Step 1: Make it.

Today I finally worked up the nerve, after thinking about working up the nerve for over a year, to ask my psychiatrist about what "family planning" may entail in my particular case.  I asked her if she had guided bipolar patients through pregnancy before; she has, which is a relief.  I don't need to change psychiatrists to be able to see myself through.

She also assured me that the type of medication I'm on won't require me to be unmedicated prior to conception.  Once I know I'm pregnant, we can proceed to taper off at that point.  It won't interfere with development, and the medications I'm on aren't ones of serious worry.  This leaves only perhaps high-risk OBGYN visits.

But really nothing about my oversight will be changing.  Just adding visits in addition to a doctor I already trust.  She frankly said just call me once you know.  I'll know second.  Well, third.  Your husband will be second.

Not having an indefinite period of being unmedicated is quite a weight off my shoulders.  There's a small window of fetal development that I can't interfere in, and then it sounds like I can go back on things once the fetus is functioning well.  I can hold out through it or go back on.

So this leaves only postpartum issues as the main worry.  I get to the other side, and worry about remaining stable then.

I can do this.  It seems more manageable.  I could always do it.  I'm stronger now . . . everyone says so . . . I'm 9.5 years past that place . . . can I maintain that as the worst I ever have?

{"Alone", Unknown Artist.}

All of the What Ifs

{"Isolation by Irene Langholm, DeviantArt}

I was fine until they started getting anecdotal.  My pregnancy was like this.  My labor was this long.  My baby weighed this.  Then I went from neutral to back again.  Back to the place where I can't have the pregnancy I want.  To where I have NO idea how badly I could spiral.  To where I can't just find out I'm pregnant on a Sunday afternoon.  Where I have to sit with specialists who carefully taper down my medications and tell me exactly when to copulate.  

It feels devoid of joy.  All worry, no whimsy.  All business, no discovery.  I know I'm front loading the experience, but how can I not?  I'm walking right into a circumstance that could hospitalize me.  Purposefully.  Because I totally can't wait to be psychotic again.  And have it affect another being as well.  

I wonder if I would just let it ride, without Ed's sweet eagerness.  I don't think I would.  I think I would want to eventually.  Maybe I would reach about 37 and say wait a minute, this is something I want to struggle for.  But right now, testing the waters, knowing it's ahead, feels like hopelessness.

So many people are worse off, which make me feel even WORSE about all my brooding.  But then again they weren't in that bed, in that hospital, looking at that orderly, yelling things down the hallway.

My life is "normal" now.  I'm the best I've ever been.  Of course I want to stay there.  

That whimsical Sunday afternoon is my Disney dream.  And no amount of wishing upon a star can make it happen without repercussion.  

I'm Gonna Marry the Night . . .

. . . I won't give up on my life;

I'm a warrior queen, live passionately tonight.

I'm gonna marry the dark,

Gonna make love to this dark

I'm a soldier to my own emptiness, I'm a winner . . .

I'm gonna marry the night . . . I'm gonna marry the night . . . I'm gonna marry the niiiiight -

I'm gonna marry the night! 

I'm not gonna cry anymore -

I'm gonna marry the night; 

Leave nothing on these streets to explore!

Mah mah mah marry, mah mah mah marry, mah mah mah marry the night!  Mah mah mah marry, mah mah mah marry, mah mah mah marry the night!

I'm gonna lace up my boots,

Throw on some lace tights and cruise

down the streets that I love,

in my fishnet gloves I'm a sinner.

Then I'll go down to the bar,

but I won't cry anymore -

hold my whiskey up high,

kiss the bartender twice.

(I'm a loser.)

I'm gonna marry the night . . . I'm gonna marry the night . . . I'm gonna marry the niiiiight -

I'm gonna marry the night! 

I'm not gonna cry anymore -

I'm gonna marry the night; 

Leave nothing on these streets to explore!

Mah mah mah marry, mah mah mah marry, mah mah mah marry the night!  Mah mah mah marry, mah mah mah marry, mah mah mah marry the night!

Nothing's too cool

to take me from you;

Ybor is not just a tan that you never lose.

Love is the new denim or black;

Dancing all night, I'm becoming and addict

Kissing my girls, yeah I trust it so much

Don't poke holes in my dream cause that's where I find love - !

Come on and run!!!

Turn the night on and run!!!

I'm gonna marry the night!

I'm gonna burn a hole in the floor;

I'm gonna marry the night!

Leave nothing on these streets to explore!

Mah mah mah marry, mah mah mah marry, mah mah mah marry the night!  Mah mah mah marry, mah mah mah marry, mah mah mah marry the night!

