Midnight in Paris Intro Scene

my city

Peaks and Valleys

Reading my posts that I wrote over the years and...wow...I go from one extreme to the other.  In some posts I complain about not working and in others...to be continued

Advice from dad

My Dear Daughter I think instead of going directly into employment in such a trying job as nursing you would be better off volunteering to help people in an area in which you are interested.  This would allow you to help when you feel up to it but you wouldn't be tied into a shift.  If you find an area that you would really like to volunteer in this could possibly build you up to the point where you could work part time.  If you really get into it who knows in the long run you might want to work at it fulltime.  Start on the shallow end of the pool before you dive off the high board into deep water.  This whole process might take years but it would be better than not starting at all.  Love Dad

In Search of Self

Since my last therapy session, I was asked "what could Deborah do to take care of herself?"

There was a long silence because no one had ever asked me nor had I ever given any thought to it.  Honestly, it's easier for me to care for others than myself...a trait most nurses often say.

So I sat with that question floating over my head wondering, what could I do to take care of myself.  Then came the suggestion I hate the most---"go back to work"

It was then that I realized Jane had no clue what state I was in and how my brain was complete mush. Sure I could handle day to day life, but to actually apply my nursing skills, prioritize, keep patients, Maya, and Miguel in check is overwhelming not to mention exhausting.

Many believe that Fibromyalgia is not a real medical condition and I hope in time people will be more accepting of this autoimmune disease.  Not only am I exhausted regardless of vitamin supplements, exercise, acupuncture, etc I do not feel like my old self....mentally and physically.

I was then asked "what is you goal in life?"  "what is your dream"

I don't know, it seemed much easier to answer those questions when I was a child because I was so innocent to the world's evil ways.  Personally, I  feel complacent as my husband also said as to his current state of mind.

Is complacency such an awful crime?  I see other people and how ambitious they are, and cannot help but envy their motivation to go 110% at whatever they are doing.  Even the employees behind the Starbucks counters seem happier than I.

First of all, I'm not depressed, I am sad,  This may sound as an exaggeration to those of you who lead a fairly average life, have healthy coping mechanisms,  and have a normal brain, but for those of us who are "a bit off" this is not the case,

At the present time, I have lost much of my vocabulary and my head is all over the place,,,,reason being why I jump from one subject to the next.  I feel if I continue to practice and exercise my brain, the creative juices will flow back and I can once again resume a sense of normalcy.

Tropic of Celso

written by Celso

Things Left Unsaid

Yesterday afternoon, I sat in bed rather frustrated by a therapy session I had just returned from less than an hour ago.  Erin was my therapist prior to Jane and she always made me bring up all sorts of crap that I thought was resolved, which of course was merely buried in my subconscious.  Needless to say, without fail I'd leave Erin's sobbing.

Jane's different, our conversations flow, she's my paid friend who gives me a whole 45 minutes of undivided attention.  To tell you the truth I like it this way because shooting the shit with Jane is easy and I always leave her Beverly Hills office with a laugh instead of crying.

One of my "assignments" when therapy first began was to write a letter to my cousin in law ,Celso, who died on May 9th.  Six weeks later, yesterday, I finally had the motivation to pick up a pen and write him.  All the while I played his music and had his videos from youtube playing on my computer.

When I looked up, several hours had passed and I was amazed that 10 pages later I was done.  I walked to the kitchen and read the letter aloud to the picture of him on our refrigerator.  Desperately I searched for matches and ironically found a pack from The Ivy which is a place Celso would never would have frequented due to it's pretentious customers.  I walked over to the kitchen sink and burnt the letter while praying and waving the smoke out of the window.

This may sound insane but I heard from several spiritualist that if you write a letter to the deceased they will receive it in their new world.  I desperately hoped my letter reached him as the smoke exited the window, and that Celso was reading each word as it was released into the air.

Once the letter was reduced to ashes, as all our bodies will be one day, I gathered as much as I could and threw them.  The rest were were drained in the kitchen sink and I felt a tremendous release.

Since Celso's memorial, which I did not attend due to my depression that I was already trying to muddle through, Miguel had given me 2 bracelets that were blessed with his ashes.  It wasn't until yesterday that I was able to wear one of the bracelets I had taped to the shelf above my writing desk.  However, the other bracelet was missing.  As early as Saturday, I had seen both bracelets taped above my desk and now one of them was gone.  Did it fall?  Who knows.

While the letter was burning, my phone rang an odd number 310-000-0000, stopped, then called twice at two separate times.  Coincidence?  Once again, who knows.

What I do know is that Celso's brilliant strength (his shine) to appear happy despite his desperate depression which eventually contributed to his death will forever remain with me.  As a Bipolar II/ Manic Depressive (whatever you wish to call it), I greatly admire the effort he put forth to deal with his demons and I appreciate his music which allowed him to channel his creativity.  What I find most amazing was the energy he emulated and how he maintained a happy demeanor despite whatever private hell he was experiencing.  Even after he died, he allowed those of us in the room with him to see his infectious smile, something I have never experienced with anyone postmortem.

May he rest in peace and finally released from his unbearable struggles.  May the Lord, our God cradle him and allow him to find eternal happiness.

prozac nation therapy and friendship scence.