Today I got a Christmas letter from a good friend of mine. He sends out a Christmas letter every year since I have known him, going on fifteen years now. He is old fashioned and types his letter on a typewriter. For those not familiar with one, it was an old keyboard with ribbons that transfers what you write on a scroll type mechanism. If you watch episodes of M*A*S*H, Radar is always typing on one for his daily reports.
I will not be sending out Christmas cards this year. I thought about it and I certainly have the time to do so, I just don’t have the energy. This is the first holiday season where I am out of work. I thought about sending out a Christmas letter with an update about what I have been doing and that I am no longer working, that I am on disability from work, and that I am a writer or at least working on my writing through a blog and other professional work. I am not getting paid for any of it but they don’t need to know that. Since not being able to work, I have found that my writing is my solace. It is the one place I can be free at and be at least content with it. Don’t get me wrong, I still have my severe bouts of depression, my suicidality that peaks whenever a flare up occurs, and being suicidal in general. Just because writing makes me content doesn’t mean that my illness has been cured. Far from it as my psychiatrist and therapist can attest.
Last night I had one of my flare up that lasted until almost four in the morning. I was not a happy camper. I couldn’t sleep because my foot exploded in pain. I wrote to my psychiatrist at two thirty in the morning, telling her exactly what is going on. The police has not shown up at my door so I am guessing she is ok with what I wrote. I was venting because I needed to and I wanted to let her know what goes through my mind during these awful episodes.
Last night I also emailed a psychologist but for a different reason. I wrote to him thanking him for coming up with his pain scale and the reasons why I use it and how effective I have found it. I have not heard back from him as of yet. Maybe I won’t. Or maybe he is just too busy right now to answer something from someone he doesn’t know. Or maybe he saw the email and thought it was junk and deleted it.
I had a busy night writing last night. My hand was still sore for typing so I used a pen to write down most of my thoughts. My journal entry has at least three pages of writing. Write, write, write. Seems like that is all I did last night. I couldn’t read because I just didn’t have the mindset to do so. I just didn’t have the concentration necessary for it. I was too much in pain and in restless spirits to lay down and read. I really need to catch up on my Hamilton book. This is a 600 page book and I am only in the one hundreds. I have been updating my Goodreads website about my progress which I haven’t done in quite some time. It is an interesting book and keeps my attention. It is just very, very wordy.
midnightdemons7 