NEWS! SO MUCH NEWS!!!

thank-you

Well I went from absolutely nothin’ going on last week to EVERYTHING going on this week!  I have to preface this by saying, I did one of those moronic new-agey affirmational asshole thingeys this weekend, I took a piece of art paper and my metallic gel pens and I wrote over and over in different colors across the page “Thank You” and I told myself “When you get your own apartment, you will hang this on the wall.”  Well, fuck me.

There are Thank-You-Gasms going on right now.  First, you may know that I applied for a $5000 grant from the local Workforce Center for some IT Training to get me out of godforsaken IT Support and into something more stimulating and might I say lucrative?  Yes, I might.  I walked into the Workforce Center last week and applied for the grant after two weeks of unanswered phone calls and emails.  I filled out the application right there on the spot.  The next day, I got another application, which I immediately filled out and returned. (I swear, sometimes I act like I have my shit together!).  Now, I was told that this grant approval process would take around a month.  So I hunkered down to wait for a response.  Well shoot me in the finger was I full of shock and awe to receive my determination yesterday:  I got approved for the funding!!!!  So excited I don’t know what to do with myself.

And now ladies and gentlemen we pivot onto Axis B, whereupon I continued my obsessive apartment-hunting on Craigslist, while simultaneously acknowledging its futility.  But then HELL-O!  Here’s a one bedroom apartment under a thousand dollars a month and it doesn’t even look like the Roach Motel!  It actually looks…kind of nice!  Trying not to overthink it, I emailed the landlord.  He replied with a Kiss of Death show time:  Monday at 5pm.  Now who in their right minds wants to drive to the next town at during rush hour?  But somehow my higher self prevailed and I accepted.

I saw the place and I have to admit I “got the feeling” which is exciting because I haven’t had intuitive certainty for a long time.  But I got the “this is it” feeling and the landlord kept sweetening the deal by dropping prices and offering flexible lease terms and I’m thinking, yeah, he has a hardon for me, this is good!  So me, even with my credit score of zero, literally, zero, no credit at all, decided to accept his TransUnion request and fill it out, and I sent him an email and said look, I have this much income and this much savings, and I have a $5k grant and will be studying, and I’d really like the apartment.  To my shock, (really I should have been spurting diarrhea), he responded and said yes, let’s go forward with the lease!  And THAT, my friends, is how you get an apartment with a zero credit score and sketchy income!  You get a MIRACLE!

So I went to see Dr. Drugs today and I told him “this is literally the best report I have ever brought to you” and goddamn it felt GOOD!!  Like, here I’ve been feeling so stuck and what the fuck else can I do besides IT Support, and wondering for literally years if I will ever have my own home again, and then ker-SLAM in two days everything is *poof* solved.  It’s a bit to drink in.  So yeah, I am grateful!  I am going to hang up my Thank You sign!  I’m going to keep being grateful!  Because the road from there to here has been a long one.  And I couldn’t see my way out of it.  But somehow the Universe has taken me by the hand and said here, I’ll help you get off your ass!  You’re welcome!  And so it is.

 

The Changing Face of Bipolar

I woke up in the middle of the night for some reason and what was on my mind was how manic I was in my 20’s. Sometimes I question why I don’t seem to have mania any more, and I’m thinking maybe I used it all up in my 20’s.  In my 20’s, the world was full of magic and potential.  The air was crackling with the possibilities of life.  I was full of impulsivity – financially, sexually, and then finally geographically.  At about 23 years of age, I came to the conclusion that I didn’t like my life, and it was because I had always wanted to go to Paris, and the solution was to move to Paris.  So I set about selling everything I owned and bought a plane ticket.  I had very little money and even less of a plan.  Fortunately, I had a cousin living in Paris so I could stay with her initially.  When my cousin Mimi asked me what I wanted to do in Paris, I replied “I don’t know where this is coming from, but I feel like I want to sing!”  I was full of intuitive hunches and my faith in them.  I just knew everything would work out.

