To be fair, this was unintentional. Had I known the actual truth (as I do now) I may have very well snapped the remaining thread of sanity holding me upright or thrown myself from a balcony screaming.

On my way home from work yesterday I put together some thoughts for a video blog. I wrote down eleven points I wanted to discuss including an upcoming trip, a holiday card I’m sending to readers, and a story about not picking up my dog’s poop (which I still don’t do even though I promised you I would).

I got home and set up the camera and laid out my notes. Usually what happens is that I have to film the segment multiple times. In the first few takes I’ll inevitably screw up the timing a joke or jumble some words or forget what the hell I was going to talk about next.

Once I get a solid full-length recording I’ll review it from start to finish with a discerning eye. Ten times out of ten I realize I waxed on too long about something that wasn’t entertaining or funny. Since my videos are only a few minutes long, I decide to re-record the entire video. This takes another two to three attempts.

Then I edit and produce. The whole project from start to finish takes about an hour to complete a two-minute segment. And if you’ve seen my videos, you’ll be surprised to learn that I can’t do it quicker.  I’m not exactly Federico Fellini, for chrissakes.

Back to last night – I started recording and kept screwing up the intro. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to thank everyone for reading my blog or wish them a happy holidays first. The words kept stumbling over themselves and I found myself doing take after take. I couldn’t get the intro right no matter what. I even rehearsed a few times after a dozen missteps. Nothing was working.

But I had committed to getting this video done. Plus, I have done enough of these vlogs in the past to know it just takes a few more attempts. I would eventually get it.

Four hours later, without a break, I got it done.

My voice was croaky and my eyes bloodshot. I couldn’t stand for more than a few seconds because I would get dizzy. For four hours I made mistake after mistake and couldn’t land the plane. My dedication, however, was unwavering. I kept going. And going.

I called Beth after I was done. She’s been on TV dozens of times and never needed more that one take for her segments, and many are filmed live in studio where mistakes are not permitted. I figured she’d get a kick out of my failures.

—

Had a little trouble tonight with the video – I’m pretty sure I did around seventy-five takes.

Holy shit, that’s nuts! You’re crazy.

Yes, going to pass out now.

—

So tonight Beth came over and, just for a goof I suggested I count up all yesterday’s takes, because that whole evening had been a blur. I probably had done more than seventy five.

Well, I started with file 18 – and then each take goes up sequentially by one. I ended up with file 216.

Yes, without exaggeration or mathematical error, I made 198 different attempts to film a two-minute video.

I couldn’t hardly believe it myself, but yet, there they were.

I’d like to think that I’m a hero to the undisciplined, that this is a shining example on how tenacity and perseverance can get you places. And I guess, in some small way that’s true.

But this was just plain lunacy. I remember at one point I noticed I had been unconsciously picking at a callous on the bottom of my big toe. I reached up to scratch my nose and I saw blood on my fingers. I had ripped through the callous into the actual skin. Didn’t feel it – had no idea. And I’m a guy that has never picked at himself – not even a scab.

I was out of my mind, I guess.

It’s clear I was having an off night. In fact it was the most off night I’ve ever had, creatively.

I’m not sure what to make of this psychologically. I was a rabid dog that was clamped onto a mailman’s leg unwilling to let go. And the end product wasn’t even that entertaining. Just a dumb “here’s what’s been going on” video.

So there it is folks. My craziness, front and center. I’m going to let it retreat for awhile in the corner of my psyche where it can rest. It’s earned some well-needed time off.

Today was a weird day. My mother-in-law’s services were yesterday and I found myself trying to play second-tier hostess (my husband and his siblings being first, of course) to so many people. Many of whom I’ve never met before … or thought I hadn’t until they awkwardly reminded me of our first meeting.

“Hi. It’s nice to m-m-meet you … again?” (I assume stupid social blunders are excused at funerals.)

I watched various relatives and old friends come to pay their respects and check in with the family, often sharing a story from her past which resulted in smiles and even laughter or the inevitable hugging and tears. Friends of mine, some of whom had never even met my mother-in-law, made the hour-and-a-half drive in to show their support to Dave. One of them even brought her son, a close personal friend of my boy, who wanted to be there for his best pal. There were pictures on display of everything from her toddlerhood to her grandmotherhood with my children and their cousins. It’s always amazing to see the family resemblances in the generations over the years.

And, through it all, I was fine. I wanted to be … for Dave, for his siblings, for my children and their cousins, and for anyone else who might need my support while I was there. My mother-in-law was a strong woman in that respect and I know she would have appreciated my efforts.

