Douglas Cootey's Blog, page 12

Escaping the Pull of Depression

I love how my daughter uses her creativity to deal with depression. I was listening to her song the other night and was struck by these lyrics:

What's this weight on your chest?
Why is it hard to get dressed?
Fighting chemicals inside your head.
Always up till midnight
All you got is moonlight
Makes you wish you had the sun instead

I am deeply saddened that my daughter has to struggle with the pull of depression like I do. When I think of all the genes I wanted to pass along to her, I wish this particular one had missed its trajectory. Yet we can't do much about the hand that life deals us. How I wish I could just hit “reset” and get a new deck dealt to me and my children, as if life could be managed like a Solitaire game that is going badly. At a dead end and don't know where to turn? Start over. So easy.

Instead, we need to rise above our circumstances, even if only by a fraction. I have known the darkest, most oppressive waves of depression. I have opened my eyes in the morning and wondered what the point of living was. Getting out of bed became a monumental task that seemed at first to have no discernible reward. Only after I fought against the gravity of depression did I find myself in a better head space. It seems that the battle itself armed my mind with the weapons it needed to fight that pernicious pull. I know this has been true for me, as well as other people.

Take pride in the small steps. Claim victory over the most insignificant of moments. Every centimeter that you move forward improves your life. You may not have results at first. Depression will affect your outlook and cause you to think poorly of your progress. You'll also have to revisit this battle day by day, which can be discouraging, but with enough effort, you can leave depression's orbit each time.

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If you fight chemicals inside your head, you might like my book. It's chemical free.

 

Has Depression Taken the Joy out of Life for You?

I used to change my profile pic monthly—even weekly! It's not that I thought I had a face that people needed to see more of. By taking frequent profile pics, I displayed my creativity. In fact, it was important to me that people knew I was creative.

Now I don't care in the slightest.

I've been asking myself if this is because I have grown up, if it is because I've become bored, or if it is for another, more insidious reason: depression.

I can trace a lot of my listlessness to my divorce. After all, I stopped playing my instruments at that time. The shrill sound of pennywhistles, recorders, and other flageolets echoing around my empty apartment just made me more depressed, so I put them away for a while. I eventually started playing them again, but not until three years had passed. It reminds me of when I first began ticking back in 1992. I was a freelance illustrator at the time, but I couldn't draw with my arms flailing about. I was so depressed, I treated my art studio as a storage closet and didn't enter it for nine months. Perhaps the same thing was happening with photography.

One of the hallmarks of clinical depression is losing interest in things that we used to enjoy. I suppose anybody could experience that for any number of reasons. What makes this a symptom of depression is that the decision to abandon a favorite hobby or pastime was accompanied by waves of crushing sadness. There's a sense of futility that is pervasive. More than burning out on a hobby, with depression, the pastime is abandoned and not replaced with anything new. I didn't set the pennywhistle down and pick up another instrument. I stopped playing altogether. No, this wasn't the divorce's fault (not that it was helping). This was depression at work.

Now that I've noticed my profile pics are collecting dust in between changes, I've also noticed that I've stopped taking photos in general. There's no reason why I stopped. I just let the urge dwindle away. What a shame! I had fun exploring the world with my iPhone. I wasn't a great photographer, but it brought me joy.

This is why I've decided to let photography bring me joy again. How dare depression rob me of the joy of taking a silly profile pic? How dare depression steal my urge to record the world with my iPhone in my own quirky way? How dare I let depression get away with it?

The only advice I have for you is to take stock of your life and notice what you've stopped doing that you used to enjoy. Did you stop for valid reasons, or did you fade away with a twinge of melancholy and ennui? If it was the later, decide today to pick back up one of your old activities. Don't let depression win. Only by watching for the signs and implementing coping strategies can we keep depression from diminishing our quality of life.

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I'm dying on my current book, but my first book is full of life.

 

Rick Walton – Mentor, Friend & Inspiration

I'm sitting here in Salt Lake City Cemetery, discretely off to the side, while the Brownie is on a field trip to learn Pioneer history, self-reliance, and some ghost stories to boot. Her class takes the public transit to go on their field trips in order to prepare them for life. They learn how to catch a bus, pay their fare, then walk to their destination. This means that Daddy can't interfere so that she learns to rely on herself, but I am secretly here just in case she has a seizure. It's easy chaperone work. I kept myself busy in my car writing, reading news, and practicing my pennywhislte. Then I got the news my friend, Rick Walton, had passed away this morning.

