Today was interesting. I woke up at 8:02 am. My alarm clock wasn't screaming at me. There is nothing like waking up naturally. We feel a sense of accomplishment. We think we're already ahead of schedule. We're even ahead of our own clock. I'm always more motivated when I get up without its help. It has its drawbacks. Most of us usually forget the alarm clock. We go about our morning with an aire of pride. We adjust the shower water to a perfect temperature and let it spray over our body and at that exact moment our alarm clock goes off. We hear loud, irritating beeps that, if not stopped soon, will wake everyone else up. Personally, I scramble naked into the cold air and turn it off. What's worse, however, is that I'm so distracted by the events that I accidentally hit snooze causing me to make the same trip ten minutes later. But really, this is just a loquacious way of saying I got up before my alarm this morning.
I recall thinking to myself that I had the most vivid dreams. This past week witnessed very colorful dreams. They aren't difficult to interpret. They are either highly symbolic metaphors or the literal representation of something in my life. I remember a few of them, but this morning I didn't bother trying. I just took note that I have been having them recently.
I thought about taking a shower and shaving today. Instead, I checked my e-mail (nothing) and my blog (no comments, but hey, who is counting?). I wish I could say I did something important. But I didn't. I just wasted my time. I went to the gas station to get a water, one of those ham and cheese and cracker lunch kits for children, a Red Bull, and some caffeine pills. I listened to music which was fun because I could loose myself to it. I pulled into the paid parking lot that I use everyday. It's such a waste of money. I spend between five and ten dollars a day on parking. I'm afraid to park on the street and move my car every seventy-five minutes because I always, without fail, forget and then get a ticket. I have so many tickets that when I register my car this month I'll have to pay almost $600 in unpaid parking fines. Either way, I can't win.
So I'm in my parked car munching down on these ham and cheese crackers squeezing out the mustard onto what is probably the closest I come to cooking my own meal. This is my breakfast, washed down with Red Bull. I always must listen to some AM talk show when I eat in my car. It doesn't matter how long I eat, what I eat, or what I listen to - when I eat in my car I must have a voice talking about something. It's almost like watching a movie and eating pizza. I'm the type who must wait for the movie to start and then eat my pizza. I don't like to be full when the movie starts or only mildly hungry in the first few minutes. I must be famished! Even at a movie theatre, I'll prepare a hot dog and save it until all the previews are over, the intros to the movie are finished, and the actual movie begins. Then I'll start eating. Well, the same goes with AM radio. What's silly is when I'm eating something very small like a single cookie. I'll flip the AM radio on, eat and listen for thirty seconds, and then switch it back to the FM radio. I never bother to really listen. I just must have a talking voice when I eat.
This so-called breakfast was not a quick bite. It was long enough to get into what the voice was talking about. Suddenly, because a bridge collapsed out west, Americans are unsafe and in danger while driving. Significant political action should be taken, he argued. I thought he was such a hypocrite. I could see our soldiers fixing their own bridges to make sure they were out of harm's way while rolling over them into the heart of some terrorist-laden village. Other than the talk show, I noticed that someone else in the car next to mine was just sitting in the front seat. I wondered why. At first I thought maybe they're just finishing a phone call or grabbing their stuff so they can go about their day. But she kept sitting there. It made me nervous. After awhile, I was like, "What the hell? Is she watching me eat?" Maybe it was coincidence, but as soon as I finished, got out of my car, and headed toward class, she also got out. Maybe she was watching me eat.
I headed to the first intersection. Really, it's the only intersection that exists between the parking lot and the building I take classes in. I've come to know this intersection well. I have to cross two corners - a horizontal and a vertical. The vertical cross walk is the important one to catch because it separates a major street that can't be crossed if the light isn't green. When I click on the button indicating my desire to cross and the light then turns green, the "it's okay to walk" light is only on for a full second. Then a red hand blinks eight times until the red hand stops blinking and is just, well, a red hand. That gives me five seconds to cross until I see a solid red hand. When the solid red hand appears, I have two more seconds. My study of this system allows me the flexibility to cross even when others might not think it's safe.
