My dear friends, I am having problems with my site and connecting with your sites. I can read your posts but can’t make comments. In addition I am interviewing for a part time job tommorow. It is a managemnt of a rental proerties and I might be moving to that location (still in the country).

Any way alot going on in my head( all good ) but I need some time to focus and do one thing at a time. I will continue to read your posts but may not be able to give comments.  I will get the problem with my site corrected at some point in the next few days or a week. Please hang in there with me.  Peace

It is beyond warm and on the uphill side of blistering hot! I have enjoyed writing stories about the creatures in my homeland and the world around me. I know it has been awhile since I have written a story to you my  friends.  One reason is the heat itself. An old image of the south is that folks are slow and backwoods lazy. Lazy we are not but slow we are in the summer because it is such an uncomfortable hot that the only way to feel ok is to sit real still.

But then there is my sister who,when she has nothing better to do, she likes to pull weeds. She sits as still as she can and pulls weeds. It is a time for her to clear her mind and relax.

But then there was yesterday. We have all been very lucky to escape encounters with snakes, that is until yesterday. My sister was weeding in the garden and she felt a sharp pain in her finger. She removed her gardening gloves and noticed it was an odd shape puncture. Then she saw the culprit a small snake that was grey with black and copper marks on it. We rushed her to the hospital(10 miles away) .  She was hospitalized for observation and was fine today. We searched for the variety of snake and found it was a Western Pygmy Rattlesnake. They are not as poisonous as a large Rattlesnake but they did cause her considerable  pain and all of us a creepy feeling about our snake population. There is no such thing as a snake all alone.  We captured this one to let the doctor know what kind it was that had bitten her but that is just one among no telling how many?

We also found that one of the snakes had shed its skin  which means they are more sensitive and more likely to strike. In a spiritual sense snake represents transformation, especially when it is the season of shedding. I can also give statement to the power of snake and its reputation for “freaking” this family and all the friends in town who heard the story and embellished  the it as it went along. The only thing good about a snake bite is the story you can tell and the wide range of reactions inspired by the story.

As I have my morning coffee on the back porch and take in the sounds just after dawn I marvel at the sounds and what an early morning symphony of nature it can be. It is by no means quiet, as birds are chirping and crickets rubbing their legs together. There are the roosters announcing that another day is beginning. But of all of these it is the mocking bird that is most enchanting to me. Before they begin to exchange sounds with me they make a metallic sound, somewhat like “ boingggg! boinnnggg!” and at other times sound like an annoying cell phone. It is my understanding that these are male mockingbirds who are trying to attract a mate with these peculiar sounds. They are also trying to copy other birds and are sometimes annoying with their mocking over and over again.

I may have mentioned before that as part of my manic self I love to make noises and match nature sounds. But the exchange with the mocking bird does not come from one of my polarities. It is one of the more enjoyable and healthy things I do on most mornings. I actually love to do bird calls of all kinds. Mocking bird has a special place for me in all bird sounds. Perhaps it is because I get a response back from the creatures and I feel that I am not alone and have made a connection. I do hope I am not confusing the male mocking birds by mocking back at them. Maybe one of you knows and could let me know? But then maybe I like to keep my own interpretation of my experience with mocking birds. They seem as happy with me as I am with them. And despite their reputation of having a song named for them and even a movie, they fill my world with a simple bonding, each morning, on my back porch.

It is HOT! Do you hear me I said HOT! Standing outside without shade is a mistake if you don’t want a big time sun burn. This is typical of the 4^th of July in Oklahoma. I intend to celebrate today by visiting a friend who has a pool. I love to swim and it sounds like a special day for all of us.

I hope each of you has a happy holiday and will have a safe time around fireworks. I tend to watch them from a distance, I’m a little bit spooked by firecrackers. When I was young I preferred those snakes that you put on the sidewalk. They were not as exciting as firecrackers but they didn’t hurt my ears. I was sensitive to noises, and I still am.

This is just a quick post to let you know I am here. I hope all is well in your life today!

What can be said about the experience of hypomanic and manic behavior, the result of rapid cycling emotions and insights. Judgment is out the window and the swirl of the wind and trees can be toppled and life as I know it can be upside down. I suppose it varies to a great extent, from one person to another, what the behavior is when in this polarity. For those of us with clearly diagnosed episodes of mania, there are enough mistakes and disruptions in behavior to bury us. I choose to keep close the specifics of the damage done to myself ,family and friends. It is a dreaded part of my illness but I choose to forgive myself and express it with some distance so that I might continue with my healing. This poem is dedicated to each of us who has struggled with this part of bipolar.

The Tree Lives in Me

A glorious stand of trees grows to meet the sky. A single tree with leaves brilliant green in the shadows. I have come to realize the tree lives in me!The branches are alive in body,mind and spirit. Heart strings embrace harmony; wisdom,peace and love. In small sways and the tiny twigs, the song is strong.

In the forefront, burnt umber leaves of grief, withering. Yet, I am Cherokee and I live in the tree. We are all related, kindred spirits growing strong.Branches crackling with heavy pain; The breeze echoes the moaning, whaling, and weeping.

Yet, centered high in the treetop we see, Glorious green leaves of transformation. My imperfections and human blunders are carried away with the breeze. Transformation from humiliation to humility and from shame to self-forgiveness. I am the tree of self discovery.

And more so and will be….Blessed be the tree.

Can we heal  from  bipolar illness? This is an illness that takes a toll on the spirit and if healing is not possible then our spiritual self may very well wither and die. With our hope gone, facing another day would be painful and  the death of our physical self close behind. We know that there are far too many who take their own life. But what are the spiritual qualities that make the majority of those with bipolar illness choose to live and even get better?

