Who am I? It was a simpler time, a quieter time, the Ozarks in 1962. A small town and a small house. No one minded, no one remembered the little black and white tv or only having two channels. At least, we had Captain Kangaroo and Aunt Norma. It was where my story began.
When I was born, I was so tiny that Daddy held me in the palm of his hand. I will always remember his hands. They were so big and vigorous. I would sit for hours holding his thumb, just rubbing the nail because it made me feel safe.
One of the funniest things is that I have no idea what my phone number is today, but the one from this period in my life I will never forget. 256-2318. It might as well be Jenny's number.
Recently, I have been asked a few times if I was okay. People have accused me of being mad at the world and other things. When my truth, actually is a far different thing.
I suffer from Bipolar Disorder, severe panic disorder, fibromyalgia, chronic pain, just to name a couple. My point is that there are times I can slip into a deep dark depression.
Why you may be asking? Well, depression is something that just happens, there is often no reason whatsoever. It is just a fact. Does that make me angry at the world? NO NO NO!!!
Where should I begin today's thoughts? Probably with the basic Who am I?
I am so not an angry person. I love to laugh, not just a little giggle, but I love to laugh so hard it makes me snort. Which in turn makes me laugh harder.
If things don't go right during a shopping trip, that brings out my laughter more of a defense mechanism than humor. I laugh, if someone jumps in front of me in a line, I laugh, and it isn't fake laughter. I truly mean it.
Those people who fight, fuss and cuss over such trivial things just make me sad. Because if they could only learn the valuable lesson: If that is the worst thing to happen to them in a day, wow then life is good. Karma has a way of sneaking up and biting you in the butt whenever you think things can't get worse.
So as people see me talk about depression, Bipolar Disorder, Panic attacks, darkness, feelings of being alone, sadness, and all the other aspects of dealing with this mental illness. This disease is nothing I can just stop doing, I get sad for absolutely no reason, crying about EVERYTHING seriously about everything, and when I get mad... well it would be best if I didn't get upset.
There are still those who just want me to get over it and stop being angry or depression or whatever I might be at the time. To those uninformed and at times ignorant people, I will try to explain. For me, this illness is as if I am hanging off a cliff by the very tips of my fingertips.
And that grip is what helps me more than anything. As long as I know that my grip could give way on this slippery slope of sanity and reality, then I am okay. I hold on tighter and keep reminding myself that it is all a gift. Then I am fine, and the world moves on for me. Does that make me angry? No. Does it make me sad? No.
It empowers me. I am in control, and I despise being out of control.
My life is great. I love my family. I love life. I am emotional, I am opinionated, fear being around people, but I am not afraid, I no longer worry about not sleeping, I just live, I stay busy, and I just allow my emotions and moods to be what they are. I cope, and I turn all the moods into creativity. From my art to my writing I allow all of it to flow wherever it wishes to go.
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| Self portrait of my eye. Maybe the eye to my soul, who knows. |
Live, Love, Laugh and then Laugh some more. Because there will always be more tears for all the people, who suffer Bipolar Disorder, depression, and the countless other mental problems.
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