Creative Writing Prompt: Rainstorm

Irainstorm

Prompt for first creative writing class: RAINSTORM

Rainstorm

The torrential rain kept her awake. She couldn’t sleep. Wasn’t rain supposed to be relaxing? What was it that disturbed her? Why could she not sleep? The rain didn’t lull her, it irritated her. Reminded her that all was not well. The hills may slide. The mud carrying all away. But she was safe. Wasn’t she?

Was it anxiety? Was it caffeine? Was it simply the din amplified by hypomania? Yes, when in this state any noise irritated her. What the hell did she think she was doing this week? Starting to rewrite her book, take a creative writing class, and work out with a personal trainer on the same week her son began college.

He wasn’t away for college. Oh, no. He was attending the local community college and didn’t yet drive. So, on top of everything else, she remained his chauffeur. Fuck. He was getting better. He was more independent than before, but he still relied on her to drive him to classes and to doctors’ appointments. He still didn’t prepare his own breakfast and lunch. He’d just eat a protein bar and banana. At six feet tall and 125 pounds, he needed to eat more.

Caring for him, worrying about him, wore on her. She had hoped that he’d be eating more by now, that he’d make a sandwich or eat a bowl of cereal. She had hoped that he’d feel ready to take his DMV written test, so he could learn to drive.

Though, really, the time that they spent in the car was their special time. Often he wore his headset and cut her off from him. But, there were times when they talked, when they laughed, when he shared his thoughts with her

Back to the storm. Crap transition, but the rainstorm felt like her life. Stormy, but cleansing.

Our Beloved Dog Thumper Passed Away

Thumper
Our beloved labradoole Thumper as a puppy and full grown.

Our grief deepens with another loss. This time of our beloved labradoodle Thumper. Our newly adult son grew up with him. We got Thumper when our son was six. Thumper would’ve been twelve this month.

Unfortunately, our younger poodle Coco is showing similar symptoms. Our next door neighbor said she found eight dead rats in her backyard. Apparently, someone is poisoning rodents. Not good.

We back up to a hillside filled with rabbits and rats. Predatory animals, including mountain lions, coyotes, pet dogs and domestic cats, eat poisoned rodents and die.

Trap rodents. Don’t poison them.

Grief — Moving Forward

An Irish Toast: May you be in Heaven a half hour before the Devil knows you're dead.
In Loving Memory of My Father. No Doubt He Made it through the Pearly Gates.

Wednesday my mother gave me artwork and books to remove from her room, the room she formerly shared with my father.

My sister and I grew up with this prayer prominently displayed. I will give the original to my sister to remember our father.

The Arabian horses graced the wall above my father’s desk. I plan to reframe and put them a place of honor in my home.

Green-blue rubbing of three Arabian horses
This rubbing of Arabian horses hung above my Dad’s desk

Yesterday my mother had me take my father’s clothes home with me. She is moving forward.

Dry-eyed, I hugged my mother, articulating what she can no longer say due to aphasia from her stroke. “I miss him, too, Mom. He loved us all so well. We loved him. We miss him.”

More and more lately I’ve cried, both alone and over the phone with my sister.

We are grieving.

 

 

Irritable. Hypomanic. Parenting Fail.

Fighting Hypomania. Parenting Fail.

Fighting Hypomania

Irritable. Hypomanic. Overwhelmed?

Unfortunately, social stimulation triggers and worsens hypomanic symptoms in me.

Upcoming events that may overstimulate me:

Parenting Fail

Frustrated with my newly adult 18-year old son who struggles with social anxiety and migraines. Though highly intelligent, he has not completed high school, nor has he taken scheduled high school equivalency tests.

Anxiety. Migraines. Reschedule. Repeat.

Yesterday, he did not go to his scheduled cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) evaluation. The CBT psychologist told me that we must make structured household changes in which we design and implement consequences. As is, he lacks motivation to change.

Self Care

After drafting this post, I went to the pharmacy to fill my clonazepam prescription. I rarely take clonazepam, a benzodiazepine, for it’s a potentially addictive controlled substance. But, today I need it.

Treated myself to chicken enchiladas mole for lunch. I love Olamendi’s mole sauce. Chocolate and spices in the over 50-ingredient sauce help. Magic.

Now, I chill out.