At the time, I was sober and very involved in AA, so when I got to Paris I found the American churches and the AA meetings full of ex-pats and made loads of new friends. I was gregarious and full of life – I was a beautiful 23 year old girl – who wouldn’t want to know me!  I walked everywhere in Paris – everywhere I looked was beauty.  Things I had only seen in pictures were regularly showing up in my field of vision.  I felt like I could do anything!

In talking to one of the ladies from one of my AA meetings about needing a job, she said “Well, can you sing? Because there’s this place called the Hollywood Savoy that takes English-speaking girls and you wait tables and then sing in between.”  A light went on in my head.  Hadn’t I said I wanted to sing?  I went right over with her and met the management, and just like that, I had a job.  They let me start without the proper paperwork (I didn’t have permission to work), so the job was very short-lived.  Also, even though I could sing, I wasn’t used to singing with a band and didn’t know how to come in with the intro, and I couldn’t find my key.  I must have looked like an idiot.  Some of the other girls made fun of me.  Oh, the dream and the reality were not matching.  Oh dear.

At this point, I was missing my group of friends and my family very much, and wondering why in the hell I’d come to Paris. I was suffering from culture shock and realizing that I didn’t speak French as well as I thought I did.  Specifically, I couldn’t understand the French that was being spoken.  I was beginning to panic.  Even so, I tried to salvage the situation by looking for a job as a nanny.

One thing in Paris that I had never seen or heard of was “Turkish Toilets” – that’s what they called them. They weren’t toilets at all, but just a hole in the ground that you squatted over to go to the bathroom.  Any time I encountered one, I resolutely refused to use it.  It disgusted me!  I was offered one nanny job in Paris that offered upstairs servant’s quarters for the nanny, but the bathroom was a Turkish Toilet.  Based on that one fact, I turned down the job.

The second nanny job I was offered, I took. It was just watching a baby, and I was expected to do everything to take care of the baby, including getting up with him in the middle of the night.  At one point I was sitting on the floor with the baby, and I was so sad and missing my family and friends, and I started to cry uncontrollably.  Then the baby started to cry.  Then the mother walked in.  Somehow I composed myself and tried to make light of the fact that I was an emotional basket case.

All in all, my Paris fantasy lasted all of six weeks before I called it quits and ran home with my tail tucked between my legs. I was so relieved to be back in my hometown, but also embarrassed because I had told people that I would be gone for a year.  I suffered a deep depression upon my return.  The magic of life had died.  I didn’t know where I had gone wrong, or where to go from where I was.  It may have been the first time that I felt really betrayed by myself, the first of many, many, many times to come.  I would not be diagnosed as having Bipolar Disorder for another ten years, many heartaches, many financial disasters, many failed relationships later.  For now, I would fumble along in life, looking for the magic, believing that something great was just around the corner, thinking that I was destined for great things.

The mania showed a person so zestful, so happy, so smart, so full of potential, that people reflected that back to me. People believed in me and in what I might do.  But the inevitable crashes that mania produced (as well as crashes caused by impulsive behavior, my kryptonite), caused me to be a shadow of that person.  I confused myself, and the outside world, with my two sides.  I thought I just had depression.  Why my therapist couldn’t link my severe impulse control issues with my mood disorder, I’ll never know.  However, it’s all clear to me now.  Although I miss the highs of life, and the belief in magic, I am grateful for the impulse control that keeps me from running my bank account down to zero, the impulse control that keeps me from shoplifting and the fear of being caught and exposed, the impulse control that keeps me from having sex with random strangers and thinking I’m a porn star.  I don’t have as many secrets to hide, and that’s a relief.  In AA, they say you’re only as sick as your secrets, and I believe that to be true.  I’m not too sick.  I am a secret smoker.  Sometimes I use pot, although I try to avoid it.  But that’s about it, for secrets.  You guys know it all.  And you’re still reading!!  Thank you.  And for now, I’ll close with saying take a chance.  Share your secret.  Even if it’s here in the comments.  You’ll feel better.  I know I do.

Disability Denied!

