How do I relax after a demanding day? Often, I just surf social media. My favorite is Quora — I like learning about new and esoteric things, so Quora fits my needs. It can be relaxing or challenging depending on the content. If it’s too demanding, I skip the commentary on questions. Especially the ones about American politics, because those often devolve into tu quoque (“Your mom”) arguments.
Sometimes I read comfort novels. Comfort novels are those I revisit now and again for a familiar read. I am currently rereading some JD Robb novels. Despite the murders, these are prime comfort novels to me, and a fast read.
Sometimes I just lie down and vegetate. Sometimes it just feels good to close my eyes and lay there. No demands, no brain drain. If I fall asleep, I guess I needed it.
Streaming videos is something I seldom, if ever, do. I just don’t have the attention span for watching something. For some reason, it takes a lot of brain energy for me to watch programs. It’s easier with subtitles, which makes me think it’s a hearing thing.
Today is going to be a challenging day, so I will have at least one of these strategies to get me relaxed in the evening.
I just ordered some coffee beans from Sweet Maria’s. We drink good coffee in this household — we roast it from green coffee beans and brew it up in a Moccamaster. We have the best coffee in town, or at least the freshest. Which makes me wonder — why do we go out to cafes at all?
Atmosphere. When we go out for coffee, it’s generally to get writing and other creative endeavors done. I could do this at home, but the stimulation isn’t there. Sometimes I need noise and distraction to write. This doesn’t make sense to most people, but anyone with ADHD might understand.
A good cafe has more than good coffee, although I would say that good coffee is the minimum needed for a cafe. A good cafe has to have what is called atmosphere. “Atmosphere” is a nebulous term, but it generally means a space where someone feels comfortable sitting there. Each good cafe treats this differently, with anything from wood tones to aged brick to white and bright.
Haven, our favorite coffee place at the moment, has a variety of comfortable spaces. In the front is the busy section, close to the counter. This is where you’ll hear loud socializing. The other day, two tables were playing Mahjongg. I had never seen real Mahjongg played before. The back has quieter socializing and students with their laptops and books. Off the back room is the small nook with three booths, where Richard and I hole up to write. There is also a meeting room with a big screen and a computer hookup. All the spaces have bright light except for the booths, which have dimmable lighting, including rainbow light. I like writing to the rainbow light. The thought that went into putting this space together boggles me.
Yesterday at Haven, Richard and I took notes on the plot for the newest book. It hasn’t truly jelled yet; I’m not ready to set up the outline yet, but I’m closer. Because of the coffee.
I’m using the blogging as a way to warm up my writing muscles, which haven’t been getting a workout for a while. Kind of like stretching, I guess.
Plotting the latest book is going slow. I know that it’s going to be humorous, and it’s going to involve Barn Swallows’ Dance and husband-wife influencers, and a good amount of the humor is going to be the members of Barn Swallows’ Dance trying to hide the less standard parts of their reality — the immortals, the Garden with its gifts, the flying cats (who are not cooperating with the collective’s plans).
Other than that, I am having trouble with theme and plot. Plot especially. I am not to the point where I can block out the plot in Scrivener (the software I use to write the book; I highly recommend it for writing).
I’m going to talk about theme and plot with Richard today over coffee at Haven. That’s where I am right now, nicely caffeinated.
Fourteen years ago, my mind was racing with thoughts I could barely keep up with. I felt elated and ennervated by turns, exhausted but sleepless. I got an almost superhuman amount of things done and felt highly competent. I made bold decisions like going out fishing at 2 AM. Hours later, my mood would crash and I would struggle to get out of bed.
I figured I had a sleep disorder — how otherwise would I not be able to sleep at night? A coworker of mine suggested I go to a psychiatrist for my sleep disorder, knowing something I didn’t. And when I went to the psychiatrist, I discovered that my sleep disorder was actually a mood disorder, something that had not occurred to me. I was diagnosed with bipolar II.
Bipolar II is a subtype of bipolar disorder with hypomania instead of full mania. This is why my thoughts raced, my sleep waned, why I made rash decisions at 2 AM that nonetheless did not totally disrupt my life. Hypomania, as the name implies, is not as strong as full-blown mania with its disruptive, life-changing decisions. The depression is just as deep in Bipolar II, and one cannot have the hypomania without depression.
I had a decision to make — do I admit to having this diagnosis? Do I take medications that will stabilize my moods? That sounds like an easy decision — why would I not? Because admitting one has a mental illness is a shock to the system. I am not normal, I am mentally ill. Admitting there is a problem changes one’s perception of oneself. Especially when, before, I thought that I was just an exceptional human being who could do many things well.
I accepted the diagnosis and have been on a long journey of understanding myself within the framework of mental illness. I have had great luck controlling the moods with medication, which requires honesty about my moods, and vigilance toward any trends that could presage an episode. I have had to be honest with myself about the hypomania, because hypomania is exhilarating and affirming and fun. The price I pay for hypomania is, however, depression, and my depressions run deep.
Who I am after my diagnosis is someone a lot more careful. I do not drink with my meds. I get eight hours or more of sleep a night, going to bed early. I reduce the stress in my life, knowing it can trigger an episode. I say ‘no’ to overwork and to late night events. I do not run with impulse, knowing that it could be a sign of a hypomanic episode. I live a calmer life now that I am treated for the mood swings.
I miss the hypomania at times. I feel like I was a more interesting person back then. The highs gave me a certain edgy charisma. I was self-assured, dynamic, accomplished — as long as I wasn’t too high, as long as I wasn’t brought low by depression. Those, however, were big “ifs”, as I often was brought low by depression.