Tears are blurring my screen as I type this. I am so glad I had a chance to know Rick. You may not have heard of him. He was a prolific children's book author, specializing in picture books. What a bright, creative mind he had! It pains me to speak of him in the past tense now. I was just holding his hand at his bedside last Saturday. I've known him for eight years this month.

My favorite memory with him was getting together to play pennywhistles at a Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers conference. He was skilled at improvising, whereas I memorized set pieces. This was about five years ago. We found a quiet place to play, and together, we worked something out. It was pretty rough! I was shaky and uncertain since I had horrible stage fright. I've mostly cured myself of that particular anxiety, but at that time, agreeing to play in public with somebody was a major step forward. Then, because it was Rick, people started to linger to see what was going on. My playing took a definite dive downward, but at that point there was more talking than playing. People were pulled towards his gentle gravity and loved his clever wit.

My life became complicated soon after. That was the last writers conference I ever attended, but I held out hope that we would jam again one day. I was even practicing today something I could play for him tomorrow. It was my hope to go down to visit him again, though I wasn't sure how I'd manage with the Brownie tagging along. My greatest regret is that I never interviewed him for this blog as we talked about doing a few years back. Rick had Parkinson's Disease, yet still wrote and created constantly. It was a brain tumor that put a stop to his prolific brilliance, not his Parkinson's. He was inspirational to me, and I wanted him to be inspirational to you as well. Now I'll play my pennywhislte today in his memory. In my heart, though, I won't be alone. Thank you, Rick, for your friendship, advice, counsel, and inspiration over the years. You've left your legacy on our bookshelves and in our hearts. Be at peace.

 

ADHD: Living Your Life Backwards

I live my life backwards.

I don’t wake up refreshed; I wake up exhausted. There could be many reasons to explain this, from sleep apnea to mischievous imps poking me throughout the night. It might also be stress from my hectic family life at the moment. Alright, it’s probably stress, but I prefer to believe in mischievous imps. That’s a far more exciting explanation than the horrid mundanity that is my life.

The big problem with poor sleep is that I spend my day slowly ramping up until I am working at all cylinders by the end of the day, rushing around getting things done before it’s bedtime. I would love to pop out of bed in the morning like freshly toasted bread. I remember when waking up used to be like that. Now, instead, I read news in the morning. I check social media. I see what’s happening in the world. I get caught up with the latest political furor. I suppose it’s easy. It wakes up my mind.

But it’s a trap.

Starting my morning with something rife with distractions is incredibly foolish considering what a news junkie I am. Why news? Adults with ADHD have an intolerance for boredom. Reading news is one way to medicate that boredom. It provides new experiences in tiny shots. Think of all the bursts of endorphins as each news article stimulates my mind. “Trump said what?!” “Clinton can’t possible think we’ll believe that!” The American presidential election this year has been crack cocaine for my addled mind.

The problem is that my solution to kickstarting my brain each day has become a poor habit that eats up time because I don’t begin with the end in mind. I just read until I’ve had my fill. The solution to that isn’t just cutting back on news, or removing it altogether. Other activities can replace it as my morning addiction of choice. Even reading scriptures can be a problem, albeit a more edifying one, when I get distracted cross-referencing spiritual concepts through the four gospels, then discovering a talk by a general authority I haven’t encountered before. Learning new things isn’t a detriment. Adults with ADHD have a penchant for amassing information. We take it all in like hungry encyclopedias desperate for content. But what does it profit us to learn information at the cost of producing content? There needs to be balance.

We Need to Regulate How We Spend Our Time

I should get up, get busy, get done, then relax with all that delightful reading at the end of my day.

I know this. I’ve been here before. That’s why I know that the best way to regulate time is to use a timer. This morning I gave myself forty-five minutes to read news. I chose to read gaming and entertainment news only. There will be plenty of time for politics after tonight’s debate. I shared some posts on social media. I had a few laughs. I got my brain going. Then I got ready for the day, ate breakfast, and began blogging. I’m even aware of how little time I have before my daughter gets home off the bus. If you think a news addiction is disruptive to productivity, you should let a learning disabled kid with epilepsy and behavior issues plop into the middle of your day. No wonder I’m not getting anything done!

Why Do We Slip Back into Bad Behavior?

