Today Isaac was lying on the living room floor, chewing happily on his Kong. I was getting ready to wash dishes and I dropped a spoon on the floor. So I called Isaac to come over and pick it up for me. He came right over, carrying his Kong.
That's common for Isaac. He comes when called, but often brings a toy. When I want him to do something for me, like retrieve something, I usually ask him to give me the toy, which he usually does willingly, then tell him what I want him to do, then after he picks up the spoon or whatever and gives it to me, then I give him back his toy.
Today, he came over, looked at the spoon, put his Kong down on the floor, picked up the spoon and gave it to me. I didn't have to ask for the Kong and I didn't have to tell him to pick up the spoon.
He got a treat for that one.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
The Abyss
"I looked into that abyss," a friend said to me, "and I knew I didn't want to stay there long enough for it to look back into me."
Well, I didn't just look in. I fell in, head first.
I settled in. I dropped anchor.
No, I didn't stay, not forever. But long enough for the darkness to know my name.
I made my home there for a while.
Like Persephone, I stayed too long.
My mother did not come to rescue me. I reached down and I saved myself, as much of myself as I could find.
But like Persephone, I'd eaten the pomegranate seeds. I must return at times to that darkness. I stayed too long to ever fully leave.
Well, I didn't just look in. I fell in, head first.
I settled in. I dropped anchor.
No, I didn't stay, not forever. But long enough for the darkness to know my name.
I made my home there for a while.
Like Persephone, I stayed too long.
My mother did not come to rescue me. I reached down and I saved myself, as much of myself as I could find.
But like Persephone, I'd eaten the pomegranate seeds. I must return at times to that darkness. I stayed too long to ever fully leave.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
New Poetry Blog
I've posted a few poems here on this blog but decided to start a second blog on which to post my poetry. I hope you'll check it out.
Poet Kelly
Poet Kelly
Pacing Myself
One thing I've been learning is how important it is to pace myself. I can't always do all the things I want to do. And when I do too much, the pain gets worse, I get too tired, I get overwhelmed and have trouble coping. It's frustrating to me when I can do as much as I want to do, or as much as I think I should be able to do, or all the things I've planned to do.
I used to feel guilty about not getting things done but I don't so much anymore. I'm not sure why. Maybe I just reached a point where I needed to let go of that because it certainly wasn't helping me to feel that way. Also, a friend pointed out a while back that being tired is not a personality flaw, and that really resonated with me. I hadn't realized it, exactly, but I had been feeling like being too tired or in too much pain to do something, like clean my house, was some sort of character flaw. Which of course it isn't.
If I pace myself, the pain is less, the anxiety is less, I can cope better. Duh. That sounds really obvious but it took me a long time to figure it out.
I have a friend coming over tomorrow and I've spent the last week cleaning my house. I still get frustrated, and also kind of depressed, if I think too much about how there was a time when I could have cleaned this small apartment from top to bottom in no time. Two hours and I could have had the place spotless.
Now, it takes me a week. It takes me a week, and there are still things I don't get done, like the bathtub. It's too hard to clean my tub. This is embarrassing to admit, but I cleaned my bathtub when I first moved in here and I haven't cleaned it since. I mean, I rinse it out, but I haven't scrubbed it since. And that was ten months ago.
But having a really clean tub is just not worth the pain it causes to bend over and scrub it. So tomorrow I will close the shower curtain and my friend will have no idea that I haven't cleaned my tub in almost a year.
But pacing myself. I'm doing it. And if I don't think too much about how much easier life would be if I could get a normal amount of stuff done, it works.
I used to feel guilty about not getting things done but I don't so much anymore. I'm not sure why. Maybe I just reached a point where I needed to let go of that because it certainly wasn't helping me to feel that way. Also, a friend pointed out a while back that being tired is not a personality flaw, and that really resonated with me. I hadn't realized it, exactly, but I had been feeling like being too tired or in too much pain to do something, like clean my house, was some sort of character flaw. Which of course it isn't.
If I pace myself, the pain is less, the anxiety is less, I can cope better. Duh. That sounds really obvious but it took me a long time to figure it out.
I have a friend coming over tomorrow and I've spent the last week cleaning my house. I still get frustrated, and also kind of depressed, if I think too much about how there was a time when I could have cleaned this small apartment from top to bottom in no time. Two hours and I could have had the place spotless.
Now, it takes me a week. It takes me a week, and there are still things I don't get done, like the bathtub. It's too hard to clean my tub. This is embarrassing to admit, but I cleaned my bathtub when I first moved in here and I haven't cleaned it since. I mean, I rinse it out, but I haven't scrubbed it since. And that was ten months ago.
