My last official blog entry was in May of 2009, 2 months after I started taking meds for bipolar disorder. I've strongly felt that the meds sapped me of every ounce of creativity I had in my insane brain. Prior to that, I was a verbose lightning stream of manic and disconnected thought, often rambling, often entertaining, frequently witty. I think I still retain that side of me that's charming, but now is more focused and stable than almost 3 years ago.
In the interim from that last blog post, I got a job, I settled into home life at my mom's with Luke, I decided to go to grad school to get a PsyD in Counseling Psychology to help addicts/alcoholics like me, blossomed into a great mom to Luke, who's now 11 1/2 and starting 6th grade, fell in and out of love, was embroiled in a majorly abusive relationship with someone I used to adore and admire, saw my finances improve, continued to play drums and make music...all of that good. But I didn't write. I didn't bother. I didn't feel as if I *could.*
Nonsense, said a dear friend of mine recently. "Just fucking write." And he's right. It doesn't have to be perfect, or linear, for that is not the way my brain is wired. But my mind is so perpetually filled with thoughts and ideas, perhaps it'd be an integral part of my psychotherapy to put them down online.
So that's where I'm at right now. Time to get ready for another work day at the medical practice. More on that later.