The trigger of memory
Happy Fourth. We were going to grill and have friends over, but friends' plans got altered and ended up sending late regrets. Kevin and I have spent the day together in the air conditioned bedroom, watching TV with headphones on. I tried to walk Charlie earlier but it was still too hot; now I've forgotten to walk him for the day. I am not good at certain time management tasks, like avoiding the worst times of day for mosquitoes and heat, and getting dinner ready. I didn't do anything with that beef roast I'm going to turn into fajitas. That was going to be dinner when we were going to grill and have company for dinner. Now I'm going to make it tomorrow, on the broiler.
My appointment with Jason is skipping around a bit, week to week, with his summer schedule and figuring out that mornings are not good for me, and the holidays. This week when I saw him, he asked me, "How has your week been?" and trying to remember was horribly jarring, almost sickening. I couldn't remember anything. I had a brief glimmer that I'd been having marital trouble, and then the feeling of disorientation. When Jason prompted me by reminding me that the A/C in his office had been triggering (I'm in an air conditioned room right now, but it's not a 100% thing, not predictable) all I could remember was that we'd taken a walk. We'd gone to another floor, a residential one that had reminded me of assisted living.
Because trying to remember was so disastrous, I didn't know what we should do next. We talked about things that now i can't remember. Different parts of me hold these memories. I seem to recall that some part of me remembers at least some of what we talked about in Jason's office this week, after I got triggered.
I need more exercise. PT has ended, and it's too hot for me to be outside for very long: I move too slowly and the mosquitoes show no mercy. They used to hate me: what happened?
I've gone back on Gabapentin, and am tapering down on the Dilaudid, at first by accident and now just to see how it is.
I'm writing again, so that's good. Working on a piece on marriage that, if it comes out good enough, I'd like to try to get Huffington Post to publish. Posted one to Tin Foil Toque to run in the morning. Been finding blogs to follow, talking to people online, following a bunch of local food bloggers today on Twitter. I talked to Heather today, who works in social media and has publishing experience, to see what we might trade in the way of knowledge. She's working on a WordPress site. I offered to teach her HTML and CSS. She reminded me of how flexible WP is, and that there are many things I could do with my WP blog to change its look and feel. I have a few action items related to adding pages to it. I also need to post there again sometime soon. One of my to do items is to create a schedule for myself for writing for each of my blogs and other projects.
A week ago I was still pretty depressed and had been for weeks. I'm feeling more positive. I just watched a documentary called "Euphoria" that says meaning translates to happiness. If we work toward something we believe in, that will fuel us. Overcoming adversity makes us feel good for being so clever, patient, enterprising, or strong. You can game the system with hits of cake, sex, cocaine, and success at whatever comes easy to you, but you don't get a hit of happiness that builds to more hits of happiness, like each time you get that eureka moment while learning to play the piano or do algebra, or when you turn out a stunning meal, or when you give your husband a hug, or when you finally achieve something real and hard-earned and worthwhile.
This is how to continue the successful feeling I'm having right now. Go on making lists, and organizing my documents to make it easier to be creative. Nurture myself. Push myself a little. Have confidence that I can develop the skills. I don't have to figure everything out right now, just what comes next. That's what the guy on the movie said.
I want to write a book. I'm working on short pieces again, to build that up, crawling before walking. I will fly.
I have a series of scary appointments coming up: an interview tomorrow evening on gender, next week one with an endocrinologist I've seen before who I think is kind of a dick, and the next day, one with a shrink I've never met who will report to Disability. I want to have my stories in order, but it's too late for that. All I can do is be as present as I can. I'm making gains there. I'm also feeling a little weird, physically. My bowels are moving strangely, and not in a way I would expect, given how good I'm being, eating lots of vegetables, but it's been so fucking hot, that could explain it. I'm also convinced that changing my posture alters my bowel function, and not always in intuitive ways. Probably unrelated, but as long as I'm giving a full report, I break into random sweats, day and night, that have nothing to do with the ambient temp. WTF.
My appointment with Jason is skipping around a bit, week to week, with his summer schedule and figuring out that mornings are not good for me, and the holidays. This week when I saw him, he asked me, "How has your week been?" and trying to remember was horribly jarring, almost sickening. I couldn't remember anything. I had a brief glimmer that I'd been having marital trouble, and then the feeling of disorientation. When Jason prompted me by reminding me that the A/C in his office had been triggering (I'm in an air conditioned room right now, but it's not a 100% thing, not predictable) all I could remember was that we'd taken a walk. We'd gone to another floor, a residential one that had reminded me of assisted living.
Because trying to remember was so disastrous, I didn't know what we should do next. We talked about things that now i can't remember. Different parts of me hold these memories. I seem to recall that some part of me remembers at least some of what we talked about in Jason's office this week, after I got triggered.
I need more exercise. PT has ended, and it's too hot for me to be outside for very long: I move too slowly and the mosquitoes show no mercy. They used to hate me: what happened?
I've gone back on Gabapentin, and am tapering down on the Dilaudid, at first by accident and now just to see how it is.
I'm writing again, so that's good. Working on a piece on marriage that, if it comes out good enough, I'd like to try to get Huffington Post to publish. Posted one to Tin Foil Toque to run in the morning. Been finding blogs to follow, talking to people online, following a bunch of local food bloggers today on Twitter. I talked to Heather today, who works in social media and has publishing experience, to see what we might trade in the way of knowledge. She's working on a WordPress site. I offered to teach her HTML and CSS. She reminded me of how flexible WP is, and that there are many things I could do with my WP blog to change its look and feel. I have a few action items related to adding pages to it. I also need to post there again sometime soon. One of my to do items is to create a schedule for myself for writing for each of my blogs and other projects.
A week ago I was still pretty depressed and had been for weeks. I'm feeling more positive. I just watched a documentary called "Euphoria" that says meaning translates to happiness. If we work toward something we believe in, that will fuel us. Overcoming adversity makes us feel good for being so clever, patient, enterprising, or strong. You can game the system with hits of cake, sex, cocaine, and success at whatever comes easy to you, but you don't get a hit of happiness that builds to more hits of happiness, like each time you get that eureka moment while learning to play the piano or do algebra, or when you turn out a stunning meal, or when you give your husband a hug, or when you finally achieve something real and hard-earned and worthwhile.
This is how to continue the successful feeling I'm having right now. Go on making lists, and organizing my documents to make it easier to be creative. Nurture myself. Push myself a little. Have confidence that I can develop the skills. I don't have to figure everything out right now, just what comes next. That's what the guy on the movie said.
I want to write a book. I'm working on short pieces again, to build that up, crawling before walking. I will fly.
I have a series of scary appointments coming up: an interview tomorrow evening on gender, next week one with an endocrinologist I've seen before who I think is kind of a dick, and the next day, one with a shrink I've never met who will report to Disability. I want to have my stories in order, but it's too late for that. All I can do is be as present as I can. I'm making gains there. I'm also feeling a little weird, physically. My bowels are moving strangely, and not in a way I would expect, given how good I'm being, eating lots of vegetables, but it's been so fucking hot, that could explain it. I'm also convinced that changing my posture alters my bowel function, and not always in intuitive ways. Probably unrelated, but as long as I'm giving a full report, I break into random sweats, day and night, that have nothing to do with the ambient temp. WTF.