I'm gonna marry - 

Marry -

I'm gonna marry -

Marry -

C'mon, c'mon, the night!

The night!

The night!

The night!

The night!

The night ---

(GaGa.)

Beauty and the Beast Drinking Game

Drink When:

-A rose petal falls

-Belle exhibits signs of Stockholm Syndrome

-Anybody gets physical

-Someone eavesdrops

-You catch something you never did as a child

-Somebody gets super emo

-Phillippe throws around his Fabio mane

-Beast raises his voice

-That moment when you know somebody's gonna get it ooooon

-Whenever someone says “Crazy Old Maurice”

-Whenever Gaston says something that takes women's rights back a few hundred years

Mine.

My body is my own.  To adorn.  To cover.  To hide. To perform.  I can wear what I want, and do what I want with it.  I answer to none.  I am not a doll, I am not a puppet.  I am not arm candy.  I am myself, however I am comfortable, however I choose to present myself.  None can tell me what is right or proper or appropriate.  I alone decide that for myself.

{artist unknown.}

śatamānaṃ bhavatu śatāyuḥ puruṣaḥ śatendriyaḥ āyuṣyevendriye pratitiṣṭhati

In November of 2012, I met Abhi Janamanchi.  I hadn't set out to.  But I did.  And I am thankful.

It had been a few months since I had performed, and I was starting to feel the itch.  A few months not performing, and 2 years out of a singing group.  I started to look into finding a choir.  For whatever reason, the Unitarian Universalist seed that had been planted many years before came to mind, and I gathered up the courage, with a dear friend in tow, and I dived in.

To say it was perfect is not an exaggeration.  I had just been married in the Indian tradition, and found this congregation of UUs to have an Indian reverend.  I was delighted.

He was enigmatic, warm, and immediately the sort of person you are so glad to have in your life.  He is among only two others that make me feel that way.

I took a UU 101 class to learn more about this place that made me feel like accessing myself, yearning, and growing wasn't to be stifled.  It encouraged it.  Much like Sanatana Dharma, all paths were valid.  If you are a seeker, you can find peace there.

Not to mention that I pretty much knew I was going to join about the time I heard Abhi mic check with the Houses of Hogwarts in his accented, rich voice:  "The House of Gryffindor . . . Hufflepuff . . . Ravenclaw . . . Slytherin . . . "  I beam at recollection.

To my great dismay, the comfortability and ease of transition into a faith community was short-lived.  Abhi was to be called to serve another congregation in another state.  I found out while I was working a clinic program at the shelter.  I had to sit and weep a moment.  It must have been all too easy.  Too perfect.  To find comfort and then become apathetic, surely.  I made sure to email Abhi that evening.  Words are meant to be said.

" . . . It is so peculiar that in a short time I should put such faith and esteem in one person, but I suppose that is the power of being in a leadership role for a congregation.  As I divulged in class, you were and are a huge draw to UU, not just because you are Indian, although that is a concise way to put it, but because, I suppose, I know you grew up with and appreciate the aspects and culture of spirituality that resonates with me most strongly . . . It comforted me greatly to know there was a place that had people that could be open, and even a 'leader' that knew the intricacies of Sanatana Dharma and its application in a faith community.  

What little we've said to each other personally, I felt compelled to expound here.  Because you have, in whatever small or great way, helped me to grow and step into the murky waters of looking closer at myself and launch into a greater spiritual journey.  I avoid this kind of self-reflection and growth as a matter of preservation and protection - acknowledging the harsh truths of life frankly provokes panic and resignation . . . "

The next day I attended the service to complement his announcement.  I openly wept.  I lost a contact.  I drove home dangerously at best. 

But upon reflection . . . I was weeping for no one but myself.  For my poor fortune.  You cannot weep for a man you do not know.  But you can shed selfish tears that you can no longer stand in the sun.

Abhi, gracious and dedicated, invited me to have lunch and work through the transition with me.  How odd it was to try to let him in.  Someone you wish to share everything with and come up with near nothing.  He told me to relax, and said I sounded like himself; older.  I suppose I always have.  When you are present; awake . . . there is little room for distraction.  

In no time, it was time.  From the Roast and Toast to Abhi's last service, this weekend has been a whirlwind.  So many memories have come and gone in his 14 years of tenure.  As I sat through the service, I could only reflect and scribble on my order of service between moments of being overcome.  

"My pain is unreasonable.  Obnoxious.  Uninhibited by social constructs.  To treasure a happenstance and then mourn its passing."

