A Resolution-less New Year

In past years, I've made long lists of resolutions. I probably still have them in notebooks somewhere. I would make the list on January 1st or close to it, and then never look at it again. So what's the point?

I went to a Buddhism meeting on Sunday and one of the speakers said that she understands that this is a time for making resolutions because we see the limitless potential, the clean slate that a new year brings. But she went on to say that every day should look like that. Every day is an opportunity to start fresh. Now I'm not saying I necessarily wake up and see the limitless potential of my day - I'm usually just groggy and cranky and wanting an extra hour of sleep. But I get it. So no resolutions this year, no endless lists that I will forget about immediately. Just a quiet determination to look at each day as an opportunity to make my life a little better, a little happier, a little friendlier, a little more productive, and to make other people's lives a little brighter.

San Fernando Valley of the Dolls

Some time ago, a fellow playwright asked for names and descriptions of pills I've taken in the past for bipolar disorder (as part of research for his play). And I realized I've taken a lot. Treatment of bipolar disorder requires somewhat constant vigilance as far as looking for new medications, and tracking what's working and what's not. I tend to wonder how these pills affect other people differently than they affect me, so if anyone else out there has experience with such things, I'd love to hear what worked and didn't for you.

Why am I sharing this? It's a little personal and probably a little scary, but my determination is to do what I can to lift the stigma on mental illness. It's a disease, just like any other, which requires medication and attention. I've always been very open and honest about it, and I think all the people in my life know if they have questions about it they can always ask. And also the title of the blog was just too good to resist.

Here is my Zagat's guide to brain pills.

Halperidol: This was what I was on in the hospital in Italy. Its nickname is Haldol. There is something called the "Haldol shuffle" - the description for the walk that you develop when on too much of this drug (which I was) - because you kind of zone out and can't really be bothered to lift your feet when you walk. Scary shit.

Risperdal: This was one of the first antipsychotics they tried me on. It made me extremely antagonistic and angry. I think at one point I threw the bottle of Risperdal at my mom. I was on this for an extremely short amount of time.

Zyprexa: I was on this one for a long time. It causes intense carb cravings, and I gained about forty pounds on this drug. (Which I've since lost, thank you Weight Watchers.) Other than the weight gain, this was a very good drug.

Abilify: I think I was on this one for about a year. I don't remember any negative side effects - I think at some point either it stopped working or we wanted to try something new.

Geodon: I was on this for years - ridiculously expensive, so much so that my doc was prescribing double doses but since they were caplets filled with powder, I had to break them in half and divide the powder and wrap each half in foil. It made my kitchen table look like that of a low stakes drug dealer. The nice thing was the 40 mg pill is my favorite color (turquoise). The bad thing was it occasionally caused my mouth to lock so that I was unable to speak. And then more and more occasionally until I had to switch to...

Lithium: Which I probably should have been on from the beginning and I'm frankly still not sure why it wasn't. It's older than time, it's an element so it's pretty natural, it works really well for me and I feel more like my old self now than I ever have on meds. As of this edit (2015), I've been on it for a couple of years and it's still great. Minor side effects for me include thirst which leads to licking my lips a lot which makes me look like a creepy old man sometimes.

Lexapro: An anti-depressant, which is often mixed with anti-psychotics to manage the lows of bipolar disorder. Sometimes I'm on this, sometimes I'm not. You have to be careful with anti-depressants because they can cause mania. In fact, when I was first going to doctors in Italy, they suggested that I take Prozac, and my spidey sense told me not to. Turns out I was right - my breakdown would have come faster and been much worse if I had taken the Prozac. I have to monitor my feelings really closely to know whether or not I should take the Lexapro. Currently not taking it.

Ativan: Absolutely my favorite of all my drugs. It is possible to develop an addiction to this anxiety pill, but I've managed to be all right with it. It is the most "Valley of the Dolls" of all the pills - it takes the edge off. And it also makes time move faster. Good for plane trips and anxious situations.

I think that's it. It's common for bipolar people to go off their medication, sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally. It happens to the best of us. For a while I was putting stickers in a dayplanner to mark that I took a pill each night. But it's become habit, and I don't think I've missed a day in over a year. Yay me.

Politics and Negativity

Lots going on. Here's some political stuff.

Letter to a Whiny Young Democrat - I wholeheartedly agree.

What the Fuck Has Obama Done So Far? - Thank you.

The Case for Obama (Rolling Stone) - Yes.

George W. Bush is an AssHat - No, that's not the title of the article, but this really pissed me off.

And speaking of pissing me off - here's an update on my positivity campaign:

I think I've abandoned it.

I lasted about a week, I only flubbed a few times, and I dutifully wrote all the negative things I said down in my little bitch book. And it was an interesting experiment. I really do think I was happier during that week, and I was definitely more aware of my negativity. And that's something that I'd like to hold onto. But it's unrealistic and probably unhealthy to expect myself to be Little Mary Sunshine all the time - it's just not natural. Bitching is healthy (and fun!), and I've found if I bitch about something it sticks it in my head long enough for me to figure out if it's something I can change or something I have to accept. Bitch, think, process, move on. Suppression and smiles are all fine and good for some people, but those people are the ones that freak me out a little. And sometimes they're the ones that wind up going on a shooting spree in a Carls Jr. I'm just saying.

I'm Positive

I can be a pretty negative person. I often soften it with "I know I have a lot to be grateful for, but...", which is really just a creatively passive-aggressive way to bitch. So I've decided to go on a month-long positivity campaign. My cohort in this endeavor is my friend Libby. We each have a "bitch-book" in which we can write down our complaints if we must, but we can't say them out loud. And if we say them out loud, we have to immediately write them down in the book and then, I don't know, say something positive about the situation. (We didn't really come up with a good punishment for negativity--any ideas? And no, I am not putting a dollar in a jar every time I bitch. Well, maybe.)

