These are my thoughts. They are not meant to make sense. They are my echo into the woods. I am the tree that falls, and it is here that I make a sound.
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Sunday, August 29, 2004

Burst of Activity

It's been a while. I've noticed it was last Monday for my last post. I've figured out how to list the blogs I like to read (you're welcome, Cliff :-)) - I may not be the sharpest tool in the woodshed, but I get it eventually haha.

I've also had some wonderful correspondence with Michele, another BPer whose blog I read.

Something that always astounds me is getting confirmation that those really bizarre thoughts, those self-destructive messages that drop right from the clear blue, that these are not just me, that others experience similar things. This confirmation...I wouldn't say it makes me happy, because that would be wrong....but rather, it gives me a moment to breathe. It makes me feel like the burden of such thoughts becomes spread out over more shoulders, lessening its weight. This is a good thing. This gives me almost a sonar-locating sense as well - the messages that bounce back give me a sense of where I am in an overall landscape whose edges are sometimes blurred. This comes in a different form from the other blog that I read that is written by a partner and caretaker of a woman with BP. I can get a sense from her writings how difficult it can be and the sonar bouncing to me sometimes helps me adjust my reactions and interfaces with Rob.

I initially wrote this post saying that nothing bad's happened this week. I erased it. I have to say that there have been moments where I struggled. Michele and I corresponded and I mentioned to her that even as a teenager I knew on some level that something really was wrong with me, because I had to promise myself as a teen not to die if I had children, so I wouldn't hurt them. I'm not depressed. Not at all. In fact, if I'm not stable (which I still am not sure that I am not indeed stable), I would say I'm hypomanic edging to mixed. Case in point: my activities yesterday.

Up at 7, breakfast, we drive Adam to his fathers 45 minutes away, get home and take my car to dealers for oil change etc, while waiting walk the mile to the doughnut store for a coffee and a danish, bring it back and sit outside in the sweltering heat doing crosswords waiting for my car(you may be surprised to know how hot and humid Toronto is in the summer - it was 26 C which is about 72 F but it's the humidity that is a killer - the adjusted temperature to take the humidity into about was about 36 C, or 97 F), then drove from dealer to Home depot on the spur of the moment to get some gardening stuff - ended up getting three privet hedges (two to replace the two that are dying and one to fill out the thin spot), and two bushes called "Bluebeard" and two perennials and two bags of 3-in-1, dug up the two dead hedges, planted the new two, moved one of the other over about 9 inches, dug up the sod and put the third beside it to fill things in, ripped up about 4 square feet of the garden by the corner of the lot where the stop sign it, planted the two new Bluebeard, turned all the soil and planted the perennials, moved another perennial over 2 feet to balance the look, went inside, had a bite to eat, finished painting the windows in the front door (painting them in a faux stained glass look), changed, went for a 2.5 - 3 mile run (which was the best run I'd had all week: they'd been sluggish lately in all the sudden rise in humidity), came in, had a hot bath, then sat and started another beaded glass necklace. By this time it was about 6 pm and I went and got dinner.

So - because I was so busy, I think my mind had little time to divert down the bad pathways. But the need to continue moving, the drive to do something, the cleansing feeling of the backbreaking sod turning - why does this have to be hypomania? Why can't it just be me feeling good and energetic? Am I arguing with myself? Sure. Always do. Good sign was though that the Seroquel helped me sleep last night. The bad thing is that Rob and I haven't been "together" in over a week. That is EXTREMELY unusual and I'm feeling awkward about it. I just don't think about sex though (again VERY strange).

Rereading this, I really do think it's just an energetic spurt. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, Dr. Freud. Sometimes getting a lot accomplished, and wanting to see something finished once you start it is not the beginning of mania but is just being productive. I do remember having very disturbing dreams last night, but "normal" people have those too. Today I'd like to work on the necklace some more and I also want to do some sketching from that little photo book of Buddhist temples I bought.

I'm going to go off, get some coffee, and read some more, check in with my favourite blogs and wait for Rob to wake. Hmmmmm...maybe I'll wake him???

See ya soon raccoon.

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