Tissues were being passed around like donation plates.  We smiled, we wept, we sang.  And eventually, after he threatened to read ALL the announcements for the upcoming week, we released him from his covenant.  

Like that, our paths cease convergence.  And I am strengthened and made better for it.

In Blackwater Woods

by Mary Oliver

Look, the trees

are turning

their own bodies

into pillars

of light,

are giving off the rich

fragrance of cinnamon

and fulfillment,

the long tapers

of cattails

are bursting and floating away over

the blue shoulders

of the ponds,

and every pond,

no matter what its

name is, is

nameless now.

Every year

everything

I have ever learned

in my lifetime

leads back to this: the fires

and the black river of loss

whose other side

is salvation,

whose meaning

none of us will ever know.

To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go.

UU BYOT

I yearn for finality.  Black and white statements to define the complexity of conscious existence.  But the irreconcilable truth is 

I DON'T KNOW, I CANNOT KNOW, AND THAT NEEDS TO BE OKAY.

Acknowledging this uncertainty, I believe all paths to the infinite are valid.  Each path is as individual as the person who walks it, drawing from their experiences to reconcile their being.  Each life has worth, energy, and contribution to the Earth, and we must embrace our connectedness to achieve quietude.

I don't know, but I can learn, and seek, and grow.  And in the journey, find myself and meaning.

Again and Again and Again.

When do I get to find that one friend for keepsies?  The one that doesn't mind whether it's day or night . . . just come over . . . let's go grab something . . . I feel like . . . let's . . . 

{unknown source.}

Let's not . . .

Why do I always get let's not . . . but not even . . . just a disappearance, a disengage, a falling out, a betrayal . . . 

How did it come to not daring to say Best Friend . . . Sister . . . Bestie . . . Any title, any capitalization brings me closer to the end.  Announcing their elevation only brings them closer to the plummet.  

The Promise

{"Ghost" by biszkopciik}

Stay, I said

to the cut flowers.

They bowed

their heads lower.

Stay, I said to the spider,

who fled.

Stay, leaf.

It reddened,

embarrassed for me and itself.

Stay, I said to my body.

It sat as a dog does,

obedient for a moment,

soon starting to tremble.

Stay, to the earth

of riverine valley meadows,

of fossiled escarpments,

of limestone and sandstone.

It looked back

with a changing expression, in silence.

Stay, I said to my loves.

Each answered,

Always.

~Jane Hirshfield

I am only one person. I can only do what is it within my power to do, within the constrains of time I am given. I have done my best with the circumstances I have been handed. I can only ask as much of myself. I am only one person.

I still can't get it right

I don't know.  I still can't get it right,

the way those dirt roads cut across the flats

and led to shakes where hounds and muddy

shoats 

skulked roundabouts.  Describing it sounds trite

as hell, the good old South I love to hate.

The truth?  What's that?  How should I know?

I stayed inside too much.  I learned to boast

of stupid things.  I kept my ears shut tight,

as we kept doors locked, windows locked,

the curtains drawn.  Now I know why.

The dark could hide things from us.  Dark could 

see

what we could not.  Sometimes those dirt roads

shocked

me, where they ended up:  I watched a dog die

in the ditch.  The man who shot him winked at 

me.

~Kathryn Stripling Byer

UNCLE FREAKING SAM!

So uh, married life.  You should try it.

"We're 10 Thousand-aires!" -hubbie.

{unknown.}

To bad it's all going into our new house.  But holla.  Landmark.

Thanksgiving.

In all that's good and all that's bad,

in all that's happy and all that's sad,

please remember this one thing:

It can't be changed,

what's done is done,

and the future is a spool yet spun

and what you weave is yours to choose

so take the chance, what's there to lose?

Alex Whitehall

The Duchess.

After a somewhat dreary and soggy morning at the shelter, I sat down in the break room to eat a little something and rest before going back to my routine.  I took a moment to check my Facebook feed, and found that a friend had posted something of interest.

"Goodnight Duchess Sussex.  You made our world a more dangerous, exciting place.  I will miss you."

I posted a query in response:  "Is she retiring?"  It seemed to follow at the time.  The costumes are heavy; the days strenuous.

Not five minutes later the same friend called me.

She died.

---<--<@

I could not have been more shocked to hear of her passing.  I was told she died in her sleep.  After just another day of performing.  She was standing; interacting; jesting; glowing just hours before.  Faring people well.  Shooing them out.  Lining at gauntlet.  Trudging back down the hill.  Hanging up her gown.  Never to don it again.  Perhaps she was of poorer health than anyone knew.  Maybe she was fading quietly.  It is my understanding that she was a cancer survivor and I'm sure none would characterize her as anything but strong; stubborn; determined like no other.

