Be ye not afraid. Askew wood Bow Tie o’ the Day is here to assure you that Hairs Thursday #14 will post this afternoon.
In these photos, you see me and Bow Tie and my TMS technician, Tenzin. Tenzin has made the treatments almost a pleasure to go through. She gets my humor and my fashion. And she is a hoot, herself. I will actually miss her.
One day at treatment, I noticed that if you turn my electromagnetic TMS coil on its side, it resembles Mickey Mouse ears– even more so when placed atop my TMS beanie. Tenzin humored me when I asked if she’d take the apparatus apart, so I could get a TIE O’ THE DAY selfie with the “ears.” She was ecstatic to do so. I handed her a prop bow tie I always carry with me in The Saddle Purse, in case I need it. She loved the whole set-up and was proud I thought enough of her to let her pose with her own borrowed Bow Tie o’ the Day.
Y’all know how I find significance and humor in coincidences. Of course, it’s happened again. I should have known the TMS equipment would have a component which resembles Mickey Mouse ears. My TMS doctor’s name? Dr. Mickey. How did I not notice this connection earlier? Coincidence? I think not.
34 TMS treatments down, 2 to go. Both are next week.
TIE O’ THE DAY is on its knees, begging your forgiveness. We shirked our entertainment duties, and we know how y’all get when you don’t get your daily dosage of neckwear and too much information about me. Bad tblog!
So today I found my redneck Hat o’ the Day and paired it with a lovely argyle Bow Tie o’ the Day. We figured the look would help us get back into our readers’ good graces.
Here’s our true excuse for our absence: I went to my TMS appointment early Friday morning. Now remember, last week was my first week of tapering the TMS from 5 to 2 sessions per week. After I got home, I wrote the day’s first post. Immediately after I posted, my crazy head went weird on me. Now, I know you’re saying to yourself, “This dame is bipolar, so she always has a weird head. What’s the big deal?” Well, this was a brand new territory of weird head. My head had never before been in this particular zone of crazy. For three days, I was forced to explore the new universe spinning in my noggin. That’s how I spent my Memorial Day weekend– with a new kind of weird head.
I’m sure it had something to do with tapering off the TMS. I suppose that at least shows TMS has done SOMETHING to me. I wish I could tell you whether or not my weekend crazy head was positive or negative. I’m not sure. I think my noggin was more level, but I’m still too mystified about the experience to make a judgment, myself. One thing I do know is that I wasn’t in a frame of mind to write posts, and that’s an odd thing.
I tried to describe to Suzanne how my head’s soul felt, and the best I could do was the following: I felt like the “dumb blonde” in the dumb blonde jokes. Oh, I felt intelligent as ever, but I felt like if you put a tire gauge up to my eardrum, you could test the air pressure in my skull. And it would be high. See why I can’t tell if the feeling was positive or negative?
After TMS this morning, I felt a little more like my abnormal normal self. Not to worry, folks.
Paw prints are almost as fashionably interesting as paisley or polka dots. Stick ’em on a jumbo Bow Tie o’ the Day and the dapper-ness is undeniable.
This morning, Bow Tie was yet another hit at the TMS clinic. I guess my neckwear has been the talk of the clinic. My treatment is at 7AM, and at 6:55 some of the nurses, technicians, and office assistants make a beeline to the waiting room to see what neckwear I’ve got going on. One technician told me I am not allowed to ever be finished with my TMS treatments, unless I promise to stop in daily to show off the neckwear I’m wearing that day. I’ve said it time and time again: Bow ties make people jolly up a bit. It’s my purpose in life to wear the neck happiness.
Bow Tie and I talked it over. We were so disappointed about the non-dying o’ the hairs yesterday, and we just couldn’t let it go. We got ourselves so worked up about the whole thing that we decided it was our obligation to try to color the hairs again. That’s what we did this morning after I got back from TMS. Let me just say this: The second time was not the charm.
