Thoughts Spilling Out of a Brain Left Ajar EPISODE 3

So, I went to see the psychiatrist today… watch how the day went. It was rather surprising. Also, you get to see my cat, Rincewind, acting cute in this vlog post; it’s worth watching just for that.

My Brain Hertz (or Musician, Heal Thyself, Part Deux)

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So, this post has two main focuses. One is to introduce you to my newest instrument acquisition and latest addition to my music making and music therapy. Meet Maimie. She’s a 10 string lyre harp. I waited quite a while for her am very pleased to have her home. She arrived on Monday and we have been making music together ever since; I’m enjoying her greatly.

While you may be happy for me finally getting a harp, it’s most likely the second point of this post that will hold much of an interest: I’ve begun experimenting with binaural beats. I have to say, I’ve noticed a difference with my ability concentrate and be alert; it’s also helping with meditation and sleeping, too.

I won’t go into an explanation of what they are here; do a Google search on binaural beats and all the info you need comes up.

I’d love to say that binaural beats are totally sorting my brain out, but that isn’t the case. I’m still spending most of my days in bed, avoiding going out/people as much as possible most of the time and would easily choose death over life, but the little improvement in simple things like focusing better on what I’m reading or watching and being able to get a more decent rest is something worth blogging about.

I recommend an app called “Relax Melodies”. Pay for the full version; it’s worth it – you’ll get all the beats to take your brain on a journey of different, helpful states.

Back to Maimie the harp, she’s the kind of thing that I would have shared with the musical friend I have mentioned in previous posts…the one that I don’t have anymore. I’ve thought a lot about her since getting Maimie, and missing…well, missing the experience I would’ve had in the sharing.

In other news, I’ve been getting together with another musical friend (one I still have, but very different to the one I lost) to work on some stuff and we may just do something with said stuff, be an acoustic duo, perform together. We’re in the early stages. I’ll keep you posted. Ha, posted… yeah, ok, I’m going now.

I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For

It was probably inevitable that I cover this song at some point, but it’s most appropriate to do so now. This is very much where I am…in my life, with my faith, with my mental health (and lack thereof). “I believe…

help thou my unbelief.”

I feel I have climbed and run and crawled. I’ve tried this. That. Not only tried, but… lived it, with zeal. And, here I am. Climbed, run and crawled out. Weary. And, STILL and ever longing for death.

And, I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.

Sometimes You Just Gotta (What Music Therapy Looks Like)

I’ve said it before…but, it bears repeating (and repeating, and repeating). Music is powerful. It’s spiritual and can be meditative and healing to body, as well as to mind, soul and spirit. Music therapy is a way to use music as medicine, very specifically and effectively. Playing a hand drum increases blood flow (circulation), singing is good for the lungs and nervous system. But that’s just one aspect (and only two examples). We’ve all heard how “music soothes the savage beast”. This isn’t just a saying. There is good medical science behind such a phrase. In making music, we can focus energy positively and that flow of positive energy and vibration can help manage conditions such as anxiety and depression, as well as being a good therapy for those of us who suffer from mood and personality disorders. Music IS powerful. I made this video to extol the virtues of music therapy and showcase just some of the healing benefits of making music.

Embracing The Mess

It’s been a while (again) since I’ve blogged, posted, whatever. And, “whatever” about sums it up. Still in the grips of “cannae be bothered”, I have not experienced the return of my blogging mojo.

In the ongoing “Depression Chronicles”, the doctor has increased the dosage of my medication. I’m delighted to report that this hasn’t rendered my ability to (oh, I’m just going to be blunt, and people who don’t like it can go elsewhere!) reach orgasm to the realms of the lost and forgotten. One of these days someone will realise that if a depressed person enjoys something – anything – that’s a GOOD thing. If the meds take away that good thing, then the meds need to be rethought. Thankfully the stuff I’ve been put on this time have not presented me with the situation I mainly feared about being put on said medication.

Moving on (I’m sure some of you will be so glad…but, really, in the quest to bringing the issues of mental illness and wellness out into the open, the main (irksome) side effect of most of the meds should be talked about…whether it makes some people uncomfortable or not. This is what we are having to live with and those who seek to understand…well, you need to understand)!

As for the benefit side of the meds… I will be honest: I suppose I’m coping better-ish. Not great.¬† Not happy clappy slappy woo hoo ain’t it great to be alive (oh, please), but better-ish.

I’ve joined a few depression support groups on Facebook. It’s helpful just knowing I’m not alone in the struggle; there are others out there who “get it”.

I’m embracing the mess that is me. Today anyway. And that’s the thing, taking it day at a time, moment by moment if needs be.

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I’m celebrating every small victory, giving thanks for the decent days, and trying not to be so hard on myself on the bad days. Embracing the mess.

One Of Those Days

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Today I have had the pervading thought that, no matter how hard I combat a “victim-mentality” (overused term, in my opinion), there are some days when one is hard pressed not to feel like a victim. Now, I am working on not letting my feelings dictate my words and actions. But, for such a feeler as I am, to say it is a challenge is such a gross understatement that it’s almost laughable to use the word “challenge” in place of the word “impossible”.

Almost laughable.

Not impossible. Not probable, I’ll give myself that. But, not impossible.

But feeling the victim and being the victim are two different things, right? I can’t help but sometimes ask, “But, in this situation, aren’t I, in actuality (not just in perception), the victim?” It certainly appears (don’t want to use the word “feels” here) that way.

It’s one of those days.

When I have one of those days, I usually go here. It is my default place (a place of despair and honest longing for death). Occasionally, however, I go to this place instead (a place of whispered promises, lullabies and, most importantly, hope).

…this place (please, listen):

Today, which has been so very much one of those days, I have tried my hardest to turn from the road which leads to the former place to somehow walk the road to the latter one, on purpose. And that, in itself, is hope breathing. So that, when “I close my eyes against the pain”, I am closing them to “dream of better days” I am still trying my best to believe are out there for me.

And, because I know I’m not alone in this struggle (I know I’m not the only one fighting to keep hope alive), I pray that this post reaches out across the interwebz and helps others who are having one of those days, too.