Mother’s Little Helper

Yesterday was self indulgent. I am still feeling pretty scatty, but it’s early and a decent night’s sleep (thank you, Big Pharma!) happened so while I am still functional things are getting done. By 9am (it is now 8:30am) things will probably not get done, much, because damnation, people, I am as flighty as a fruit fly right now.

We got up at 5:30am- T had to leave for work at 6, and I had decided yesterday that approaching a populated grocery store was an invitation for jail time, so I was up too and driving toward the store by 6:15am. There aren’t many cars on the road at that time, and the sun was coming up, coloring the clouds in shades of salmon and coral and buttery yellow, which was lovely but dangerous for someone with a fruit-fly mentality. Oo pretty WATCH OUT FOR THE POLE ooops. No, I didn’t hit anything but had 2 close calls, which made for the decision to, once groceries were bought, STAY THE HELL AT HOME TODAY. No more driving for me. Not today.

Thank goodness for lists. I only forgot one thing- garbage bags.  Did you know mango chutney is $5 for a teeeeeny little bottle of about 4 oz?  However, mangoes are cheap right now so I’m going to make some. Never did that before, we’ll see how it goes. But not today. I am not making chutney today.

See what I mean? The attention span of a fruit fly.

And I forgot all about Rusty’s vet appointment yesterday. I just watched Lark Rise to Candleford right through the appointment time. Even though it was written on the calendar.  Fruit fly.

Coping mechanisms for Fruit Fly Mentality:

Lists, and do not deviate from them.

Move slowly, because I am clumsy…seriously…I cannot handle anything breakable because I drop everything, hurl it across the room, and walk into walls. Thank goodness for plastic and metal. So I get this careful and deliberate way of moving, like one of those people who is a cautious drunk.

Crock pot. Oh, may God richly bless the inventor of the crock pot.  On hand always are the ingredients for crock pot chicken tetrazinni, which involves minimal need of a sharp knife- only an onion needs slicing- and minimal use of the stove, and EVERYTHING (except the onion and you use a whole one)  is in premeasured packages that only need dumping. And it tastes good. And other people can do the dangerous stuff like boiling the noodles.  If I move slowly and veeerrrry caaaarefulllly, I can get the onion sliced without taking a finger along with. And so it is now assembled and set on low.

I was really hoping this hypomania was a one-day deal. Often times it is. I will isolate myself from the world and watch a few movies, then sleep and wake up fine.  In the past 18 years it’s only been a handful of times that it’s lasted more than a day. I guess the good news is that I have the luxury of managing it at home, and my children are no longer very small. That was rough, 20 years ago when this would happen and babies were in the house.  They watched a lot of Thomas The Tank Engine during those times.

Now it’s just the dogs and a cat. Grace the Cat is like…hm…it’s like she warns me when it’s time to sit down and let my mind rest, or something. I give her no credit for empathy, being a cat, but she seems to need a lap about the same time I need a time-out.

So, y’know,it’s going to be ok. 90% of the battle is knowing what’s going on, that it is finite, and that I know how to manage.  Knowing these things doesn’t make the feelings go away,but I remember 20 years ago, when the brain would be doing this stuff and I had NO idea what was going on. I figured out it was happening and would happen again, and I knew what to do, but I didn’t know WHY it was happening.

Back then, I would listen to music. I didn’t have the pharmaceuticals (Thank you, Big Pharma!) to help, so I developed my own system. On the sleepless nights (have you ever noticed how problems take on such a life of their own in the middle of the night?), I’d listen to Mike Kellogg out of a Christian station in Chicago. It wasn’t preaching, or contemporary Christian Rock music (bleh). It was soft stuff, peaceful, hymns from my childhood, and he’d read (he has this deep, gentle voice) psalms and poems and stuff that was very calming. It was as if he knew (maybe he does!) that people who are awake at 2am might need some help. I wouldn’t sleep, but I was able to rest enough to function the next day.

There was a local daycare center that allowed us to drop the kids in without a schedule, so T would take them there if I needed him to. Also? Fast food. KFC or something. Emergency rations.

There is something wonderful about having a plan Just in Case. I do that with everything, so that I am not caught off guard in case of an emergency.

I am also, today, VERY thankful I didn’t volunteer to teach or help with Vacation Bible School, which starts Monday.

I have a list of things I would like to get done today, but none of them…(well ok one of them is,but it’s simple and won’t take long)) are critical. My hands are shaky and there’s that pit-of-the-stomach feeling that precedes a gollywhopper of a panic attack, but there is also a bottle of mild tranquilizers that will nip that shit right in the bud..tho I am going to hold off as long as I can because it also seems kind of Stepford Wifian to take one…that whole 1970’s Mother’s Little Helper thing.

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About rootietoot

I do what I can.
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