Avoiding a Life of "Quiet Desperation."

This was Thoreau, yes? Do most people really live that way? Do I?

I'm not especially quiet. I probably tell nearly everything to Mom, Josh, and Bruce--at least, I tell one of them. I scribble, which is private but still powerful. I have two blogs, and most of what I need to say fits into one or the other. Sometimes, I'm too good at hiding how I feel. Now that I'm not working, though, I don't try so hard to hide. I'm also not always as good at acting as I think.

Desperation. Sometimes I'm desperately tired, as if I can't do another thing. I can be desperate for affection, sometimes suddenly. Maybe people would be different if they got more hugs. I can add more hugs. Simple, but maybe effective.

Affection, words, and rest. If I have too little, I falter. I need hugs and hand holding and such. I need books stacked around me (my internal structure seems to start decomposing rapidly if I'm not reading--some book, any book). And I need to rest. Sometimes I need an actual nap. Josh and I think it helps my brain heal itself. Sometimes, I need a social break. Being social drains me, so I need dark and quiet and stillness to recover.

These three categories are non-negotiable. I can't let go of them. Josh sometimes demands that I go nap. I've been requesting more hugs from him. Asking is often the most difficult part. I need to learn what I need and how to get it or ask for it. Often, the offer is better than I'd hoped. I have people who are willing to help me get better and stay stable. I need to be brave about asking.

Craving Consistency.

This is probably important for most people with mental illnesses. I didn't realize how much I needed to know exactly what to expect even though I know details or the whole situation may change.

I sometimes want to be outwardly spontaneous and adventurous, and I may want to attract those kinds of people. But in reality, I often want to be left alone for hours with my solitary activities like reading scribbling, and various forms of scrapbooking. I like to know when I will have this alone time.

I'm similar with relationships. Spontaneity can be great as long as it is in addition to regularly scheduled quality time. On a bad day, anticipating a walk with my friend the next evening can be a great help. I need to be able to count on certain people, places, and activities. They help me gear up for the inevitable shocks and disappointments that will come.

To create consistency, Josh has made family schedules that account for each hour. Bruce and I walk on Thursday and Friday, watch a movie on Sunday, and sometimes see a show on Saturday. I think it's made our friendship stronger. It has certainly made me stronger and, I think, more reasonable and calm.

I'm thinking about other ways I can create reliable structure now that I know how important it is.