There were two catalysts for this campaign. One of them happened on Tuesday - I had a date that night, and I was dreading it (yes, an internet date. Sigh.). All day on Tuesday, I was extremely negative about it - it's not going to go well, why am I doing this, I hate these things, it's like a job interview with drinks, blah blah blah. I basically ensured through my thoughts that there was no way on earth this could possibly go well.

About an hour before the date, I decided to chant about it (for those of you new to this blog, I practice Nichiren Buddhism, which involves chanting the phrase "nam myoho renge kyo" which means "I devote myself to the mystic law of cause and effect through the sound I am creating"). I chanted for a half hour (I was just gonna do fifteen minutes but that clearly wasn't enough) with the intent to change my negative attitude and allow this date to not be awful.

And it wasn't. In fact, it was great. And I really honestly think if I had gone into it with the negative feelings I was carrying around all day, no matter how nice and charming and funny the guy turned out to be (which he did), it would have been awful. So that was catalyst #1.

Catalyst #2 was at my Buddhism meeting last night, when my friend Marc casually threw out the term "bitchkrieg," (a bastardization of the word "blitzkrieg," basically meaning "bitchstorm," or more literally "bitchwar"...anyway I think it is hilarious and I'm totally stealing it) and I realized how often I'll go on a bitchkrieg about things. Things I bitch about fall into two categories - things I can control and things I can't control. And there is no reason to bitch about either. If I can control it, I can change it. And if I can't control it, I need to face it, deal with it and move on. There's no room for bitchkriegs in either scenario. It's not enough to say I'm grateful for everything that is good in my life. It's time to live it.

So for the next month, I am all puppies and rainbows. And if you hear anything negative come out of my mouth, feel free to call me out on it. I promise not to bitch you out.

(*btw, I got the image above from a blog called "F*cked in Park Slope," which I think is pretty hilarious. It is, however, in a post about dating.)

Hot Link "Wino" Wednesday

Happy Wednesday, people! A few alcohol-related finds around the internet and in LA.

Here is a handy-dandy BYOB database that lists restaurants where you can bring your own wine, and the corkage fees (and sometimes, no corkage! Score.). The website defaults to the New York area, but you can change it on the right side under "region."

Article about fill-your-own wine containers in France. I hope this comes to the States, I love this idea.

New bar alert! Well relatively new. Spring Street Bar opened in April, but I just recently discovered it with my friend Marc. Tons of delicious microbrews and craft beers, knowledgeable bartenders, friendly clientele, and best of all, dog-friendly patio! Bear is a fan. Yelp reviews (including my own) here.

Cheers!

The Accidental Hip-Hop Teacher

It's been awhile. I think the reason I've been resistant to update this blog is because I feel like I have to report on my after-school program, and I don't love the update. But in the spirit of "growing" and "letting go" as the tagline of this very blog reads, here it is.

I have five students (which is two more than I had last week).

And I'm teaching hip-hop, which I'd say is the form of dance I am least comfortable with. But these kids are not into modern dance. They're into hip-hop. And hip-hop (or "hippity-hop" as my mom calls it) they shall have.

So the BEAR program (Building Enrichment Arts Resource) is not a wild success. But, as I have to remind myself, it is also not a failure. No, I'm not teaching 30 kids. But you know what? I probably couldn't handle 30 kids. Ninth graders are loud, man. And they're like magpies, getting distracted by shiny things. I have five students - but they are awesome. There's one kid who is so comfortable in his fabulously gay skin that it makes me want to cry tears of joy. With all the recent stories of homophobic bullying, it's so refreshing to see a kid that is allowed, nay, encouraged by his peers to be whoever he wants to be.

I was tempted to give up. And I've been getting butterflies in my stomach every Monday and Thursday morning knowing that I have to teach, entertain, impress and corral my five students. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not that great at hip-hop and also not that great at telling ninth graders to quiet down and pay attention. But I'm there. And I'm learning. And so are they.

9/11

September 11th, 2001 is one of those days where you remember where you were, what you were doing, who you were with. Or I should say, most people remember. I don't.

September 11th, 2001 fell into the period of recuperation after my psychotic break. I was still transitioning back into reality, and I was going through a period where I was sleeping all the time. My parents got me out of bed, I went and looked at the television, but I couldn't process what had happened. I went back to bed. It was just another day in an interminable chain of days. I'm normally a very compassionate and sensitive person, so the fact that I had no reaction to the tragedy really speaks to how "not myself" I was.

In the play that I'm working on right now, my main character, Sophie, is wrestling with the question of whether or not to take her pills for her bipolar disorder. She's an artist, and she feels that the pills dull her reality and creativity. They make her "not herself." Her brother, Jack, argues that when she doesn't take her pills, she's also not herself. There's no solution.

I've come so far from where I was nine years ago. I'm finally starting the after-school arts program I've been dreaming of for years. I have a house. I have a job (and sometimes three or four). I'm responsible for two animals. There was a moment that I remember from that period after my psychotic break when the therapist said it was most likely that I'd never live on my own, never be able to hold down a job, never be able to fend for myself. I remember hearing that and saying "No. That's not true. Not me."

As a writer, sometimes, yes, I feel like I could be more creative, and in fact was more creative before I was diagnosed and had to start taking medication. But I was also a loose cannon. It's not always easy. There's not always a great option. But when I think back to my emotional numbness in the face of a national tragedy, I know which choice I've made for myself.