Fred is my therapist. He says he reads my blog and can tell how I'm doing by what I'm writing about. And he might be a bit worried about my mental health since I'm all over the place lately. I wrote a bit of "erotica" (some would call it porn, some would say it wasn't nearly graphic enough). I have almost no inhibitions about writing. For Fred, this might be a sign that I'm acting out in a sexual way. This is one of the "problems" facing those with poorly managed bipolar disorder. We can be very impulsive when mildly manic. But no one as reclusive as I would be out acting out in the real world. I'm home alone acting out. My dogs are fed and napping and I can act out without hurting anyone. So what's the damn harm in writing a little erotica?
Yes there were a couple of gloomy poems, but hell, that's what I do when I'm gloomy; I write about it. Where's the harm in that?
I've been pissed off that it's taken so long to recover from my bout of diverticulitis. I blame the hospital stay. It was a real bitch. I may be pissed off about that for a long time; the bills are starting to roll in. I'm going to challenge every fucking charge. They did their best to flip me into a bipolar crisis. I'm coping. Maybe not perfectly, but coping none the less.
So don't worry Fred. I might be flirting with an unavailable and inappropriate man I'll never meet, but god it's fun. And where's the harm in that?
News That Will Drive You To Drink
3 hours ago
11 comments:
No harm.
No harm at all (and prolly a good bit of healthy activity).
Keep writing!
S
Go Duke!
_________
You are lucky to have a therapist, hell I am lucky I don't.
My therapy consist of wondering if I am asperger, it is convenient, I seem to fit, and for once I find comfort in exploring what I am really like.
I have been barred from commenting at the Trib, who cares, I didn't like that so much, listening to bigots and their problems with being honest.
Brings out the best in them, my thoughts of them, guess that is why I am off for a week and posting here for, well, some therapy.
I hope you find no harm as I do.
I had diverticulitis once, took seven years to know, what a bummer that was, the doctor loved it and retired shortly after some not so delicate surgery.
He was just another quack ripping off the Mediscare.
I believe you are recovering, that diverticulitis is like, well, it is hard to describe that insecurity.
No harm at all. Gotta vent all the extra crap hanging around inside the noodle, whether writing a poem, a story or building a homemade nuclear bomb in your basement.
Actually I am not bi-polar ( at least not diagnosed!) and I write for the very same reason, although the pron thing would be hard for me to manage... because I have never tried it before...
My granddad in a fit of flippant humor one time said porn was good for the soul. Now he said that to piss off the rat bastard preacher visiting our church one time but I took his advice to heart.
Ain't a damn thing wrong with erotica, even the kinky stuff.
Beach, thank you. And with that ringing endorsement I'll carry on with the new book. I'll get the new blog linked up soon and those of you with a naughty streak can read it as I write it. So far, six chapters. One of them even turns me on.
Yea, Fred. And furthermore, Utah, you should be able to bill Fred for his time spent reading here.
Bill Fred? Fred gives me so much free time, I dare not mention billing or he might start putting a meter on his cellphone.
But I do appreciate your sentiment, Fran. I hope some of you womens will read the new blog and comment. I thought I'd have it linked up today, but maybe tomorrow.
For obvious reasons I find it really fascinating that Fred visits your blog. I know that Igor doesn't and I don't imagine he would come to it unless I expressly communicated a need for him to read something. I know it would create a dual awareness for me if I knew Igor might visit my blog.
You and Fred know better than I do, but from where I sit it seems that the erotica and flirting would not constitute a manic activity. But you did say you were getting up really early. Well, that is for you and Fred to figure out. Just want you to know that I believe writing is never a bad thing. Some of my best writing occurs when I am feeling my worst.
xxoo
I'm glad to see you're writing when you feel sad.
When I first started reading your blog, you were doing way too much house cleaning, vacuuming in particular.
The dust is a cushion, an accumulation of our cellular self that lingers in the air to protect us from sharp edges.
LBR, it's important that my therapist and psychiatrist know the real me, both in the short time I spend with them and in my daily life. I could go in and bullshit my way through a session not wanting to have any med changes. But in the day to day, I tell the truth about the way I feel. It's a pretty good barometer of my real mood and the ups and downs of a life lived in the open here.
Kathleen, it thrills me to have you talking to me again. I feel very much in tune with you.
yes, I finally took your advise and gave up on house work. When I see drifts of dog hair and dust settling under my desk I just pull out the shark and quietly move it around a bit. I dust when I can see fur on surfaces. I'm now into writing full time. I think twitter has been good for me. I'm learning how to get to the point and not say every little unnecessary thing. That I save for the blog.
I hope at some point I learn how to navigate FB, but for now, I'm lost there. Only you truly engage me there. Thanks for that. I'm surrounded by people I love, but have no idea how to communicate with them. How odd is that?
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