Having More.

I wrote this at the top of a page of my journal. I don't remember the significance or what I expected to write.

Unless one lives in poverty, I think that having more is largely a mental and emotional setting. What do I have? How will I use it? Why do I still want more?

I have been walking through illness and trauma for years. However, I am wildly blessed. I have a precious family. I have more books than I can read (probably), more notebooks than I can fill, and (maybe) more pens than I can drain. That feels great. It's part of the barricade I constantly build to shut out sickness and hopelessness.

I can be greedy. But sometimes, a beautiful object can distract me from my flaws and struggles and let me rest in faith, family, and that glowing trickle of light inside me.

A Small Bouquet of Thoughts.

I feel sleepy and cold, as if I might die of shivering.

I know my body needs more rest. My brain, despite the cold, is sizzling a little. Sleep is water, and I feel parched.

I've been drinking Cherry 7-Up out of a wineglass. What more can I do to make the ordinary more special?

I am deeply blessed. I need to remember that when the mornings and afternoons end too quickly, when I struggle to read, when I have errands and appointments.

Oh, and I did the dishes today. It's not much, but it seemed like a slight relief for Josh. He knows I'm doing it for him. Without that, I'm a half-frozen, half-starved, directionless child. At least that's how I feel sometimes.

Why is cleaning, specifically, so hard? The thought of cleaning a bathroom sort of terrifies me, and I have no idea why.

So much of my disorders is still a mystery. I can't fight what I can't understand or predict.

I feel so many shapes of guilt. Even saying that I'm tired feels wrong. Bruce assures me that I deserve and need rest. Josh is as generous with me as he can be. But sometimes, I feel like a failed experiment.

Tools and Strategies.

My terms don't necessarily match the popular or even correct definitions, but the terms helps me navigate the world inside and outside my head.

• Tools: something I find or fashion to deal with certain symptoms. It needs to be deliberate, and others should know about it. Thinking of it relaxes me.
• Crutches: something that temporarily holds me up in chaos. It may be somewhat secret. Thinking about it may makes me feel both thrilled and uncomfortable. This could also be an old habit that is no longer useful or an extreme version of a tool.
• Strategies: actions that I put in place to help me with mood swings, panic, and such. Not everyone will necessarily understand the strategy, but it is healthy for me.
• Mechanisms: automatic and often unhealthy. I probably don't want to talk about them. I don't like the use of mechanism as a positive. It's a thoughtless reflex. But I do like for strategies to become consistent, reliable, and safe as mechanisms sometimes appear to be.

Examples

Tools

• Pen and paper. I think everyone knows what powerful tools those are for me. A gift of pen or paper is a gift to my mental health. Having them around me makes me feel calm.
• Medication. Some aspects of taking medication are a major bummer, but I know it helps me and probably keeps me alive. People close to me know about it, and I let them know that I'm still compliant.
• Music. It helps me get ready, and it helps me while I'm driving. Right now, I'm listening to Michael Ball in the car, especially "Lift the Wings" and "Tell Me on a Sunday."

Crutches

• The Internet. It an be a great tool, but often, I do too much window shopping, clicking around on Wikipedia or IMDB, or watching funny videos. It takes up time and metaphorical bandwidth. 
• Soda. I love it and don't want to give it up though I have for short periods of time. Right now, I'm trying for moderation. I love the feel of the cold aluminum and the crack of opening the can...I could drink soda all day (and I often have).

Strategies

• Reading. If I'm not reading, I'm not okay. That's a cycle. I need to be deeply into books. They refocus my brain and give me a break from my symptoms.
• Putting on makeup. If I'm not wearing any or much makeup, that's a bad sign. I like to play with colors and finishes. It's a healthy sensory distraction. 
• Drinking water. I love not having to worry about drinking too much water. I get dehydrated easily, mostly because of lithium. But I can chug water and know that it's good for my body and mind.
• Writing. The more forms of writing are the better. My journal is first, and it covers ideas, blog post material, to-do lists, and more. Next is the blog. The blogs. Writing quiets my mind, and with the blogs, I have a chance to connect with others in a controlled manner. 

Mechanisms

• Shopping. Sometimes, I'm in great control, seeking and finding a special object or some basic tees. My fingers twitch now, probably because of some medication, and they sometimes place an order when I'm still pondering. That works pretty well as a metaphor too. I keep track of everything I buy so that I can appreciate and use it and take notice if I'm being indiscriminate. 
• Excessive cleaning. This is good is some ways, but it's a clear sign of mania and often anger. I clean doors and the inside of the trashcan. I can't stop until I'm completely exhausted
• Sleeping too much. Some days, sleep is all I want. I can fall asleep anywhere. Some days, my brain feels burned, and sleep is like water.

What terms help you understand your actions and experience?