Who Am I? Thoughts On a Tilt-a-Whirl Flowing Flitting Can't Catch

Who am I is a tricky question when certain days strike. How do I explain what it feels like in my head? Well, this is as best of a description that I can give to those who have no idea what living with bipolar disorder or any other mental illness is like.

My mind is in a whirlwind. It feels like a tilt-a-whirl gone wrong. There are so many thoughts so much noise that it is hard to focus. I feel as if the actual sense of things is a fog far away.

As a kid when these days would come I sat in terror wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I say horror, but honestly, that doesn't quite explain the feelings that floated through my brain.

There are moments when it feels like the entire universe is talking all at once and I can't quite grasp one single word at a time. They are moving so fast through the corners of my mind that it almost takes my breath away.

Frustration, anxiety, and exhilaration mix with feelings of terror. Those combinations all make me feel tired, scared and give m a sense of wanting to run. Where do I run from the inner reaches of my mind? Where can I hide from the thoughts that follow me even when I sleep? That is if sleep will ever come.

Generally, on these days, nights or weeks I don't sleep. It seems that dreams will not come to a mind that is already so full of confusion. They say no rest for the wicked. So does that make me evil? Just kidding, maybe.

The things in my mind flash by like colors on a rainbow, then just as suddenly as they appeared they morph into a melting rendition of the same rainbow.

Nothing makes sense, but everything makes sense all at the same time.

There is a song by B o B that shows the world what my mind is feeling like at this time.

I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm
I'm out of my mind, I'm out of my mind

Out of my f**king mind
I'm, I'm out of my mind


The lyrics move fast sort of out of control, and as the song continues, it shows a moment in the mind of a bipolar.

These days are spent either at my laptop trying to control any thought I can corral. It might sound like an easy task to any one else, but it is as if I am trying to lasso a swarm of mosquitoes with dental floss.

Round and round the thoughts flow taunting me with their laughter making me want to grab them. But every time I get close they turn the other direction and run. It goes on and on making me tired.

The funny thing is that I often wonder if there is a tiny little line in my head indicating LOADING and it seems to continue endlessly. Loading, Loading, Loading, Loading. Never to finish and at some point, it must be restarted.

Who Am I In This World of Bipolars

Who am I? I am a wife, mother, grandmother, and opinionated redhead. Oh, don't forget I am also bipolar. That honestly should tell you anything you might want to know about me. I am emotional. I love to laugh, but I cry a lot. I love with all my heart and more, but that lets me get hurt easily. I am loud but often too quiet. I can be strong, but I am also weak.

I have endured much in my life. Truly I have lived a life of been there done that. I have done so many things in my life and gone so many places different places. I have met people that thrilled me, shocked me, disgusted me, and some that have provided so much inspiration.

There has been so much fun in my life that it almost seems unfair to the rest of the world. Conversations with Senators, celebrities, mothers, fathers, and children of all ages has given me an enormous amount of happiness and knowledge.

I am still an overly private person, I don't share everything about my life (other than the ramblings of my mind), I hate talking on the phone, and I dislike crowds. The thoughts of meeting new people can often make me physically ill, but meeting someone I have known years can also deliver anxiety.

Past all the incredible people I have had the pleasure of meeting and talking to is the most important thing for this stage in my life. That is me, it took me many years to like the person I am, and now I do.

Most of the world doesn't understand what that is like. But I grew up thinking I was not worthy of anything. There were some in my life that brought out those feelings more than others, which only made it worse.

I am asked so many times in my life why I tell anyone that I am bipolar. It amuses me that anyone would ask because we have reached the point where it feels as if ALL doctors are using the diagnosis as a go-to.

Bipolar disorder seems to have reached a point where if anyone has a problem or gets upset then they must be bipolar. If you hear a celebrity or anyone getting out of control well that person must be bipolar.

I am not ashamed of being bipolar, but it gets to me that every time I hear a news program of an individual who did something, the first thing people say is "they are bipolar."

To those who ask me why I don't hide my bipolar disorder I laugh because ironically it seems everyone has the disorder. Underneath the laughter, I am annoyed that the world has turned this serious problem into almost a joke.

Bipolar disorder is not a joke. And it is not always the problem when people go wrong! Bipolar disorder is no more to blame than guns blamed for the individual who kills. It is the person who does the deed.

