monitoring myself
Years ago, 
nancylebov made an observation in an apa that's stuck with me: she considered how she felt hours, even a day, after eating something as an essential aspect of whether it was good for her. (I'm pretty sure it was you, Nancy). I liked the concept then, and like it now, not just for food, but for life in general.
This is in my head because I've just finished reading 1991 in my old journals, and gods, that was a year of both really good things, and major mistakes... but one thing I did learn, though, was that if I was uncomfortable with writing about a situation, and the discomfort remained for several days, then I needed to avoid doing the same thing in the future. Not that I always listened to myself -- "This time it'll be different" is something I've said all too often -- but when I did remember, I almost always found myself happier.
Today, Jane is making stew, and we're going to have people over for dinner. I picked up some breads, and a few other things, and am now puttering at the computer briefly, before going up to my room to straighten up the journals. Soren is online: he's started a new anti-seizure medication, so I'm keeping an eye on him. Thus far, though, the good effects outweigh the new negative ones: he's more alert, and words are coming faster and easier. We are cautiously optimistic.
nancylebov made an observation in an apa that's stuck with me: she considered how she felt hours, even a day, after eating something as an essential aspect of whether it was good for her. (I'm pretty sure it was you, Nancy). I liked the concept then, and like it now, not just for food, but for life in general.This is in my head because I've just finished reading 1991 in my old journals, and gods, that was a year of both really good things, and major mistakes... but one thing I did learn, though, was that if I was uncomfortable with writing about a situation, and the discomfort remained for several days, then I needed to avoid doing the same thing in the future. Not that I always listened to myself -- "This time it'll be different" is something I've said all too often -- but when I did remember, I almost always found myself happier.
Today, Jane is making stew, and we're going to have people over for dinner. I picked up some breads, and a few other things, and am now puttering at the computer briefly, before going up to my room to straighten up the journals. Soren is online: he's started a new anti-seizure medication, so I'm keeping an eye on him. Thus far, though, the good effects outweigh the new negative ones: he's more alert, and words are coming faster and easier. We are cautiously optimistic.