Today I got notified that my Social Security Disability appeal was denied. To say that I’m in a panic would be an understatement.  To say that I’m baffled, completely unsettled, terrified, and feeling a quite desperate would be equal understatements.  Having been unable to work for two-plus years, multiple hospitalizations, forty-plus ECT treatments, leaves me just wondering what the fuck!!!! It takes to qualify for Disability.  Certainly, in my eyes, I am disabled and cannot work.  The written decision states that I am “able” to work part-time at an unskilled job.  Um, really?  What exactly is that?  Holding a Slow Down sign in traffic?  I just. Don’t. Get.  It.  Part of me thinks maybe I should have continued with the ECT, or been hospitalized MORE, as hard as I’ve tried not to be, just to display how disabling my Bipolar is.  There are no prizes for trying to function, no matter how little.

Since it’s clear that I have to figure out a way to go back to work, here are some of my ideas for what I can do:

  1. Circus clown. This is a kinda “why the fuck not?” choice. I like makeup and I like loose-fitting clothes. I guess I can tolerate the big shoes and the honking nose. I have no problem piling into a car with a bunch of other dumb motherfuckers. I can ride a bike, blow up balloons, and fart on command. This one seems like a no-brainer. However, if that doesn’t work out for some reason, there’s always….
  2. Lawyer. For someone who has trouble getting along with people and could argue with a fire hydrant, this is a natural. Most of this job is just arguing and presenting an opposing point of view. Glaring obstacles: No law degree, “fuck you” is not a valid defense or argument, and judges don’t generally consider pajamas as appropriate apparel for counsel. Dammit! I thought I had that one nailed down. Ok I need to refine it but it’s still a possibility. Let’s be optimistic and look at other options:
  3. Judge. I am naturally judgmental which one would assume a judge is. I also would not mind wearing a black robe, as I could wear anything I wanted under it, i.e. the aforementioned pajamas, or the same outfit every day for a week (yes I DO do that, what the fuck? I never get dirty). I don’t mind sitting high up and surveying my surroundings, like sitting on a small mountain. I enjoy blurting out “Order in the court!” or “You are out of order, sir!” in my daily dealings with people. I would like to have my utterances respected, or even better, to cause people to pee their pants just a little when I speak. On the off-chance that this occupation doesn’t work out, I present my fourth and final option:
  4. Therapist. As I often say, I have an honorary PhD from all of the therapy I’ve done over the years. I know how it works. I can sit there silently gazing at someone with the best of them. I’ve mastered the phrases “How does that make you feel?” , “That must be tough”, and “Oh my God! My Dad is a total dick too!”. Some of my less orthodox methods that might be questionable are the phrases “What in the FUCK is WRONG with you???” or my sometimes lack of a poker face, resulting on an open-mouthed look of horror on my face. Horrifying your therapist (or knowing that you did so) might interrupt the therapeutic process. I don’t know, but over the years I have been amazed that I have never been able to elicit the horror-face. Maybe it’s a class they take, The Poker Face. I haven’t mastered it.

Friends, if you have any ideas as to how I might support myself, please, let me know. There may come a time when I have to write this fantastical blog from the homeless shelter, but I’d like to avoid that.  I’ve heard that homeless shelter wifi sucks.

Sometimes Life Hands You A Bowl Of Shit

Chalk one up for random acts of “what the fuck?”, y’all.  On Thursday I was taking a lovely walk with my dear mother and we came upon a wet spot on the sidewalk.  Just as I was saying “Oh Mom don’t walk there it’s ice” she took a step and her legs flew out from under her.  She was flat on her back.  This turned into a whopping concussion, a brain bleed, and admission to the hospital’s Intensive Care Unit.  All from TAKING A WALK.

I stayed with my Dad and took care of him (like taking care of a baby) for a few days:  hospital visits, meals, cleanup, laundry, repeat.  Shit, I don’t know how my Mom does this day in and day out!  I know she shouldn’t!

Fortunately, Mom was released early yesterday afternoon.  A miraculous recovery, I’d say.  She’s still pretty unclear on what happened, but it’s not like the ride to the hospital and the first few hours there, when she’d repeat the same questions over and over “What happened?”, “How did I get this bump on my head?”, “I took a walk?  Where?  Was I alone?”  and then it started all over again.  It was real-life Groundhog Day.  I must have answered her questions 150 times.  No joke.

