My Elf

The Slide

So my sister took my kiddo and hers to the pool yesterday. Showed me pictures of them there, going down this gigantic slide. One picture showed my niece I mid air- out of the shoot, floating above the water, before the splash landing. I look back, think about that picture today. My body is starting to wind down, untwist the coils so tightly wound, I'm remembering what deep breaths feel like, yawning. High is fun. I like High. But the Slide. The Slide is never quite just a straight shot down and out. Like my niece, she came down, whoooosh! And in to the water below. My Slide is twisty, curvy, sometimes I get stuck on a spot and have to scoot, scoot, scoot forward to get going again. Getting stuck is okay- it means another hour/day to be not all the way down the Slide. I'm going to be okay this time, I can feel it differently in my brain, I've accepted that I can't be High all the time... As much as I've loved it. Now I will have to somehow find the fight in me that I know is there... The fight to hover- right above the big splash.

My epiphany for today: if you have a zillion hair thingys, and use them, you have a bad haircut... If you are, however, five years old, this is baseline norm. ...this is not counting the 1,800+ plastic hairband ties (separated by color in pill boxes- a mommy mania moment)...

Wishys... For my friend...

Om shanti, shanti, shanti.

Too long

It's been too long since I've been here. I have so many journal entries I want to put on here- things that made so much sense. I want to revisit, relearn, revive the words. Maybe my time off will be good for me. This is the first time in what seems like years that I have looked forward to time with my daughter... It doesn't scare me. Maybe we are becoming less intertwined, less co-dependent, more understanding of each other's need for space and closeness, distance, separation, fusion and fission. I want to come back and fill in the blank spaces. I always promise this, but be back soon...

Low Bridge, Poe Forrest 

Back again- Confession

I'm in therapy. We talked about my past.... Did anyone notice me being "different". Maybe. But then I got thinking, there was a lot of mania in my life. Overachiever extraordinaire. Gifted. Accelerated college program in high school. Honor rolls in college. And then I remember some super stupid decisions. A one night stand at the beach. A one night stand with a rich mans son. While in a long term relationship I had an affair with my almost fiances' best friend, and them with him and his wife. I moved from east coast to west cost, and back again to New York, then to virginia. I remember never sleeping- parties and going out and meeting people. And them I met my husband and somehow he changed me... Or possibly, I had just come down off a two year High. My family said " he's good for you, he settles you down". And now, I lay here on the couch ... Alone. Because he had to "rescue" a friend... By taking her out for drinks, to distract her from her ex boyfriend being found unconscious, a pill bottle beside him, after she broke up with him. And my husband to the rescue. Did I mention she's a stripper he met at a club?... My bad. Missing piece. And yet, I let him go bc I don't want to start a fight- I'm High, and I say a lot of stupid things right now. I'm mad mostly bc he went to her so fast. Moments after her text, he's got a coat and his keys and he's gone. But I ask for him to say to me "honey, your doing a great job fighting this, your trying so head, I'm proud of you"... But instead I get " you need to get it together. We need to have a good year"... Awesome. I totally lost it- in text form of course bc I can't fun front him. And nine days later we still haven't talked about it. And with his rescue mission, now I don't want to. To top it off, we get to take my daughter to the hospital. Bc of my inpatient stint she has stopped going to the bathroom TMI. So now, she has the belly of an Ethiopian solid as a rock and a fever of101.3. I'm tired and wired... I want off this roller coaster. I took my first full dose of my med- back on after an insurance mishap that lasted two months. I'm praying I can be strong enough to let it kick in... Distraction tactics engaged. Maybe more writing later. Not sure when my husband will be home, you know, after going to the rescue of his stripper best friend. Sleep on that. Not.

Truth.

So strange

This High. This has lasted for so much longer than the ones before I’m starting to wonder if it’s really me… Like, is this who I’m going to be? Am I back to being the upbeat and energetic and go go go person I used to be?… Or am I waiting for the other shoe to drop?

I’m not saying I don’t like it- it’s just strange… This waiting. I was waiting for a month, then two. Now it’s been four. And I’m still pretty okay. I mean, my High catches me sometimes - hence the last post about being intoxicated. I hammered that nail in deep. Super unlike me… I’ll do a good buzz on occasion, but word slurring, stumbling up stairs, hangover drunk? It’s been a long while.

So there’s one sign that maybe my High isn’t so good. Or maybe it’s a sign that it IS.

