I've developed a really therapeutic writing routine. I wake early, at six. I gather an outfit for Molly and pack her bag, then bundle her still-sleepy self up in a blanket. She watches, blearily, as I make a pot of coffee. We snuggle on the couch until the grandies pick her up, and as soon as she's been handed over I scoot upstairs, all zombie-like. I pour a cup of coffee and sit at the dining room table by the window. It's dark and the sky lightens as I hunch over my pages. I scrawl on the backs of printed office paper I pulled from the recycling bin, then fold the three pages, date the outer fold, and place them in a thick red folder.
In the afternoons I get that slump in energy that I learned you can mathematically predict (it's 12 hours from midway through your night's sleep. I sleep from eleven to six, and my energy flags at 2:30ish.) I remedy that by logging into Grace in Small Things and shoot off five things to celebrate. It's a sweet little boost. It's a shot of wheatgrass juice for the soul, but if wheatgrass tasted like apple juice.
I've centered and calmed and come home to myself through these routines. I'm cheered that I made the decision that taking The Artist's Way course would be a better use of time than psychotherapy. (Noting here that I'm not at all dismissing the help that the Celexa has been... although as a point of interest I learned from this article that only like 60% of depressives respond to seratonin reuptake inhibiting drugs. Lucky to be in the majority in this case.) The Morning Pages are therapy. I've had more (quantity + quality) insights in a few weeks of daily "streaming" than in a half-dozen bouts of therapy I've done in my life.
It also feels incredible to be writing physically, sensually on paper with pen. Since I started Daisybones I really don't journal anymore, and it's not the same experience to blog. Kathy nailed it in this post: "It's not journaling; it's performance art." It's empowering my decision to merge the blogs together. It'll entail moving the art posts here, and it might change my voice a little bit. It feels right, deep down and all the way through. I'm not starting the process yet but I have made some subtle "coming out" steps.
Part Two coming Thursday.
Thanks to Skepchick for the SSRI article link.