In the name of production

After a drowsy, low productive week at work, I did that very wrong thing to skip the anxiety meds two times in a row. I needed my brain back. Back it came, and it produced work, but it stayed in full tilt through the night. Join me in saying: “you dumbass!”.

Started journaling again a couple days ago. Hope I can keep it up and eventually change to a Passion Planner. The interesting thing was that reading some past entries is what motivated me. I want to keep being able to go back and check on myself, on the “days I had nothing important” but end up writing down and it turns out to be so interesting a year later.

It is also a goal of mine to do less things on the computer / electronically. I work 8 hours a day in a computer already, and feel like the actual paper, pens and pencils medium are more relaxing during my free time. Not to mention the distractions that apps and websites can be to me, I browse and look and check but don’t really do anything.

Journaling on paper feels more like “spending time with myself”, investing on myself, and not something absurd like skipping anxiety medicine to catch up at work.



Drowsiness and difficulty to concentrate greeted me energetically yesterday. Hugged me even. Wide smile after the almost 2 weeks apart. I tried to set into my old ways around them: fight through it. Don’t fall asleep. Count the hours. Wish for a soft bed. Damn it, this hard flood would do. Get a coffee. Chat about things I don’t care about with co workers. Eat something. Etc.

But then I just snapped. I just couldn’t suffer through that same beaten path. I gave up, told a co-worker I felt bad and headed home. Four hours of sleep later, emotional numbeness joined the team as I woke up.

As I told my husband… I just didn’t care anymore, right there and then. I won’t try and think what exhausted me, or was it depression or what. I just don’t care, I wanted to shut off and so I did.

Felt dangerous too. How easy it was to suddenly give up. How lonely that I feel like I ran out of explanations to have people around me understand how tired I am, and how terrifying I cannot explain it either.

The loss of control is terrifying, but I can’t tell anyone. Those I love would feel heartbroken and those I don’t wouldn’t care. Blogging and reading others is the closest to a sincere telling of what goes on as I can get. At least I have that.

Unfamiliar ceiling

Evening of day 8. In the middle of the Pacific ocean, in the isle of Oahu. There is a rainstorm outside and I love it’s noises and the cool air coming in.

Today as I watched a bay with its reef s and turquoise water, I felt very blessed all tourists are basically from Japan and I can’t understand a thing they say.

I start to realize it is the dog of depression creeping in. The calmness that is too calm and content with being isolated. The wish to watch and be still while everything else bursts with activity around me.

Fast forward to the beach itself, where I rest by an Indian family as they chatter and eat. Speaking Hindi and sharing awesome food with me. I don’t speak Hindi, so score number 2.

By the time I am grocery shopping, I am aware of how my energy is going downhill. I am a bit confused and slow. I skept a meal earlier in the day, which doesn’t help.

Finally home and chatting with my friend who is hosting me. It is terrifying to be truthful about my moods and feelings. I don’t want her to think something is wrong with the trip, since there is no worng. My brain simply is going downhill as sometimes it does.

It is time to sleep. I am exhausted and will take it easy tomorrow.



I wish I could spend the rest of my life snorkeling on a sunny day. The silence of having my ears underwater. The peace of floating with the fish. The beauty of nature, the delicate dance to move this way or that.

The only sound the fish made was to nibble at the coral. They barely acknowledged me, moving slowly out of my way. I followed a couple of favorites around, and they didn’t mind.

Animals are the one thing to lift me from any dark pit. It is my universal remedy to make me smile. Their innocence and lack of words. Their body language and ability to live with their environment, without destroying it. Their capacity to defend themselves when needed, to attack to feed, to run when they sense any risk.

Us humans complicated things so much on our illusion of power. I saw some people stepping on coral to go from hand hold to hand hold, people who could not swim. Well, if you can’t swim, why do you feel entitled to be here? Now it is a risk to yourself and the wildlife.

How many situations we just push ourselves through, thinking we can do it all? Because we are humans and adapt and compete. So we fumble around, we hurt ourselves and others, out of that stubburness. That is the cost of “you can do anything you want”. No, I cannot. There are limits to be respected and an illusion of gain to force things to happen.

To focus on what you are good at, or on what you have to improve? I vote to start focusing on what I am good at. I want to feel happy, acomplished, to do what I enjoy whenever I can. To swim with the flow, to feel the peace of being one with the environment.

Not to be confused with giving up, no. I simply choose to acknowledge that I have limits, and knowing where they are will make me feel better connected with life, and not at an eternal fumble to adapt.


Mindfulness and babies

I am spending some days with a friend who has a baby, about a year and a half old. She and her husband do a great job with this kid, so I am learning a thing or two about taking care of young ones. I never had a clue what to do with them.

The interesting point I realized is that their brains crave for a sense of mindfulness. The best things that entertain him are the here and now: look, a truck! Where’s my nose? What sound does the chicken make?

This is probably old news to most people who have raised children, but I am finding this realization fascinating. It makes a lot of mindfulness material make more sense. The whole count objects and sounds around you exercise.

The acting skills though! It goes from pitiful cry to back at smiling within 3 seconds. Where along the way so we lose that skill? When was the very last time any of us pulled that trick with full on effect? I have seen many adults throwing a tantrum, but not as good acting as a baby. Another mindfulness mystery… Is it the fact that babies only exist in the concrete world, and in the here and now? Is it the fact they still have no words to express frustration?

Again, I bet all of these have answers out there, but it still is interesting to live through it. I am oddly calm and not stressed with this kid, knowing a few tricks now to make sure he has what he needs.



As I go to bed, I am terrified by the idea that I compete daily with people who are more confident than me. Confidence has been a challenge through my life, slowly improving. Yet this small terror hits me as I prepare for tomorrow.

Why can’t I instead see the flip side? Others struggle too, and even more than me. I compete against them too, out there in the job market jungle.

What use is it to terrify myself so? What comfort is this in bringing myself down? There is comfort in familiarity, even when what is familiar is neglection and abuse. An absurdity, yet I can see the logic. Why deal with a new problem when we can just keep dancing with a familiar problem?

Why do I expect quick recovery for something built on the 30 years of my life?

…there is a message on the ceiling for the lightning right over my bed. It reads “Tom loves Kate” in the drywall. Well that is sweet. Goes to show me I should spend less time inside my head and looking outside. Good night.


Memory Recall

History is an important way to understand the present and plan the future. Yet, I am still impressed of how much my own personal history has been helping me through therapy.

It brought me to think of memories and their value. During bad phases I try very hard to think of the good phases. Why can’t I bring the good feelings back, if I can remember having them?

I compared it to having an ex boyfriend. At some point there was love and care, I remember that. I cannot however recall and feel that way again for that person. Or something that I feared as a child. I may remember it, but cannot feel that same fear any longer.

I cannot fault myself for being unable to summon my own brain into feeling better based on a memory, just like I cannot love or fear something from the past based on memory. It brings me some peace that I should treat each bad phase as its own, unique moment. What worked last time to bring me out of the darkness may not work this time, and that is OK. It is not a failure that something else needs to be tried.