I’m still unable to put away laundry, clean dishes, hair bows or earrings in any sense of a timely manner. I’m still unable to process the fact that my forced speech makes others uncomfortable and look at me like I’m speaking in tongues. I can’t help myself from interrupting others’ conversations… I can hear it, I can feel it, I know I should just shut it— and, yup, there- there it goes. Out of my mouth. I think about things obsessively… People, projects, things I’ve said wrong, things I should have said. The hamster is not merely spinning in its wheel, it’s running an airplane engine. I want to write… I want to get all of this out of my head and down and just be done… And then another thought comes and I need to write more… If I don’t go now, I might not stop tonight.

12.1.2020

It’s now been another two years since I was on here. (Helloooooo hypomania.) Before I go back and fill in all the pieces, how about a rant from today?

I started a coach to 5k -ish type thing today. Because my new psych doc told me to. And I kinda feel like he’s right, and I also kinda hate him for it. Apparently running is good for overall brain health... I’m sure there’s research somewhere (feel free to share what you got). He changed some of my meds (increased and added) - which I totally agree with, no beef there. He seems like a good fit - and after a year of being without a psych, that is no small feat. 

And now, here I am, eating my peanut butter toast, and dark chocolate covered bananas, sipping a (homemade) iced vanilla latte, deciding I want to get back to journaling. Writing. Whatever you wanna call it.  Basically, I just want to have a place to vent about how much I super duper HATE running. 

There. I said it. I hate running. I hate putting on the Costume of running - too tight pants that cut in to my stomach. Do I wear underwear? Sports bras constricting my chest, too thin straps digging in at my shoulders. Who knows what top layer to wear - more too tight long sleeves, or just a racer back tee, under a puffy coat (that apparently No, I’m NOT supposed to wear that... whatever).

This won’t be ALLLLL complaining. Mostly, but not all. 

I like the bright florescent colors of my pants, that I have cool socks to wear, and my shoes are almost new. I like knowing I did it - as little as I feel I actually accomplished today - I did SOMETHING today. I liked the shower. I liked that I took time to put on face cream - oh shit, I forgot to put on deodorant. I like that for now this is my little secret - only two other adults know about this, and one I live with so hiding it would be difficult ;) The other one, Scoop - you know who you are - has been a solid supporter of this next endeavor. We’ve decided in a weird way that he will live his lost running life vicariously through me. Oh - and, I mean, this could be a thing - I like that my wedding dress will fit better if I keep this running thing up (and the aforementioned man in my life is super excited to see how it affects, um, my wardrobe... we’ll say wardrobe. 

More negatives, for funsies: 

I hate that I clench my jaw when I run. Since I started running back in 2009 I used to say “running is bad for my teeth” because I would clamp them down so hard I was afraid I would crack them.. I cannot tell you how many times I have bitten my tongue whilst running. The taste of metal and "working out” go hand in hand in my brain. 

I hate that I forget to bring things. By that I mean I am always surprised at how woefully underprepared I am when I head out the door. Tissues- forgot. Earbuds that fit in my coat - nope. Charge the phone - totally did but then forgot to put it on low battery mode and it died only ten minutes in. Headband ear warmer - again, nope. Left that in my car, that I walked past on the way. Ah- deodorant. Yep. Forgot that too. Not that I need it, I have that weird gene that my sweat doesn’t smell bad - look it up, it’s a thing. Warm up stretch - shit. I mean, I stretched in bed before I got up, and had to bend over to put on my shoes - that counts for half, right?

I hate the headache I get after. I don’t drink enough water, that’s on me. But for as long as I can remember I’ve always had headaches after exercising - whatever form it may be: swimming, yoga, sex, hiking, roller skating, dancing... always a headache after strenuous physical activity. Water. I’m sure water is the answer. Also 

I hate water. And I know I need it. blahhhhhhhhhhh. This has nothing really to do with starting running, but I thought I’d throw it in there.

I’m having a hard time understanding the “runners high” concept. I don’t ever remember having that. Even with two 5ks behind me, and all the practice runs leading up to them.... I was proud of us for DOing them (me and the kiddo), I was blissfully happy to have them BEHIND me. The endorphin rush I’ve heard about and read about doesn’t ever seem to come my way. I wonder if that’s related to my botched biochemistry, my headaches, my bipolar.... or am I just not doing it right?

For now, one day down. I sure as hell hope my Fitbit tracked today. Shit. Imma go check.

Later peeps.

-Me