Rennaisance Festivals. They and my husband gave me poetry from Alfred Lord Tennyson who wrote "The Lady of Shallot" - Season 5 of Gray's Anatomy, a CD of "the Lady of Shallot" set to music, a puzzle that looks a lot like the "green gables" home in the book, Walkers Shortbread cookies!, and the complete series of the story of "Little Bear" which I have always loved. Also a bottle of "Raspberry Cordial" special lable they made with a year of my birth, and a wine glass to enjoy it while taking a deep bath with another gift, Lavender bath salts. Last but not least... Ghiradelli dark chocolate! All very nice. Oh yeah, they ordered Chinese food for lunch!"

I actually blew out all 48 candles with one breath. My parents called my sister "leather-lungs" when she was a baby because she could cry at decible levels. I may have usurped her title in lung capacity.

Because of the rain the outdoor tea party was cancelled, but that was okay since I wasn't up to visitors. But I had a great time!

Right now I am doing fine. Full of cake still. that was AWESOME cake! My mood is steady, and I feel like it is a normal day. Bob is home and he likes to watch TV. He admits to being a TV adict. A few minutes ago he was watching poker played in a bull ring, now he's watching basketball after a few minutes of racing at Talladaga. Wait...now it's a western. It is tough to keep my thoughts straight when I hear bits and pieces of shows and commercials. Oh wait...now it is Deal or No Deal. Oh well.

I am very tired and probably close to a diabetic coma after all of that cake! Finally had to give my husband an ultimatum..either he eats the rest of the cake or it goes 'the way of all the earth' and ends up destroyed. I tried to make it as painless as possible as I slid it into the trash. It was winning the battle.

I overslept so I didn't make it to church this morning. Yesterday was tough getting up for the day. so I had my Chinese dinner after cake. I am so full. I haven't had heart burn in more than 2 years, it caught up with me.

Earlier this week I got a new prescription for my glasses. I guess my blood sugar was high at my original appointment, so they had to make changes. Now I can see the computer screen without being three inches away from it.

A fantastic day!You have one too!

Jump For Joy!

I spent the weekend with my husband and even though there is lagging in the back of my mind of another depressive episode, we had a great time. Feeling good is so elusive. Happiness is a gust of wind that we cannot grasp, but JOY! Joy is what our lives are to be. If you have ever read my blog you are pretty much tired of the "woe is me" attitude.

I feel that this is the time to run and jump and thank God for the life I have been given. Depression goes into remission. And it is so wonderful to be "back" among the living and laughing voyagers on this mission we call life. Spending precious time with my hubby and knowing it was to be shortlived due to our distance, I tried to spend every moment with him as was possible. It is true that absence makes the heart grow stronger...unless you have a flood in the bathroom and he's not there to help.

I remember my dad telling me that eventually kids grow up and are amazed at how much their parents knew. I was mostly compliant, it was safer in that and many other ways. I thought my dad was talking about once you become an adult and no longer have the teenage "know-it-all" attitude. And I thought that once in my 20's or 30's I would surely have it all figured out. Well. I am past that expiration date and am just now beginning to see things for the first time in so many ways, in so many people, that is what we should concentrate on. This is the first time on the planet..for most of us...:) and we didn't get either a a shred of clothing nor language or manual. We've all made mistakes. The biggest mistake is assuming that every one else out there has it figured out.

The older I get the more I understand my mom and dad, polar opposites in discipline and many other ways but they loved each other and their differences made them stronger. This year my husband and I will have been married for 30 years! That probably doesn't seem too impressive to some people. But to remain married in spite of the depression, or mania, mood swings he is still here for me. He has always been here for me.

Severe Clinical depression is a disease, as much as epilepsy or diabetes or asthma are. Those with depression, not the kind where you have a couple bad days at work and are irritable, but knowing that something is drastically wrong about the way their brain is working. Watching it unfold and morph into something or someone unrecognizable by their actions and subject matter. Social Leprosy is what it is. There have been so many advances over even just a few years I am grateful for living in this period of time, where even when I am crushed to powder I can still be helped and not cast out. Bob has never cast me out. He has had to cope with things in his own way. He has his stressors, a demanding job in this ruptured economy, bills, and a wife who struggles with the ideation of suicide.

I have learned through this illness that is a good and/or bad time for thoughts to be unleashed on the one you love. I am trying to temper my thoughts, for some of them not only bring me down but bring him down as well. I have learned that people do not understand your circumstances...there is no wound (unless self-inflicted), or cast, crutch, or sling to do the advertising for the fact that a person is suffering.

Many doctors believe and it is in the DSM-IV Diagnostic manual for mentally ill patients that one can be pigeon-holed and there is no cure. There is no "cure" for depression when it is overpowering someone. Drugs are answer...for some...for now. But to be pigeon-holed and treated as if the you are the last piece of the puzzle...being forced to fit into the lovely little world of 500 pieces. And you don't fit the mold. Is it the piece that is defective or is it the puzzle? I think there is a place for all shapes and sizes to come to the table, wealthy or destitute, beautiful or not, shy or commanding. It can hit anyone. And non of them feel they really "fit in". I can see it, I can try to conform to the space that is last for me, but in my heart I will not be "altered" to fit with the overwhelming majority of someone's view.

The puzzle maker made this boxed up puzzle defective. There is an extra piece. It doesn't belong to the same puzzle as the other 499. It might not look right and the puzzle may bulge but with effort that little piece can complete the puzzle after all. I say it is the 499 pieces that are the wrong pieces and so glad when I am able to share my experiences with those other 499 and the other near complete puzzle which understands. That my friends is a rare commodity. Acceptance takes a very long time. I'm still working on it.

But, hello, I was talking about a beautiful day. The day when those of us who need their dendrites and synapses fed a higher dose of vitamins, minerals and amino acids will come out of the darkness of depression and have a good life. It will come and I am staying till the curtain comes down and God willing have the chance for joy. I can't waste a day of it.

Good things: God will take whatever we are and create the greatest masterpiece anyone can imagine. The kingdom of God is within us, and with Christ on our side how can we help but win? The Lord is my Shepherd...He maketh me to lay down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside the still waters...He restoreth my soul.

Jump for joy! We have this single moment in time don't keep it bottled up in a musty basement...break it out and celebrate!