This is my first day to myself and after sleeping in until 1pm I have been taking it pretty easy.  My siblings and I will trade off spending days with Mom and Dad for probably the next three weeks.  Self-care and balance have become focus words and not just abstracts that I hear popped off by therapists and doctors.  I will do my best to take care of me, while caring for them.  Not what I expected for Thanksgiving week but I am going to show myself how adaptable I am.  And I’m going to be GRATEFUL that my Mom is ok and recovering!!!  Peaches to yer homies!!

We Need To Put The NFL To Work Against ISIS

The National Football League is a no-brainer to go route out ISIS. They are smart, strong, capable, close-knit teams of warriors who know how to take orders.  They have many and varied skills and could find and kill ISIS soldiers in a New York Minute.  The competition is the same:  Broncos vs. The Chiefs in who can kill the most ISIS fighters.  I can see Peyton Manning lobbing a hand grenade for 75 yards, completely obliterating an ISIS stronghold.  The Orange Crush busting through their makeshift landmines and Aqib Talib poking eyes out left and right.

As far as other teams, Tom Brady might lob a pop can filled with sand that would surely land on an ISIS fighter’s head and give him quite a goose egg. Then the Offensive Line could move in in a moment of weakness and kick the shit out of him.  Teams would engage in hand-to-hand combat and pants the ISIS fighters to show how many they took down.  Each pair of pants would result in a score for that team.

The Superbowl would be held in Syria, with opposing teams fighting to take Tikrit back from ISIS. Both teams, wearing their uniforms but with AK-47’s slung over their backs, shooting to kill, or if they felt like it, killing to shoot.  Either is an option in the NFL.  The winner of the Superbowl would become honorary Heads of State in Tikrit, bringing peace and good fortune to all.

This may sound like a longshot but we’ve got to engage in some creative thinking where ISIS is concerned, something our world leaders have failed to do. Let’s get this message of NFL ass-kicking out there and see what can be done!  ISIS must be defeated at all costs!!  WE ARE WITH YOU, FRANCE!!  VIVE LA NFL!!  VIVE LA FRANCE!!

Turnin’ On The Waterworks

Today, I went to visit Dr. Drugs, and I had to get one of my big guns out of the arsenal: THE WATERWORKS!  I think I may have mentioned that at my last appointment, with no explanation, Dr. Drugs cut me off at the knees by cutting my Wellbutrin dose from 450 mg down to 150 mg.  It was at the end of the appointment and he kinda bum-rushed me with a fucked up prescription and rushed me out the door.  Well, the combination of cutting my antidepressant down to nearly fuckin’ nothing, plus the time change, plus the days getting shorter, plus the weather getting colder has led me to having some pretty good blah-don’t-wanna-do-nuthin’s, plus some medium-level sads.  I’m not on my way to the mental hospital just yet, but goddammit I’m determined to stay away from that place.  So today, I sat down in the chair in Dr. Drugs’ office, and I fuckin’ turned it on.  I thought about mental hospitals, and letting my family down, and drowning puppies, and fuck if the boo-hoo’s didn’t come on just in time! I swear, I couldn’t have done better if I’d called 1-800-WAA-WAAH!  Dr. Drugs sat back in his chair and said “I believe you have a severe case of Seasonal Depression.”  <—- (understatement of the year, Dr. Drugs).  Many of you may say, Bipolaronfire, you manipulated him with your tears!  To that I respond, FUCK NO!  I am a TIGER for my mental health!!!  I will do whatever the FUCK it takes (aside from blowing Dr. Drugs) to get me through the dark days of winter and stay out of the mental hospital!  And so should you!  In fact, if your drugs are not working for you, I suggest that you try channeling a little Bipolaronfire Tiger energy in your next session with your PDoc.  If that doesn’t work, I will gladly refund you your misery :).  Now get out there and FIGHT!  Fight for your right to BE WELL!  Hell to the YEAH!  Peaches, homies!