61 just feels too young.  Too soon.  I wasn't ready.  Was anyone?

---<--<@

I met Lorraine for the first time in 2009.  Faire was my first theatrical venture since I graduated college in 2007.  I was a deer in headlights the first few rehearsals.  Introverted.  Lorraine was perhaps the first person I warmed to.  Made me feel at ease.  I don't remember how she introduced herself that first day, but I'm thinking it had a wry curse in it.  It wasn't "Hell hath no fury like Duchess Sussex", but it was something equivalent and witty.  I know some of my cast mates disliked our history lessons, but I loved hearing her bullet the entirety of the Renaissance for us.  I may just have to pull out my handbook to read it again . . . look at my notes . . . see if I scribbled any funny quotes . . . pause to recall . . .

I remember pairing up and receiving recognition for a florification exercise.  Nothing felt better than receiving her recognition.

I remember going to sit with her and another during a fairly pointless joint rehearsal.  I wanted to work on my dialect and grammar rather than sit idly.  She smiled and helped me along.

I remember running around with my cast brother (like the idiots we were).  We ran all the way down the hill, took a right at the pickle vendor, and flew into The Globe.  I was just chasing him, with some aggravated motivation.  Lorraine came in shortly after.  She told us that there were children we entranced with our bit, so she wanted to extend it.  She then kicked us out of Globe and yelled at us.  To see her approval and her smile was such a simple joy.

I remember co-creating a grovel for her the following year.  We dubbed it "The Sussex Special."  I performed it for her in all my glory:  instead of a curtsey, I clutched my neck and fell over instead.

I have never once begrudged my casted station . . . I adored being a peasant.  But I do feel a twinge of regret now . . . if I had been noble I feel as if my time with her would not have been so fleeting.  I passed her often, but only from here to there; rarely pausing.  I delivered missives and messages but we never shared that "one awesome bit" together.

You know, it's kind of amusing and pathetic that I can't quite recall any of our "out-of-character" conversations . . . I think I was just so in awe and happy that they were occurring at all that I didn't retain an ounce of it.  I just listened intently and sopped up the moment like a sponge.  I can only hope I wasn't drooling out of the corner of my mouth.

It is with my own memories, and the memories of many, that we remember you, Lorraine.  You were so much more than The Duchess.  You WERE Faire.  You were in every sign, every Times, on every lane, unpaved to paved.  The tears I shed are such a gift because they tell me that I knew you, however briefly.

"I know what my decision is . . . and it's not to decide."

So I was floating about my Facebook feed when a new entry from The Bloggess showed up.

If you don't follow her, you should.  She's flipping hilarious.  

But anyway.  Her psychiatrist is pressuring her to "make a plan."  

Now this one hit home for me.  So, although I don't usually reach my hand out to the ether of the internet, I wrote up a response to her.

"Hey listen. Friend in the universe. I wouldn't respond because you probably won't see this, but maybe you're just as neurotic as me and you will read EVERYTHING.

I know you're a bit older than me (I'm 27), but I have never had a plan. Like, ever. I tried to go into elementary education in college because it was "safe" and "stable" . . . but it was also bullshit. I don't need to be taught how to teach kids to draw with crayons. So I went the ME route. I got a degree in theatre performance. Yes, the loans are eating me inside out, yes, it was a whimsical choice, yes, it's highly unlikely that I would ever succeed with it as I have bipolar disorder, but damn it, it was my choice.

I've been feeling my way about ever since. I still don't have a plan. But the pieces all seem to fall into place when I need them too. After college I got involved with non-profit animal welfare, and now think that it might be a viable career choice (albeit meager). My boyfriend (now husband) has always been my rock, my bread-bringer-homer, and my reason. And I am, for the first time, acting "professionally." Someone's paying me for that shit. And damn it, that makes it a good day to be me.

{"Reflection" by Seasonal, DeviantArt.}

So I say - you don't need a plan. Because not having one is a PLAN TOO."

Bitch Sesh.

I am not going to be proud of the following post.  And I might take it down eventually.  But sometimes you just need to expunge.

One of my good friends has recently lost a serious amount of weight in a matter of a month or two on some gimmicky diet.  It sounds similiar to meal replacement (i.e. Slimfast).  Instead of being properly happy for her and supportive, a cruel, unfamiliar D surfaces to be spiteful.  Jealous.  Dismissive.

Somehow through everything, and I mean every FUCKING thing, I remain sunny.  Positive.  I approach each day like a new beginning.  And to see myself respond this way is saddening and oh so desparate.

