Hi - it's Thursday. I don't have anything pressing to say, perhaps because I just spent the last 25 minutes speed talking my way through a voice recording to send to my friend across the Atlantic. Tonight might be more of a bullet point type of night.
Wednesday:
TMS - spruced up my mental patient outfit with a jean jacket instead of a hoodie. Drove myself.
Bible Study at my church - read in Mark chapter 2 where this paralytic dude's friends dug through a roof and lowered him in front of Jesus to be healed. Jesus was proud of the friends' efforts and healed the dude. Jesus also spoke of his authority to "forgive sins". I got really sad about how the mentally ill tend to be left to find healing on their own rather than supported through the process by their community, especially the church... It is always good though hearing the "good news" that Jesus spoke: everybody deserves dignity and kindness and that we should work towards better peace, love, and justice.
What did I do from 12 to 7pm? Had to have been to do list stuff. I didn't get a nap, thus why I was so tired going to the ->
Free concert at church from a jazz quartet - was glad to be alive and able to enjoy moving music. Was sad I couldn't experience it with the people I care most about.
Left early because the sadness turned into shame and intrusive suicidal thoughts. Drove around until I sang my intense emotions out in the privacy of my car.
Went to bed early - 9pm
What does any of this have to do with writing? Well, on Tuesday I claimed to be avoiding sadness. And while I did not write on Wednesday, the sadness still found me. Is that possibly a third of a step in the right direction? Talk about baby steps. I need so much coaxing to get myself to start writing this book.
Thursday:
TMS - I was super chatty. I put real pants on (jeans versus sweatpants) and drove myself again.
Therapy session - it was an unusual session. I excitedly reported my successes, then felt the sadness again when recounting the last week's triggering events. I was brave in being vulnerable and that vulnerability was mirrored back. The session had a different vibe to; it it was like my therapist and I went from training in an indoor gym to running outdoors on a track. I feel I have the strength and endurance now to get myself places.
My to do list no one cares about. (Hmm, maybe I should, in fact take that anxiety pill I forgot to earlier. Why is my predisposition to try to be "strong enough without meds"?)
NAMI support group + got pizza with two people afterward. They were super nice. It was such a rewarding surprise of a seemingly normal activity. I'm glad I didn't stay home.
What does any of this have to do with writing a book?
Nothing. I'm tired, my anxiety pills haven't kicked in yet. I'm feeling quite overwhelmed and low. I notice the thought this blog post is stupid. Yet, the thought of going another day without posting is the more embarrassing option, so here goes. Maybe the lesson today is any effort is better than no effort.
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