Yesterday a crack opened in the bipolar depression that’s been at me for weeks. Enough to let me remember to return to basics. Because I’ve looked in the mirror every morning and said to that shocked face, “We’re not going to the hospital this year. We’re not.”
First a call to the group I worked for this past summer—Integrated Health Services. Their whole mission is to keep mental health clients out of the hospitals and emergency rooms. I know I need more support now—I’ve been hearing from my providers all year that I don’t have enough in the best of times. I’m not sure what IHS can do, but I made an appointment for Monday with Rosario, my care coordinator, and with Allison, my peer, to sit and figure that out. They are both kind, heart-centered women. I feel safe going to them. The fact that I was just able to make the appointment helped. Doing something, anything, sometimes helps.
Today I will start using my Daily Plan sheet, the one I created after my partial hospitalization last spring. It will help me focus on small goals and remember to do every day tasks that get waterlogged by the swampy emotions.
I looked at how much money I’ve spent this month and cut back to the essentials. Today I’ll figure a budget to get me through to May (February is just the beginning. March and April can sometimes be even worse). I’ll try to make it something I can live with, not something that will punish me for being sick.
I cleaned out my refrigerator of all the liquefying vegetables and bought a few simple groceries. I swam at the Y. I sat with my fading bedspread for a while and sewed a blanket stitch around the frayed edges with gentle music playing and the cats behind my head on the chair. Henry’s belly makes a gurgling, crackling sound when he’s digesting, and I pressed my ear against his fur to listen while he slept.
My apartment is a sickroom now. No sudden moves. No grand expectations. Everything deliberate and gentle. I must tend to my sleep, get to the Y every day, maintain my journal, plan quiet visits with friends, try to eat fresh food. I will try to keep the structure sound while the storm carries on inside. I will treat myself as someone worthy of care and respect, as someone that I love.
SandySue Altered
Feb 22, 2015 @ 07:43:43
I am so proud of you for finding yourself in the muddle of darkness and loving yourself enough to make meager steps to find the care and focus that you need. I love you!
Feb 22, 2015 @ 12:51:57
See you tonight.
Feb 22, 2015 @ 09:12:04
“I will treat myself as someone worthy of care and respect, as someone that I love.” – Yes, Sandy Sue…please. Take loving care of the person we admire so much.
Feb 22, 2015 @ 12:51:39
*deep breath* Thanks, Carol.
Feb 23, 2015 @ 09:31:07
Echoing this, Sandy. Take care.
Feb 23, 2015 @ 17:59:37
Sweet Peg. Thanks.
Feb 22, 2015 @ 11:45:47
That last paragraph is an excellent plan, Sandy. Open your heart to all good things, and rest in between. I love your words, “deliberate and gentle”.
Feb 22, 2015 @ 12:50:31
Sometimes I remember.
Feb 22, 2015 @ 14:54:42
Your closings, on your most personal posts, are so powerful. I can feel your mood, your pain and your discipline in moving from dark to light. Bravo Sandy.
Feb 22, 2015 @ 16:30:00
thanks for that, David.
Feb 22, 2015 @ 15:07:05
good job.
Feb 22, 2015 @ 16:29:18
thanks
Feb 23, 2015 @ 22:53:39
I loved this post and the way in which you wrote it. It spoke to me in some sort of way I can’t even pin-point. Very nicely done. I hope the gentle peace will be healing for you.
Feb 24, 2015 @ 06:54:11
Thanks. I like that I snuck in under the radar somehow.
Feb 25, 2015 @ 09:14:22
This post is amazing, sissy. May your daily plan help peel away the darkness and help you find some light. Perhaps a snow angel would help.
Feb 25, 2015 @ 14:52:38
We’ll have all kinds of opportunity for snow angels today.