When things were finally over, the kids and I left Dave behind to help get everything finished up with his siblings. The three of us set off on the 90-minute drive back home to get them ready for bed and school tomorrow … or maybe just another day spent at home. Whatever their emotions dictated in the morning. We got home rather quickly … I honestly barely remember the drive … and all was going well until I decided to flip through my largely-ignored slew of recent emails. And I found two in my saved box that I had forgotten about from my mother-in-law. The first was from the day I learned I was to have surgery to remove my mysterious lung mass:

Hi…Dave told me about the results of your x-rays and the next steps for you. I am here for anything I can do for you. I haven’t a clue how that surgery is performed but after hanging out in medical offices a lot lately I am aware of how amazing the medical field has become. My hope for you, of course, is that you get through this with little stress and pain. I will keep up with you through ODNT. I imagine that you’ll be too busy to write specific e-mails. Take care of yourself and again let me know what I can do for you. Sending positive Karma your way.

And the second was from right after my surgery:

I’m glad your surgery went smoothly. I know Dave and the kids are as glad to have you home as you are glad to be there. I enjoyed your letter to your “thing”…Perhaps I’ll write one to my heart. It’s good to see the positives in problems especially when they help with priorities. I have a problem with that. I look forward to seeing you soon. Take care of yourself and keep on bloggin’. Love and positive Karma on their way to you.

After reading them both, I stepped away from my kids awhile and took a moment to let out some of the emotions I had been holding in since I first learned of her passing last Wednesday night. My kids didn’t catch me in the act … but, unfortunately, my puffy eyes were a dead giveaway when I finally re-entered the room determined to fool them into thinking everything was fine. Neither said a word. My daughter dropped the book she was reading and my son ran from the TV (where he was watching the last few minutes of the Giants/49ers game I might add) and they both just threw their arms around me. It was an awesome moment to be a mom. They hugged me for a while until I was smiling again (how could I not be?) and we went about our business of getting ready for bed.

My sleep wasn’t great last night but honestly it’s never really been one of my strong suits. And I was a little surprised but happy to learn that both of my kids felt like they wanted (or maybe that should read ‘were obligated’) to go to school today after missing last Friday. So, I brought them both in, very proud of their strength, and told them that they could call me on my cell at any point today if they changed their minds and wanted to come home. And then I drove back home to my empty house.

The weather was painfully dreary and threatening to rain and I did something I never allow myself to do. I climbed back into my bed in the dark with the cat. I flipped on the TV intending to watch something I missed and wanted to catch up on. (Fine. If you must know, it was Desperate Housewives. My guilty pleasure. Don’t judge.) But first, I decided I was hungry so … naturally … I finished off a box of cookies for breakfast. (I won’t say how full the box was when I started.) Then, I crawled back into bed and some friends started group texting me. We talked about the book we’re reading together and they invited me to lunch.

“Thanks. Not today for me. But soon.” was all I could muster.

Then, I started watching Desperate Housewives where I left off last night. The house phone rang. My BFF, Caller ID, told me it was a trash call so I flopped back into bed for the rest of my show. Then, the damned doorbell rang. I decided I looked far too much like shit to consider even answering it so I clicked off the TV and waited in silence for the “intruder” to go away. Fortunately, it was just the UPS guy delivering some boring tax papers which he left behind when I ignored the bell. Back to the TV. My brain was pleasantly distracted until the show’s predictable closing voice-over and then it was back to reality again. Still in the dark sanctuary of my bed, I played on my phone a little and did all of the stupid things that ‘real grown-ups’ aren’t supposed to do … like checking Facebook and Twitter. I also checked in with my ODNT page and realized that I really needed to post something again soon. But I feared that everything I could post would either be very dark or inappropriately light for the tone of my life right now.

So, I just lay in the bed starting at the ceiling for what was probably nearly a half an hour before I had a rather significant realization. My mother-in-law would not have wanted me stepping away from what’s keeping me going right now – my writing (also known as my … sometimes funny, sometimes awkward … therapy). Still, I wondered, “Yes, but what in the hell would I write about today?” And I flipped through my idea notes on my phone. It’s a long list but NONE of it seemed right.

Then, I realized that, over the years, the writing that has touched me the most has been the raw, naked, unedited truths of courageous people who wrote without fear of judgment. Today, for me, that unedited truth is the fact that I stayed in bed eating junk in the dark, watching trash television, screening phone calls, declining invitations, dodging doorbells and just staring blankly at the ceiling. Today, I am that woman staring out of the rain-drizzled window in the Cymbalta commercial. And honestly, this is not the first time she’s made an appearance in my life. Lately, I’ve read about a lot of brave people who admit to battling with bouts of depression in their lives and, while I’m not about to unearth any lifelong issues, I am willing to admit that it rears its ugly head around here from time to time. And I’ve decided that it’s normal … and that it’s okay.

And somewhere in the midst of my dark moment in my bed today, I could hear my mother-in-law (no, I am NOT crazy) telling me to write about that. I don’t need to go to the drugstore and find some other funny Bag Balm-y product as today’s subject. Rather, today’s subject can be just what it really is. A little sadness and confusion mixed with a complete lack of motivation. And when this thought entered my brain, I sat up and reached for my laptop. I decided not to belabor every word (as I always do) and just let the writing be genuine and rambling and (sorry) lengthy. ‘Cause that’s the real (loquacious) me.

