I am not a failure. I repeat: I am not a failure.

Actually, figure this: How many of you, when faced with a major decision in life, consult your husband or wife?  How many of you consult your parents?  How many of you consult your therapist?

Hey, I don’t got no hubby, no kids, no parents to rely on.  I go to my therapist, this new one, and she’s been no use to me.  I make all my decisions myself, based on my own opinion, my own judgment, what makes sense to me.  I weigh the pros and cons.   I depend on no one, and I don’t fall apart when there’s no one around to pat me on the back for a job well done.  I pat myself on the back (though I don’t mind compliments).  And I made up my mind a while back that I’m going to reject “constructive feedback,” cuz the last bit of that wasn’t all that constructive or helpful.  Those of you who have received “constructive feedback” from controlling people know just what I mean.

I am emotionally dependent on no one.  I am not wrapped up in this new therapist so it’s no issue to fire her.  I’ve only seen her three times and I won’t miss her.  In fact, I’ll be relieved not to have to make that miserable commute, as the weather is about to turn nasty.  As soon as I made the decision, I felt a lot better.  Now, I will be freeing up Thursdays once more.  I’m sure she’ll offer to reschedule, but no, I’m done.  Given that she was not helpful, I am not losing anything at all, anyway.

I plan to schedule another appointment with Dr. P very soon, and another appointment with Dr. K to see about my liver levels.  I think I’m going to have to cancel North Carolina.  I get exhausted and need naps frequently.  I can be mid-sentence with my writing and suddenly, I’m out cold.  I simply can’t be accountable to another person for five hours a day.  It’s too much.  Even with a scheduled break I know I cannot do it.

We don’t know why my body won’t sleep.  It’s not psychiatric.  I am not manic and I’m not depressed.  My thoughts don’t race at night.  I do not experience anxiety or worry.  I am not experiencing nightmares that wake me up.  I don’t obsess over whether I”m going to sleep or not.  We (Dr. K and Dr. P, who know me, and I) and my new student acupuncturist all agree that it has to do with my past eating disorder, though.  Dr. P has noticed cognitive changes as well.  Folks say I don’t make sense when I am speaking to them.  This is an example of the cognitive problem I have.  We don’t know if these changes are permanent or if I will get my abilities back.  It’s funny cuz when I leave a message for Dr. P, it is barely understandable, she says.  I try so hard to communicate.  Just can’t communicate properly.  No, I don’t need antipsychotics.  This is not psychosis.

I told Dr. P I first noticed some brain stuff happening in December or January this past year.  Yeah, it was psychotic-like, from starvation.  No pill would have cured it, of course.  What I needed was food.  I got food, but I guess it was goo late, cuz I had killed off some brain cells, or temporarily disablied them.

All this affects my writing.  It is affecting what I am writing now.  I rarely complete a project.

Sadly, the one project I did complete recently is a piece I’m reading in church.  Unfortunately, I feel like the piece isn’t even wanted.  Just circumstances.   Oh well.  Gotta go sleep now.

Nearing the end of another awesome outing with Puzzle

It’s a bit of a rainy day here in Boston. Once I get home, I plan to spend some time concentrating on my writing. I can’t think of a nicer thing to do on a rainy day, or any day. I should be home and organized at 5, but I’ll have to take time out to eat. I hope to spend an hour writing, then I plan to take a break and either knit or sew for a half hour, then I plan to write for another hour, and that will be it for the day. Before I go to bed, I plan to write an assessment of how today went. I find that I can plan out the next day better if I can figure out what I did right today.

I am experimenting with putting myself on timers. The advantage is that I don’t get carried away with anything, and I begin my work on time. The disadvantage is that the ringing bells can get annoying at times.

Someone asked me today why I wear a tie. I wonder why the question. He asked it like, “Why so formal?” or something like that. I decided to skirt around the clothes question. I said I made an issue of it this morning and had spent quite a bit of time ironing my tie. I said I had done this because I didn’t want to wear a wrinkled tie.

Here’s a secret to ironing ties, in case you didn’t know: Iron the most important part and focus on that foremost, that is, the wide part of the tie. You don’t have to worry about the rest, not really, not the little end, unless it’s sticking out extremely obnoxiously. You really only have to iron the part that folks see.

