Four weeks ago, as the season exhibited her first mood fluctuation, a dip in morning temps, the vibrant ebb of chlorophyl on scattered leaves of canyon oak and sugar maple, that sense you get that change is imminent, I decided two years without lithium was long enough. No symptoms prompted my decision. No doctors or therapists. I woke up before beginning yet another semester of my undergrad, and chose to increase the salt in my diet. My skin is not on board with the decision, and I'm dealing with the acne breakouts that have always accompanied this medication. Otherwise, nothing else has changed. Not really.
The new schedule is difficult.
I'm utilizing an adult daycare facility for Mr. PNU on Tuesdays and Thursdays after he co-teaches Ethics and Values with Michael Minch. This gives me peace of mind that he's in good hands while I either write, research, study, or rest, whichever is the most pressing need. He spends his hours there reading and writing, much as he would here. The first few times I used the resource I cried, struggled through guilt, and ended up getting little done. After all, who passes off this kind of responsibility on others? That's what I asked myself at first. What kind of a wife asks other people to take care of her husband for her so she can focus on herself? It's a strange question, right? I've started giving myself more credit for what it is I pull off when I do have my husband in my care, because even then it's more than other wives and
Sunday, September 4, 2016
Visibility is the problem.
I've thrived for the longest time by slipping through cracks,
going largely unnoticed,
seemingly as no more than an annoyance.
And while I don't think that's changed,
art and words do not thrive on the kind of paranoia
from being read regularly
And that's happening.
But before I go,
You must absolutely,
wholly and completely,
take yourself and the life you're living
at all times.
E— released a small collection of musical shorts that are delicious to the taste. Listen here. I'd like to help him navigate toward college, but the current is slow.
Mr. PNU literally asked God to end my writer's block in our couple's prayer this morning. I think I know what's going on, but I'm not going to talk about it.
L— has found doing homework very desirable. A boy asked her out on her first date, in January.
B— is in the early stages of puberty and he's the most beautiful, genuinely kind and conflicted pre-teen ever.
M— is rocking her second year of college and grappling with artist's block that parallels mine. We console each other through mutual imposter's syndrome. She and her boyfriend Z— are considering moving out of his parents' house and into a place of their own.
C— is working as an aide for a fourth grade child on the spectrum. I think she did ComiCon this weekend, but I've yet to receive text pics confirming that she pulled off that fandom madness.