Approaching Connectedness; Approaching Gratitude

Of course, I left out a lot of important things from my previous post. I need to reassure everyone who leaped up and contacted me in alarm that I haven't gone back to carrots and lettuce already--that was a misleading suggestion. I also left out some of why it's all even worth it. But rather than go back and edit, here's a whole new post.

What's missing from my previous post--so much more beyond the surface tension of my illness.

There are so many things going on outside of myself. There are so many things going on inside of myself that I need to offer to other people. Even the times I've been in extremis with these health conditions, I've always been able to recognize that what I've lost has been connection to a larger reality. At this point, connection to that reality is melting in, slowly.

I had a hair-raising, horrendous drive home with the non-functioning car heater, ice, dark, anxiety...perhaps I'll tell the rest of that story next time. At home the water pipe had frozen where weasels or squirrels had damaged the insulation. Frozen and burst, so that a thousand gallons from our newly filled tank ran out, right under our cabin, eighteen feet from an erosive bluff. Phil is an incredible one-man-band, but crawling under the house when it's close to zero, popping up again to pour water into a suspected leak...you really need more than one set of eyes and hands for that.
 What about in Anchorage? I was there all weekend, at the gracious hospitality of wonderful friends who care, as a verb, and whose own lives are so rich, broad, deep, giving and receptive both. Just to notice these friends and how they are; to hear what they've been doing with their lives, what they've been observing, brings me to a broadened awareness, which contains hope.

I got to see our friend Tom at the viewing of his and Jeanie's film, a starred offering at the Anchorage International Film Festival. It's the first time I've seen their film since Lucas died, which lent some special poignancy to the experience. Tom's graciousness and poise was beautiful to see. Some people had come up from Homer specially to see the film, including people with whom I'd been acquainted but didn't yet have names for. Meeting them in Anchorage in support of beloved Tom and Jeanie, and having the "I've seen you around everywhere, we were both in such and such...but what is your name?" conversation revealed long tendrils of connectedness.

Getting to meet online acquaintances is another special delight. By a wonderful serendipity, I got to spend time with Cinthia, together with Lynn, with whose friendship I've been blessed a few years now.

 Cinthia felt like a kindred spirit right off the bat, from love of the outdoors to averseness to cold (I know, what are we doing up here?) to intensity about writing; even to food preferences (helps me to think through my return to posting recipes on here again).

Lynn, of course... what can I say? Her blend of tenderness and passion, her unmatched observantness... 
Oh, and we laughed a lot, all three of us together. Always a good sign.

Meanwhile back home...the two of us and Fido the camera on the right...

I don't feel proud to have driven him nuts over the past...year? two years? more?--to have justified the Cockney Rhyming Slang appellation of "trouble and strife" for "wife."
There's still a lot of work to figure out how to get done all my work, and write, and do things with Phil--from chores around our small but high-maintenance homestead to more recreational activities. But now at least we can have the conversations.



I've been so scared. I've been protecting myself (to death, some would say). Having propelled myself out of the tailspin--with help, ultimately, from the distasteful ultimatum--I'm less protected. I feel a lot that terrifies me into my guts. I also see a lot of joy and hope; a lot to look forward to. I begin to feel connected outside of myself, to be able to send those huge and convoluted webs inside me into the wider world.

Rock Jockey Gets to Keep Riding--Toward Where?

Yesterday was the other end of the ultimatum that's been causing me so much anxiety for the past month or so. I know I have the potential for leaving things to the last minute, but the combination of last minute-ness, physical and physiological effects of full-on masochistic foie gras action, and anxiety, was indescribable. 
Yesterday's drive to Anchorage was cold, but not freezingfreezing; the radiator was managing to put out at least a modicum of heat.
In my pocket, my most special of special rocks...

...in my cooler, wrapped in down pants, my scale: I couldn't bear the idea of losing this bid because of some
"nearly but not quite" owing to dehydration from a long, cold drive. As stupid and arbitrary and imprecise as I know scale numbers to be (especially in the afternoon with clothes on), I had to respect the "minimum" with the inflexibility of a Lubavitch rabbi or a Roman flamen (no disrespect to them).

I'm so glad I brought the scale. I was right about the dehydration: who knew you could lose three pounds driving less than three hundred miles? So, a big, hurried lunch. Anyone who knows me at all knows that "hurried" and "eating" cannot co-occur. I showed up to my appointment, head spinning; had my vitals taken...all very good. But then, let's say, my rabbit almost came out of the hat! I had to excuse myself from my appointment before it had even started. Not the start I would have hoped for. 

I was much better after that, and was able to offer my psychiatrist enough confidence that I had seen a full spectrum of reasons why it's worth it to me, even lithium aside, to stay physiologically stable, so she's willing to let me continue--but still under the same rabbinically strict stipulation.
Relief...