I promise to get on my feet … or my fingers, as it were … again very soon and let some light in here. My mother-in-law wouldn’t have wanted me to shroud things in darkness. And neither do I.

I love reading other people’s planners, lists, and schedules.  One of the highlights of my month is reading the “My List” column in  Harper’s Bazaar.  It is simply a list of things a certain designer does in his /her day.  I gobble it up.  Not just because I feel I’ve gotten to know the likes of Tom Ford and Diane von Furstenberg, but also because I get ideas on how I’d like to spend my time.

Because of my illness,  I could never keep the hectic schedules of these successful artists.  But I do have a schedule, which reminds me I HAVE A LIFE…a good life.  So, here it is, my day, a la, Bazaar Magazine…24 hours with tea expert and struggling-to stay-healthy-and positive blogger…Cj….!

I wake up  between 9 and 11 a.m.  I have trouble sleeping, and since I don’t have to be up at a certain time, I let my body unfold naturally and slowly.  On bad days, I lie in bed and check my email and Pinterest on my Android.  On good days, I put on some comfortable workout gear, drag my Pilates mat in to the living room, say hello to the cats and make some tea.
Before I can exercise, I must get a bit of something in my stomach.  Usually, that’s a piece of grilled sourdough bread and  a pot of green tea  brewed Gongfu style, (pronounced Kung Fu, like the TV show!)  I put my tea and toast on a tray and bring it all over to the mat.  I take my breakfast cross legged on the mat, and when finished, I do some reading to increase my knowledge about tea.  Right now it’s the huge “The Story of Tea” by Mary Lou and Robert Heiss.”

After my stomach has settled a bit, I do a 30 minute Pilates mat routine.  I hate to exercise, but I love how these moves wake my body up.  On good days, I’m done with all this by noon.

Then I go change into jeans, usually, and a button down or knit shirt.  My colors are military ones; denim, navy, khaki, grey, olive drab, and camel.  For additional color I’ll use a scarf or my bright purple Doc. Marten loafers. I MUST wear jewelry.  Usually a tiny pearl in a golden cage necklace that belonged to my grandmother and gold hoops.  Rose perfume, lip liner, sunscreen and mascara finishes the everyday look and makes me feel “dressed.”

The work of the typical day involves cooking for my husband and I, tasting and reviewing two or three teas, planning, (I LOVE TO PLAN…it gives me hope for the future…important for someone who is prone to depression,) and housework like laundry and de-cluttering.

At about 2 p.m. every day, my fat, white and grey cat, Ben,  demands to be brushed, so I take 10 or so minutes to spend time  with him.  The thinner, black one-Moses, is out galavanting at that time, so this is my time with Ben!

After 2, I start to get anxious, which is my cue to eat some protein.  I know I should eat BEFORE I get anxious.  I’m working on that.  So I lunch between 2 and 3.  Afterward, I go back to planning, or reading, or writing.  On running days, (an average of 2 times a week) I’ll spend half an hour putting together the perfect play list.  I have to have variety.  Yesterday I bought two Partridge Family songs and “You Better you Bet” by the Who.  Nostalgia and a good beat are good for my brain.

My husband gets home around 6, and he is wonderful about NOT demanding dinner at the same time every night.  Some of our favorite meals are bread and cheese and cured meats and fruit.  I like to have some sort of vegetable or salad prepared.  One can never get too many vegetables, and we often don’t eat enough.

After dinner there’s usually tea, dark chocolate, and more reading or Netflix.  The Last Emperor is top of my playlist.  All this tea has me craving more information about China!  I hope to visit next year.

My bed time is still undefined.  I try to go to bed earlier so my wake-up times will naturally become closer to my husband’s 6 ish alarm.  Yet every time I try, I seem to get anxious and insomniac and I completely defeat the purpose.  For now, I’ll stick with what I have.

I shower at night since showers relax me.  As someone who struggles with sleep, I don’t particularly like bedtime, so I’m working to make it as fun as possible.  I am currently shopping for pretty pajamas that are comfortable enough for me to actually wear.  

Brushed-back satin is the ticket, but harder to find than silky negligees, which are lovely, but feel sticky.

I listen to  audio books about cosmology or philosophy  to fall asleep!  These topic are interesting enough to keep my limbic-brain busy, but removed enough from my life to keep my from being stimulated.  I couldn’t listen to tea books, for instance.  I would stay up all night taking notes or making tea!

No matter what time I got to bed, I usually get to sleep around midnight or one, though I avoid looking at the clock.  Before I know it, the cats are meowing and it’s 10:30 a.m.  Time for tea!    Yay!