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Oh, and today -- my period started, at the 25 day mark. Suprisingly few emotional or physical precursors this time.
On Saturday evening I went to the Full Moon ritual at Shannah-Lee's house, which she ran very well for someone taking on their first group rite. In spite of the waves of depression that came and went like emotional contractions, I was glad I'd decided to get out and attend.
After the ritual and the supper, I called together the other three "core members" of the Full Moon group, plus Anwynn, who is well on her way to becoming a core member and who happened to be sitting at the same table. As anyone who's been following this LJ knows, I've been in a particularly black place these last couple of weeks, and I'd decided to risk looking like a "drama queen" and let the core members know that yes, I might end up in hospital or dead, and I hoped that if that happened, they'd see to it that the Full Moon group carried on.
The reaction was not quite what I'd expected.
Tears. Hugs. Hands held and back rubbed. Assurances that I was loved and important, that I had done so much and taught so much, and they just weren't going to let me go. I actually wept, which is something I never do in public. I'd expected an uncomfortable silence and to lose some of the closeness I'd found with this group of women. Instead, they gave me emotional and spiritual nourishment. As they talked and held me, the ache of suicidality started to ease, replaced by a sense of validation -- and yes, of hope, something I'd given up expecting to feel. They promised to call me, to go out with me, to make sure that I didn't feel alone, and told me to call them anytime I needed support, day or night.
I don't know what I did to deserve such good friends, or so much love, but I'm so very grateful to have it. Giving up "the secret" of suicidality and weakness was worth it. That night I slept better than I have in a very long time.
Sunday afternoon -- out with Terri for lunch, then a visit to the Corydon Avenue World Cup Street Festival, which turned out to be a bust: aside from crowds of wildly cheering soccer fans waving Italian flags, there wasn't much to be seen for a couple of ladies who'd hoped to browse a few market stalls (there were, in total, three, two of which sold hot dogs). We consoled ourselves with a trip out to Sage Garden, an herb and flower place out near the city limits. (On the way we stopped at a roadside fruit and vegetable stand, where we loaded up on fresh peaches, nectarines, raspberries, and green peas still in the pod. More on these later.)
I'd never been to Sage Garden itself, though I'd seen their wares at a vendor's booth at the last Earth Spirit Festival, and I was amazed and impressed at how neat, clean, and packed with healthy plants and beautiful merchandise their facility was. Terri picked up a few bedding plants, and before we left we grabbed a couple of peaches from their bag in the trunk and munched on them while we went for a walk in the lovely little gardens on the property (stocked, of course, with samples of their plants). As we were about to start up a gravel path, we suddenly noticed that a steady stream of ants about a foot wide was coming and going over the stones; a closer look revealed that they were carrying eggs and pupae. Upon further investigation, we realized that an entire colony was moving house over a distance of about 25 feet, out from under one rock, across a gravel path, over a wide swath of earth, across another path, then under a different rock. It was fascination to watch them come and go, so organized and busy and full of purpose. I felt simple delight in observing them, a childlike pleasure that was like a breath of fresh air after so many days of black introspection.
The owner of Sage Gardens (a handsome young fellow with a shock of black hair and a ready smile) came past us on his way to put the "Closed" sign up on the road, and was amused when we pointed out the vigorous insect activity in his garden. In return, he showed us another example of animal presence in his gardens: hidden inside a curled leaf of a tall plant near the entrance to the main building, a little grey tree frog (bright green at this point to blend into the foliage) was cuddled down, just waiting for darkness to arrive to break out into song. He told us that at dusk, the whole area was filled with the songs of hundreds of these small creatures. I can only imagine how beautiful it must sound.
Was also able to exercise for a whole 20 minutes. This is a great improvement over the 15 minutes I'd been able to manage the last few weeks, when I was able to exercise at all.
Yesterday was my check-in with Dr. Simm, my psychiatrist. He signed me off work at Ipsos-Reid until September 15th, giving us time to see if my increased exercise will stabilize my mood in the long term. When informed that I intended to make him a candy dish for his office (he always has candy, but usually in the plastic containers it originally comes in), he was quite pleased, and thanked me for my kindness; I smiled and told him I'll be making pottery for the next few weeks and have to have some place for it to go. What color would he like? Blue and green, as it turns out. So on Wednesday I have my marching orders: throw a large candy dish on the potter's wheel.
And I feel actual anticipation. Something fundamental has changed. Part of it, certainly, is the assurance and support of the Full Moon core group -- I can't believe how much sustenance it has given me, how much it has refreshed my will not only to live, but to do. Perhaps part of it is that I've been able to increase the amount of exercise I'm doing. In any case... I don't feel like dying anymore, except in short bursts.
I'd cry with relief and gratitude, if crying were my style.
Instead, yesterday afternoon I exercised for 25 minutes, did some Yahoo chat, made a dinner of basa fillets and shelled fresh peas, and got some actual flatting work done for Chris. (Shelling peas, when you're not used to doing it, can be explosive. A stubborn pod will give way suddenly, and boom! Peas all over the kitchen.)
Whatever Powers may be, thank you. To all my friends who have posted here with support and affection and words of comfort, *hugs* and so many things that even I, who am so very verbose, can't put into words. I'm enjoying this feeling of health, and placing no expectation upon it. I'm just going to enjoy it while it lasts.