The reasons why we relapse are complicated and personal. I can’t speak well for others, but I’m going through an incredible period of unrest and turmoil in my life. I just moved everything I own into two storage units, I’m in between apartments, I have several financial fires that need stomping out, I’ve got various medical issues that take up time, and my daughter is a handful. I’m not in a happy place; there’s so much chaos. My solution, without realizing it, was to lose myself in distraction. It can be a comforting place to be. Online conversations can be intense and filled with the illusion of purpose. We can feel like VERY IMPORTANT THINGS ARE HAPPENING when all we’re doing is pushing hot air at each other. It’s not necessarily an ADHD problem, but adults with ADHD are prone to excessive levels. The only thing we can do in those situations is to self-analyze our behavior, then commit to new behaviors.

Fortunately for me, I’ve only lost a few weeks to this news binge. This is easily corrected. I do this periodically as my nature is to slip into this rut. So take a moment to pause. How have you spent your downtime? Are you letting distractions regulate your life? It doesn’t have to be this way. Use a timer on your phone, tablet, computer, or watch. Use a old school kitchen timer if you have to. Rein yourself in and reclaim your day. Live your life in the right order for a change.

 

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My life might be a mess, but you won't believe how organized my book is.

A Maelstrom of Sleepy Chaos

The chaos that is the Brownie is at her mother's, finally asleep. All that remains of her is the debris left behind in her tornado's wake. Not even my latest claw acquisition remains as a cute accent on the dump I call my apartment. With her angelic absence, I was finally able to work on the business cards I intended to use later today. What a handful she has been this summer! You have no idea. After all, how could you? I have kept the drama tight to my vest. And here I am, changing the subject. Now I can at last prevent entropy from destroying my kitchen, finish the laundry before the cycle of chaos begins again Sunday night, and wind down with ethereal shoe-gazer music in the background. Morpheus calls, but he's a dull old boy and easily ignored.

In the morning, I will rush off to Fedex Office and print the business cards that I didn't have ready for the last conference I attended, then I will race along the Wasatch Front to arrive at the Community & Family Education Day on Tourette & Tic Disorders conference. I don't know what I am expecting to find there, but I have promised myself to attend more mental health themed conventions. Perhaps I will find new friends & enlightenment. Perhaps I will wake up in the morning and discover I am unable to drive. So much uncertainty makes for an exciting weekend.

Then the evening will be spent at the Miss Sandy beauty pageant where my 2nd oldest daughter, Cathryn, is competing. I'm probably planning too much for one day, but if I prop myself up with plenty of protein & potassium, I should be able to make it through the evening without incident. What a shame I forgot to cancel my Saturday get-together with my friends. Hopefully, I'll remember to call them before they call me when I don't answer the door.

I am listening to "Eskimo Swin" by The Autumns this very second. ♫ ★★★★


⁂I regret that I didn't finish the Family Guy articles this week that I promised to send to my editor, but you won't regret reading my book on overcoming suicidism.

Writing in a Fishbowl - Week Six

Saturday: It's about this time of the summer every year that I suddenly realize there is a very good reason why I have not accomplished even half of what I set out to do: Summer vacation. I must live in a fantasy bubble, but I forget year after year that when the kids are home over the summer, I don't get much done. Every year I set big, amazing goals, and every summer I beat myself up for failing at them. Then I remember, duh, hello? Summer vacation.You'd think with only one kid at home that I'd manage to master this conundrum, but I'm afraid the Brownie has the best of me. It could be that my brain damaged, learning disabled, epileptic daughter with cerebral palsy is time consuming. I'm just going to throw that one out there as a possibility. Here's what I can tell you that has been done. My work on my upcoming Fighting Depression book is coming along, as in, I've reworked the first chapter so many times that I've lost track of the edits, but dang, does it look better than the previous six revisions. The truth is, I am having a hard time getting out of the gate. I am trying to find a good balance between background information and too much information. I want people to get excited about managing their depression. I don't want to be a source of depression! So…although I have stated before that I was super, super, really close and stuff to being done, it's not truly done until it's posted. Maybe tonight? Maybe Monday? Who knows? I'll know it's ready when it's ready.I am also working on edits for Trading Up to Legendaries: A Parent's Guide to Pokémon, which is that quickie book I did last March or so. It's not so far afield for me as you might think. I have done freelance game reviews in the distant and recent past. This book was conceived and researched after writing "Saying 'NO' to Suicide". I needed to do something drastically different. I believe I succeeded. At any rate, my goal is to have the edits done before the Brownie starts school in two and a half weeks. You may insert peels of laughter here. I haven't written for Family Guy since June, so that's a problem. I also blog here less frequently. There's been a lot going on at the home front that I haven't written or even tweeted about, but I hold out hope that the drama will clear away like morning fog, leaving me focus and plenty of time to write. One can dream.Your takeaway for this is that writing while parenting with ADHD & Depression can be challenging. You are in for a lot of setbacks. When you toss in a disability like my chronic motor tic disorder, things don't move forward as much as sideways. But if you chart your progress — if you make plans and stick to them — you can accomplish great things despite your limitations, distractions, and obstacles. With practice, we just become very good at working around them.

