Self Awareness

I strive to be aware of myself. Not overly kind or judgmental, just aware of what habits I fall into, what traps, what triggers and how I react to things and people.

My Father was the enthusiastic one. My Mom was/is always sick and unmotivated. The first to say no, or stay at home.

Depressed, in a word. I've gotten some of that from her. Tonight was a VERY typical night for us. I urged her to get out of the house & see fireworks. I drove her to Lexington a few nights ago, she stayed in the car. Last night, I went alone. Tonight , we went back and forth about where to go, what to do. And she talked about Tony. And how her first AC didn't work because the walls were so hot in her first ATTIC apartment.

Complaining and telling old stories. I stay quiet. She even talked about the huge waste of money that fireworks are and how she wants to be far away from the people.

I have nothing to say. And I am the only person to listen to her.

She can be happy, Joe made her laugh a lot. Which I can appreciate now. Humor, simple, unsophisticated and repetitive, but excellent for the heart. I can't seem to wipe this frown off my face.

Depression is awful. And manifests itself in a refusal to enjoy life, and in not holding out hope for the people you love. We are in the middle of a heat wave, so everyone's grumpy.

Most times, I have a better time by myself than being with someone.

We all need to be kind to each other & not take each other for granted.

Unresolved Issues

Dear L,

I sent you a letter last year, after August. When we had decided to keep being friends.

I asked about what you knew about your diagnosis, about yourself.  If you were violent, what I should expect.  All sorts of things.

You never answered me.

When I try to press you about hanging out in person (vs endless emails) you seem to get angry.  Yet you ask for my continued patience.  (Believe me, I am patient)

You seem to hang out with other people, at least that's what you tell me.  I get mad that you don't hang out with me (because that's what I think of as a friendship).  There have been LOTS of emails and frankly, the make me crazy.  I'm a girl and think talking is of primary importance.  Plus, it makes me check my emails every few minutes, because if I get you in a communicative mood, then you'll send a bunch of emails back.

I keep wanting to write to you, but it seems like I'd be begging for something I don't even like.

You texted me when I was in Boston.  In December.  You were thinking about your own death.  Again, you wouldn't let me talk to you.  You were NOT alone, and I'm pretty sure you had some alcohol.

I think I'm someone you talk to when you are Manic.

I think you are waiting for a time in your life when you can talk to people in a mania, or a subdued mania. I think you are waiting to get back on track somehow.  My persistence has been based on an idea that brief interactions can help you get back on track somehow.  But now I see that it's impossible.  And I'll wait through the summer.  (We didn't talk last summer, after a fight)  I'll wait forever.  But I don't know what I'm waiting for.  I don't know who you are.  I've been waiting to get to know you.  Maybe this is you.  Maybe if I didn't need anything from you ever, it would be easier (but what is the point of a polite friendship like that? We were honest with each other)

Everytime I think about you, I end up in this spiral.  How I should be nice to you, how I get a tremendous sense of PEACE when I think about you.  How this all seems unfinished.  And then I think about how you don't let me in, how you were open once and now you are closed and cold.  And how you said how you don't like being cold.

I need to stay away from you. There's nothing we can give each other from this friendship.  (Other than neighborly friendship and treasures of being humans on this earth.  Laughter, conversation, exchange of smiles, etc.)

Little Green Cars and "Devil in the White City"  (You are charming, but you said you have a "Dark Soul".  There's a reason girls get attracted to danger)

Superman and The Mom

11:15am, Monday in June, getting up to 95 degrees

"Really good to see you again!"
"Yeah, you too!"

One neighbor to another, former, neighbor.  As they pass each other on the street.  They are both heading to their cars.  She will drive back to a new place in NJ, a long commute after 2 apartments so close by.  Homes that don't exist for The Mom anymore.

If he is feeling good, he may drive to the grocery store.  And be back in time for alternate side parking to end so he can get his favorite spot in front of the entrance to the courtyard.  He is tall.  He is a Blond Superman.  He doesn't leave his apartment when he is sad.

Almost a year ago, he had started confiding in a Girl.  He told her about his diagnosis.  Mixed Bipolar.  The worst.  He was diagnosed 25 years ago, after a bad episode.

Within a few weeks, he would have the worst episode he had had in 25 years.