How large a role do my individual chemical nuances play/prey upon me?  I've watched certain medications outright up my ante.  But I take it now to be certain and true that they affect my ability to lose weight.

{Source unknown.}

I haven't had the best habits.  Thus, after 10 years of medication, I'm now 60 pounds from where I should probably be. I'm legitimately trying, and properly this time.  I'm being mindful of intake as well as integrating exercise.  It's benefitting but nothing's really changing.

{Source Unknown.}

And I'm frightened.  I'm frightened too.  To try harder.  To completely alter my habits.  I always have been.  Because then what?  I know what.  Mania.  Making better decisions for myself leads to a tip of the scale in a happier direction.  A too happy direction.  A euphoric direction.  A hallucinogenic direction.  An inpatient direction.

But guess what?  I LOSE WEIGHT THEN.

Adios, Amigos.

So, my Mexican Restaurant is going to close.  Of course no one has made any official proclamations, but uh, when you don't order enough food/products to keep on trucking, staff start to become suspicious.  I probably worked my last "workable" shift tonight.  So, as a tribute to my first employment in Florida, I shall PRO/CON it up.

What I WON'T miss about Mexicana:
-The drama.  Oh the drama.
-Schedules made weekly rather than biweekly/monthly.
-The owner who could give two shits about his business.
-Not knowing when we're going to get paid.
-Incorrect tip wage accounting.

What I WILL miss:
-José.  He was a cool guy.  Probably one that time will take with it, like so many others.
-<3 JUAN! <3  De nada, corazon!  Mi amor!  (My Spanish is FLAWLESS)
-Everyone's honesty about my culo grande.
-The occasional Spanish programming I watched.  Especially the programs with dancing girls that José fawned over.
-Talking about tacas.
-The language barrier.  It made for interesting conversations.
-My CHIMICHANGA.

Just look at it.  It's SO BEAUTIFUL.

I WILL NEVER LOVE AGAIN.

Mer.

I wish I may, I wish I might . . . have the wish I wish tonight . . .

I had an audition today for the cast of a dinner theatre production . . . and I could really, really use it.  For my self esteems . . . I mean, I think it's pretty likely I'd get cast at the faire that's coming up, but still . . .

I miss the stage.  I hope it misses me back.

Yes. Hmmm. Quite.

So it has been quite a while, as I have been made aware.  Mostly because I don't really want to face myself.  It's summer here, which means it seems like "winter" . . . wanting to hibernate, stay inside, not face the world.  Outdoor activities I treasure are just not pleasurable in this kind of heat.  So there's that.  Also, I still haven't figured out my "employment situation", if you will.  Oh, I'm employed.  Just serving at some barely successful restaurant.  I enjoy the people, anyway.  But the bigger questions still hang about me.  The boy wants me working more.  Which I can understand.  I'm not contributing as much as I could be.  And he deserves to reap the fruits of his labour, which he can't really do if he's paying off my student loans.  I just need a  production.  I need to get off my butt and memorize a classical monologue so I'm properly prepared if a good audition floats my way.  There is a Faire nearby in the fall, so I was thinking about doing that.  It seems to be volunteer, as in not paid, but really, any extracurricular will do.  I'm just sort of stagnating.  Not to mention my weight is creeping up on me.  The boy and I are probably going to join a gym and take cardio classes together.  Nothing sounds less appealing than failing in front of peers.  But we're fats.  We need it.

Other than those bits, I have nothing, really.  Just settling in.  I made a big girl purchase the other day!  Bought my first real bed.  It is ginormous.  King sized mattresses are the epitome of luxury.  It fits three people.  It is a three people bed.  Or a siamese twin and one of their significant others.  It's just unnecessarily large.  And we love it.  And my cat appropriately christened it this morning with some barf.  He really needs to stop eating so fast.

I'm learning bits of Spanish from working at my restaurant, as it is a Teximex kinda place. 

But really, nothing doing.  Nothing worthwhile.  Social media is difficult lately because it is just about my home Faire's season.  I see friends posting pics and statuses about their rehearsals and such.  It eats at me in a way that does not flatter me.  I so wish it didn't.

Destiny . . .

I don't know what path I'm destined to take.  I feel compelled to contribute financially as we transition in our new life, but I also feel like this is a momentous opportunity for me.  I have every day now to focus and recreate the D I mean to have.  But if I take this chance and succeed, there will be financial contribution.  These waters are just so murky and unknown.  Maybe I'll spend some time and the shore tomorrow to reflect.