Friday, January 31, 2020

Adult Coping Badges

I designed some "adult coping badges" when I moved here. When I was a cub scout, we'd get badges of merit for various accomplishments and the wearing of awards came back to me as I was forced to master new things here in my rural paradise—things like wood chopping, generator starting and hot tub management. Well ... someone has actually done something similar. I love them! Here are some of them:

Somnambulist Genius

Okay, so… it went like this: I owned a home with a terrific view, high on a hill and modeled, I’m sure, on the Harrison’s home high on the hill behind us where I grew up in West Vancouver. And I’d rented it to a couple whom I evicted, with their co-operation, for a short term rental to … wait for it … a Kardashian.
And when it came time for the Kardashian to leave, I left with them—the whole mess of them plus various hangers-on, to a mall in California where we got separated. (I’m always getting lost or separated; I have anxiety issues, remember?) And so off I went looking for them—not to be with them, but to get a ride to wherever I was going.
That’s when the fun began.
It was the most opulent of settings. My imagination, when I am asleep, can surpass anything ever seen in cinema or Cirque du Soleil. I am profoundly proud of how I costumed the many extraordinarily rich patrons of the mall. The costumes I conjured were nothing short of spectacular. Truly: I may be the world’s best couturier (when I’m asleep). If I could remember what I saw and draw them, I’d be working in Hollywood. 
What I’m particularly proud of was everyone was sharing the same palette: Green and gold. And there was even a man, coated in crystals, from toe to turban, entering, of course, a Persian style restaurant. 
There were dowagers, hipsters and, plenty of women of ages in between, but they were universally gorgeous. There was nothing sexy, nothing déclassé and there was no skin, just lots of crystals, fur and diamonds, wide shoulders, impossible millinery and striing cuts of cloth. I’m a somnambulist genius. I desperately want to go back there!
It’s too wet out there this morning for our dog walk. A flurry of emails had us all agree it is just too, too nasty out there to venture forth. Sheba doesn’t even want anything to do with the outdoors this morning. So home, I’m staying! Thank God for Jonathan Franzen and his six hundred page books. I’m just at the beginning of Purity, my second.
Today marks a month since I had any Marijuana and it’s been over a month since I had a social engagement other than one of my dog walks. What a loner, I’ve become!

Thursday, January 30, 2020


Last night was extraordinary. The sky was incredibly clear; the stars seemed closer than they’ve ever seemed before. Summer air contains particulates from forest fire smoke, pollen and dust from the dry earth, so it’s not as startlingly clear as was last night’s sky. 
The sunshine of the day yesterday, plus my many accomplishments as concerns errands and maintenance of Pinecone Park had me in the finest of moods, and so my speech was remarkably good. In fact, I’ve never felt so optimistic about my future mental health as I have of late. For the first time since my breakdown four years ago, I believe that some day I’ll be fluent again.
This CBT is a serious challenge. I have books to read, websites to visit and a journal to keep—in longhand. I’m to parse my emotional responses to the various (innumerable) triggers that cause me to have my “indulgences.” I feel I’ve absorbed the essential principals of self-help; putting them into practice will be the challenge.
I’ve also really chuffed by the return of my ability to concentrate. I wasn’t able to stick to anything these past four years—my creative projects virtually stopped dead, I’d get lost in television shows and reading anything long form, was impossible. But last night I finished my six hundred-page book and I’ve begun another (Purity) and ordered yet another (Freedom) both by Jonathan Franzen.
It’s wonderful to have my love of reading back. 
There’s naught but rain in the forecast for the next eight days, but it’s not been raining yet today and tomorrow is predicted to be 14°!
Last night in my dream I was in a musical theatre restaurant wherein staff were performing and befriending me. I had a great, great time!
I cancelled my appointment with Dr. Shoja and my flights back and forth to Vancouver for late February. Working with the local mental health nurse is so much easier and far less expensive. Plus, I feel it’s working. 

Look at that carpet!

Wednesday, January 29, 2020

Summer's Comin'

Eu-phor-i-a! At 1:30 this afternoon it was 13° and brilliantly sunny. I feel reborn and ful of hope and joy. Plus, I got my car tuned up ahead of the local mechanic closing up shop next month. I haven’t felt so good in ages and my joy is evident in my speech.
While the car was being serviced, I went for a walk to Twin Beaches. I spoke fluently with everyone I met; we were all gleeful about the weather and hopeful that Winter is behind us.
But this morning was wet! We had torrential rains last night. 
Last night I went to the cutest seaside French village that had one fairly large restaurant with lots of indoor seating and a huge patio. (In a dream, of course.) Lots of people were seated on a nearby terrace awaiting a place at a table, so I wandered into the countryside and befriended a young woman with whom I met a beautiful peahen, stunning butterflies and other insects and glorious flowers. 
It was brutal to awaken from that beautiful village, full of quaint little homes and stores, to the sound of rain pounding on my roof. This morning’s dog walk was torture. But now, I’m off to the park with Her Highness for more vitamin D and after that, a lovely long soak is my plan before finishing all six hundred pages of The Corrections.