Travis

Travis is a man trapped in a woman’s body. He is also a good example of the effectiveness of psych meds. Outwardly when he first arrived at the halfway house where I volunteer, I thought he was female. He wears a tight spandex tank to conceal his breasts, and dresses and acts male. He refuses to be known in any way as a female, and prefers women sexually. Travis is not a lesbian, despite the fact that he is physically female. Travis is proof of mind over matter. He knew he was male at the age of 6 or 7 years, when he would pray to God to wake up as a little boy the next day. He fantasized that in the blink of an eye all his photos would change to male. But none of that ever happened.

And so at 23 years of age, he is bipolar, substance addicted and in many ways traumatized by his body. He reminds me of Chaz Bono. Despite all his challenges, on medication he is stable and goal oriented, and good company. We went to an NA meeting last night, and it was interesting. I am not sure I am an addict to anything, but I was there for Travis. All his peers in NA know him as a male. It’s amazing how the mind works. Just by choice and our frame of reference can we reimagine our entire gender. Makes me amazed at the power of the mind.

To you my readers, my deepest secrets…

It’s funny, but I am able to tell my deepest secrets to my readers. I feel like my closest friends do not even listen unless we make the whole story about them. And sometimes during my conversations with one or two of them, during my lowest points, he or she switches the topic back to him or her. Maybe I need friends who are better listeners, or maybe I need to be a better communicator. What are the rules of conversation? And do we always have to pay a psychologist to be our captive audience?

Until We Meat Again, and Confessions in Chocolate

Must be that time of night….zzzz..entering my manic phase. Two days ago I could barely get out of bed and now I just got excited by pork chops. Yeah, imagine with the high cost of food prices I walk up to the register and the cashier says “it’s buy one get one free for those.” I must have looked just brilliant running down the aisle at warp speed to get another pack. Yep, that’s how I know I’m getting manic. I get excited by things that normally I would run from. I can barely enter a grocery store when I get depressed. I can barely think of cooking much less even shopping. At least when I’m manic I think I’m a better cook than the guys on Chopped on the Food Channel. I should really chart my moods with the sales at Publix.

On a better note, I actually got excited to buy food for the first time in months. I have a confession, however. I stopped my Lexapro cold turkey and had been off of it for two weeks. I had to go back on it (I know, NEVER stop taking the meds) as my depression and anxiety were becoming unmanageable. I don’t know, I thought it was hindering my sex drive. I get more excited by pork chops than by porking. (Bad pun I know.) And that’s my big confession. I should have not stopped the Lexapro, but somewhere I though it might be what made me so non-sexual. I even decreased my Seroquel to 50mg——AND IT WAS HORRIBLE. I still did not feel any “mojo.” I wonder if anyone else has lost ehir MOJO! OMG!  I feel like I may never have sex again. As for the pills…Hey, maybe I am addicted now, but my God, I feel better today than in the past 4 days. I am getting used to the 300mg Sero and the 20mg Lex again. This morning I actually woke up at 6 am, but my fear of “what to do” got the best of me and I snoozed till 11:00.

But the best and maybe you might think smallest, part of my day was that I got excited about music for the first time in a long time. And I got excited about chocolate. During my down phases I hate myself so much I afford myself only the bare essentials. “I’m not worth even a candy bar.” I think the solution is to shop while manic. I got so damn excited by chocolate covered cherries. I bought two boxes. I’m about to down one right now.

I did not hear back from MetLife about I.M.E. number two. I am awaiting the next poking and prodding session by some random doctor to try and prove I am not bipolar. (Good luck.) I will win either way. If I can get through the meat department, I can do anything.

Humor: My Favorite Airline Story

A 50- something year old white woman arrived at her seat on a crowded flight and immediately didn’t want the seat. The seat was next to a black man. Disgusted, the woman immediately summoned the flight attendant and demanded a new seat. The woman said “I cannot sit here next to this black man.” The fight attendant said “Let me see if I can find another seat.” After checking, the flight attendant returned and stated “Ma’am, there are no more seats in economy, but I will check with the captain and see if there is something in first class.” About 10 minutes went by and the flight attendant returned and stated “The captain has confirmed that there are no more seats in economy, but there is one in first class. It is our company policy to never move a person from economy to first class, but being that it would be some sort of scandal to force a person to sit next to an UNPLEASANT person, the captain agreed to make the switch to first class.” Before the woman could say anything, the attendant gestured to the black man and said, “Therefore sir, if you would so kindly retrieve your personal items, we would like to move you to the comfort of first class as the captain doesn’t want you to sit next to an unpleasant person.” Passengers in the seats nearby began to applause while some gave a standing ovation.