Avoidance / Evitación

MOOSE HAS CAUGHT on that applying his medications is, for us, a team effort. He heads in another direction only when San Geraldo and I are in the same room. We’ve gotten skilled at the application. He’s gotten skilled at the avoidance. Only 4-1/2 more days of this. Oh, yeah, he’s healing well and obviously feeling fine. When he’s not watching us, he and Dudo are still avid birdwatchers, although not necessarily conservationists.

MOOSE SE HA dado cuenta de que aplicar sus medicamentos es, para nosotros, un esfuerzo de equipo. Se dirige en otra dirección solo cuando San Geraldo y yo estamos en el mismo cuarto. Nos hemos capacitado en la aplicación. Se ha capacitado en la evitación. Sólo 4-1/2 días más de esto. Ah sí, se está curando bien y obviamente se siente bien. Cuando no nos está mirando, él y Dudo siguen siendo ávidos observadores de aves, aunque no necesariamente conservacionistas.

A Trail Of Memories

I had my regular psychiatrist appointment yesterday. It’s not much more than a “med check” to ensure all is well. All is not well with one of my two meds, which I’ve been on for most of the 4-1/2 years we’ve been in Spain. I’ve noticed I’m experiencing some side-effects in recent months. Really very minor, but enough for us to make a change. So, I’m phasing off this one and will probably try something new soon.

(Click any image to make the trails — all bird prints — more clear.)

My visit was a revelation (I’d say Epiphany, but that was Wednesday). I can now easily speak with my psychiatrist, in Spanish, on any subject.

A WALK ON THE BEACH.

During our brief conversation, as I answered a question, it dawned on me that despite all the bumps in the road it turns out my life is the kind of life I fantasized about as a child. My sister Dale had the same kinds of childhood fantasies and, although her life was filled with bumps and only lasted 29 years, I think a lot of her fantasies came true, as well.

We both imagined lives different from most of our friends and family (not better, just different). We both imagined foreign lands, foreign loves. Dale traveled the world, married young, and lived in England with her foreign prince.

I met San Geraldo from South Dakota (even more foreign to a New Yorker than someone from England). We moved often, constantly re-imagining our lives. And now we’ve made a foreign land our home — and no longer foreign. And we’re still constantly re-imagining our lives.

The psychiatrist  asked me if I felt that Dale was traveling with me through life. Without hesitation, I said, “Absolutely.”

I was never a fan of author Louis L’Amour, but I like this:

“No memory is ever alone;
 it’s at the end of a trail of memories,
a dozen trails that each have their own associations.”


Where are you going?

There’s A Hole In The Sky

As most of you know, I live with clinical depression. I do what I can to keep the dark days — and nights — at bay. Medication helps, but needs to be adjusted over time. Without medication, I couldn’t survive. And sometimes I feel like I have to justify that to others.

“Oh, just change your attitude,” they’ll say.

“I just pull myself by my bootstraps and put a smile on my face,” some tell me.

“Just spend more time at the gym.”

Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. Attitude helps. A smile helps. Exercise helps. But they don’t cure clinical depression.

With the help of San Geraldo, I manage to keep the worst bouts from returning, simply by being aware and getting help when I/we see the patterns returning. What returns are the voices in my head. They tell me I’m not good enough (for what, I don’t know). I’m not handsome enough (for my life as a fashion model?), I’m not smart enough, kind enough, rich enough, confident enough, talented enough, humble enough.

On my good days, none of that even matters.

On my bad days, I’m simply not enough.

Lately, I’m not finding myself interesting enough, which explains my recent dearth of blog posts.

But, finally, rather than trying vainly to be enough for you (OK, for myself), I figured it was time to just tell you what’s been going on in my head.

The walks have helped. Usually about 11 km (8 miles) in 2-1/2 to 3 hours, with a day off between. Monday, it’s back to the gym. Really. No excuses.

This is what I saw on the walk home Friday…

And I wanna fly, too…

Dropping a Sock and Working on an Attitude

These last few days have been emotionally challenging — for no apparent reason except that sometimes the world just becomes too much for me. I can be very unkind to myself. This morning, as I was taking in some laundry — five pairs of socks and some underwear — from the clothesline outside the kitchen window, I tried to grab too much in my hands at once and one sock slipped through my fingers down to the courtyard below. The only access to the courtyard is through the apartment on the first floor and I hate to bother them since I know the other two neighbors are constantly losing clothing and clothespins that way (I’ve lost two clothespins). It must get really annoying. So, upon losing the sock, I lost “it” — fiercely gritting my teeth, biting my lower lip hard, and cursing myself out loud for my carelessness and stupidity. I didn’t lose one of Jerry’s socks (as if he would even care). I lost one of my own.

What I’m saying is I had a melt-down this morning. Over a sock. What I lost was an individual, casual, black GoldToe sock. I have perhaps two dozen (well now perhaps 23) casual, black, GoldToe socks remaining. Surely, it’s the end of the world.