Here I am sitting at my computer that is on its last legs, coming down from a high of a great week-long ADHD Writers Workshop and realizing that as my computer is crashing so am I.
We had fantastic dinner guests last nite, and I was the life of the party while novelty swirled around me. Stories had to be told, laughs encouraged, joy passed around.
But, like always, I got on my hamster wheel and took over the conversation.
And, I am medicated!
Not to say no one else spoke, or had their own marvelous stories or contributed to the conversation, it was a GREAT night! And we made friends with amazingly cool sanmiguelense, who happen to be our dentists. I know, right? How cool is that? We love these guys.
Time flew. Wine and tequila flowed, and Glenn, my wonderful husband, created a lip-smacking dinner of grilled salmon with mango salsa and coconut rice. We capped it off with coffee and decadent chocolate cake (Petit Four) brought by Hector and Javier.
They left it with us and my mouth says yum-yum, my hips; no-no. I will indulge anyway.
We are so lucky to live in a small town that is conducive to creating friendships and having luscious times.
Today, though, was the last day (there is an online party tomorrow) of a really great workshop given by Catherine (Cathy) Kirch of My Writing Hero for ADHD writers. Yippee, that’s me. Both truly and facetiously with the Yippee.
But, really, Cathy was amazing and it was wonderful to be among other writers faced with the same challenges I have, trying to understand and develop what we need to create a consistent, fulfilling, writing practice.
Cathy encouraged us to develop “dopamine hacks” to bridge the gap we can experience between a desire to write, sitting down to do so, and being productive once we do. I learned a lot! Many of the ideas brought forth I have already put into practice.
As ADHD writers, me with the double whammy of Bipolar 1, we can often think of ourselves as lazy or uncommitted. Prone to procrastination and beating ourselves up. (more about Cathy’s workshop in the next post).
For me, frustration is the name of the game, and I often become frantic (crazily so) when things don’t fall into place. To the perturbation of my husband. Who is my biggest cheerleader, but still tries to figure me, my mood shifts, and consternation out.
He is a dear, and I love him, but boy, I can try his patience as things become all about me, when he has his own commitments to deal with. I know he often thinks; “NO, honey, it’s my turn!”
I often wind myself up, with a screwed-up face and fists pounding on the table or pushed against my head. I was doing so today, tears squeezing out, ready to throw my useless computer off the terrace.
So, now, an anxiety pill later, I can say; no matter how much I do self-care, no matter how brilliant San Miguel is, no matter how great my husband treats me, I still have Bipolar 1 and ADHD.
Sometimes, when good times roll and days swing merrily along, I can forget that. Or at least lose sight of it for a while.
But I am not totally out of the woods, and I have to be cognizant of the cliff that beckons me. I can easily tip. Either direction. My ass can still get bitten. Either direction.
Life is a balancing act. Most days now are great. My husband and I worked hard to develop a life we are both enjoying immensely.
I look back at myself and see how far I have come from being homeless, broke, and suicidal. I want to put that sad woman in her grave. But then, I need her around to remind me that life can surprise me. I still have a lot to do.
My touchpoint now is writing. I am committed to my memoirs. My goal is to add my voice to the voice of others who are speaking out about mental health challenges. We need to have an increasingly frank dialogue.
The world is changing and life isn’t getting easier. Mental health struggles are becoming all too common. And stigmas still reign supreme.
On the whole, we are in for a world of hurt. And we can break if we let it get too far into our heads.
BUT, hiding the truth that mental health/illness is something we will all come into contact with; either in ourselves or loved ones, will not solve the problem or ease the damage it can do.
Help can be in many forms. Ask for it.
Tonight, mine was in the form of a hug, a glass of wine, and a hunk of chocolate cake. It is time to regroup.
Just saw this post in my email box this morning. I need to print it out and plaster it in front of me as a dopamine hack. I want someone to write like this about my memoirs one day. It is good to have goals.