It was my good fortune that the vertical cross walk was green. I crossed the horizontal walk on the red because the traffic was light. I also discovered that there is really no point in running to make the light. Because I'm at a corner and need to cross in both directions, the light will always be green in one of the directions I need to cross. Cool, isn't it? Wow! You're still reading?
I got to class about five minutes early. I should clarify that "class" is a euphemism for "group." I go to therapy groups all day, every day, because I am treating Bipolar Disorder. I've been going to these groups for three months. They are helpful. I'm trying different medications and my moods can sometimes be extremely volatile. Others in the group can evaluate my behavior and help me realize when I'm in a particularly extreme mood. By myself, it can be difficult sometimes. I can't say all groups are interesting. In fact, some days I think they are silly and a waste of time. Today was one such day.
The first group I had was "Adjusting to Group, Group." That's right. It's a group that is designed to help people participate in group. I think it's totally redundant. Basically we talk. Sometimes people talk about problems. Most of the time I joke and laugh with the others. I always think it's funny when we're talking outside and the therapist comes out and tells us that groups is beginning. Then we just take our conversation outside and continue it inside. Whenever this happens, I usually point out how totally stupid it is. "Let me get this straight," I tell the therapist, "We are going to pay money to continue this conversation inside that building?" He just shrugs. But seriously, it's one of my favorite groups.
During that hour and fifteen minutes, I not only humored but also gave my advice and opinions on matters important to others. Everyone in the program and in these groups has come to respect my opinions. I am very candid, honest, and usually insightful. My advice isn't structured in such a way as to avoid offending someone. For example, today I shared something about my friend who sat right next to me. I told him that I thought he was insensitive for telling me I had gained weight. I then told the group how I wanted to get back at him. But it was too mean, so I won't. The group ended early so I had thirty minutes until my individual therapy session. Everyone else has a group but because I find it rather useless, I opt to have my individual session at this time. I have two private therapy sessions every week.
So to kill thirty minutes, I played two games of chess. The first game was not a challenge but at least my friend Dave held his own. We played for twenty-five minutes. A girl named Stephanie (I wonder if I should be giving real names?) suggested we play. I only had five minutes. But in three minutes, I had put her in checkmate. She was rather shocked. But I was very pleased.
While I waited for my counselor to get me, I started a conversation with Charlie. He's an extraordinary man in his fifties. He worked for JPL (and is on leave until he gets better), has a family, and plays chess better than anyone else at the program (other than me, of course). In the period of time I've known him, he's really improved. Two months ago when he first arrived, he never talked. He really never did anything. One of the first things I asked him was if he wanted to play chess. He said no. I then asked him, "Will you play a game of chess with me before I or you leave?" It just so happened that he is leaving in three days. A week ago we played the game. It was good to see him play. He's utterly depressed and often tells me he wants to die. I told him I've wanted to time many, many times before. Instead of telling him to hang in there, I asked him if he had a specific plan or had ever thought about how to do it. He told me he thought about stabbing himself in the heart. That wouldn't work, I responded. "That would just be painful."
"Are you looking forward to anything today?" I asked Charlie. "No," he said. I told him that isn't true. "You're looking forward to seeing me in our next group! See? You're looking forward to something." He laughed and smiled.
Michelle, my counselor, got me. I walked up two flights of stairs and entered what we call the "sun room." The sun usually shines on that side of the building and often makes the room uncomfortably warm. We talked about many personal things. I talked about my dream. I talked about how I viewed my children (which I hold in a positive light). Mainly, I described how this period of my life is similar to how I felt and viewed myself when I was 18. When I was 18, I had been kicked out of high school. I lived with my alcoholic, infidelity mother and listless, defeated father. I had to run a failing business that my father had given up on. I had to go to a community college and try to recover from a miserable high school performance. But I did very well in all areas. I could pull myself together and become an incredible success. I told Michelle that I'm very capable of reclaiming that identity without sacrificing everything I've learned and gained. In other words, I'm hot shit and I'll prove it.
