Lists: a Pre-list

Another week on Effexor and all is well. The dose has been doubled and will likely be doubled again before long, and there are no side effects to speak of, so all is looking very, very well.

Now, we wait.

I can't wait for things to kick in a bit more and the motivation to seep back into my bones. I'm already getting a bit projecty. I've got, in fact, an absolutely heavenly pile of creative and body-moving projects to do that could keep me occupied mentally and physically for months upon months. I've got enough fuel.

I just need to flip a few switches and get myself going to take them on properly.

First up: I'm building myself a two-wall, wrap-around desk in my small office. One wall will be the writing side, the other will be for sewing projects, with a drop-down leaf that folds up to a huge cutting surface. I found plans online for a really cool and inexpensive way to do this, and we're modifying them to fit in my space and building it from scratch. We're pretty handy over here. I will post pics when we get going.

When that's done, I'll be able to get some sewing projects done. First up there: roman shades for my daughters' bedroom. I found the most FABULOUS fabric: it's got flowers and fairies in it, and yet it manages not to be too fussy or little-girlie. It's got a bit of an art nouveau vibe about it. And it matches perfectly with their bedding and the deep fuchsia fuzzy rug in their room. 

Hold on, Ill show you:

<swoon>

So, those things. Projects. Things you set up to a) keep you focused and occupied, b) give you something to look forward to and motivate toward c) serve as a yardstick for your ability to enjoy things you once found pleasurable.

See, Mr. Former Migraine Doctor? I TOLD you I took the fucking workshop.

For me, the surest sign that I'm heading out of the depression void and back to productive land is the list-making. I make lists. And although all this PTSD work and pulling everything apart has made the next step harder than it was before, I'm working now on pulling my focus in and completing the items on those lists in a coherent, linear way.

The list-making thing isn't quite happening yet, but it feels impending. I'm noticing areas where lists would be helpful. I'm making pre-lists. I'm collecting blank sheets of paper in my mind and pinning them to walls in preparation.

It seems as though there will be lists, soon.

And after lists, tasks.

And somewhere during that time, EXCITEMENT. And that's when I start to feel like maybe this whole thing might work, after all.

Which is good, because aside from a desk and some curtains, I have writing projects galore to get back to. 

And a treehouse that needs building.

And a piano that longs to be turquoise.

And art that wants reframing, and more art that is waiting to be found and brought home and hung on my walls.

And sprinklers in my front yard and back that would prefer to be dug up and placed elsewhere and lovingly coaxed back to life.

And a garden that wants to happen, despite my fears that I will kill it before it does.

And furniture yet to build.

And closets yearning for shelves.

And walls that want paint.

And baseboards and crown molding that knows for a fact that I will someday soon master the miter.

And little-girl short-sleeve comfy summer nightgowns made from old goth t-shirts that simply must become reality. 

This is all mine, all mine for the taking. This is how fucked up brain chemistry is that these projects have felt so scary and overwhelming that I've been afraid to even think about them a lot of the time.

Thinking about them is beginning to give me joy.

In a very little while, thinking about them will begin to give me fire in the blood.

From there, if I'm lucky, I will go fucking supernova in a frenzy of roman shades and nightgowns and front yard vetiver plants. You will know me by my industry.

And you will be smart to join me or get out of my way.

Well. Ahem. One can always hope, right?