One of the unicorn meat eating cats came in to grab some trail mix, (Cat Chow), and distracted me right at the beginning today. But it's a good way to start the day, along with my time with you. I cut back old zinnia so new could grow, and harvested the lavender. We finally got some cucumbers from the vine, and the late season tomatoes are larger and more robust than the earlier.
It's only 2 more days until my therapy session and I think I have decided to live. A month with only two sessions reminds me a bit too much of Laura Ingalls Wilder's, The Hard Winter, where the whole family starves through a brutal South Dakota winter.
Today is a day that I like to call Listening to Ghosts. It's a meditative mood, where I withdraw into myself for a length of time. My therapist will want me to break it down into differing chords for him. And like an intricately interwoven set of music, it is my job to try to separate the individual melodies that make up the whole, so that he can help me direct each instrument.
I have tried to avoid it, it can be very confusing. It's like walking into a room where all the instruments are warming up. There seems to be nothing but Chaos. In reality, each instrument is playing it's favorite song. The PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) is playing one tune, and the Bipolar disorder even another. And then there is the unnamed disorder I won't tell you the name of, sharpening it's skills. The sound is overwhelming, so I retreat into a world of fantasy, where I control everything. In order to do that, however, I have to cut down on sensory input. No t.v., no music, no conversation, no attention to the outside world. All of these become physically painful.
The only way to fight it, is to stay in the room and brave the sound. Sometimes I can do that, and sometimes not. Alcohol made it easier to withdraw, but brought along a brass section.
And so, here I sit this morning, limiting my attention to this page, and the fantasy world calls in the distance, like a trumpet playing Taps.