After meeting with Michelle, we had lunch. They serve lunch at this establishment. Sometimes it's very good and other times it's simply pathetic. Today it was pathetic. I had a grilled American cheese sandwich on wheat bread. I choose not to eat the salad, the leftovers from yesterday, or the cottage cheese. It didn't really fill me up but I choose not to buy food. I had already bought that cheese and cracker meal this morning for two dollars and sixty cents. I don't want to indulge myself too much. (sarcasm). After lunch I received an e-mail from my ex-wife. She told me that without migraines, I'll probably take over the world. I thought it was flattering.
The next group I had was Grieving Life's Losses. We spent most of the hour and a half drawing. We were asked to draw a circle and fill it with symbols that represent what we value in life. I used oil pastels and filled it with symbols representing laughter, learning, love, passion, childhood, water, trees, and fingerprints. It was fun. Then we shared. I told the group it didn't matter if they didn't understand it, it was meant for me to understand.
After that, we had another thirty minute break. I made a trip to my car to grab my computer. I didn't really use it for much because I couldn't get a wireless Internet connection. Dave and I started to play another game of chess, but there wasn't enough time. My next group, Theatre Therapy, was starting. We played a game called Buzz Word and split into two teams. The therapist picked the teams by quickly saying, "That side of the room is one time, and this side of the room is the other."
This group made me frustrated, angry, and rattled. I didn't like how the teams were decided. I would've never been on the team I was forced to compete on. Their team had four young (meaning between 20 and 30 years old) adults. They were energetic, familiar with trivia, and some had sharp wits. I was the youngest member of my team. The others were Phil, Charlie, and the therapist Debra. Phil is very slow and has difficulty reading. Charlie is very intelligent but is too depressed to participate. Debra was an asset and I was also useful.
The game works like this: let's suppose it was my team's turn. A team member was selected to read the game card while the others guessed. The person selected to read was rotated into the task as we progressed from one round to the next. In this case, Phil was selected to read. He first read the Buzz Word. For example, the Buzz Word might be "Air." There were ten sentences that were clues. Each sentence was different and provided a clue to the answer. The object is to find a word or phase with the word 'air' in it that matches the clue provided. Like "Air hockey" or "Air Jordon's" or "air plane."
Phil read so slowly that I calculated the maximum number of points we could get, even if we answered correctly to all of them, was six. He didn't read fast enough to give us time to provide an answer.
The other time read quickly and responded with correct answers rapidly. It really pissed me off because I hate to loose and obviously my team lost.
My last group for the day was Self-Esteem. I expressed that I had a high self esteem and regurgitate what I had told Michelle in private therapy. I wanted to get the hell out of there at that point.
After I left, I walked back to my car, deftly crossing the intersection. I realized I didn't have any cash to pay the parking attendant so I walked further to the Washington Mutual. I took out forty dollars, which was actually forty-two because they charge two dollars to take out money for Wells Fargo customers, and headed to Starbucks. I hadn't had a Mocha Frappacino for some time so I got one. There are always beautiful women at that Starbucks. I didn't really look at any of them. I kept my eyes to the ground and waited. One of the women making coffee behind the counter leaned down for a few moments. I glanced right down her shirt and saw the top of her wonderful breasts. That's a perk. My ice mocha was too full and dripped all over the cup. I tried to clean it off with some napkins but as I walked to my car it kept dripping. I took a white t-shirt from the back of my car and dried the cup off.
I pulled up to the teenager attendant. He seemed almost excited to find out which bills I would use to pay the $10.50 I owed. "And the answer is...." he said as I handed him eleven dollars, "eleven dollars!" As I took the change he looked at me and said, "Rock on!" Rock on? Even in a place like New House people don't say 'Rock on!' randomly. When I got to New House I shaved and got ready for the house meeting. I had about forty minutes of free time before I had to join the assembly. I had a light breakfast, a small lunch, and no dinner. I signed up for a lunch with the intent of eating it later. The lunches are left out on the counter at 10:00 pm so I didn't have to wait forever. I didn't want to spend the money on food.