Choosing to believe my diagnosis changed my life in ways I still have to deal with sometimes. But I feel like I am more of an adult for doing it. I take care of myself and I don’t burden others with my mood swings. I am more responsible for myself. And this has changed me for the better.
Summer won’t be so busy. I need to start a routine for summer so I can get things done. My work duties will be supervising interns, and that largely means scheduling site visits. The rest of the work can flow around my other work. It’s a very different time of year for me.
I need some time at coffee. Coffee and writing. I have been doing Saturdays at Haven, and that’s where my big brainstorming a new story day happened last week. But to write, I’m going to have to do more coffee time again. This summer, I promise myself.
It’s only about three weeks till summer break, and it’s going pretty fast. Two weeks till finals. Soon writing time will return.
First of all, it’s in Texas, where everything is purportedly bigger. I assume the egos are bigger there, too. I can’t think of too many places in Texas I would want to visit — well, I’ve been to San Antonio, and that’s nice. As a hippie born too late, I wouldn’t mind going to Austin. But Texas doesn’t appeal to me.
Dallas is full of oil money. I’m not a big one for money, and oil tycoons don’t appeal to me. I tend to associate that sort of money with excess and bad taste.
Dallas has a hot climate. I hate hot climates.
From what I’ve read on Reddit, Dallas is lacking in character. In its buildings, in the food scene, Dallas is lacking.
All in all, there are plenty of places I can go that are not Dallas.
The joke between me and my husband is that my life goals for 10 years from now will be to be “retired, published, and a cat.” If self-publication counts, I already have one of these down, and I will never be a cat, but in 10 years I will be retired.
I will be 72, old enough that a retirement job will also be in the past. I will not be able to retire for another five years, so by 10 years from now, I will have been retired for 5 years. I hope I am as healthy as (or healthier than) I am now, and that I will still be writing. I will have time for more hobbies and perhaps a bit of travel. I see myself enjoying my time off.
I will not miss work much. Not that I don’t love my work, but I have done it for long enough that I need a change. I could use a change right now, but as I said before, I can’t retire for another five years.
I have a Big Audacious Goal I haven’t talked about much on here. My goal was to lose weight, and specifically to get down to a 25 BMI. My doctor chose that because, at my age, health outcomes are better with a bit of padding.
I am three pounds away from meeting that goal (and those three pounds will take forever). I have lost 88 pounds so far.
This weight loss has come with many non-scale triumphs. I have gone off of two of my meds, have cut down drastically on at least one more, and am working on getting myself in shape again. My liver is now normal, my kidneys are practically normal, and my blood pressure is a little on the low side. I wear a size 14 now (which is where I’ll stay; I’m not a small person) and I look better. I’m a bit saggy and lumpy, but that comes with a big weight loss and a life of being mostly heavy.
Life is not perfect. I need to get back into shape and start walking again. I could use some endurance and I have some muscle weakness from not lifting weights or anything. I have to figure out how to incorporate exercise in my life without detesting it. I’m afraid of gaining the weight back, especially as the goal is to get me off the Ozempic. The appetite return is daunting.
But I don’t want to gain the weight back, and I know how to eat to keep the weight from coming back. That is key. Now to keep my life in balance, juggle the weight with the exercise and the writing. Here’s to Big Audacious Goals!
I don’t find most exercise fun. I was always the last one chosen for team sports in school for good reason; and I do not have the coordination to perform in individual sports. Running is likely to make me pass out, and jogging is just as bad. Lifting weights is like watching paint dry.
I like to walk. Not on a track, where one sees the same scenery over and over, but out in the nice weather, going someplace. Watching birds (although that’s slow walking). Walking in a 5K. Shopping.
I haven’t been walking in a long time due to health reasons. First, I was obese for the longest time, and now that I’m not, I want to get back into walking but am having lingering problems with weakness (from not exercising) and spells of lightheadedness. I’m trying to get to the bottom of the lightheadedness because I think I could tackle the weakness if I didn’t want to fall over all the time.
I want to walk right now, but I’m at work. I took a couple trips up and down the stairs. I guess that’s walking. Here’s hope that I can start walking, really walking, again.
Yesterday, my husband and I did some brainstorming on a new novel in the Hidden in Plain Sight world. I realized there is a ten-year gap between Avatar of the Maker and Carrying Light that would house at least one novel. I had one idea — there is a danger to the Garden.
Then I realized the Garden wouldn’t let anything happen to it, being the Garden and all. But what if someone were disrupting the collective? Not a preternatural matter, but human meddling? From there I got the idea of a conglomerate that wanted to buy the collective to harness its magic, not knowing what magic really meant. It didn’t take much to imagine underhanded methods on the part of a multinational health food corporation.
Somehow, I got the idea that the conglomerate would reach out using influencers, and the thought of corporate-sponsored influencers tickled my funny bone. My story idea turned into comedy, which I hadn’t counted on. What would the collective do to keep their home unspoiled by corporate America?
The collective would try to look normal, but things would slip. The cats would fly. The food forest would repel their guests. There would be strategic pauses as the Nephilim mindspoke each other. And the collective would gaslight their guests into thinking they imagined all that. Maybe Elaine would create illusions, or Allan would guest DJ and spin a mood-altering show. There’s nothing like nonstandard reality to plant doubt in someone’s mind.
I haven’t written a comedy for the Hidden in Plain Sight universe. Not to say I can’t write funny — I write funny for the Kringle Chronicles (the Christmas romance series). But this is a new twist for me. It’s going to take a lot of brainstorming before I can put the bones together on my outline.
Words Like Me 