There is no shame in me for having a problem that is as much a part of me as breathing. I was diagnosed in 1967 long before the rest of the world decided this was the illness to have. My diagnosis was back in a time when the public knew nothing about this.

I was diagnosed back when the world wanted to hide it and be ashamed. But it is nothing to hide. It is just who I am.

Sure there are days when I can barely even stand to be around me, and I know the rest of the world doesn't want to be around me either. So those days I retreat to my inner sanctum and work on keeping a hold of sanity.

The years I hid this illness were awful. It is terrible to hide who you are to the world. It felt as if I was wearing a mask, days it was a clown mask, days it was a happy face, and days it felt more like I was the ghost in the room.

No, I am not the clown that is wondering around the neighborhood. No, I am not wielding a machete and knocking on doors. Even though there have been moments in my life when I felt as if I was the roaming crazy clown, I am still here.

Today I am a woman who laughs, cries, yells, curls in silence, and lives the best life I can. There are those who are still so ignorant to the illness that they wish I would hide it because they still believe this is just in my head.

I can not hide this, I will not hide this, and I will no longer be ashamed of who Terry is. For those who tell the world I am 'dead,' I will shed tears for the loss of you in my life but I can't or won't change who I am.

Who Am I? Happily Married 36 Years Where Did The Time Go?

Who am I? There was a time in my life that statement went unanswered because I really didn’t know who I was or why I was even here. But for me, that changed when Lynn came into my life. I finally felt like I had a place, a reason for existing.

They say that love at first sight is a myth, but for those of us who have felt its powerful feeling well, we know the truth. We had our first date June 6, 1980. It was just a few days not even 2 weeks later, June 18, 1980, that we went to our families to tell them we wanted to get married.

Who am I? There was a time in my life that statement went unanswered because I didn’t know who I was or why I was even here. But for me, that changed when Lynn came into my life. I finally felt like I had a place, a reason for existing.

They say that love, at first sight, is a myth, but for those of us who have felt its powerful feeling well, we know the truth. We had our first date June 6, 1980. It was just a few days not even two weeks later, June 18, 1980, that we went to our families to tell them, we wanted to get married.

As the world might figure, that information didn’t sit well with them. Here we were a 16-year-old boy and an 18-year-old girl telling them we wanted to marry and start a life. We felt like we were adults after all don’t all teenagers think they know everything and are the most mature people on the planet?

What they didn’t know was that the feelings we had for one another were something far deeper than teenage lust or infatuation. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Lynn was the other half of my soul. The half that would help to keep me sane.

Our parents decided that we had to wait till September to get married. I know his mother was hoping I would go away before we got married. She was the one who felt the strongest about us not marrying and the one reason we almost had to run away to a state where we could marry. But his dad signed the papers (in an attempt to infuriate his mother, but we didn’t care the reason).

The wedding was not the one I had always dreamed about. Mama didn’t make my dress because the price was too high. We almost didn’t have any flowers because the money Mama and Daddy had for the wedding ran out. None of that mattered, and it still doesn't today.

But finally, I walked down the aisle to hold the hand of my soul mate and life began for us.

Married life is not an easy thing, especially for the young. But no matter how many people tried to cause trouble, no matter how many times our families pushed us aside, no matter the economic ups and downs, no matter the illnesses, accidents, and medical issues, no matter the turmoil from some unnamed individuals, no matter anything. We have made it through and are stronger for all the trials and tribulations that life has thrown in our paths.

Love, honest, true deep to the very soul love, is the greatest thing a person can have in their life. You give that to me.

No matter the 36 years we have been married, when I am in a crowd of people, I still feel your presence whenever you approach. I know the second you enter they store when I have been inside for any amount of time. Our connection is strong. Our connection is deep.

I am only the person I am today because you complete me.

Who Am I? Been Sick, Sad, and Dealt With Life

Who am I? Lately, those words mean I have been sick. Food poisoning has had me for almost a month. It has been the worst case I have had in years, but I am finally feeling a little better. At least I feel alive.

The last couple of months has been difficult, to say the least. I have cried so many tears that I feel cried out. Losing a pet to the majority of the world means you lost a pet, but to my family, it is more like losing a family member. Our furry family is far more than just simply pets. 

That began for me when I was a little girl. My parents gave Larry and me a beagle puppy, Susie. And we loved her dearly. Although the love I have for her was nothing in comparison to the relationship we have with our current and recent furry family. Susie was such a sweet dog, that sweet little beagle face. Life for Susie cut short, sadly.