All aboard the CT2

Me and PZ, we are everywhere today. We got off at the end of the 57 and went one stop westbound on the Green Line to a stop called Fenway. We found the place we had to get to and ran our errand, and then right there picked up the bus called CT2. CT stands for “Crosstown.” I must say, these are not the most popular buses in town, but they are occasionally useful. They are “limited stop” buses, that is, they zoom around, if such a thing is possible in Boston, and instead of driving everyone nuts and stopping at every corner, they stop only now and then. I think that the reason these buses don’t have a lot of ridership is that folks don’t learn about them unless they use the T’s handy “trip planner” feature (powered by Google, by the way). In case you are wondering, neither Google nor the MBTA are infallible. It takes a bit of practice to get to know stuff like which buses run late or are crowded or don’t show up, which connections just aren’t going to be possible, which streetsw can’t be crossed, and when not to take chances that a bus will show up late.

Well, we have arrived! Just goes to show…I am never lost…seems that my six legs got us here just fine.

Wicked Cool on the 57 bus

Yeah, that’s the one Puzzle and I are on today and it’s going to be the World’s Longest and Boringest Ride, so I figured I’d connect with all you folks out there while I have the chance.

Today, for the second time, I ran eight laps around the track at Victory Field. I love that name, Victory Field, don’t you? Tomorrow, unless it’s pouring, I’m likely to increase to nine laps. Each lap is a quarter mile. And yep, I’m certainly the slowest runner out there, but who cares? I love every minute I spend at the track. Running is one cool sport.

For those of you who might find some meaning in this: I used to do a mile in 13:30 and now I’ve trimmed it to 12:20. I couldn’t be more delighted with this. I do my second mile at about the same time as the first, apparently, because my time is just under 25 minutes for the entire run. When I finished this morning I felt damn good and proud. I will be running 5k well before I leave for North Carolina. When I reach that point, I will stop increasing my distance, cuz I sure don’t want to get injured.

To keep up with all this bus riding and running around, of course I have to eat a lot. I do just that. Meal plan? Who me? It’s called the Economy Plan. Whatever’s cheap or free or you can get with food stamps or at a pantry. “Will this meal plan make me fat?” No guarantees on that but you won’t go broke.

Making Goals

I’m trying to prioritize right now, figure out what the most important things are that I need to accomplish. It’s so tough when I have a million ideas running through my head at once, just too many writing projects going on simultaneously. I’d say it’s damn annoying every time I start a new project I don’t finish. It’s especially annoying falling asleep while trying to write. I’m so damn tired a lot of the time. The fatigue overwhelms me and the only thing I can do is to abandon my project and collapse.

I discussed this with my DMH person. I decided to list my writing projects and then prioritize them. I decided that it seems like November is too soon to be writing this political satire. I need to write something else. I need to decide soon what that something else will be.

Check out this article! Brain allergies…I think I am allergic to dairy.

Remember I used to get VERTIGO every time I drank that glass of milk in the morning?  And yet I kept drinking it.  Why?  I insisted on doing my food a certain way.  People with eating disorders are peculiar that way.  Well, I buy yogurt now and then, not very often.  I got yogurt on Monday.  A whole quart of it.  And in creeps this paranoia.  I bought a quart of it and had the last of it this morning before my run.  Eeeks!  When I introduced the dairy to my diet on Monday evening, I had a bit of loose stools.  And I’ve been developing this paranoia.  So from now on, no more cow’s milk for me.

Here’s the article:


I also had an ear of corn Monday night.

Extra pill just now

Well, gee, I recognized some negative thinking creeping in, some of the old paranoia, and I decided to put a stop to it right away.  It got scary.  Recognizing it is half the battle because if you don’t, it accelerates and gets worse.  Then once you do stop yourself, you’re okay.

See, it kind of centered around this person that I thought was badmouthing me.  Is it true or not?  Does it matter?  Who cares what this person says or doesn’t say about me?  I hold my head high.  I am cute and funny no matter what she says.  How can you argue with my dog’s fuzzy face?  Who is really going to believe her, anyway?  What these people are finding is that what she says simply isn’t true.  Not that I really know what it is that she’s spreading around, but she is spreading something around, I know that.  Or so I thought.  So I ended up rather paranoid, obsessing about what people thought about me and thinking that people were giving me “looks.”  Well, maybe they were and maybe they weren’t.  Let them look at me cross-eyed for all I care.