But having a really clean tub is just not worth the pain it causes to bend over and scrub it. So tomorrow I will close the shower curtain and my friend will have no idea that I haven't cleaned my tub in almost a year.
But pacing myself. I'm doing it. And if I don't think too much about how much easier life would be if I could get a normal amount of stuff done, it works.
Saturday, March 1, 2014
Girl, Interrupted
Last night I watched "Girl, Interrupted." I've seen it before. I'm not sure what made me want to see it again. If you haven't seen it, you should.
Whoopie Goldberg plays a wonderful nurse is a psychiatric hospital and at one point she tells a patient she needs to get things out, put it down somehow, put it away from her, where she can't keep curling up with it. That makes so much sense to me. She also tells a patient, in a very dark moment, "Don't drop anchor here." And I get that, too.
The movie takes place in the 60's and psych wards in the 60's were very different than they are now. People stayed in the hospital for a long, long time. Partly that was due to less effective medications, I think, and partly because we didn't have managed care then and people could actually afford long-term treatment. I definitely don't think spending months upon months in psych wards is helpful, at least not for most people, and I'm all in favor of community-based care. I wish there was more, and better, care available in most communities, but I'm all in favor of community-based care.
Twenty years ago, well, more like 25 years ago (gosh, I feel old now), psych wards were not like they were in the 60's, not like in this movie, but they were different than they are now. Back when I first started being admitted to psych wards, a typical length of stay was about two weeks, maybe three. These days, it's unusual if they keep you more than a week.
They had more treatment in the psych wards back then and more activities. The last time I was in the hospital, in 2013, they had two or three groups a day and they were stupid groups. It was the same the time before that, in a different hospital, in 2006. But they used to have four or five or six groups or activities a day, group therapy, art therapy, some sort of fitness, relaxation training or meditation, arts and crafts, movies, bingo (OK, I didn't say it was all exciting). One hospital had a plant therapy group once a week. You got to plant things. You got to decorate the pot and take home a plant. Ceramics, yoga, music therapy. One hospital had this thing one day a month where the patients cooked lunch. We made Chinese food when I was there.
There is a scene in the movie where the patients are taken on an outing for ice cream. I've been on a couple of those patient outings. One for ice cream, even. And one to play miniature golf.
There was a feeling of safety there for me. Which seems a bit odd, considering how terrified I am of the very idea of going to a hospital now. In fact, last night I had a nightmare about being admitted to a psych ward. Watching that movie probably triggered it. But there was a time when it felt safe. And I can certainly see how it would have felt that way in the 60's, when people were going to war and dying.
Whoopie Goldberg plays a wonderful nurse is a psychiatric hospital and at one point she tells a patient she needs to get things out, put it down somehow, put it away from her, where she can't keep curling up with it. That makes so much sense to me. She also tells a patient, in a very dark moment, "Don't drop anchor here." And I get that, too.
The movie takes place in the 60's and psych wards in the 60's were very different than they are now. People stayed in the hospital for a long, long time. Partly that was due to less effective medications, I think, and partly because we didn't have managed care then and people could actually afford long-term treatment. I definitely don't think spending months upon months in psych wards is helpful, at least not for most people, and I'm all in favor of community-based care. I wish there was more, and better, care available in most communities, but I'm all in favor of community-based care.
Twenty years ago, well, more like 25 years ago (gosh, I feel old now), psych wards were not like they were in the 60's, not like in this movie, but they were different than they are now. Back when I first started being admitted to psych wards, a typical length of stay was about two weeks, maybe three. These days, it's unusual if they keep you more than a week.
They had more treatment in the psych wards back then and more activities. The last time I was in the hospital, in 2013, they had two or three groups a day and they were stupid groups. It was the same the time before that, in a different hospital, in 2006. But they used to have four or five or six groups or activities a day, group therapy, art therapy, some sort of fitness, relaxation training or meditation, arts and crafts, movies, bingo (OK, I didn't say it was all exciting). One hospital had a plant therapy group once a week. You got to plant things. You got to decorate the pot and take home a plant. Ceramics, yoga, music therapy. One hospital had this thing one day a month where the patients cooked lunch. We made Chinese food when I was there.
There is a scene in the movie where the patients are taken on an outing for ice cream. I've been on a couple of those patient outings. One for ice cream, even. And one to play miniature golf.
There was a feeling of safety there for me. Which seems a bit odd, considering how terrified I am of the very idea of going to a hospital now. In fact, last night I had a nightmare about being admitted to a psych ward. Watching that movie probably triggered it. But there was a time when it felt safe. And I can certainly see how it would have felt that way in the 60's, when people were going to war and dying.
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