My parents had built a house, and we were to move to the country. It was an exciting time, and I couldn't wait to run the fields with little Susie by my side. Daddy went and got some chainlink fence so he could build her a pen until she got used to the farm. We had a beautiful day and went home nearly at dark. 

I will never forget the look on the neighbor's face as we pulled into our drive. He had witnessed the woman in the big car come down the street and as she ran up over the sidewalk into the yard, where little Susie sat. I will never forget how he was positive that she had done it on purpose.

Images of the bike riding woman from Wizard of Oz flooding my mind and remain with me today. How could someone be so cruel and intentionally kill an innocent? Boy, would life teach me that lesson time and time again?

I was so devastated. The funny thing is that I never realized how much it affected Daddy. That chain link fence laid in the same spot for nearly 30 years when Lynn was the one to move it. For me, it was about a year before we got the poodle that would be my best friend, my confidant, and my actual first furry family. 

Mitzi was a beautiful miniature teacup silver poodle. But more than that she was my friend. I adored her, and she adored me. That sweet little silver face was at times the one face that allowed me to retain my sanity. Then, Lynn came into my life, and she hated him. All he had to do was get near her or me, and she would bite him. This moment was the first and only time she ever behaved that way. It wasn't so funny then but as I look back after all of these years it is funny.

I was torn and didn't know how to get her to like him, let alone love him too. No matter what I did, she just couldn't stand him. Then the unthinkable happened, Mitzi who had congestive heart failure began to slip away. It was so awful watching her suffer, and all I could think was I had to get back to Mama and Daddy's before she passed. 

Lynn drove like a madman trying to get there as I held her little quivering body close to me. But about 3 miles from Mama's house Mitzi crawled out of my arms and moved to Lynn. She laid her tiny head on his arm, licked him and as she looked up at his face she passed away. I will always know that was her way of passing the torch of my care on to him. 

Now when Susie was killed it hurt, but this was a pain like nothing else. I was lost. I didn't know what to do.

You can't replace a love of a furry family, the only thing you can do is to put something else out there for you to think about. That furry family member always missed, and here 36 years later I still shed tears for little Mitzi.

Lynn tried to make me smile and tried to fill that empty hole left by little Mitzi with a teeny, tiny black spitball of a pup. Cherry Bomb came into my life with a flash, and that was how she remained. She was so tiny, and so sweet. Sure she wasn't Mitzi, but she quickly became my baby.

I spoiled her so bad that I never left her alone. Granny would babysit anytime we went somewhere she couldn't go, and I began wearing overalls so I could slip her inside and go most every place else. It wasn't what I should have done, but I snuck her in McDonald's as we ate and slid french fries down the front of my overalls so she could share in lunch.

The Health Department would have died if they knew. And she rode in my pocket no matter where I went. That was life with Cherry, and it went on for many years. She saw the birth of both my girls and did her part to help with them.

Life with my furry family would continue. Furries came and stayed as long as their little lives would allow. The love we shared has only increased, and they are just more spoiled every day.

Bambi (Bam Bam) came into our lives because our oldest wanted a Min-pin, but she quickly decided she was Cole's dog. Or maybe he was hers. It was hard to tell. She slept in bed with Cole from the time he was a tiny baby until she got so old she was nearly blind and deaf and she had to sleep in a safer spot. Then it was too dangerous for her to be on the bed. That little red spitfire passed away a month or so ago at the ripe old age of 16 1/2 which is nearly unheard of for a little dog. Cole will always have a hole in his heart where she lived.

I think she passed because she was grieving just as we were. Dewb had left us just a couple of weeks before she died and it was the most painful passing of a furry family member any of us had ever had. Losing him was something that was beyond belief. He never knew he was a dog, and he was far from being a pet. He was a little boy, and that was how we treated him.

The pain that left behind will never stop, and we only try to move on. But Bambi loved him too, and I think it was more than she could handle. Just as my Dad died when Mama did, Bambi left with Dewb.

Our pain continues and seems never to end. Duncan, sweet little Duncan who was brought into our lives to help fill a gap left us just a short two months after. It was sudden, fast unexpected and devastating. None of us knew how much we loved him.

So tears fill our eyes, and the pain is overwhelming as we try just to survive.

The furry family is the greatest thing, but with it comes pain. Pain because we love them so deeply.



