Daylight Savings

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Should I participate in Daylight Savings Time?

Years ago, when rolling back time was a manual process, opting out was easier. You didn’t have to do anything to stay on Summer Time year round. Just leave those clocks alone, adjust time in your head if you had be at work or make an appointment per someone else’s schedule. Time is relative.

There are advantages. Winter guests tend to leave a little earlier. They glance at the clock on your wall and say something like, “Oh my, it’s getting late… we should go.”

It’s like a psychological experiment. Some people actually yawn, feel more tired if they think it is an hour later than it is at their own house. I’ve been experimenting with the concept of time ever since I was a teenage babysitter watching young ones not old enough to read clocks with hands. They knew bedtime by what was on television, so I would turn off the TV and play with them, keep them busy with games or other activities. Then I’d tell them that it is bedtime an hour or so early, but I’d let them stay up awhile for being so good… I could tuck them into bed early with no fuss. That’s bad, but hey… kids were happy.

It’s the men in my life who have had issues with my clocks. I know the vet will take the clock down off my kitchen wall and adjust the hands on his next visit. He will think I didn’t change it because I couldn’t reach it. He’s been changing my clocks without asking for years now. He doesn’t know that I used to leave my clocks on Summer Time, that it used to drive other men nuts, because I never told him. The first year he did it, I just grit my teeth and let it go… doesn’t matter. Since all the other clocks auto-update, the only hands that don’t get changed now are on the watch of my key fob necklace. That’s mine, like one little piece of me holding out in a quiet defiance for the relativity of time, a silent protest to Daylight Savings.

Sigh. Thanks for reading!

 

Epiphany #5

This “I’ll work on me, you work on you babe” while taking a break instead of just breaking up seems beneficial to our relationship.  We are actually talking to each other now and, in some ways, we are in a better place then we had been there for awhile. It is nice to remember what we like about each other, what attracted us to each other in the first place, and how much we actually do love each other.

I’ve been sharing my little epiphanies… from “I am here, I’m still me” to the “I don’t really know you” with a list of stupid questions like, “Do you own a cast iron skillet?” Yeah, there are a LOT of little things that I do not know about this man.

He got the point:  I need him to be a little more open and honest with me and he needs me to stop hiding aspects of myself that, for reasons real or imagined, I felt like he might not be able to handle it.

Where do we go from here? Who knows? Right now, it is just one day at a time.

 

LATER:  I was thinking about how to tell the new student doc assigned to me at the family clinic that when I ask for an antidepressant, I want a low dose SSRI, preferably Lexapro, NOT 300mg of Wellbutrin (way too much, that’s enough to send me over the edge so I’m NOT taking it) and suddenly, I got hit with Epiphany #5.

How do I tell him? He thinks I lost my me… oh my gosh!

That “strong vibrant woman” he met and fell in love with ye 3 to 4 years ago (I didn’t jot notes on a calendar or keep a diary) was riding a prolonged cusp on the edge of mania, self-medicating with 100 proof peppermint schnapps straight up (hey, alcohol is a depressant) plus Jacks & Coke and a few other things when we first got together.

I ended up back in therapy, bailed out and eventually crashed, series of harsh things took me down into depression… that’s easier to hide. I have a lot more experience going down. I blogged about some of it, from Wired in August 2015 on up past the new year, mixed in with other stuff.

So, basically, he has seen me up and seen me down, both ends of my mental health spectrum, but might not have realized it… stable is the middle ground. So he thinks I lost part of my me… that my stable me is missing something?

Epiphany #5 just opened a frikkin can of mental worms.

Stable me is NOT so vibrant. Stable me doesn’t drink, mainly because I know alcohol is a depressant and I tend to cycle down a lot more than I cycle up. Stable me is a responsible human being. Stable me doesn’t make as much art, doesn’t read poetry on street corners, doesn’t do wacky things.

Humm… I’m going to have to think about this for awhile before I venture to bring it up in conversation.

Thanks for reading!