Falling into Depression, and Climbing Out Again

Sometimes days don't go as planned. With my tic disorder and a sudden bout of depression, Sunday started off poorly:

Having a very difficult time with #depression today. Worst I’ve had in a while. So, sunshine & a mountain hike is my prescription.

— Douglas Cootey (@SplinteredMind) July 31, 2016

That tweet was the turn around moment for me. Before that, I missed church because I was ticking, but I was also too depressed to get out of bed. I was wallowing!! When was the last time I did that? Since my daughter, Bri'anna Joy, was in town from Germany, we had planned a big daddy/daughter hike with me and my four girls, and there I was lying in bed thinking of cancelling. That thought was so distasteful to me that it shocked me into awareness: I was depressed. Once I diagnosed the problem, I began to think of solutions.

Get up. Eat. Shower. Get ready. Go have fun with your daughters!

I tweeted my resolution and got to work.

Identifying depression is an enormous step. It can slink up on us because the depression becomes a part of our sense of normal. Hey, doesn't everybody lie in bed feeling waves of despair and stay there just feeling miserable? Sounds normal to me! Developing the self awareness to recognize that feeling so much sadness isn't normal, or healthy, takes practice because we have to unravel our feelings, which seem intensely real, from our observation of our behavior. Lying in bed long after the day began it fairly obvious, but sometimes our behaviors are more subtle. Have we suddenly stopped enjoying something we enjoyed before? Are we thinking more negatively than we usually do. Are we thinking more negatively than we should? Is the amount of sadness we're feeling appropriate for the situation? These can be tricky questions for the person first beginning to take control of their depression.

Once you have identified it, take action. Even getting out of bed and doing something else is a step in the right direction. Get moving. Change your surroundings. Do something that will help you feel better. Call a friend. Watch a favorite TV show. Go for a walk. Move forward, reassess, move forward again.

Once I realized I was severely depressed, I sent the above tweet to commit myself, then forced myself to get out of bed. Wow, was that hard! I just wanted to stay there, but I slid out of bed, shuffled zombie-like into the kitchen, and fed myself. I felt as if I was dragging weights behind me, but I knew that if I got food into my system, I would start to feel better. Showering was next. I'm embarrassed to say it had been four days since I last showered. I hadn't realized how depressed I had been.

Getting ready took longer than I had planned. We were late getting up to Donut Falls, but the more time I spent with my girls, the less depressed I became. I've been in physical therapy for months due to a knee injury, so this was a risk for me, but I was determined to push myself. My daughter with cerebral palsy had a harder time. The going was careful and slow. We talked about a variety of light subjects, discussed my goal to start dating before my 50th birthday this December, helped each other along the trail, and laughed a lot.

We never did make it to the donut where water had worn a hole through the rock to fall below. I tried. I made it up to the falls. I stepped into the falls. I fell into the falls. I fell down the falls. Then the falls rolled me like a Dixie cup until I finally regained footing. I was so busy pushing, pushing, pushing past depression that I forgot to assess my tic disorder. My desires outpaced my neurological ability to keep up. Oh, well. A few scrapes is no big deal.

I gave myself a massive endorphin boost and reaped the benefits. Even later that night, long after Donut Falls had been left behind, depression couldn't take ahold of me again. Managing depression is a constant fight. Every once in a while I forget to assess how I'm doing and slip backward, which makes the fight to regain ground a difficult one, but it isn't impossible. It started with the simplest of steps. All I had to do was get out of bed.

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You should read my book on fighting suicide. Not a single Dixie cup was harmed while I wrote it.

 

 

Curing Depression with Pokemon Go

Just like almost everybody else on Earth, I have been enjoying the augmented reality game, Pokémon Go. I'm sure you've heard about it. There has been a lot of bad press for this game. It seems each week there is a new scolding article letting people know that they're having fun wrong. Most of it is clickbait fluff with no merit. When you have millions of people playing a game, there are bound to be negative incidents, but they are the exception, not the norm. I can assure you that I have not come across any dead bodies, I haven't been assailed in the dark by roving gangs hellbent on stealing my stuff, and I haven't driven into a tree while I was trying to capture a Pokémon. What I have had is a lot of fun while playing the game with my daughters, as well as by myself.

