Tag: music

Back on Abilify

Published on by cmglife

Oh the sweet feeling just listening to music. I was doing just this, sampling some music on ITunes that I had heard on the radio.

Then I have to go all “warden” on the dogs and ruin the moment. The two are on some sort of “high alert” and have both sat up and looked at the closed bedroom door.

“Hey, you two can just lie back down, “I say, “Henry! Lie down! Ellie! Lie down!” If I don’t exert a disciplinarian tone they will both start barking. I guess it doesn’t matter, the mood is ruined, but not really.

Oh, I didn’t mention having to go back on the Abilify?

Yes, after being withdrawn from the medication for 26 days I was falling apart. I know a lot of you have have suffered depression. This was not your normal run of the mill depression (I’ve had that too), this was serious “cannot get out of bed and go into work” depression.

I went to my doctor.  I was so afraid to suffer more or different side effects from the Abilify again, I asked if he could recommend something else. The alternative was Seroquel. He didn’t give it rave reviews as far I was concerned. I was too scared and confused to make a decision. What should I take, the new one with sedation qualities or back on the Abilify and just persevere through the akathisias and the weight gain?

I called my sister sobbing, barely able to get my words out and she said, “Go home right now and take the Abilify. You have to get on top of this again before you can make any decision”.

So that is what I did. I feel better emotionally. It must have been totally out of my system because I lost 3 lbs without doing anything and the akathisias became less. I’ve been on it again for about two weeks. I’ve gained 2 lbs back and I think the akathisias is coming back.

It’s always a trade off, I realize that. I’m definitely making a trade off with my physical well being for my mental well being. It’s not really a choice when I think about it.

Damn! Lost Again!

Published on by cmglife

 

I’ve gathered a few more new more songs lately.  I should say that I didn’t dare share them with my oldest daughter, but I did.  The reaction I got was not what I expected.  I mean, I guess I really thought she would like at least one of them.  Why do I never learn? Isn’t there a saying “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”

I downloaded a couple of songs from a band I had heard of recently.  I don’t remember how I stumbled upon them.  The one I decided to play for Emily was a ballad, a love song of sorts.  I thought the soft voice he was singing in was a nice change from the rawness of the other two songs I have of theirs.

Laughing, Emily said, “Oh my god mom, he is so gay!  What is your fascination with gay bands lately?”

“What? Why? Why do you think he is gay?”

“I can just tell!”

So I said, “Well, let me play you another one of their songs!”

I was going to show her that there is no way you can know if someone is gay (or the whole band for that matter) by that song.  Now all along I know at least the lead singer says he is, but I wasn’t going to let her in on it.

I obviously also have a little competitive streak in me. I didn’t expect to get into a sexual persuasion war, but yet there we were.  What was I trying to prove anyway?  I’m not sure really. I was, as usual when it comes to my music, offended because she didn’t like what I liked.

I played for her the song, which was opposite of the song she just listened to.

“It’s not my fault I look better in her party dress,” he sang.

THAT WAS THE FIRST LINE!!  Damn…why didn’t I remember that?!

Where Am I?

Published on by cmglife

I walked into the dingy laundromat last week to get our comforter washed.  Dingy is how I would describe every laundromat I have ever been in.

The music playing was nice, something Caribbean, merengue maybe? As I scanned the room for the counter I wondered casually what everyone’s story was.  Why don’t they own a washer and dryer?  I don’t judge.  There was a time when I was a young mother using the laundromat.

As I got to the desk, there was a young guy who asked me how he could help.  I gave him my comforter and waited as he wrote out the ticket.  We chatted about the weather, the fact that it was Friday, etc.  He took my money and I left.

As I walked through all the machines I reflected how much my life had changed.  I had my own washer and dryer now.  I had arrived.

I went through the doors to my car.  As I reached for my keys I noticed the music was still playing.  I felt for my phone.  The merengue music had been blasting from my purse all along.

Oh, yes, I had arrived alright. To where I’m not sure.

What fresh hell can this be?

Published on by cmglife

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a surviving victim of the catholic school system.  When Allison came home telling me she was assigned St. Catherine of Bologna as a history project, I almost choked on my mouthful of  Lean Cuisine.

After getting myself together, she told me the class was learning about important figures from the Renaissance.  The other kids were assigned fabulous characters like King Henry VIII, Queen Elizabeth I and Joan of Arc.  What evil forces were at work when she was assigned a nun? Allison was far from pleased to have to wear a nun’s habit when  the other girls were going to be decked out in all the Renaissance splendor that the era is known for.

Not only did she have to research St. Catherine, but also dress up like her, memorize and recite an entire page of a single spaced typed biography. Oh, yeah, spoken with an Italian accent, oh mio Dio!

No, she is not enrolled in a college preparatory school.  No, she is not in an arts school or even a gifted and talented program.  Just a little ‘ole 5th grader in a charter school that take themselves far too seriously.

The preparation it took for the final presentation was more labor intensive than the summer Olympics in London last year.  Hours of researching, typing, memorizing and  practicing a renaissance era Italian accent with just the right Bolognais dialect.

We started looking at photos of St. Catherine on the internet.  I found some perfectly lovely drawings of her, but all Allison could focus on was the mummified body of the actual original nun preserved and sitting in the chapel of the Poor Clares in Bologna, Italy.  I do not exaggerate.

And then there’s me, catholic PTSD every night I have to think about sewing that damn costume! I am not usually a procrastinator, but with this particular project I could not get my act together and left it until the last minute, or until the Saturday before the Monday she was going to present.  Off we went to store to buy a few yards of white, brown and black broadcloth.  I then proceeded to drape and cut and do a little (very little) sewing.  I thought she looked fabulous, for a dead nun.

That morning I was on pins and needles wondering how it was going. Was she going to choke? Was the wimple staying in place?  Did she remember the rosary?  Was the Little House on the Prairie book wrapped in brown cloth believable as a bible?

She ended up choking on the speech part (cazzarola!), but got an A for effort.  Phew! I’m glad that is over. Yesterday I got an email from the school announcing a “Civil War Re-Enactment and Ball” for the 5th and 6th graders in April.

Oh, what fresh hell can this be?

Word to the Wise

Published on by cmglife

Never buy and download songs to your iPod after you’ve had a glass of wine (or maybe two, who’s counting). Especially when your 16 year old son says,” Hey, Mom, I’ve got some songs you’d like!”

I’m cleaning today and listening to my iPod as I always do. To my dismay “Hit and Run”  comes on (and many more follow). It’s a song described by my son as “pop punk”. Oh the shame.