For most of my life it has been an effortless delight to tune into my funny bone. While I am not ticklish my funny bone has easily reverberated and laughter has flowed like an old friend. Even when depression resided in my gut, humor was the cloak that kept others from being sucked in by my darkness.

I could never remember jokes unless you count some corny jokes that were based on word play from Jr. High. When I was captured by the rhythm of repetitive word play I would get caught up in the way it sounded in my mind then I would tell more and more. Ok I will share one of the “jokes” just for the purpose of making my point. I promise I will only tell one! The joke would go, “So have you heard of the new book in the library?” “It is the author’s first published work, Rusty Bedsprings by I.P. Nightly.” Can you believe I actually told these jokes in professional meetings? But I never told just one, they came in a series of three.

I love to make repetitive noises and sounds. I channel my desire to make noises by doing bird calls. The Mockingbird is my favorite because there is an exchange of sounds. The sounds I made would wake up my funny bone and I would smile and at other times laugh out loud. Yes, I recognize that noise making can be a “symptom” of manic energy. It is sad how quickly some folks are to judge and label. I was silenced by friends and family members by them asking that I stop making the irritating noises. Little did they know that I simply turned my noises inward and made the purposeful sounds in the back of my mind? I also made quiet whistling sounds that were typically remnants of tunes.

Despite the fact that my funny bone struggles to be present on a daily basis I celebrate that I am on the path to mending it. I recognize that it takes more than simply telling jokes to know that my funny bone is awake. I do work each day to experience things that bring a smile or a laugh. It also means letting go of the pain of past losses and the shame of mistakes that I made in the past. While I have not completely let go of the past I am embracing the precious moments of laughter that come my way each day.

After a warm and at times smoldering Oklahoma Summer I  have had far more times of being well than being ill. I have spent time “embracing” the illness that has robbed me of my Funny bone. “Embracing” has been a way that I explored  the intricacies of mental illness and helped me be a more caring therapist.

My Grandmother would challenge the act of embracing the illness and say, ” all you need is a come to Jesus moment!” Meaning, “don’t feel sorry for yourself and just get on with your life the way it is”.  While I never challenged my Grandmother as a little girl, I did have at times this summer that I had a talk with myself about the  balance of how I am spending my time.

As the dog days of summer come to end I have put into place an active and structured routine. I have begun to recognize how to step lightly around my depression so as to not awaken the dark eyed image of my somber self. Setting aside this time has made it possible for me to stand full force in the blast furnace winds of summer and face the issues of grief that has crippled my Funny bone. I have decided to write about some of the mending that I have done to heal my broken Funny bone to its former glory.

One of the things I have liked about me is my laughter and corny sense of humor. My Funny bone was passed down and planted in my soul by my Aunt Lulla Belle.  Laughter was one of the more satisfying times I spent with my deceased partner. She made me laugh even during the painful times as the cancer was consuming her health.

To my friends, welcome back to a more honest and straightforward sharing of my healing process!

Peace, Annie

I have found that it is more and more difficult to write on my blog. I agree with many of you who say it is often discourageing to write about bipolar. Even though I am writing about nature I still view it through my illness and wellness.   I am doing other writing that does not relate to bipolar and it is gratifying.

So I will say goodbye for now and perhaps I will start another blog. I will post my decison after consdierable thought. Bless each you !

Annie

This is  the second day of “popping”! Of course, it’s spring the colors are glorious fresh new buds of green and the red bud tree. So far it dosn’t cover the tree but laces it with patterns changing by the minute. Two male cardianls in the trees down by the creek. It makes my heart sing, my eyes twinkle and my mouth smile. Simple? A year ago or two the brightness of the neon green burned my eyes,shades were drawn and my spirit was asleep.

Is it a miracle? I think not. Is wellness and rebirth of spring possible for the ordinary? I pray yes!

The breeze through my open window with the sweet smells of spring filling my mind with wonder – My windows are full of the images of the tree tops that defy gravity and reach toward the sky. Some plants crawl along the ground, content to bear fruit while stretching outward on the earth. Some bushes and shrubs reach skyward but do not hold the myriad of questions that trees inspire.

We remain with our feet firmly planted and in most situations are incapable of reaching the height of the oak, maple or evergreens. What are the lessons to be learned from our relative, grandfather the tree? Could it be that the miracle of the trees is for us to ask our questions individually  and retrieve the answers on our own. In our own way with our ear close to grandfather tree surely wisdom will come

The tiny green buds popping on the branches are pulling the new growth of the tree skyward. The swaying back and forth and first the gentle breeze and then the forceful winds of an impending storm These are the lessons taught by the tree saying- change with the changes.