I took half an Abilify extra just now.  I plan to see Dr. P next week and hopefully this will be gone by then.  I want this bit out of my head.

Yeah, I know, it all sounds like normal gossip shit to you, but it goes a lot deeper.  I don’t like bawling over humans and feeling persecuted.   I hope this goes away in a few hours and that I’m back to normal.  Guess I just woke up funny.

Dollar-a-bag food pantry in Cambridge, MA

I am adding my report on this food pantry in Cambridge, MA.  It is called “Dollar-a-bag.”  As those of you who regularly read my blog know, I report on all food pantries accessible to Watertown, MA citizens (whether seniors or not).

Here is the master list, which I will probably make a “page” in addition to a post:


This pantry is open to everyone no matter where you live.  There is no income requirement and you can be homeless and you can be any age and you can be a veteran or not a veteran and any race or religion or gender or nationality or age.  I believe they want one person per household to pick up the groceries.  So, you know, common sense. And they probably want an adult to show up.  This is the only food pantry I’ve been to in the area that charges money, that is, a dollar per bag.  You bring your own bag.   They do have bags but bringing your own is encouraged (and environmentally a good idea, too!).  The limit is two bags per household. You can come every week.  They will give you one bag of bread-type stuff and one bag of “other” type stuff including fresh veggies and even fresh cooked meat.

This food pantry is located at St. Paul’s Church on Mount Auburn Street in the heart of Harvard Square.  The pantry happens every Saturday at 11 until 11:30, but I found their doors open earlier and it’s a good idea to be there by 11 the latest because I believe it’s all over by 11:30.  The pantry is at number 29.  You sort of go through a back door right off the street.  I found this door open.  There were a bunch of stairs.  I’ll bet there’s a wheelchair entrance somewhere, but not at 29 Mount Auburn Street.  Now 29 Mount Auburn Street is not on the #71 route.  This is the area of Mount Auburn Street past where the bus route ends, past the square.

As soon as you get into the room, find where the “numbers” are given out. These are little tickets.  The “numbers” are the last two digits on your ticket.  Listen carefully.  A guy (or someone) will announce your number.  When I was there on Saturday, the guy announcing numbers did so loudly and clearly.   While waiting for your number to be announced, go sit down with your bags.  You’ll see where to sit.  A bunch of other folks will be sitting in seats.  Relax.

When you hear your number, go up to this guy and give him your ticket.  He will tell you where to go and how to proceed.

Now once you get into the food distribution area, there’s sort of a raised platform area where you’ll see tables where food is laid out.  What they want you to do is to go around the table and pick up the food that’s there and put it in the bag that you brought.  The problem is here that if you are in a wheelchair (and have managed to get into the church via a wheelchair entrance…I assume, like I said, that there is one, but then again you can never assume) there is this step in the middle here, so I’m wondering about accessibility.  Of course there are a lot of volunteers at this pantry who are more than willing to help someone…just ask, and ask any questions that you have about allergies, etc.  They have all kinds of breads donated from bakeries all over, including Whole Foods.

The day I was there, there was not too much food.  They were not charging money at all.  They said their truck had not arrived and that this was highly unusual.  But I was totally impressed with this whole chicken they were giving everyone.  This was a hot, just-out-of-the oven chicken, fully wrapped, like those kind you can pick up ready-to-eat at the supermarket, the kind that food stamps sometimes pay for and sometimes don’t.  I wish I’d asked if the church folks themselves cooked these chickens.  They were very small chickens but maybe enough to feed a good meal to four people at least, just a guess. And tasty, too.

There is an inner pantry area of donated food.  Here is my suggestion for this pantry area.  It’s all staples.  If I recall correctly, you get two selections from in here.  You do not get to look around.  Go in there with something in mind.  Have it written down.  Have a third and fourth choice.  So have your list of four items.   First choice, second choice, third choice, fourth choice.  They don’t want you to dawdle.  Think ahead and think of what you need most.

This is a small operation, but the pantry has been around a while, and will be around for a while to come.  Thank you, St. Paul’s, for feeding hungry people.