So, I just found out that some women are doing a reading show called “Don’t Call Me Crazy” — where people do readings about mental illness in order to raise awareness and erase stigma.  One of the ladies, Jennifer Killi Marshall, has her own blog called Bipolar Mom Life, and I’m just getting hit with what I’ve known all along.

I AM an advocate for those with mental-illness. I am an educator. I am a writer and a performer and a person with many creative talents. I am supposed to be using this for some reason, and my fears around it aren’t making me successful, so why not just do what I’m meant to do?

Seriously — I get interviews and I don’t get the job. I don’t know if they’re reading this, but I can’t imagine that they went back to 2004 for some of the really good stuff. So, maybe I’m supposed to focus on what is in front of me — the fact that I have much intimate knowledge about how to live as a dually-diagnosed human being — and I don’t do such a bad job of communicating about it, either.

Still looking for a supportive writing group/people to hold me accountable on the reg. I definitely need that. But, I think I’m going to just try and do what I’ve always done when I’m being on point — tell the truth.


and they wonder why …

hey guys, thanks for giving me the encouragement to keep writing. that’s great … i think that it was just what i needed right now. i’d been neglecting the blog for quite some time and i think there was some some weird thing that i should tone it down due to looking for a job or wanting to transfer jobs or something. i don’t know. i think writing here on a regular basis keeps me motivated — keeps me a better writer — keeps me better informed on the world, on me, on life.  keeps me better connected.  thanks for the encouragement.

still struggling with this days/nights getting mixed up thing. it’s 2:13 and i already took my meds but i’m really not tired.  i just took another 1/2 a seroquel. i keep forgetting i need to take a whole 100mg these days.  therapist wasn’t that jazzed that i cut my 100mgs in 1/2 and use as needed.  not the use as needed part (i always forget if that’s PRN or PCN — it’s PRN), but the fact that i’m cutting them in half.  i’ve been doing it for years with no problems and doc knew i was doing it before, so i don’t see an issue with it, but i forget i’m new there and i can’t really blame him.  i appreciate where he’s coming from, at least.  

when friends of mine decide to wean themselves off meds or otherwise generally fuck around with their meds without telling doc first, i generally give them ‘the talk’ he gave me.  but the thing is — my old doc who knew me very well knew i was doing this — it’s not like i came up with this genius plan on my own, you know?  anyway, it’s weird, you know? one of the things that i have in the bathroom (this has a point, hang on here) is this book “inspiration — your ultimate calling” or something like that by dr. wayne dyer.  i figure i’ll start putting books like that in the bathroom so i’ll eventually get them read. it’s not like i am a long-term shitter, but even a minute here or there is worth something over the long haul.

anyway, he’s like a lot of people (conversations with god, etc.) in that he believes we chose our path here on earth — that we all do, even when it appears hard or fucked up.  when we choose alcoholic parents or addiction or … manic-depression, for instance.  and i’m finding that i definitely chose it, because i’m using it all the time to help people who also “suffer” from the illness as well.  i get to use my experience strength and hope in recovering from it and being stabilized in it and taking meds and all of that in sponsoring people and talking to people about all sorts of things — even people who just struggle with depression.  i think nearly all of my sponsees have had manic-depression and i’ve talked with other friends about it or depression or friends they know or what-have-you.  it’s really fascinating, and the more it happens, the more i know this is definitely part of my path that i am supposed to turn to good.

well, here we go a-blogging again, hey?  welcome back, everyone.  welcome back.

cloudy day part two

i’m cleaning. and nearly every time i clean, i end up lost in this old notebook or that old folder or whatever. and i just came across this letter to an ex that i never sent (obviously, since it’s in this huge sketchbook). and it just got me to thinking. i worry about my chances for ever being with someone on a permanent/semi-permanent basis.

i think i’m just too intense for people. i read this letter and while i guess i still agree with the sentiment in it, i see it and i feel the emotion behind it and i can see why people are just like … whoa. it’s too much. you say too much, you feel too much, you’re way too much. i’d probably print it here, but there’s a point where it actually gets *intimate,* if you catch my drift.

and i’m not embarrassed by that, actually. if i’m loving someone, i like that i can write all sorts of ways, including ways that express all facets of my personality. but, i don’t really need to post that in a public forum at this time. at least not what i wrote in that particular letter.

POINT BEING, that i guess i wonder if that’s just who i am and the right person will deal with it or enjoy it or appreciate it, or if that’s part of an addictive personality around relationships that i still want to have changed or healed or worked on. i don’t know.

more cloudy day thinking/cleaning/blah*.

*the new james sounded good. if i have the money, i think i’ll go see them. talk about nostalgia.

well, i don’t know.

i feel like i need to write something here. i don’t want this to slip away. i don’t want this blog to just fall into the ether. i’m quite envious of my friend over at redneck reject (see blogroll) who is doing some great writing, some great character sketches. i’m envious of my hero at chicago stories, who is living a great life, doing some great living. i’m stuck, it seems.

i don’t know really what to do. i haven’t picked up a camera in ages. i still have tons of photos in my camera and computer i haven’t uploaded to flickr. i have all these ideas for books and movies and screenplays and all this crap, and i’m doing nothing with them. shit, i’d love even to devote a bunch of time to crafting and collaging and stuff.

and yet, i find myself running ragged with committee meetings and this and that and volunteering and i don’t know. maybe it’s time to slow the fuck down somehow. concentrate myself differently. i feel like my life is an outward expression of my inner life. i have really bad ADD. i can hyperfocus and i’m really scattered. i have really great energy, but i can’t start a project and take it to its finish most of the time.

i feel really confused and alone a lot. but i think i just stay busy so i won’t have to admit that to myself. i’m off sugar, but i eat a lot of fruit. i’m trying to keep my head above water financially. i feel like i’m suffering a lot of vague health issues — i itch a lot. everyone wants to say its flea bites, but i’m starting to feel insane. i think i’m just going to rip all my skin off.

for being so scared, i’m obsessed with the joker. “this city needs a better class of criminal, and i’m going to give it to them.” i stay up for an hour each night, way past my bedtime, watching weird clips on you tube. for fuck’s sake.

i’m pretty much admitting my mental decline, hey? “hey. i’m not writing so much anymore! hey, i’m watching the joker too much.” i’m nuts. okay. off to read dracula? we have another member at the book blog, too. so that’s something.

my … hand … won’t … write

i have the hardest time making my hand write the 8 in “08.” my brain knows it’s ’08. i think ’08. it’s not like i forget. but, my hand physically doesn’t want to write the eight. i don’t know why. it wants to write the seven, or even a nine. i don’t know why it resists the eight. maybe i need to ditch my fancy font and try to start making figure eights. i don’t know. but i’m not the only one who’s having this problem. others are talking about it, too. i wonder what’s up with that.

four years and counting

it’s my four year anniversary of this blog. i was inspired to write it after reading an article in the trib about flea’s blog. so, i thank her, as well as some of the other first blogs i read … be the boy, soul gardening, panic blog, pinkplaidface and cta tattler come to mind.

i can’t believe i’ve been writing here consistently for four years. it’s a trip. thanks for everyone who reads and comments. (reads, reads and doesn’t comment, reads and comments, and does any other combo.) it’s all part of my journey.

and if you really want to journey, come out and see tributosaurus become Journey next wed. steve frisbie will be taking the lead on several songs, and no one does steve perry like that guy. effin’ beautiful.