If the world loved each other as honestly as those sweet little furry members of our families loved all of us. When you come home to that little face of your furry family, there is absolutely no doubt that they love you. Dogs have no concept of lying, no idea of hiding their feelings. So when they act glad to see you, well they are.



AMENDED  So many furbabies have crossed our paths, and it would take me days to fill in the names. But they were all loved with all our hearts and souls. They will be missed forever and left huge holes in our hearts. But I would not change a thing because they added so much love and happiness to our lives. Tears of joy, sadness, and heartache. Love those furbabies. Tiny man, you were such a sweet soul. Rottweiler beauty but such a softy. Everyone loved you, and we miss you still. Precious, Cassie, Cookie, Prissy, Penny, Toby, Rowdie, Sandy, Peppermint, Gidget, Duke, Baron and the list goes on. We loved them so much. There were a few cats that crossed our paths as beloved furbabies but Brian you were one of a kind, and we still talk of your antics.

Birds and fish filled our hearts as well. Our fur family has been large, but we loved and love them all. Cherish them because they are loyal, loving, and depend on you.

Who Am I? Darkness of Depression Finds Sunny Skies

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Who am I? That has been something I have spent many years wondering. But in June of 1980, I was at one of the lowest moments of my life.

Everyone always says that your teen years are some of your best, for me, I sure hope not. Sure, there were some great times. But emotionally and mentally that was a very dark time for me.

I was graduating High School, and it should be having the-the time of my life. Most grads feel like they have the world by the tail and are preparing for a future. Not me, I was wondering what my purpose on this earth was, and I was lost.

Mental illness is an awful term, but that is what Bipolar disorder is in a nutshell. And I was suffering from the darkest depression I had ever experienced. I felt alone, unwanted, unloved, and completely lifeless.

Every morning I got up and went through the motions of living, but I wasn't. My sense of not belonging anywhere was adamant, and I was in such a dark place with no light. Then, out of the blue something happened.

My brother was not one who asked me to go with him places, and since he had gotten married, we hadn't spent any time together at all. So when he invited me to hang out with him after I got off of work, I should have wondered something. But in my haze of darkness I didn't.

We rode to a gas station, and Larry said he wanted to make a phone call. Again, I didn't think anything. He called Lynn asking him to come hang out with us. I thought okay, that was all right with me. I knew Lynn, but we didn't hang out or have the same set of friends, but this seemed fine to me.

It was just a matter of seconds that Lynn came pulling up in his little black cobra mustang. We all got into Larry's car and headed off to do the only thing to do in town. And that was to drive around and around until we got tired. Then we headed off on a dirt road finally making our way to a place in the woods where we could all sit around and drink beer.

Drinking beer when you are a teen can often be the only thing there is to do, I don't like beer now, and I didn't like it then. It was 1980 in the Ozarks, and that was all there was to do. So as Larry backed his car into the woods we settled in for a night of talking, looking at the stars, and pony Millers the beer of the Midwest teen in the 80s.

It was a breathtaking night. The stars were shining with such a sparkle that it felt like magic. Maybe there was some magic in the air, I don't know but as strange or impossible that it might sound I fell in love with Lynn.

There in the dark woods under the stars as we talked and walked down paths I fell in love. And remarkably he did too, it was a miracle or fate. I'm not sure,
My life would change and never be the same.I had someone that made me feel good that made me want to be a part of the world, and it was an incredible feeling.

When someone hears of that night we drove out into the woods, they always think it for us to do far more than talk. And even though circumstances caused rumors to spread, we didn't do anything but talk.

Those stories came from the fact that my work uniform which had been in Larry's car, ended up being dragged out of the car in the dark and left lying in the woods. So when a young boy found it, he took that uniform back to my work (it had my name on it) to leave it with my boss. So well I guess it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened next.

Once, the night was over Lynn followed us back to Larry's house and stayed till the early morning as we held hands and watched a movie. He was so sweet and wouldn't even kiss me when he left.

That shyness is still there under the surface 36 years later.

Our first official date happened the day after our starry night in the woods.

June 6, 1980, seems like it was just yesterday. Then, I look at the time on the calendar to realize it was 36 years ago. Lynn didn't stay away from Larry's house long that morning after he finally did go home. But it was just to shower and change clothes.

When he got back, the two of us joined Larry and his wife plus another couple. Hitting the highway, we headed to Mountain Home and the lake. It was a gloriously sunny day, and I felt alive. Alive.