Random Thoughts

Do ya know why they’re called the screen door shits?

Just once, I’d like to take a yoga class from a teacher with a fat ass.

If I had a dollar for every time I reminded my niece and nephew to say “please” and “thank you”, I’d make damn sure they were the two rudest little fuckers you ever saw.

When I’m in traffic, and I’m nice, and let you in to my lane, even though there’s no damn room, give me a fuckin’ wave. Or I will hit you.

Dr. Drugs, don’t have a long-ass appointment with me, and then at the very end write out a script for the wrong quantity, and when I tell you it’s too small a dose, say “JUST DO IT.” Because I won’t.  And I’ll slash your tires.  If I ever figure out what car you drive.  And grow some balls.

Roommate a.k.a. Sister, don’t EVER start a sentence with “I’m gonna need you to…” You’ll guarantee a pissed off sister and bonus, total inaction.

DON’T SHOOT!

Your peach, BPOF

This Is What I Look Like To An Eleven Year Old

Aunt Bipolaronfire

This is what I look like to an eleven year old.  My niece, in fact.  Everything is in-the-moment, unfiltered, stream of consciousness.  “You have kind of a fat nose” she says, as she measures my nose with her pencil and goes back to the page and marks, a large mark.  Well YOU have fat TOES, I say, but only in my head, because I’m not That Mean Aunt.  “Your eyes are blue and mine are brown” she says accusingly.  “Yes.  That. Is. True.” I answer in my best robot voice.  She giggles.  “I’m just going to draw you how I want.”  You better not, I say menacingly.  You better sharpen that pencil and get going on every single wrinkle!”  “I don’t have that kind of time”, she says.  So goes a peachy-golden evening with my niece.  Happy Friday, y’all!

At Last, A Home!!

Ever since last September I have been without a home. I haven’t been homeless in the classical sense, but at the end of August I moved out of my apartment, put everything in storage and prepared to spend the winter in Florida. From September 1 to October 31 and from April 1 to now, I’ve stayed with various family members (I had a micro-apartment during the winter in Florida which was perfect for me).

Finally, a change! My sister who I stayed with quite a bit (along with her two kids) in a town about 10 miles east of Boulder made a decision to sell her house and move to Boulder. If you know anything about Boulder, you know that real estate prices are CRAZY!!! Whether it’s renting or buying, you need a boatload of money to live in Boulder. Since the real estate market is really hot, my sister had no trouble selling her house, but she was having trouble finding a house in Boulder in her price range. She was looking for a place for just her and her kids. I proposed that she add me as her permanent roommate, and I’d kick in a chunk of money towards the mortgage, so that she could afford more house. And voila! She found a beautiful house. I think really that there was some Divine Intervention involved as well, because you would not believe the stories we heard of bidding wars, and people coming in with all cash offers on MILLION DOLLAR PROPERTIES!!!

So, here we are. For the first time in a year, I am sleeping in my own bed again, and I can’t even TELL you how good it feels!!!! I was asking myself before, “is it REALLY that comfortable, or am I just imagining it?” Well, it really IS that comfortable!! It is hard to get out of it.

The house has a finished basement that’s done really, really nicely with remote-controlled recessed lighting, berber carpet, a beautifully remodeled bathroom, a living room and a bedroom. And it’s MINE, all MINE!!! So in addition to my bed & dresser, I get to have my couch, chair, ottoman, desk, and, most importantly, MY TV!!! I am just so excited and happy to have my own space again. Have I told you how great it feels? WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Being off the Clozaril is still doing me good. Of the 33 pounds I gained, so far I have lost 8. I think it’s all in my belly. Starting to lose the weight feels great. Dr. Drugs INSISTED that I start taking Abilify (my nemesis, see https://bipolaronfire.com/2013/03/05/abilify-commercial-wtf/ and https://bipolaronfire.com/2013/04/01/abilify-wtf-again-i-say/). I am having to taper off the Lithium, dammit, because it is causing me to have to pee pretty much constantly. It’s hard to get a good night’s sleep in one-hour increments.

