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At A Loss

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I got home from the psycho ward at the hospital about three days ago. I was on a gigantic upswing (for me) because I was sleeping again, and I was starting on a new medication with (and still have) great hopes. This is the first day that I am on my own. Alan went to work this morning, and now it is just me, and the cats, and the silence and peace of being alone. There are some things that I probably should do, chores and garden stuff and laundry, but I don’t really want to do them, so I’m not going to. 


The truth is—I am at something of a loss. I have always loved my private time, cherished silence and stillness and the peace of not having to interact with others. But it has been so long since I had peace like this… A stunning South Texas autumn day, with mellow bright sunshine, butterflies, hummingbirds, and birdsong floating along in the breeze—it seems like it has been forever.


Apparently you loose the trick of aloneness when you don’t get it. I can’t settle on a book, or an activity. I don’t feel like I’m thinking very fast…my thoughts are sort of wading toward me through honey. There are all these obligations and things I need to do. I want to take a nap, which is not on that list.


Within the narrow ribbon of my moods, I’m having massive mood swings. To most, my mood swings are pretty unnoticeable, but they feel gigantic to me. I wish so much sometimes that I could return to my childhood, to the time before all this grown-up stuff and the depression, to when my Dad was well and Mom was…Mom (she never changes, in an essential way), and I was too dumb to appreciate how safe and easy that life was. When the most awful thing that ever happened was not getting asked to the prom by the person you wanted to ask you, or popping up a zit on Friday night.


But there is no going back, as we all discover eventually. I seem to be able to hold these totally unreasonable thoughts right along with my educated reasonable ones. Unreasonable thoughts like my parents will not die, that I am essentially okay despite my brain and the chemicals that are screwed up in it (which is one of the reasons I tend to wait till I’m almost over the edge before I seek help again), that I understand, really, well, anything.


However, this weird sleepiness and the thick-feeling brain that go along with it are probably side effects. So they may go away in a few weeks, or they may not. Medicine, a classic example of maybe/maybe not. I’m alone, but not lonely at all. I think I may be getting the hang of it again. 

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