Pokémon Go is a variation of a popular game available only on Nintendo handhelds. Having a Pokémon game on a non-Nintendo device is a big deal. The original games for the past twenty years have been role playing adventures where you play as a young trainer trying to catch all the Pokémon in your world while completing the story and raising your Pokémon for battle. There is no story mode in Pokémon Go, but the role playing has leaped off the screen and put the players in the role of trainer. Now we do all the capturing with our phones.

As you walk around, the game will alert you to the presence of Pokémon that randomly appear on a simplified version of Google Maps. Once you tap on the Pokémon, the camera displays the world in front of you, but this time with a Pokémon character superimposed on the video. This is called augmented reality. Using your finger, you toss a pokeball at the Pokémon and cross your fingers.

There's a lot more to the game than that, including leveling up Pokémon if you wish, and gym battles, but most players are content with the scavenger hunt aspect of the game trying to collect all 151 Pokémon. The game is a free download, and although it has available purchases, a thrifty player can find Pokéstops all over town (usually at parks, churches & landmarks) to stock up on free pokeballs without spending a cent.

Now that you understand the game a bit better, here's why it has been helpful to my depression:

Exercise — It's not uncommon for me now to walk three or more miles every day while hunting down critters for my Pokédex. When I do it in the sun, that's a bonus. I've been cooped up for months because of a knee injury. This game came along at a good time during my recovery. I force myself to get outside, even with forearm braces if I'm ticking, to work that knee and get some much needed exercise. Exercise boosts the happy chemicals in your head that you need to beat depression's grip. Change of scenery — One thing very beneficial for depression is a change of scenery, especially if we have been house-bound for a while. Surrounding ourselves with new sights and experiences boosts our mood. New experiences are healthy for your brain. Socializing — Get out there now while you can. There is a wonderful camaraderie among players. It is not uncommon for players of all ages and colors to pass tips to each other and share locations of hard to find Pokémon. People are good. Go out and meet some of them. Even if all you manage is a knowing nod, it is still beneficial for depression to have positive experiences with other people. Fun is good — Despite the naysayers in the press, playing the game is fun. If it makes you smile, who cares if some grumpy journalist somewhere in New York City doesn't approve?

There are some things to keep in mind while you are out hunting:

Fight the urge to explore where you shouldn't. The game once put a Gastly in the middle of a train yard near my home. My ADHD mind wanted to hop the fence, but the adult in me didn't fancy explaining to the cops why I was trespassing. I opted to not hop the fence. For goodness sake, don't play the game while driving. It's tempting when your phone lights up and it's a Pokémon you haven't caught before, or you are within range of a Pokéstop to grab some goodies, so make the mental decision to NOT play the game before getting behind the wheel. This game gobbles battery life like a ravenous Snorlax. You can turn off AR mode when you're in a battle to conserve power. The servers often can't meet the demand of millions of players, so expect some lagging. However, if you've turned on battery saving mode, you can expect more hangs than usual. The game doesn't like dimming and undimming the screen too frequently and will become non-responsive. I turn that feature off.

I am so glad I've been out there playing. Pokémon Go has turned into a defining cultural event that people will remember fondly in years to come. Even if you can't manage to shamble about too far, do what you can to participate in the excitement for yourself. At the very least, you might find some relief for your clinical depression.

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If you like tips on beating depression, you may like my book on fighting suicidal ideation. It's more fun than a barrel of Mankeys.

 