I have all day today and tomorrow uninterrupted to unpack and create some order out of chaos in my new space, I am going to work my ass off and then maybe sleep all day on Monday, yay! Hope you all have a great last weekend of summer! (Sob). PEACH OUT!!

Off The Clozaril! Off The Clozaril!!

Stop the presses!! I am off the demon drug that has kept me alive – but just barely. Why the fuck do psychiatrists consider that acceptable? I walk in and say, I’m not seeing anyone, I don’t want to do anything, I’m not exercising, I’m eating six meals a day, I’ve gained 33 pounds, and they say “But you’re alive.” C’mon now, fuckers!! There’s got to be something better than that!! And there IS!! For some unknown reason, Dr. Drugs started me on Lithium, and then, out of complete desperation (I’m tired of the giant pregnant stomach I’ve grown), I started tapering off the Clozaril. And ya know what? I started to FEEL BETTER!! I started to get some initiative back. I started having energy. I started EXERCISING!! Of my own volition! Hell, I exercised TWICE today!! Don’t worry, it’s not a manic episode, it was just some walking. Oh, and my brain works!! I made a pretty snazzy spreadsheet (mentioned previously) with some nested IF/THEN/ELSE statements! I haven’t done that shit in a couple of years!! I didn’t even know if I could. Well, I can!! Next off, a programming class for making iPhone apps. Just to try it.

Well it’s good to feel some optimism. REALLY good. My message for you today is, if your meds aren’t working and your pdoc says No to change, tell him/her to fuck off. Go for the change. Things can be better and things MUST be better!! These are our LIVES!!! Peach out homies.

I’m A Little Bit Proud

Well. I am finally kicking Clozaril’s ass to the curb and it is doing me GOOD!! The magic formula has been to be on Lithium instead. The whole year and a half that I have been on Clozaril, it has been such an energy suck, as well as causing me to gain thirty luscious pounds. I have been fighting and fighting for forever to get off this devil drug, and have felt so fucking defeated by it. There was one earlier effort to get off the Clozaril which resulted in a prompt return of the suicidal ideation. I think the Lithium is what’s keeping my head above water. More than that, though, I have ENERGY again, and INITIATIVE!!! Oh it’s so exciting when it’s been gone for so long. I have been in a drug-induced hibernation – just barely existing, for the last year and a half. ENOUGH, I say!!

I was a bit scared to go see Dr. Drugs at the end of last week, since I undertook my medication regime change all on my own. Goddammit, I was desperate!! I couldn’t gain another pound!! Nevertheless (a sorely underused word that I intend to use in all of my blogs from here on out), nevertheless nevertheless, I started tapering off the Clozaril and was rewarded with a greatly reduced number of hours slept each night – 12-13 hours down to 10 or so, what a time-saver! I also was waking up with some vim, some vigor, and some pep in my step! As in, I started walking and hiking again! It feels great!

I have to segway here and talk for a minute about my poor feet, in particular my toes, which would rub together when I walked and blister like fucking CRAZY!! Or, with the newest pair of shoes I bought, Asics wide-width, the toes of my right foot just started falling asleep. Do I need to tell you how much these conditions increased the suck level of exercising?? It’s really been a low-down dirty bummer. So my little brother, also known as Bro-Bro, has been going on and on about Altra’s for years. YEARS. And I finally took my formidable ass down to the Boulder Running Company a couple of weeks ago and got myself outfitted with some Altras, which are known for their super-wide toe box. Their theory is, let the toes be! Let ’em sit there! Don’t squish ’em! And the verdict is: HALLELUJAH!!! My toes are so fucking happy!! I can walk for hours now!!! Moral of the story? If you have toe issues, get yourself some Altras. You can thank me later.