The house meeting was long. Very long. And that's where my story ends. That was my day, more or less.
I recall thinking to myself that I had the most vivid dreams. This past week witnessed very colorful dreams. They aren't difficult to interpret. They are either highly symbolic metaphors or the literal representation of something in my life. I remember a few of them, but this morning I didn't bother trying. I just took note that I have been having them recently.
I thought about taking a shower and shaving today. Instead, I checked my e-mail (nothing) and my blog (no comments, but hey, who is counting?). I wish I could say I did something important. But I didn't. I just wasted my time. I went to the gas station to get a water, one of those ham and cheese and cracker lunch kits for children, a Red Bull, and some caffeine pills. I listened to music which was fun because I could loose myself to it. I pulled into the paid parking lot that I use everyday. It's such a waste of money. I spend between five and ten dollars a day on parking. I'm afraid to park on the street and move my car every seventy-five minutes because I always, without fail, forget and then get a ticket. I have so many tickets that when I register my car this month I'll have to pay almost $600 in unpaid parking fines. Either way, I can't win.
So I'm in my parked car munching down on these ham and cheese crackers squeezing out the mustard onto what is probably the closest I come to cooking my own meal. This is my breakfast, washed down with Red Bull. I always must listen to some AM talk show when I eat in my car. It doesn't matter how long I eat, what I eat, or what I listen to - when I eat in my car I must have a voice talking about something. It's almost like watching a movie and eating pizza. I'm the type who must wait for the movie to start and then eat my pizza. I don't like to be full when the movie starts or only mildly hungry in the first few minutes. I must be famished! Even at a movie theatre, I'll prepare a hot dog and save it until all the previews are over, the intros to the movie are finished, and the actual movie begins. Then I'll start eating. Well, the same goes with AM radio. What's silly is when I'm eating something very small like a single cookie. I'll flip the AM radio on, eat and listen for thirty seconds, and then switch it back to the FM radio. I never bother to really listen. I just must have a talking voice when I eat.
This so-called breakfast was not a quick bite. It was long enough to get into what the voice was talking about. Suddenly, because a bridge collapsed out west, Americans are unsafe and in danger while driving. Significant political action should be taken, he argued. I thought he was such a hypocrite. I could see our soldiers fixing their own bridges to make sure they were out of harm's way while rolling over them into the heart of some terrorist-laden village. Other than the talk show, I noticed that someone else in the car next to mine was just sitting in the front seat. I wondered why. At first I thought maybe they're just finishing a phone call or grabbing their stuff so they can go about their day. But she kept sitting there. It made me nervous. After awhile, I was like, "What the hell? Is she watching me eat?" Maybe it was coincidence, but as soon as I finished, got out of my car, and headed toward class, she also got out. Maybe she was watching me eat.
I headed to the first intersection. Really, it's the only intersection that exists between the parking lot and the building I take classes in. I've come to know this intersection well. I have to cross two corners - a horizontal and a vertical. The vertical cross walk is the important one to catch because it separates a major street that can't be crossed if the light isn't green. When I click on the button indicating my desire to cross and the light then turns green, the "it's okay to walk" light is only on for a full second. Then a red hand blinks eight times until the red hand stops blinking and is just, well, a red hand. That gives me five seconds to cross until I see a solid red hand. When the solid red hand appears, I have two more seconds. My study of this system allows me the flexibility to cross even when others might not think it's safe.
It was my good fortune that the vertical cross walk was green. I crossed the horizontal walk on the red because the traffic was light. I also discovered that there is really no point in running to make the light. Because I'm at a corner and need to cross in both directions, the light will always be green in one of the directions I need to cross. Cool, isn't it? Wow! You're still reading?
