I don't know what happened or how whatever did happen happened, but I was pretty happy this Xmas season. Both my brother and I were. Even on the day.
What was that all about?
Still frustrated artists. Still sick and broke. Still struggling with the big D. Still isolated, distant and reclusive. But oddly OK with the season. More than OK.
Was actually able to feel and I felt happy, good,regular...whatever the straights call it when they aren't knee deep in plunging seratonin levels.
Hmm. I take serotonin. So it isn't the level. Maybe the efficiency? My mind is so twisty that I can outfox therapy. Can meds even be outfoxed? Maybe just overwhelmed. After all, only so much chemistry can do with this psyche.
Anyway. 🎶Don't care.🎶
And that's the good, carefree "not caring", not the depressive lexicon version. The blue euphemism for "it's too much. I need to give up."
Anyway. I feel like I'm slowly reawakening. Back in Feb 2013 after the surgery and scans and eesh of it all, I started imagining again. Laying in the hospital under the most suspect of tender, loving compassion, I made grand plans again.
Well, plans is an overstatement. I had ideas and ideas about the ideas. I hadn't been able to imagine since I started falling ill Xmas of 2011. I couldn't dream. Couldn't even hope.
But I'm starting to again. It took a few years after the 2013 epiphany-ette but I jumped into social media. Not FB, though. Still can't get into that groove. But I've hit Twitter, hard. And now I'm hitting the blog again. Sporadically, yes, but cut me some slack. It takes me forever to take a chance.
...and then true to form, I blunder right in. Clear the decks, she's diving in without any life preservers again.