On Saturday evening I went to the Full Moon ritual at Shannah-Lee's house, which she ran very well for someone taking on their first group rite. In spite of the waves of depression that came and went like emotional contractions, I was glad I'd decided to get out and attend.
After the ritual and the supper, I called together the other three "core members" of the Full Moon group, plus Anwynn, who is well on her way to becoming a core member and who happened to be sitting at the same table. As anyone who's been following this LJ knows, I've been in a particularly black place these last couple of weeks, and I'd decided to risk looking like a "drama queen" and let the core members know that yes, I might end up in hospital or dead, and I hoped that if that happened, they'd see to it that the Full Moon group carried on.
The reaction was not quite what I'd expected.
Tears. Hugs. Hands held and back rubbed. Assurances that I was loved and important, that I had done so much and taught so much, and they just weren't going to let me go. I actually wept, which is something I never do in public. I'd expected an uncomfortable silence and to lose some of the closeness I'd found with this group of women. Instead, they gave me emotional and spiritual nourishment. As they talked and held me, the ache of suicidality started to ease, replaced by a sense of validation -- and yes, of hope, something I'd given up expecting to feel. They promised to call me, to go out with me, to make sure that I didn't feel alone, and told me to call them anytime I needed support, day or night.
I don't know what I did to deserve such good friends, or so much love, but I'm so very grateful to have it. Giving up "the secret" of suicidality and weakness was worth it. That night I slept better than I have in a very long time.
Sunday afternoon -- out with Terri for lunch, then a visit to the Corydon Avenue World Cup Street Festival, which turned out to be a bust: aside from crowds of wildly cheering soccer fans waving Italian flags, there wasn't much to be seen for a couple of ladies who'd hoped to browse a few market stalls (there were, in total, three, two of which sold hot dogs). We consoled ourselves with a trip out to Sage Garden, an herb and flower place out near the city limits. (On the way we stopped at a roadside fruit and vegetable stand, where we loaded up on fresh peaches, nectarines, raspberries, and green peas still in the pod. More on these later.)
I'd never been to Sage Garden itself, though I'd seen their wares at a vendor's booth at the last Earth Spirit Festival, and I was amazed and impressed at how neat, clean, and packed with healthy plants and beautiful merchandise their facility was. Terri picked up a few bedding plants, and before we left we grabbed a couple of peaches from their bag in the trunk and munched on them while we went for a walk in the lovely little gardens on the property (stocked, of course, with samples of their plants). As we were about to start up a gravel path, we suddenly noticed that a steady stream of ants about a foot wide was coming and going over the stones; a closer look revealed that they were carrying eggs and pupae. Upon further investigation, we realized that an entire colony was moving house over a distance of about 25 feet, out from under one rock, across a gravel path, over a wide swath of earth, across another path, then under a different rock. It was fascination to watch them come and go, so organized and busy and full of purpose. I felt simple delight in observing them, a childlike pleasure that was like a breath of fresh air after so many days of black introspection.
The owner of Sage Gardens (a handsome young fellow with a shock of black hair and a ready smile) came past us on his way to put the "Closed" sign up on the road, and was amused when we pointed out the vigorous insect activity in his garden. In return, he showed us another example of animal presence in his gardens: hidden inside a curled leaf of a tall plant near the entrance to the main building, a little grey tree frog (bright green at this point to blend into the foliage) was cuddled down, just waiting for darkness to arrive to break out into song. He told us that at dusk, the whole area was filled with the songs of hundreds of these small creatures. I can only imagine how beautiful it must sound.
Was also able to exercise for a whole 20 minutes. This is a great improvement over the 15 minutes I'd been able to manage the last few weeks, when I was able to exercise at all.
Yesterday was my check-in with Dr. Simm, my psychiatrist. He signed me off work at Ipsos-Reid until September 15th, giving us time to see if my increased exercise will stabilize my mood in the long term. When informed that I intended to make him a candy dish for his office (he always has candy, but usually in the plastic containers it originally comes in), he was quite pleased, and thanked me for my kindness; I smiled and told him I'll be making pottery for the next few weeks and have to have some place for it to go. What color would he like? Blue and green, as it turns out. So on Wednesday I have my marching orders: throw a large candy dish on the potter's wheel.
And I feel actual anticipation. Something fundamental has changed. Part of it, certainly, is the assurance and support of the Full Moon core group -- I can't believe how much sustenance it has given me, how much it has refreshed my will not only to live, but to do. Perhaps part of it is that I've been able to increase the amount of exercise I'm doing. In any case... I don't feel like dying anymore, except in short bursts.
I'd cry with relief and gratitude, if crying were my style.
Instead, yesterday afternoon I exercised for 25 minutes, did some Yahoo chat, made a dinner of basa fillets and shelled fresh peas, and got some actual flatting work done for Chris. (Shelling peas, when you're not used to doing it, can be explosive. A stubborn pod will give way suddenly, and boom! Peas all over the kitchen.)
Whatever Powers may be, thank you. To all my friends who have posted here with support and affection and words of comfort, *hugs* and so many things that even I, who am so very verbose, can't put into words. I'm enjoying this feeling of health, and placing no expectation upon it. I'm just going to enjoy it while it lasts.
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I'm so, so glad your friends were there for you. I wish I could have been there to give you a real hug, too. You'll just have to imagine it, okay? Because you are totally getting a hug from me. :)