Well, nothing writing related really got to happen yesterday. I did a little reading in Writer With a Day Job, but in the evening I chose to spend some time with my husband. We might not get much of a Valentine’s Day, even though we both have a four-day weekend, due to the fact that we are spending some time with some of my family members this weekend. So we had a nice, quiet evening at home last night. I made one of his favorite casseroles and we curled up in the bedroom talking for hours and cuddling. It is still nice to do that after 15 years of marriage.
We even kicked most of the cats out. Link is our resident bedroom cat–he rarely leaves the room for anything, so we let him stay, but everyone else was sitting out in the hallway wondering when the could come in. Cats are funny that way. They hate closed doors and Oscar was the most vocal about getting kicked out, but even he had to allow for Mommy-Daddy time and he quit caterwauling eventually.
This morning I saw my therapist. For those of you who don’t know, I have bipolar and borderline personality disorders that require constant maintenance. I went back to work full time last year for the first time in sixteen years. That’s right–I have not worked full time most of my adult life. You’d think I’d have written a ton of novels in that time, but no. Those years I was not focused enough to write. I was too sick, and too busy wallowing in my sickness. Being off work sounds great until you are too sick to work or do anything fun for sixteen years. Believe me, it becomes a nightmare and you long for the daily structure and grind of work.
I am happy to have a full time job now. I feel like a productive member of society again even if sometimes I complain about the daily grind. Hey, I wouldn’t sound like a full time worker if I didn’t. I do have to drag myself to work sometimes, namely because my job starts at 8 am and I have never been a morning person. But I have proven I can do it, in spite of the naysayers who said I would never be in this position again. Yes, I had doctors and therapists who told me I would not be able to work again. I was even told by one doctor that I needed group care. My hubby and I have come a long way since then.
So, even if this entry wasn’t about art or writing or both, I hope you didn’t mind me bragging a little bit about coming a long way. I hope to use my experiences to inspire others who are struggling, who might be where I was sixteen years ago. There is hope. Believe in yourself, not the therapists and doctors. They can help, but ultimately, you have to do most of the work. Have a great day!