So I STILL haven’t said why I’m actually PROUD of myself! Wellllllll my therapist and I were talking about how it would be nice if I kept some kind of log of all the shit I’m taking (meds, supplements, etc) and how I felt daily. You know, as the meds change, how does the mood change? The energy level? Pain level? SOOOOO I made this slammin’ spreadsheet that logs on a daily basis all of the medicine I take, all of the supplements, my mood, energy level, pain level, whether or not I exercised, whether or not I wanted to exercise….and here’s the piece de resistance… I made a spreadsheet of the Beck Depression Inventory and set it up to score itself (because I’m nerdy like that) so now I have even more objective information to correlate with all of these other variables. I’m calling the whole thing Self-Monitoring and it’s setup to be done (and done easily) at the end of every day. I’m very proud of my creation!! I think it will provide some pretty valuable information and help me see, well in advance, when I’m headed off a cliff, so that I can hopefully turn left.

Well, that’s about it from here in lovely Boulder, Colorado. What’s new in your neck of the woods?

Gratitude In The Now

beach sunsetThere’s nothing like knowing something is coming to an end to make you grateful and mindful of what you have.  I have a little less than two weeks left here in Florida and I am focusing on getting that time in at the beach and the sun.  It is absolutely gorgeous here, deliciously hot, and I pack my backpack, grab my chair and walk the ten minutes to the beach nearly every day.  Once there, I sit in my chair, often working on my What Color Is Your Parachute exercises, until I’m just boiling hot.  Then I get into the water and swim out to the buoys (about 100 yards each way).  It’s great exercise that leaves me somewhat exhausted.

Although it’s been a tough road being in Florida, it’s also been positive in so many ways.  I’ve overcome more than I thought I ever could, and actually in some ways flourished.  I will sorely miss that beautiful beach, the palm trees, springlike flowers, and wonderful heat.  I’m sure I’ll be happy to be home with family in Colorado again, though.  Counting the days . . .

DOLPHINS!!!

dolphin1 dolphin2This weekend, I saw dolphins for the first time since I’ve been in Florida.  What a thrill!!  I love those suckers.  This was at Ft. DeSoto Beach, in case you’re wondering.  I’ve been getting in as much beach time and sun time as possible, trying to enjoy the water and heat as it’s my last month here.  Also, I want to return to Colorado with a tan.  😀   I’ve also been swimming quite a lot, both in the ocean and in the pool where I live.  The ocean swimming has been quite good for my spiritual life, as I swim out to the buoys and back (300-400 feet offshore) I continually pray “God protect me” as there are no lifeguards where I swim.  I’m a strong swimmer and there’s pretty much no record of shark attacks, but I still get a little paranoid.

My mood is pretty good, I think because I know I’m going home soon.  How are you???

Haunted By Jihadi John

Last night, I had a very troubling dream.  I was awakened by the touch of cold steel on the back of my neck – it was Jihadi John with an ax!  I was terrified, and flailed about, but was immediately overpowered.  And then it dawned on me – I was about to die!  In my mind, I told myself that this life was over, and I needed to prepare myself for the next realm.  As Jihadi John swung his ax, I woke up.

All day, I’ve been haunted.  Not just by the terror that I felt, but at the almost immediate acceptance that it was my time to die.  I was ready!

On further reflection, I see that my close family ties keep me bound to this earth, even when I don’t want to keep going, which is often.  My love for my family, and their love for me, inspires me to try harder to do the things that I know are good for me, even when I don’t want to do anything.  Although it’s been good in many ways to be in Florida for the winter, I am really looking forward to returning to Colorado in a month to be with my family again.  I am very, very grateful to have such a loving and supportive family.

How are you?  I hope you are all well.  ❤

Get The Fuck Out!!!

STARFISH

Right now I am kind of in the shits, and it’s a struggle to do ANYTHING.  I actually got out to Fort DeSoto Beach today.  I was ready to spend another day on the couch, in front of the fucking idiot box, but somehow lord jesus I got my ass in gear and got going.  This is the first starfish I’ve seen on a Florida beach.  It was a little sucker, probably 4″ across.  I didn’t disturb it, just photo’d it.  I’m glad I got out and walked the beach.

I’m home now, a little sad because I know my family in Colorado is having a birthday celebration for one of my sisters and one of my brothers.  I am sad to miss the celebration.  I’m a big fucking baby.  I’m trying to focus on enjoying everything Florida has to offer for this last month.  Hope you all have a rockin’ weekend.  ❤