There is new growth on a brittle old grand father branch falling to earth as it returns to the earth to complete the pattern of change and growth. Lessons are there for us to learn. We listen and the wisdom comes our way. If we just question the tree and learn the nature of – defiance of gravity.

As I ponder what I want to write I realize that my expereince with nature has been amplified by looking for my stories. Since many of my stories have a theme from nature I find I am a participant in all that there is instead of simply observing it. This process takes me away from myself and my illness and encouarges me to reach out. Nature is safe and at times safer than people.

Perhaps this is one of the healing quallities of writing.  Even if I were to merely describe a cricket or think about the purpose of a crow; I am taken away from the days of endless pain. Searching for the words can be an adventure in itself. Since I have reading and spelling problems I turn to the dictionary for help. It is  simplistic for me and helps me stay grounded with my writing. It also helps me explore expressions and at times the process is delightful. My head turns to the left when I write. Ijust realized that it also turns to the left when I am participating in nature.

What if I were to write about people? Would I become more of a participant? Would it be healing? I have not been a people person or a people watcher. But since leaving work I have extra space in my mind and  in my mind’s eye. I look at people from a different perspective. I am still bored with chit chat but better understand it’s soical function.

I encourage you to write and search for the simple things in life.

Some of them are Crows and some are Ravens. But they share the same waddle and crossed-eyed stare. The glare off of  the sleet and the snow hides the difference while a contrast of black and white is like a razor’s edge. It leaves no room for gray as it simplifies life and makes nature-gazing crisp and clean.

I sway my head side to side as I track the Crows bobbling walk. I identify with the wadle and wonder why Crow walks with such a motion. There is a tune inspired by the bobbling and I find that I hum it throughout the day.

While they are known in part as a nusance, I ponder the habits of the Crow and find that they make their nest high in the trees. They work to have the highest vantage point to search for the sustenance they desire.  They stay just beyond the bird feeders on the front porch and are content to be fed cracked corn at  the edge of the yard.

There are finer looking birds but giving crow their due they lull me into a daydream with a side to side swaying of my head as I watch the special bobble of friend Crow.

Eventually I close my eyes and imagine that I can see from high up in the tree tops. I find that I long for cracked corn and for a while become my friend Crow. It is a momentary lullaby of my spirit, a tune of peace and more so … a blessed melody of healing and well being.

Hello again to my friends that have been with me for a year or so. I also welcome those of you who are just finding my blog. In my previous post I mentioned that I wanted to make some changes in my blog. I think I have a direction that will satisfy my efforts to do storytelling and journaling. As part of this effort I want to share mine and hope you will share yours. I feel this may be a helpful way to progress down the road of wellness and find healing. I will be writing from the perspective of an ordinary person and not as a therapist. If I write as a therapist I will let you know. I have already found stories that come from my childhood and have helped me understand about the role that bipolar has played in my life. I also found humorous childhood experiences that make me giggle and lighten my day. Both kinds of stories have been simple, childlike and helpful. Please feel free to join me and share your stories. Peace, Annie

I hope that each of you had a Happy New Years day and look forward to a peaceful new year. I certainly look back on the healing and wellness that was mine in 2008. Your support and words of support were important in this result.

I have decided to make some changes in my blog and wanted to share them with you. While it has been healing to write about bipolar it is time to break out to other topics. Primarily I want to submit my writing for possible comments rather than for my blog to be a personal exchange.

I have found that my writing takes a front seat to other activities that fill my day. I have never had the opportunity to write and I want to get feedback from others. The fact that I had problems in reading as a child means I do not have a clear sense of where to go with my writing. If this is not of interest to you I will understand if you stop reading my posts.

Peace to you all! Annie

Living alone and trying to make a go of it was too much. Petey and I are back in the hill country. I look forward to celebrating family gatherings and wishing to see other extended loved ones. Living with my sister is again the best place for me to be. Being among the simple folks warms the heart and lets loose of daily worries.

It was more of a struggle than I thought to find a job. It is important that I accept the limitations and strengths that are mine. Today I am sixty. The most complicated decision for today is whether I want icing on my brownies. What do you think?

I am pondering subtle changes that I want to make to my blog. Any suggestions?