I got to class about five minutes early. I should clarify that "class" is a euphemism for "group." I go to therapy groups all day, every day, because I am treating Bipolar Disorder. I've been going to these groups for three months. They are helpful. I'm trying different medications and my moods can sometimes be extremely volatile. Others in the group can evaluate my behavior and help me realize when I'm in a particularly extreme mood. By myself, it can be difficult sometimes. I can't say all groups are interesting. In fact, some days I think they are silly and a waste of time. Today was one such day.
The first group I had was "Adjusting to Group, Group." That's right. It's a group that is designed to help people participate in group. I think it's totally redundant. Basically we talk. Sometimes people talk about problems. Most of the time I joke and laugh with the others. I always think it's funny when we're talking outside and the therapist comes out and tells us that groups is beginning. Then we just take our conversation outside and continue it inside. Whenever this happens, I usually point out how totally stupid it is. "Let me get this straight," I tell the therapist, "We are going to pay money to continue this conversation inside that building?" He just shrugs. But seriously, it's one of my favorite groups.
During that hour and fifteen minutes, I not only humored but also gave my advice and opinions on matters important to others. Everyone in the program and in these groups has come to respect my opinions. I am very candid, honest, and usually insightful. My advice isn't structured in such a way as to avoid offending someone. For example, today I shared something about my friend who sat right next to me. I told him that I thought he was insensitive for telling me I had gained weight. I then told the group how I wanted to get back at him. But it was too mean, so I won't. The group ended early so I had thirty minutes until my individual therapy session. Everyone else has a group but because I find it rather useless, I opt to have my individual session at this time. I have two private therapy sessions every week.
So to kill thirty minutes, I played two games of chess. The first game was not a challenge but at least my friend Dave held his own. We played for twenty-five minutes. A girl named Stephanie (I wonder if I should be giving real names?) suggested we play. I only had five minutes. But in three minutes, I had put her in checkmate. She was rather shocked. But I was very pleased.
While I waited for my counselor to get me, I started a conversation with Charlie. He's an extraordinary man in his fifties. He worked for JPL (and is on leave until he gets better), has a family, and plays chess better than anyone else at the program (other than me, of course). In the period of time I've known him, he's really improved. Two months ago when he first arrived, he never talked. He really never did anything. One of the first things I asked him was if he wanted to play chess. He said no. I then asked him, "Will you play a game of chess with me before I or you leave?" It just so happened that he is leaving in three days. A week ago we played the game. It was good to see him play. He's utterly depressed and often tells me he wants to die. I told him I've wanted to time many, many times before. Instead of telling him to hang in there, I asked him if he had a specific plan or had ever thought about how to do it. He told me he thought about stabbing himself in the heart. That wouldn't work, I responded. "That would just be painful."
"Are you looking forward to anything today?" I asked Charlie. "No," he said. I told him that isn't true. "You're looking forward to seeing me in our next group! See? You're looking forward to something." He laughed and smiled.
Michelle, my counselor, got me. I walked up two flights of stairs and entered what we call the "sun room." The sun usually shines on that side of the building and often makes the room uncomfortably warm. We talked about many personal things. I talked about my dream. I talked about how I viewed my children (which I hold in a positive light). Mainly, I described how this period of my life is similar to how I felt and viewed myself when I was 18. When I was 18, I had been kicked out of high school. I lived with my alcoholic, infidelity mother and listless, defeated father. I had to run a failing business that my father had given up on. I had to go to a community college and try to recover from a miserable high school performance. But I did very well in all areas. I could pull myself together and become an incredible success. I told Michelle that I'm very capable of reclaiming that identity without sacrificing everything I've learned and gained. In other words, I'm hot shit and I'll prove it.