It’s true that my sideburn hairs took a bit of the VIXEN VIOLET. But overall, our trying was for naught. I’m still glad I tried dying my hairs a second time though. Trying and failing, and then trying again– those are valuable actions. I recommend we all do more of that, with both bigly and insignificant things. Find your passions– bigly and small– and grab ’em. Hold on to your passions like they’re your children. They kind of are. You’ll succeed. You’ll fail. Again and again. But only if you keep trying.
Except for the dozen or so sorta purple hairs, I’m stuck with my stoopid hairs and their natural color. I don’t have an opinion about whether I like my natural hairs hues, but I like my patches and streaks of gray. I will honestly be pleased if/when I am all gray. I think gray hair is gorgeous. I think it’s quite becoming to most faces. I’ve earned my gray hairs anyway, and I’m not alone. Just sayin’.
BTW I don’t know why I’ve been sermon-ing lately. Has TMS turned me into a priestess whose goal is to pontificate? Well, I doubt that. I’m probably just in a bossy mood.
I was chatting with yet another purple Bow Tie o’ the Day this afternoon, and we decided we’d try to snap a better photo of my stubborn, unviolet hairs. To stage the photo, we tried bigly to find lighting in which the hairs could best express whatever purple hues they might have accidentally held onto. Apparently, the VIOLET VIXEN hair coloring is visible mostly on my scalp. It’s to dye for!
Sorry, I’m late posting on a Hairs Thursday, but I’ve been working on tweaking the color of my hair. Bow Tie o’ the Day and I decided to step it up with a popping purple hair color called VIOLET VIXEN. The results didn’t result in the result we were promised on the package. We should have known better, but we took advantage of our right to believe in an advertisement. I even did something I never do: I followed the directions, to the last detail. This is further proof of what I always tell you about my hair: It is the stoopidest, most useless hair on any planet. It won’t curl. It won’t take color. It just plain doesn’t cooperate.
The hair color isn’t the color I sought, but it is what I got. I’ll resolve to be pleased with it. Why choose to go around with a grumpy face and make myself and others miserable about it? It’s just hair that didn’t turn purple. No bigly deal. I admit I’m disappointed though.
We have to learn to be okay with the facts of our lives all the time. Sometimes we are conscious of doing it. Most times, we just do it. For example, I’d like peace on earth. The fact: It’s never gonna happen as long as human beings are involved. They are imperfect. Thus, I have learned to not lose sleep over the sickening fact there will always be a war somewhere or other.
I’d also like to sell a poem for a million dollars. Fact: Never gonna happen, cuz nobody gives a dang about serious, philosophical poetry. Oh, well. I’d like to have one whole, working pancreas. Fact: I’ve got 1/3 of a mostly healthy pancreas, which keeps me alive and thriving just fine. And on and on, I could regale you with examples of dealing with the “it is what it is.”
We decide to be happy. It really is a choice. It’s an attitude we sometimes have to work hard to attain. We have to choose to make the choice to be happy with who, what, and where we are. No matter how you look at it, where you are in your life is mostly where you put yourself. Good decisions, bad decisions– they were your choices.
We can can follow the directions we were taught about how to build a fulfilling life, but things over which we have no control happen to all of us. In reality, what’s out of your control accounts for only a small percentage of what put you where you are. Of course, the things beyond our control can be bigly things. People you love might leave you, or die. You might lose a job through no fault of your own. Your house might burn down. The list is endless.
But we all have the ability to adjust. Are you in a joyous place in your life? A bad place? You might as well be okay with it because you put you right where you are. And if you cannot possibly be okay with where you are, you are the only person who has the ability to change your circumstances.
You are the one who can choose to learn from tragedies and changes you don’t control. And you are the one who can choose to learn from your own mistakes. You are the one who chooses to roll with whatever it is–with a positive attitude OR focus on the negative and bring balloons to your own pity party. You are the only person who can control where you go next, and can control how you will face it. I suggest we all face what we’ve built of our lives as mature adults, not as petulant, spoiled children who blame everyone but themselves.
Also, if you want purple hair, don’t buy this product.