During that Sunday day of 350 emails, the world was shifting for the woman with the car.  She had never been so depressed.  She tried to pick up some meds, but the place was closed.  A mixture of self medication (beer & pot) and pills (Prozac or something like it).  The kind that can trigger a worse episode if you don't have the proper diagnosis.

The Mom was so sad and alone.  Except for the Little Boy.  And the Cat.

Instead of buying pills, she bought antifreeze.  That midnight, she sent a text to her ex-husband.  "By the time you get this, all three of us will be gone"

The ex-husband didn't get it til Tuesday morning, when he was driving back from a hiking trip.  By then, the crisis of the moment had been averted.  The Girl who was on the other end of the 350 emails had called the suicide hotline for her friend.  She was just "The Roommate", but had gotten custody for a few hours of the Little Boy.

The Girl heard this exchange between neighbors, knowing that sometimes it is easier to just say hi than to have a real conversation.  They are people connected through the Girl, she knows both of them very well.  Or rather, she USED to know them.  Used to recognize similar symptoms.  Saw the same sadness between them.

And they walk the street easily, saying hi.

The Girl hears this conversation from her window.  And her heart races to see these people.  Wanting them to be happy.  In friendship, wanting the friendship to extend to her as well.  Unaware of how to be friends with them anymore.  Superman and The Mom don't want to be connected through the GIrl anymore.  They have moved on from that weekend in August, that end of the summer.

Here it is, June, and they have moved on, however.

The Girl is still grieving for the loss of the friendships.

Fictional Character Day & Dance Steps

The last picture is me (after painting the whole gallery in Community Board 12!) holding up the Paper Airplane you made.

The first picture is you dressed up as Jack from the Magic Treehouse, from a book about the 1903 earthquake. "Earthquake in the Morning"?

The other is a drawing you did to explain a show at school. I told your father I wanted to go, but he didn't call. (I didn't push it)

My Room, You Cutting Out A Dragon

The National-Trouble Will Find Me

Kid,
When we were in my room tonight, cutting out paper dragons, we were listening to the radio.  WFUV.  They are doing a series about Mentally Ill people, "Striking a Chord" against misunderstanding.

I tried to ask if you had heard about it yet.  You said "Yes, I have a friend with that. He has diabetes".

I couldn't explain it further.  It's still hard for me to explain anything beyond "people get a cold in their brain".  Maybe I will tell you about our neighbor.  How people get moody.  And mad and sad and angry and lonely.

And how we still need to love them.  Because it is sometimes impossible for people to stop loving people.  Like when it's your mom.  Or your neighbor.


Lyrics, from their album "Trouble Will Find Me"

"This Is The Last Time"

Oh, when I lift you up
You feel like a hundred times yourself
I wish everybody knew
What's so great about you

Oh, but your love is such a swamp
You don't think before you jump
And I said I wouldn't get sucked in
I...

This is the last time

Oh, don't tell anyone I'm here
I've got time and no one near
I was thinking that you'd call somebody
Closer to you

Oh, but your love is such a swamp
You're the only thing I want
And I said I wouldn't cry about it
I...

This is the last time
This is the last time

We were so under the brine
We were so vacant and kind
We were so under the brine
We were so vacant

We were so under the brine
We were so out of our minds
We were so under the brine
We were so vacant

Oh, when I lift you up
You feel like a hundred times yourself
I wish everybody knew
What's so great about you

Oh, but your love is such a swamp
You don't think before you jump
And I said I wouldn't get sucked in
I...

I won't be vacant anymore
I won't be waitin' anymore
I won't be vacant anymore
I won't be waitin' anymore
I won't be vacant anymore
I won't be waitin' anymore
I won't be vacant anymore
I won't be waitin' anymore

Jenny, I am in trouble
Can't get these thoughts out of me
Jenny, I'm seeing double
I know this changes everything

Jenny, I am in trouble
Can't get these thoughts out of me
Jenny, I'm seeing double
I know this changes everything

Catch up Kid Art from last week!!

Sea Monster and Dinosaur along a road

I did most of this one, but you drew the golden hot dog with silver mustard.  There is an ant whose word cloud says: "Do the Harlem Shake!"

Drum kit from last week, after your father had tried to give you a lesson.

A maze.  Amazing.

Robot Square Drawing