Tomorrow I have my third swimming lesson. I don’t really know how to swim properly and I need a non weight bearing exercise to keep the fat from coming all the way back, so swimming it is. I enjoy it a great deal except for all the leg shaving. I am of hairy eastern European descent and it is an inconvenience to shave my legs so often, not to mention chaff inducing. Charlotte is still taking swim lessons and I figured one of us better be able to keep for when she is eventually in Michael Phelps’ league.
I also see my psychiatrist tomorrow. We will talk about how the new drug cocktail – Pristiq and a little Abilify are working quite well and costs an assload. In Canada. I cannot imagine what I may pay in the US. Since Mark isn’t working right now we have private supplemental health insurance and it isn’t as cushy as workplace supplementary insurance.
Our sub par insurance is also paying for a wee bit of my new psychologist. A talk therapist. My psychiatrist is the best ever, but as I feel better I need someone in more of a coach and guidance role. More than listening. I have found someone I really like. Sorry to get all Oprah on your ass, but we are looking at how to I can live more of my live. Less staying home, less sleeping, less avoiding the world, more regular bathing. I am to write these things down, but I am first percolating. Asha from Parenthacks talked about how you want your life to look like. I am taking a lot of her thoughts and planning and going with that.
I am thinking about how I want to spend my time now that I am not sleeping or lying in my bed of despair or ennui all day. Right now I am scratching the surface. I have not being able to write down a goal past “feel like like shit”, for more than 2 years. I want to cook more, learn to swim, eat better, sew, use my new BeDazzler (for real). Of course gardening season is finally approaching here in the bald ass prairie tundra, so that will keep me busy for a while.
First, Mark and I are going to Vegas May 15-18 for some lovely couple time. Actually that isn’t happening first. Right now I am trying to de-clutter my home so my mom doesn’t go all Peter Walsh on my ass while we are away. Clutter or perceived clutter, by my mother, makes her mental and we have come home to some tidiness that is not necessarily welcome, if that makes sense. I don’t live beyond my means, I live beyond my space. How does a person know when they are a compulsive shopper? compulsive buyer? compulsive acquirer?
Also, I bought a Costco membership finally. Wow, that was a kicker at the end of a post where I almost admit to being a hoarder. I swear I am not sleeping a top a pile of cat feces.