Close to Spring

 We are flooding in this small corner of the world, getting 3 inches in an hour, yesterday.

This is downtown Roanoke, VA, as of 7 PM. I went through this intersection about an hour before. I was frantic about my animals, not knowing how flooded my apartment would be.

As it turns out, the water had got into the apartment only a little at the cat's window, which is set into a door. I am grateful.

It is another early morning, after 4 hours asleep. It is about 4 hours until dawn. I am determined to go back to sleep, after some writing. I got so manic last night, I could barely sit still. Thank gods for my nighttime medication, which is also an anti-depressant, (Trazadone.)

I went to an AA meeting at noon yesterday, impromptu. Someone else wanted to go, which is the best motivation there is, for me. The discussion was about breaking our anonymity at the public level. I know that identifying myself as an alcoholic that goes to AA is against the tradition, in a way. AA doesn't want me to identify myself as an alcoholic that goes to AA, and hasn't remained sober for a long time. I had 5 years of continuous sobriety at one point: then the sexual assaults, and my Dad's death brought me to a very low place...and I drank.

Most of AA in this area would think of my relapses as a failure of my program. But Dave, my therapist, has it that my relapses, in fact, are part of my sobriety. That I learn something new about what works and doesn't every time I 'go out'.

My Dad drank and got sober in a similar way to me. He knew about AA most of his adult life, and some of his childhood: his parents were married for the second time to each other, in a bar. He spent most of his life struggling with his disease, and going in and out of the program until he died. He did have 7 years of sobriety when he passed, for which our family was very grateful. He was such a great person, sober. He was kind, funny and interesting; well-read.

So my relapses are part of the journey for me. It's not the way I would be sober, but then, my higher Presence often comes up with plans I don't like, or had not thought of, but remain the best way for me to learn and grow. And I will say, that I do grow. Someday, my sobriety will be just what someone else needs to hang on and 'keep coming back'. Which gives a greater meaning and purpose in my life, to me.

So, don't take the chronicle of my sobriety, as a blueprint for yours. It's just one of the many millions of paths trod by AA's in general. It is as unique to me as my life is.

So what to do now about the mania? There is not much to do, other than be much stricter with my diet, which helps, and cut out those diet sodas, which has a big impact. It's all the caffeine, don't you know? I need to become less busy and get more exercise. Diet and exercise are the first prescriptions that my psychiatrist writes, before he reaches for the 'good' meds, the anti-depressants, and the anti-psychotics...

I don't run around thinking, "I am psychotic." I think of myself as delusional, although I really don't. My therapist tells me I am thinking incorrectly, after I describe my thoughts. I know it's confusing. Let's slow down.

The word "psychosis," and "psychotic" bring to mind some crazoid running around, waving an axe, and snatching candy from babies. When the reality of it is: it's just thinking things that are not true. When I am psychotic, some of my crazy thinking includes: that the CIA is after me, my friends all hate me, I have no friends, I am getting messages from my dead parents, that sort of thing.

Then I start tying the past up into these thoughts, so that I have an unreal world-view. Just for me, what that entails is thinking that aliens, or angels, I haven't figured out which, are controlling events in my life to form a pattern. I am supposed to learn from this pattern.

Now, I realize that some people in the world would not see this as 'incorrect' thinking. Many believe religious figures guide their lives, and some believe aliens are guiding the human race. But, for my society and culture, this kind of thought isn't 'normal'.

This way of thinking also causes me enormous amounts of stress, frustration, fear and anger. So much so, that I have physical reactions to my thoughts. The biggest problem is: I react to other people as if my thoughts were true.

This causes innumerable problems in my life, and yours. How do you feel knowing that I think you are the alien that 'had' me raped? What will I do to stop your nefarious plan? How do you think I will treat you, if I believe that you are working with the CIA to kill me? There are all sorts of problems with thinking 'incorrectly' or delusionally.

So I take my anti-Evil pills morning and night, and maybe you work with the CIA as an alien, and maybe you don't, but I no longer care. In fact, each friend turns into some sort of guardian angel who loves me. That's the power of pharmaceuticals and therapy.

So, to me, my shrink and my therapists love me. I am their favorite patient. I am your favorite friend. I am Alice, everyone's favorite friend. I am good as gold, although I can see my flaws and strengths. This is as close to being 'in balance' as I can get, with the disorders I have. When I drink, we all go back to the beginning: you are an alien...and your dog works for the CIA.

That's it, in a nutshell. I am sure to have got something wrong, but it is how I understand myself and the world around me. Perhaps you can identify with me, or know someone, a loved one perhaps, that has the same disorders as me. Maybe you are just ghoulish and curious, which is a valid point of view, to me. I would be enormously curious about how psychosis works, if I didn't have it.

I have written (this blog) while drunk, psychotic, manic, depressed, and every other way. I hope it bridges the gap between knowledge and experience. I hope I satisfy your curiosity. I hope it explains to my friends, how and why. I hope, if that is the case, that you do not feel so alone in this world.

Meanwhile, most importantly, the cat window is open at this outrageous hour. Minkins, of hand-fed orphan fame, has gone out and come back in. All of the unicorn meat eating cats, and I have no other kind, are awake today, at this hour. I know that they love me, as a source of food, if nothing else. I feel our pets love us. I don't want any pill to take that away, and I will believe it until I die.

It's the quiet time of the morning, and the forest trees wait, and listen, for the rain. Somewhere, in the forest's heart, the Presence glows and calls to me. And, once again, to comfort me, I am in the Old House, and I look down on the field below, through the branches of the winter trees. The wind always blows over the field, except that once in a while, the wind dies and the sun comes out. It lights the golden grass and creates sun patches, that a cat can shelter in. I go outside on the deck, and turn my face to the setting sun, or the dawn, to warm it.

A cat named Fudge, and a dog named Eddie stand on the deck beside me. It is, always, close to Spring.