Rock Jockey keeps on riding!
Why "rock jockey?" -- Lithium means "made of rock." 
-- For as long as I've been taking medications to help stabilize my moods, whether naturopathic, homeopathic, or conventional, I've had a visceral perception of myself as riding the medication. Sometimes it's a better ride than others. Sometimes I'm just running alongside; sometimes the mount is bogged down and I'm running ahead. Sometimes I'm bogged down and the mount is out of sight.

This picture is as much about the rocks as it is about the persimmons.

Obviously, it would be ridiculous for me to imply that everyone who loves rocks has bipolar disorder or schizophrenia!

However, I'm working on an essay about water as an element. I'm writing a section on elements (earth, water, fire, air) as used to categorize people's natures and characters, including my own. Where I'm getting to (although I didn't know it when I started) is that I'm predominantly an "air" person, and greatly lacking in "earth." So I'm floating away on my helium (= of the sun, element #2) balloon, and am grounded by being tied to my lithium (made of rock, element #3).

Oh, and the "jockey" part reminds me not to put myself on a guilt trip for imagining anyone who doesn't have to live with me would be interested in my cliffhanger over enforced and significant weight gain, or in whether I got to stay on my meds. Jockeys have to put on or off weight all the time.

I have to go finish that essay. On Monday, I'll have written a post both about the "masochistic gratification" I keep going on about, and about what it means to have met the ultimatum--what scary places of growth it's hurled me into, what I was hiding from, how I hope to utilize and share the renewed positivity and energy. What am I riding for now?
A beautiful weekend to you!

"Writing" in my Head, "Reading" from Memory; the "Golden Nugget"

We're back from Anchorage--and the days are getting longer! Phil had a moment of genius and grabbed these very snazzy shades at the ophthalmologists'--turned out I really needed them to see to drive us home! As the evenings get longer, if the sun is out at all, it's right in your eyes and low in the sky for a significant part of the route home.

Having spent most of today preparing a practice midterm for my course (fighting the technology every step--it only forced me to redo about three of the longest questions two or three times apiece), having gotten through Valentines, Mardi Gras, two editing deadlines, and our Anchorage trip--oh, and two poetry performances over the weekend, I feel like I'm coming up for air this evening--knowing that I have the "real" midterm to prepare, as well as grading, preparing lectures, and more. Working a couple hours translating Greek dictionary entries has been a balm.

Within an overstretched week exacerbated by some poor self-management that caused the usual swings in my mercurial pendulum, I learned something to do with poetry, performing poetry, and its importance to me. This is the golden nugget that could be the salvation of my spun psyche and the justification for the quicksilveriness. And maybe the lithium, which simply means "made of rock," is the touchstone that will transform mercury to gold if I actually keep taking it!

In the midst of overwork, how have writerly and culinary creativity fared? The Valentine's day candies happened sort of betwixt and between as a "body" break (brain still engaged), as did a platter of beautiful goodies I made for our friends' son's Memorial on Sunday and didn't even remember to photograph! So much for the food creations--I'm still making them, but feeling little enthusiasm except for their reception.

What about my writing? I've been "writing" furiously in my head at all moments, but I haven't sat down to write as I need to for several days, especially with the disruption of the town trip. As I like to say, I begin to feel like an unmilked cow. This needs to change.

What an irony, too, that I say "I'm writing in my head," which isn't really writing at all, but is an allied cognitive/creative process, when so many people said how much they enjoyed my "reading" at the show on Saturday and at the Memorial on Sunday, when I wasn't actually "reading" at all: I performed from memory on both occasions!

"Out of the Woodwork" was a great show all round with so many rousing performances. It was a flashback to a past life for me, being surrounded by musician types, remembering the days when I'd be in rehearsals at least three or four nights every week. I felt honored to be part of the company. Also honored to share one other poem as well as the poem I wrote for our friends Tom and Jeanie on their son's death.

The experience, together with the response I received in feedback, was a reminder of how much I love to perform, and how important I think "poetry out loud" is as part of life. I'm a little wary of "thinking something's important" and then growing a sense of obligation toward it that stifles some of the sparkiness, but I also feel I'm at a stage in my life where "what's important" is what I need to focus on. I love to write. I love to make connections that are not always clear, and to do so in the most beautiful juxtapositions of words available to me. Despite--or perhaps because of--my nowhere girl accent, people like to hear me perform poetry. I love to perform and share words juxtaposed.

This is all true. Which means that truly, life is pretty good.

Turnagain Arm on the way home yesterday--this was before the shades came out!

What's your "golden nugget" this week?