Writing in a Fishbowl — Week Five

Week Three and Four were total busts. So embarrassing. I became sick AND had a ticking bout that lasted days. When that happens, I default to just the bare minimum: taking care of my daughters. That's my primary responsibility. Learning to squeeze blogging and writing into my life around my responsibilities is secondary.That doesn't mean I'm pleased with the results. It just means that I chose to succeed at being a dad and fail at being a writer. And by fail, I mean not meet my unrealistic expectations.Later in week three, I used Pokémon Go as an excuse to go outside even when sick or ticking. That was a fun distraction. Being shut inside during the summer is so depressing, but the game had definite mental health benefits. I wrote all about it for my next article.Nevertheless, all was not lost: I finished the first chapter of my new book on fighting depression. I'll be posting it later this week. I've decided to post the first draft of each chapter as an experiment. I'm hoping it will pressure me to finish the book quicker instead of dying on it. My goal was the end of this summer, but with me moving at the same time, I'm not sure that is a realistic goal anymore. I'll shoot for it anyway, then revise if necessary. I'd like to post one chapter a week at a minimum. Scrivener released their iOS app. I remember in 2010 how the dev felt the iPad was not a creation device, so he publicly disavowed the iPad as a software platform. Glad he thought better of it years later. I spent a few hours streamlining my writing process, and now I'm all excited to get started. My editor delivered the edits for that book I wrote last spring. I was very excited to get started on it, but too sick to do anything. I had hoped to finish it by the end of July, but that isn't likely to happen now. Now that Nintendo has announced new Pokémon games for release in the fall, however, I have to get this out the door. Then I can update it when the new games are released. An interview that I did last month was recently published over at Depression Getaway, written by Wendy Love. After you check out my interview, please browse her site. There are many interesting people interviewed there as well. Inspiring stories.
Monday: Today I wrote two blogs, tweaked my blog layout, struggled with computer issues, started packing for the move, practiced my clarinet on a whim, and wasted far too much time on Facebook arguing about politics. I convinced exactly no one that they were wrong. When will I ever learn?

Writing in a Fishbowl – Week Three

Two things of note today:

On Thieves & Lowlifes

Last month I moved all the boxes in my rented garage space into my living room. I’m moving in two months, so I figured I’d save money while pruning the boxes down to fit into a smaller space. The detritus of my half of twenty-three years of marriage still awaits my sad, pruning heart. If there weren’t so many precious things mixed in, I’d dump the lot. Instead, it’s like I just got a messy new roommate. The only problem I had was what to do with my mountain bike and disabled daughter’s adult trike. I refer to her as the Brownie on social media since she’s a fourteen-year-old minor. You’ve probably heard me mention her here before. She has epilepsy and cerebral palsy, and she’s a lot of work. In fact, tomorrow we’re heading over to Shriner’s Hospital to have a gait lab done, and we just finished an MRI for her last week. Like I said, she’s a lot of work, but I love her a bunch.

Most people at this apartment complex put their bikes under the stairwells. They’re fairly safe there, especially if locked. I’ve lived here almost five years, and I’ve seen nice bikes lie dusty, forlorn, and forgotten until maintenance comes along and collects them a year later to find new life in the lost & found garage. So I tucked our bikes under the stairwell and locked them up with thick bike cables and key locks.

Three days later, a team of thieves went through the area, cut the cable, and stole my mountain bike. It was a loan from a friend, so one embarrassing phone call later and my friend knew the fate of his bike. At least the thieves left the Brownie’s trike behind. It had three flats, and the seat was broken, but we were awaiting a delayed social security payment to take it to the shop for a Summer tune-up.

Last Saturday night, the same thieves, or an entirely different team, came through and finished the job. My daughter is so upset. She’s had the bike since she was nine. Who would steal a bike designed for the disabled and the elderly? It’s simply a cruddy thing to do for a buck or for kicks. My Christian training tells me to forgive and pray for them—that maybe they needed the tricycle more than my girl did—but I’m afraid anger is winning out for the time being.

I filed a police report, and I’ve searched the local classifieds and craigslist, but so far, no luck. A friend of mine put together a GoFundMe page for her. I know this is not your problem, but the trike will cost a little over $400 to replace, and I just don’t have the money. If you can help out, that would be great. If not, at least share the link. Any help would be appreciated.

☞ A New Bike for the Brownie

Ticking in a Fishbowl

I am determined to have a better week than last week. Ticking cost me a lot of writing time, and I refuse to let it beat me again. Obviously, I can’t command my body & mind to obey my will with the snap of my fingers, but I’m pretty certain that if I set my mind to having a better week, and make improvements where I can, then I can see some semblance of improvement. At least incrementally, right⸮

That sure sounds like I’m hedging my bets, doesn’t it? Well, last week was pretty bad. I have no idea how this week will turn out, chronic motor tic disorder-wise. I could spend the rest of my week immobile like I spent a lot of last week. Sometimes, living with disabilities is planning for failure while seeking for uptimes. I call it being cynically optimistic. Most normal folk see it only as planning for failure, but that’s usually because they don’t acknowledge mental health disability in the first place. (See my last blog for thoughts on that subject.)

And since I don’t want to spend my day only writing this blog, let’s begin:

Monday: My daughter’s bike theft has taken up a lot of time today, as has straightening out social security issues, but I remain positive that I will not spend all of my day on Twitter and may actually write something worthwhile. To wit, I’ll post this and get busy.