Don’t we learn anything from a Mixed Episode?

They need a brilliant strategist
They need a brilliant strategist

Happily, the depression has gone, left that in the dust. And even more happily, I have enough energy for a thousand men, for a thousand brains and for Zuma himself. I would re-constitute his public persona in a month and get him re-elected for a third term. I could become Barry Roux’s best friend and explain exactly what is needed to keep his silly boy out of jail.

Instead, I buy a box of menthol and start smoking again. Because I need a break from the inquiry into my mind, body and soul … primarily my inquiry while inviting all and sundry in for an opinion. I rush around all day between shopping and getting my body sorted out: re-organised all my scarves so that they hang on this nifty contraption I found during my shopping spree, and cut the prices off the stuff I bought in case anyone notices. This is on my first day out of hospital, my rest day before I start work. This is on a combo of Seroquel and Rivitrol, which should knock me out cold – but my chemicals are stronger. Well, that’s because I am about to explode from anxiety and good intentions.

During hospital, my schedule was to die for. Art Occupational Therapy which I extended after hours into full production – bio-kinetics, physiotherapy, coaching, spiritual healing, Airbook set up, phone calls, visits and making friends with the two old and lonely looking gentlemen in the medical ward. The first few days this was accompanied by crying, for myself this time and not the world, and then I was miraculously healed and the hypo-mania continues.

How far would I go to test these limits if I didn’t have an awesome husband and family in place? Does that give me the sick ability to act on whim? I am making efforts to stabilise, so bring the Spiritual Healer to our home to see everyone, including my kids, seeking relief for myself and others.

I ask my nine-year old to give me some of the energy he has just learnt about, so he places some purple energy into my heart. It takes my anxiety away. Now I am left with ideas bouncing around about “all the things I could do, if I had a little money, it’s a rich mans world”. Zuma and I could have a symbiotic relationship.

1 Comment

  1. Nats Soal

    October 19, 2014 at 7:18 pm

    Crazy times for Crazy people, and nothing too shabby about having some crazy in you, as long as you never let it Lead You….after all, it’s Crazy. Crazy is the child on too many sweeties, jumping, dancing, singing- but at the end of the day, Crazy is the kid crying in the corner, Crazy juices depleted. Colours fade, light dims and the dark place calls you in.

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