Bow Tie o’ the Day and I stole Suzanne’s lunch hour by invading her office to do our usual off-the-wall routine. Just because we’re there, it doesn’t always mean Suzanne ceases working. On this day, not even The Saddle Purse could make her look away from the three computers sitting on her desk. She thinks she’s so important that the entire Utah public education system will fall apart if she stops to eat some yogurt and string cheese for ten minutes. She might be right.
I decided I should add something I didn’t include in yesterday’s post about depression and the depression side of bipolarity. It’s important for people to understand that a devastating depression does not generally correlate to the quality of a clinically depressed person’s life. [There is something called “situational depression,” which can occur when someone’s life is in tatters. But it tends to be not very deep and it goes away when the situation improves.]
Real depression doesn’t care about the quality of your life. It just shows up, like any illness. Take me, for example. I’ve experienced bouts of depression since I was a kid, and yet I’ve had a relatively tragedy-free, love-filled, opportunity-filled life. My life has been rich, and peopled with decent characters wherever I’ve been. All of that didn’t keep me from being bipolar though.
At this point in my life, I have the freedom to write all day. I live in a swell house. I’ve got a few bucks in The Saddle Purse. I get to travel quite a bit. I have a fine family, fine in-laws, and Suzanne. Skitter’s sleeping head is snoring on my lap even as I write this post. The evil parts of my pancreas got hacked out, and the pain they caused has mostly disappeared. I’m even satisfied that Mom is in the absolute best place for her to be for the last chapter of her life. As far as I’m concerned, I have everything. Not only does my cup runneth over, I’ve got more cups than I can count and they all runneth over.
But none of the gifts my life contains has kept me from being bipolar. None of it has kept this swamp of depression away. Mental illness does what it wants. All I can do is try to manage it. Meds help. Talk therapy helps. Practicing mindfulness helps. Writing about it helps. I hope TMS will help. Each of these things helps a little bit. At least, they help ME. I know they do not help everyone who is bipolar or depressed. See, my life is lucky even where that’s concerned: There are things that help me manage my bipolar head– and still this deep depression shows up whenever it wants.
I don’t get cocky about how well I have been able to manage my bipolarity throughout my life. I don’t get complacent that I have access to things that help me. All I can say is that I’ve managed to make it to this day. I can’t afford to act like I will still be able to manage it tomorrow. So far, so good.
I got to sleep-in past 5AM on this weekday morning. No TMS treatment today. Yay!!! But Suzanne began to snore promptly at 5:01 AM, so I didn’t get to sleep in as much as I got to lie there and “curse-in” about being awakened when I didn’t need to be up early.
I’m not quite finished with the TMS regimen. I had treatment #30 yesterday morning. I’ve got 6 to go, but I am now in the tapering-off phase of the treatments, so I will have treatments only twice per week from now on. I want my TMS-every-weekday schedule back! I will follow the rules, but it really ticks me off that it will take 3 weeks for me to complete the last 6 treatments.
People who have never experienced a major depression cannot fully comprehend its complexity. My experience has been that most of the lucky people who have been blessed to skip the depression quagmire have the idea that to be depressed is only to feel down and hopeless. They don’t have a clue that major depression can manifest itself, not just in negative feelings, but in the total absence of feelings. When I began TMS treatment, I had experienced an extended period of time feeling nothing. Nada. Zip.
When this “not-feeling” happens, I still KNOW what I feel, but I don’t really FEEL it. For example, I know I love Skitter, but right now I don’t feel it in the marrow of my bones. I take care of her out of loving habit, knowing that the love still lives in me somewhere– and hoping I will surely feel it again. It helps me that I was raised to be a nice person, whether I’m feeling like it or not. “Nice” is my default mode of being.
Here’s another example of my being disconnected from my true, feeling self: A few weeks ago, Suzanne said, “Let’s buy you a new truck.” If I’d had my normal feelings working, I would have picked out a new truck and parked it in the garage within an hour of Suzanne’s words. Instead, I shrugged it off and said, “Nah. I don’t need one.” What mentally apt gal says NO when someone tells her to go buy a new truck? What feeling person doesn’t jump off the couch and speed to the auto dealership when someone basically tells you to buy a new truck you know you want? That right there proves I’m off my feeling-rocker.
