Needing Some Extra Prompting...

Today's Prompt:

“I wish this gizmo could track my condition!” Write about which device, application, program, etc. you wish helped to track your health.

When I first saw this prompt, I couldn't imagine what I might write about it. All I could think about was that just like blind and deaf people sometimes have service dogs, some epileptics have a service dog that can sense if they're about to have a seizure and prompt them to get to somewhere safe. All I could think was that I should have something like that too. Well, as we tick-tock past midnight even here in the far far west, I'm going to run with that idea. The mood-stabilizing meds I take were even developed originally as anti-seizure meds, and funny Dr L. at Foie Gras Farm thinks bipolar--and other conditions too--are really seizures, as mentioned before.

And it turns out I received two indicators today that I really could use some sort of seeing-eye dog gizmo--on my phone, on which I rely a fair amount, or somehow implanted in my psyche. I received two messages today that I need some better moment-to-moment oversight and reality check. Namely, I had negative feedback on my work from two different employers today, both of them on work I'd done precisely when I was off my meds last week.

The translation job was no big deal, not really about quality of work. Translators submit work done in batches, and I had accidentally submitted several entries I hadn't actually done. So those got sent back to me, I translated them, submitted them, and all was well. But it was still a boo-boo.

Worse was my editing work, where I had missed some stuff I'm paid to notice and fix. Which then reminded me of a mistake I'd made in another document as well. It's extremely important to me to be meticulous with my editing, both because it's extremely important to me that my client have a flawless product and (obviously) for my own self-esteem and sense of worth. It's not okay that I provide a service that's inferior in quality. What makes it even worse is that this particular editing is work I'm subcontracting for a friend. Working for a friend, having a 'boss-employee' relationship superimposed on a 'friends' relationship, is an act of faith and courage for both of us. When I fall short of my high self-imposed standards, I'm letting down a friend as well as a boss. When my friend, who is extraordinarily good at what she does and also has extremely high precision standards, receives substandard work from me, she has to avoid judging me as a person as well as an employer. Thankfully, my friend is one of the best people I've ever known at compartmentalizing, but I still have the fear of showing up in a bad light.

What should I have done? Should I just have not worked while I was crazy? I'd have had the long journey as excuse, even though everyone knows I don't get jetlag and am a phenomenally good traveler. Obviously, I should have stayed on my meds. 

As I've been gathering together my things for my semi-long trip to GA coming up so soon now, I found in a drawer a sticky note from my naturopath from years ago reminding me that everyone with bipolar decides to go off their meds and that it's a bad idea. So, some sort of seeing-eye dog that forces on my awareness the content of my naturopath's note and follows through on it. And then if I still go off them, or if I have an episode even when I'm on them (as happens), this gizmo, this virtual seeing-eye dog, will remove me to a safe place, away from old beat-up vehicles, sharp knives, work I won't be able to do to my standards, and other dangerous objects.

Source: http://www.myaudioschool.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/FLS-Drop-of-Water-falling-from-a-piece-of-ice-photo-released-to-public-domain-by-its-creator-Jonas-Bergsten.jpg

So, how about some context and compassion? I am leaving tomorrow at 7am. I'll be in Anchorage for two days, floating around, and then will fly to GA for three weeks plus. When I get back here, I'm moving. So I've been tidying, gathering, consolidating, packing, shopping...and also had a therapy appointment, a meeting, and several important errands. Additionally, I've been working on two editing jobs, one in MLA, one in APA, two different computers going. It's been crazy. I have done so well not melting down. I have done so much today and am not done yet. I may make one or two mistakes I wouldn't normally make in my editing, although I cringe to think that. I will do my best. And at 6 tomorrow morning--this morning by now--I will have had some sleep, and I won't have more than twenty minutes of stuff to do before I'm out the door and on the road. Don't I deserve some compassion? And a sensing gizmo?

Lament for Fall

"April is the cruelest month," they say--perhaps because it fails to fulfill promises, spring struggling to break out of winter like bubbles of steam trying to break out of liquid water. As for autumn? Many people's favorite time of year, "Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness..."

thank goodness for the barges that allow us to ape that fruitfulness here

 In these polar regions, though, spring may be more exciting--think The Rite of Spring--visceral eruptions of fertility through ice. And here, for me, autumn may be the cruelest season. Were I still in CA right now, I'd be harvesting persimmons, just getting into oranges. Better not to even think about HI's harvest this time of year.

Here, though, fall is a paper-thin prelude to a long winter. We were harvesting cranberries in full fall colors in early September; in late September, blueberries through the ice. Before October is over, the convivial fire ring at our neighbors' (where we're house-/menagerie-sitting now) looks like this, the garden beds off to the left languishing similarly.

 And our garden beds are blanketed with thin foam (gosh this one's close to the edge!)

You see this dark cast to the light also: yes, "light" can be an oxymoron at this time of year. I like bright fluorescent light shone right in my eyes--except when I'm driving! It's true, the sun is so low in the sky that when clouds aren't in the way, it shines directly into the eyes.

 

We've been floating on the meniscus of surface water pooled over freezing ground; buoyed by warm south wind storms like in the last two days, floating from one house- and dog-sit to the next, soon to fly out of state altogether for ten days; also enjoying visitors, principally this wonderful lady: 

Phil's mom is 89, whip-smart, strong, full of wisdom and positivity around life. She brought a breath of the bounty of Oregon fall with her. 

Now, I'm trying hard to get back on track with work and, please life-force and all the angels, my creative writing, and so to pull myself out of my physical tailspin. More on that soon--I had to post my lament for fall first.