My brain had a great day yesterday. It went zizzing around from meeting to meeting absorbing information and combining it with other information in the context of the big picture. It was so much fun.
I do not often say this about meetings. But the meetings were purposeful, productive, and thought-provoking. As a group we were involved with generating ideas that fit in to a common purpose. I was able to combine my educator's brain with my trusty old business systems analyst brain.
Work smarter, not harder.
I did have somewhat of a difficult time coming down from this intellectual "high." I went home and played with ideas. For a long time. Because it takes a long time for the ideas to float around and attach themselves to other things until they click into place.
I went to bed at a somewhat reasonable time last night. I didn't wait for a book to fall on my face before I stopped reading. However, the toddler who went to bed for the night at 3pm the following day did not manage to sleep through the night. Go figure.
And when she woke she felt the need to poke me in the eye and have loud and interesting discussions with me like, "I have been wondering about the thunder..."
Then after what felt like hours and hours of trying to get back to sleep I gave up because my creative brain was wide awake. So I got up AND I WROTE. Not blog stuff (I didn't allow myself to turn on the computer until at least 4:00 am). Creative writing. Something new. And it was so much fun that I wanted to dance a jig.
This is what I was missing. This is the piece of me that was locked away when there wasn't enough serotonin to go around. Years ago (but not yet decades) I wrote most of my master's thesis for my MFA after everyone was asleep and before they woke up. Because I was awake. Not because I stayed up too long or set an alarm to get up early. But because the ideas woke me up when they were ready and I paid attention.
My favorite example of this was a short story I wrote. I got up in the middle of the night after a rejuvenating three hours of sleep and wrote the story from start to finish. It was about a funeral parlour hair dresser (yes this is a real job) who worked in a small town in Minnesota.
Here is the kicker: I found out later that my paternal great grandmother was a funeral parlour hair dresser in small-town Minnesota. I had not been concisously aware of this. Isn't the subconscious a wonderful thing?
Tee hee! Until you have not been you for a length of time you don't realize how truly amazing and wonderful it is to be you. Maybe it is like leaving home-- when you come back you appreciate things so much more. You don't know what you've got 'till it's gone (and other musical cliches).
I am not, by the way, advocating clinical Depression as a method for coming to some kind of zen acceptance of Who You Are. I am just saying a little thanks for this moment of accepting me for who I am and being pretty happy about it.
Grateful Crap: That I am not a single parent and that my spouse is also my best friend. This, I can heartily recommend.
I already wrote that my Daily Convexions on the earlier post: meds and not much more. Still minding the pills. Using the new minder now. 150mg sertraline, 450mg bupropion
Quaker, teacher, parent,