It’s really not fair. Most people don’t need to juggle chems to make their brains work right. They just do. I’ve had to struggle all my life, pushing will-power past reality, trying just under ten different anti-depressants in thirteen years, trying to find the right ‘cocktail’ that would make it all better.
Now that I’m done with Paxil–yes, done with it–I’m still mixing amino acids to try to keep it all nice and even-keeled:
- Tyrosine upon arising, mid-morning, lunchtime, three PM
- GABA, the same schedule
- DLPA, the same schedule
- 5-HTP at 5 PM and 10 PM
I thought I was through with tyrosine, but I pushed myself too hard yesterday walking–it was only two and a half miles but it was downhill one way and uphill the other, at least a thirty degree grade. Yikes! So today I was a whupped puppy and couldn’t figure out I needed tyrosine until about 2 PM.
I’ve consistently screwed up on my 5-HTP and taken it too late, guess who slept really badly for the third night in a row?
It’s just not fair.
I was really bummed out about some stuff in my life-not in my head, but really happening-and was grateful to talk it over with a spiritual sister who I call my Mom. It’s funny because she’s black and I’m not, but she is really my Mom right now. She made me feel better just by being there and letting me talk and telling me I was not alone. She’s gone through the same stuff and she’s still serving God and I need to just keep doing what I should be doing, no point in worrying about things I can’t control. I know these things myself but it makes a difference to have someone else tell you.
Anyway, this is all somehow related to blogging.
Years ago I followed a blogroll link to a ‘homesteading’ blog that wasn’t really at all. This woman had the dream of doing it but she was blogging about the mess of her life and how she couldn’t wait until she and her husband sold their house-in which she lived on one floor and he lived on the other-so that she could build a house on the land she wanted and homestead by herself. Now, she has chronic health problems and a bad marriage and she blogged brutally honestly about it all. I was horrified and thought, “Wow, I never want to be that way.”
Oops, too late for that, I guess.
Then there’s the retro paleo girl who absolutely wigged out just recently and is trying to travel herself back by leaving her husband and kids and soaking in hot tubs and visiting people who live in yurts and what not. She thinks this is the best way to find herself again. By losing everything she’s created over the past ten(?) years: family, children… “See, that’s what happens when you dress in costumes,” I said, “you don’t know who you are anyway and all life is just acting a role because there isn’t really any You inside anyway.”
Now how would I know that? Hunh….
Good Enough Farm lives in my head. It’s a costume. It’s a role I act. Chickens, a garden, rabbits sometimes, goats sometimes; They’re no better than a blue beret with a white pom-pom and a circa 1930’s sailor suit. It’s just props. It’s something that makes me feel like I fit somewhere.
It’s a way of hiding from Life instead of living it.
It’s why I always said, half-kidding and half-not, that I wanted to be a goat lady living on top of a mountain by myself: If you can’t get along with anybody, if everybody drives you crazy, well, the best place to be is by yourself, and a house surrounded by goats tends to keep the neighbors away.
I’m tired of hiding and not playing well with others. Is that why I like to hide and read books? Just thought of that.
But it’s time for me to grow up and stop playing with sailor dolls and lincoln logs and plastic pigs. I really need to pack Good Enough Farm in tissue paper and stop hiding. I need to deal with my life and stop blogging about dealing with my life.
I always said that I would say ‘goodbye’ if I stopped blogging instead of leaving people hanging, wondering what happened. So this is my goodbye.
Thanks to those who stuck by me, who cared about me even though they only knew the me I wanted to show.
Good Enough Farm is signing out.