More Questions Than Answers
I was having a good run with my daily bubble log until March, when I ran out of steam.
I've lost my confidence in meditation (though I still believe it's important). I've come to realize that how often I work on the memoir is somewhat out of my control. (My problem isn't willpower or making the time; it's literally not having the time.) And I do morning pages so regularly that tracking them seems arbitrary.
I'm ready to go with the flow for a few weeks or months. I'm ready to be OK with just holding down a job, being present with my family and blogging once a day. In a few weeks or months, maybe I can reevaluate. Maybe then I'll be ready to resume the goal-setting and the tracking. But right now, I'm sick of striving.
I do wish I could do more work on the memoir. The last time I came back to it after being away for a few weeks, I felt so wonderfully purposeful that I couldn't stop smiling. Knowing that the same feeling might be waiting for me upon my next return makes the absence a little easier to stomach.
I posted my grandmother's hospital records recently. Tracking down those records took over six months of phone calls, letters and emails, and one check for $10 made payable to the Indiana State Archives. But after all that time and effort, a thin packet of grainy black-and-white photocopies finally arrived in my mailbox last week. I transcribed the parts I could read and sent them to a few family members, then posted them here on the blog for good measure. I hadn't mentally processed them but I'd wanted to share them anyway, in the rare chance someone could provide insights or understanding.
I knew she'd been schizophrenic even before I received the documents, but it's one thing to hear the stories and another to see the details scrawled by nurses on shifts. None of the documents mentions any treatment for her psychotic breaks other than a prescription for Mellarill and occasional restraints. No one recorded what happened between her intake and her release. Nor did anyone treating her seem to question whether she was mentally fit to return to her young children, or create a plan for how to protect those children during the next schizophrenic episode.
Was that due to a lack of knowledge, or resources, or was it just standard practice?
I'm left with more questions than answers.