And thus, I go through the motions of daily life, completely aware of what’s going on, but not really feeling like it has anything to do with me. I don’t even feel my “me-ness.”
I know all this sounds weird. It sounds impossible. But trust me, it’s possible. I’ve gone through the “not-feeling” thing a few other times in my life. My head has always righted itself, so it hasn’t alarmed me when it’s happened. But this time, I have “not-felt” for longer than I am comfortable with. That’s why Suzanne and I decided I should try the TMS treatments.
How’s the TMS working for me? I’m not sure. But I think I see a positive change in my psyche here and there. Suzanne says I don’t stare out the windows into nothingness as much as I did before. I would like to report I’ve felt a bigly, flip-of-the-switch change for the better, but I haven’t. On the other hand, I have not completed all 36 of the TMS sessions, and perhaps the last 6 are the charm. I can report that when I visited baby Grace last week, I felt inklings of joy stirring up in me, fighting to get out. So there’s hope.
BTW Wood Bow Tie o’ the Day says, “Follow your arrow. Or your arrowhead, if you don’t have the whole arrow.” Got the point?
I made a quick trip to the credit union to open a super-secret savings account Suzanne can’t know about. (Don’t tell her.) The credit union office in which I was filling out the new account paperwork had one painting mounted on the wall, and this is it. When I saw the bow ties on the woman’s shoes, I knew it was a sign this piece of art must be a Bow Tie o’ the Day.
The shoe bows were also a sign reinforcing that I was doing the right thing by opening a super-secret savings account. I have no clue about why I need the super-secret savings. I haven’t had a sign about that yet. But you know me: I’ll find one.
A new baby doesn’t yet have the remotest clue it needs material items. It doesn’t own anything, and it doesn’t care to. A baby doesn’t even know it is bereft of stuff. For some reason though, we can’t stand that babies have nothing. We lather on the gifts– the toys, the clothes, the books, the furniture, etc..
Infants aren’t much aware of material objects, and they certainly don’t yet know the concept of “ownership.” Give ’em a couple of years, and one of the few words they will know– and will use annoyingly often– is “mine.” But right in the beginning of their baby lives, they seek only a few basic body feelings: a full tummy, warm skin, and a dry butt. We provide the objects that aid in the creation of these feelings for them: formula/milk, blankies, and diapers and Butt Paste.
So what absolute material baby-need comes next after Butt Paste? Neckwear o’ the Day, of course. There it is, up there in Grace Anne Blackwelder’s Kardashian-esque closet. Center of closet, top shelf. The box says “Dad & Daughter” and contains a Tie o’ the Day for Dad, and a matching Bow Tie Headband o’ the Day for Grace. I guarantee this initial foray into daddy-daughter neckwear will be life-changing– in the best of ways– for both Bishop Travis and his daughter. Oh, the power o’ neckwear to bring us close!
It is so important to pass along family traditions of all kinds. I’m part of Gracie’s family, and part of my contribution to the positive traditions she’ll benefit from learning about is my bow ties and ties, and all things clash fashion. Over time, I hope Gracie and I will connect by experiencing all kinds of silly and serious family traditions together. Ultimately, connection is the bigly purpose of learning and sharing traditions. Connection is kinda the point of our entire journey. It is its own tradition.
Superb clash fashion. Unforgivable hairs. It’s not Hairs Thursday. I simply gave up on my hairs this morning. Threw on a hat to drive to my TMS treatment. Threw off the hat when I got home. Then snapped this selfie. 11 days until I can gradually chop off my head fur. Can’t wait. Miss Tiffany, my hair stylist, already has my permission to give me a few different hairdos (of her choosing) as she works her way to the short, short hairs cut I want.
Bow Tie o’ the Day is from my wood bow tie collection. It is made of cork, which is sorta wood, sorta not wood. But it is 100 percent the product of a tree. I’m thinking I might use cork Bow Tie as both neckwear AND a bulletin board. For example, tacking a grocery shopping list to cork Bow Tie is one way to not leave the list on the kitchen counter when I go to the store.