After meeting with Michelle, we had lunch. They serve lunch at this establishment. Sometimes it's very good and other times it's simply pathetic. Today it was pathetic. I had a grilled American cheese sandwich on wheat bread. I choose not to eat the salad, the leftovers from yesterday, or the cottage cheese. It didn't really fill me up but I choose not to buy food. I had already bought that cheese and cracker meal this morning for two dollars and sixty cents. I don't want to indulge myself too much. (sarcasm). After lunch I received an e-mail from my ex-wife. She told me that without migraines, I'll probably take over the world. I thought it was flattering.
The next group I had was Grieving Life's Losses. We spent most of the hour and a half drawing. We were asked to draw a circle and fill it with symbols that represent what we value in life. I used oil pastels and filled it with symbols representing laughter, learning, love, passion, childhood, water, trees, and fingerprints. It was fun. Then we shared. I told the group it didn't matter if they didn't understand it, it was meant for me to understand.
After that, we had another thirty minute break. I made a trip to my car to grab my computer. I didn't really use it for much because I couldn't get a wireless Internet connection. Dave and I started to play another game of chess, but there wasn't enough time. My next group, Theatre Therapy, was starting. We played a game called Buzz Word and split into two teams. The therapist picked the teams by quickly saying, "That side of the room is one time, and this side of the room is the other."
This group made me frustrated, angry, and rattled. I didn't like how the teams were decided. I would've never been on the team I was forced to compete on. Their team had four young (meaning between 20 and 30 years old) adults. They were energetic, familiar with trivia, and some had sharp wits. I was the youngest member of my team. The others were Phil, Charlie, and the therapist Debra. Phil is very slow and has difficulty reading. Charlie is very intelligent but is too depressed to participate. Debra was an asset and I was also useful.
The game works like this: let's suppose it was my team's turn. A team member was selected to read the game card while the others guessed. The person selected to read was rotated into the task as we progressed from one round to the next. In this case, Phil was selected to read. He first read the Buzz Word. For example, the Buzz Word might be "Air." There were ten sentences that were clues. Each sentence was different and provided a clue to the answer. The object is to find a word or phase with the word 'air' in it that matches the clue provided. Like "Air hockey" or "Air Jordon's" or "air plane."
Phil read so slowly that I calculated the maximum number of points we could get, even if we answered correctly to all of them, was six. He didn't read fast enough to give us time to provide an answer.
The other time read quickly and responded with correct answers rapidly. It really pissed me off because I hate to loose and obviously my team lost.
My last group for the day was Self-Esteem. I expressed that I had a high self esteem and regurgitate what I had told Michelle in private therapy. I wanted to get the hell out of there at that point.
After I left, I walked back to my car, deftly crossing the intersection. I realized I didn't have any cash to pay the parking attendant so I walked further to the Washington Mutual. I took out forty dollars, which was actually forty-two because they charge two dollars to take out money for Wells Fargo customers, and headed to Starbucks. I hadn't had a Mocha Frappacino for some time so I got one. There are always beautiful women at that Starbucks. I didn't really look at any of them. I kept my eyes to the ground and waited. One of the women making coffee behind the counter leaned down for a few moments. I glanced right down her shirt and saw the top of her wonderful breasts. That's a perk. My ice mocha was too full and dripped all over the cup. I tried to clean it off with some napkins but as I walked to my car it kept dripping. I took a white t-shirt from the back of my car and dried the cup off.
I pulled up to the teenager attendant. He seemed almost excited to find out which bills I would use to pay the $10.50 I owed. "And the answer is...." he said as I handed him eleven dollars, "eleven dollars!" As I took the change he looked at me and said, "Rock on!" Rock on? Even in a place like New House people don't say 'Rock on!' randomly. When I got to New House I shaved and got ready for the house meeting. I had about forty minutes of free time before I had to join the assembly. I had a light breakfast, a small lunch, and no dinner. I signed up for a lunch with the intent of eating it later. The lunches are left out on the counter at 10:00 pm so I didn't have to wait forever. I didn't want to spend the money on food.
The house meeting was long. Very long. And that's where my story ends. That was my day, more or less.