A lack of hope and a sense of helplessness are key symptoms of depression. These spiritual qualities help determine the extent to which we feel our life is worth living.Feeling wounded is another symptom of depression.

Some would suggest that  life tragedies and hardships cause the kind of wounds that lead to depression. Sometimes depression itself can make us feel wounded.

We have clear examples of how our physical body heals wounds. Is healing from depression and even bipolar similar to the healing of cuts, sores and other wounds?  Is healing of our spiritual wounds possible?  Can we find relief from bipolar illness and even be healed?

It takes significant reflection to answer such questions. I believe we need to  keep asking them. Sharing with each other is part of generating the process of healing. Together we can encourage healing and spiritual growth.

April fools are coming soon and they will certainly want to be greeted by those of us who love to be foolish and playful. You can count me as one who loves to make jokes and will welcome all the fools who need a good laugh. My jokes are dry/corny and only appreciated by the few with a similar sense of humor.
Wait a minute! I can’t afford to be foolish and silly or the sneaky manic part of me will track me down. Too much laughter and jokes, over and over again and trouble will follow close behind. Hold on! That won’t happen; I ‘m taking a butt load of meds to keep me in line. So there is room for some foolishness and extra fun on April Fools Day. Is there anyone reading this that understands or at least can see the humor in this foolishness or am I not that funny and just think I am?

The fact is I‘m focused on being practical and certainly not feeling whimsical let alone foolish. I have fun with my friends and it is enough for now. My plan is to go to the gym and resume exercising. Actually I have to go to the dentist next week and need to see the financial damage of that before I pay for the gym. This is my plan as I usher in April Fools Day and beyond. My goal is to get healthy enough to have back surgery and have a better life physically and mentally. I have also felt better when I work out and look forward to the gym, eating healthy and having more fun.

Have a fun April Fools Day!

In my early fifties I had mounting fears of being a bag lady. This was following a serious episode of depression. I was not sure I could continue working. Then it passed and my stamina and active listening skills returned and I was once again the therapist I wanted to be. I was working with children doing sand play therapy. Miniature figures of people and animals are used to make pictures in a large box of sand. It helps children to express feelings and tell their stories. I enjoyed the healing power of sand play.

 As I went to work each day reality had its own way of sneaking in and taking over. My worries about money were critical when my partner was diagnosed with cancer and we were financially strapped most of the time. My fears of being a bag lady were even more pronounced and heightened by the additional cost of her medical care.

I knew I needed relief from the daily fear of being a bag lady. Some of the folks I worked with were homeless and I heard in detail how they suffered. I wondered if I had the stuff to make it as a homeless person. What choice do you have when you are one paycheck away from being homeless? I talked with friends and could not come up with a game plan let alone quiet my obsessive fears of actually being a bag lady.

Then in one of my dreams I saw my self as a bag lady in the middle of winter on the streets of Minnesota. I noticed that I was carrying two brown paper bags which of course, made me an official bag lady. One bag was full of sand and the other had miniature toys. I saw myself going from one family shelter to another and doing sand play with children. It was a freeing and blessed dream.

The magic of being able to work with children in the shelters helped me to see that I could make it as a homeless person. The power of the dream gave me a shift away from daily anxiety and fear of being homeless. I realized I had the stuff to make it on the streets. The promise was in the two brown bags and children in each family shelter

If you do not know me by now I am Annie. I have not done my profile because I don’t know what I want to say about myself. In one sense I am a peculiar kind of chameleon in basic shades of flesh. Even when in my manic episodes I don’t become colorful I simply change flesh tones faster. I suppose that makes me sound ordinary and in some ways I am Being a chameleon takes on a special meaning when you live “down home”, with ordinary folks. I live in a rural area in the middle of Oklahoma where the red dirt can be seen for miles and I am no where near Madagascar, the home of other chameleons I no longer have a need to change into bright colors but my ability to blend into the woodwork is helpful at times. I can hide from the noise and chatter of more than a few people. When I am afraid of depression creeping in I can change colors and attract someone to engage in conversation.My need to use the chameleon part of me has changed since I live in the country.I have a long history of being a chameleon and it has served me well. I need it less and my ability to be casual and comfortable with people is a welcome gift.I will ponder what to put in my profile. Ponder is a popular word in Oklahoma. To ponder is similar to contemplation but with less intensity.

Some times I hold my mind in such esteem that it seems likely I will have  a quality of life in my senior years. I am 59 years old and have a window of opportunity within the next ten years to amplify my writings so I have a network of support on the internet. I have less than that to shore up my physical self so I can bath myself and pee on my own. I want to take daily walks on a flat surface so I do not fall again and break the next series of bones. Then I might be prepared for my senior years.
I do not aspire to being wealthy. I already know that I will be in a substandard nursing home. It is unfortunate and just plain lousy that people with bipolar can not get nursing home insurance. So I have to create a lovely picture frame of me in a nursing home. This may change the perspective ever so slightly to make it a tolerable existence. I only ask that my sense of smell is gone and I have a laptop with head phones in my semi-private room
I imagine myself in a wheelchair with playing cards clipped to the spokes to make that cool sound like my bicycle did as a child. I would rest from writing and buzz the hallways in my retrofit wheelchair. I can see my droopy face and quivering chin from yeas of antipsychotic medication. In my minds eye I see myself in a backwoods nursing home.  I sit with arthritic fingers and write just one more witty yet sarcastic piece about being a therapist with bipolar disorder.
Perhaps we will all be lucky and they will have come up with a treatment that obliterates bipolar illness. Only to find that we are not so lucky and are left with an ordinary mind. It is then that I will ask for a lobotomy!