We rode go-carts and got asked to leave because we were too rowdy in the owners words.

Then our little group was asked to leave Pizza Hut because we were laughing so loud. Looking back I laugh to myself because the reality was that we were a bunch of punk kids just having fun. We didn't hurt anyone; we just had fun..

That was the first day of the rest of my life. Lynn and I had a connection. One that is stronger today than ever, one that has protected us on this journey through life.

And it all started that long ago night in June of 1980.

Who Am I? Why Me What Have I Done To Deserve This? Sometimes God Has To Slap You In The Face

Who Am I? That simple question can mean wondering Why me? And Why have something happened to me? Sure it is usual for people to feel sorry for themselves but for some in this crazy world that are the only thing they think of. 

Just take a few moments to go shopping and listen to the people complain. It is a never-ending litany of why this and omg that. One person looks at another to mention their aches and pains. 'My back hurts.' They are then, met with a complete grocery list of the many things wrong with the other person, all in an attempt to prove who has the worst pain.

When did it become a competition to see who has it the worst? When did caring for others turn into 'but I feel worse' kind of world?

Think of the last time you went to the Doctor and remembered the people in the waiting room. For me, it was a group that all tried to outdo the others in their level of pain. I know that people have pain, I am not saying that. But why is there a contest to see how much more everyone suffers?

Isn't the pain in itself bad enough? Pain is awful. No matter where you hurt if you are a chronic pain sufferer, YOU HURT! Funniest the thing is that remember as a child the paper cuts you would get? That hurt so bad and still do. So as we remember those tiny cuts just take a moment and realize you don't have to see another's pain for it to be real.

Lynn has a head injury. We have dealt with years of people looking at him because he did things like mow the lawn or cut wood. A judge in our case answered it better than anyone ever had before. "I see nowhere in Mr. Johnson's file on his head injury that said it was his back. And unless he is mowing his lawn his head I see no problem." 

That put it in a nutshell. But the world still looks at everyone else as if each and everyone in the world is lying about pain. Why would anyone lie?


But as we go through this crazy existence that we call life, we are all in the spot to at one time or another feel depressed. That depression comes from being tired, and pain or suffering is tiresome.

We as humans have a tendency to go through times of feeling sorry for ourselves, don't worry everyone has done it sometime in their life. I had had moments when that feeling overwhelmed me, but reality came calling.

It was in 1988 when Lynn was hurt riding a four wheeler. He was wounded awful, compound fracture of his shoulder among other things. After his surgery, he began to suffer from pneumonia that had one lung full of fluid, and the other one was over 98% complete. He was in terrible condition.

He lay in his hospital bed unconscious and slim chances for recovery. I watched him terrified for his health. Here I stood six months pregnant with a 3-year-old hanging onto my leg. What would I do? I felt so alone, sitting there watching the love of my life suffer, while I had no one but my child to comfort me.

I watched him lay in that bed; he was so sick, and he was my world. Placing my hand on my belly, I cried because this baby needed a daddy too. I cried because my three years old needed her dad. And I cried in fear of losing my best friend, my partner, my soul mate, and my love. What would I do without him? 

Lynn's Doctor told me that if he were to survive the night, he had a 50% chance of surviving this. Which undoubtedly meant to me that he had a great chance of not surviving. I was horrified and more scared than I remember ever being. 

Nowhere did it feel to me that I was selfish, I only thought of myself and my little family. It just didn't seem like I was doing anything wrong. I just kept saying "Why me? What have I done to deserve this?"

Then, nearly out of the blue I heard a rattling commotion. It seemed to echo out of nowhere, so I went to the hospital room's door. Slowly I opened the door to look out. It was almost 4 in the morning, and my eyes met two gurneys pushed by a group of nurses and orderlies. Every one of the people had such a look of sadness on their faces which made me look at the gurneys again.

The first one held a tiny little thing; I later found out she was barely three years old, burnt. But not just burnt, this sweet baby was suffering burns over 97% of her body. The tears ran down my cheeks, as they do still today just remembering that sad night so long ago. I gasped as I saw the second gurney held an even tinier little body. But this one was covered head to toe. 

And I knew what that meant. A nurse stepped up to me, she saw my condition and knew I needed someone at that moment. As she placed a loving hand on my shoulders, she told me what had happened. The little girls were in a house fire, and the littlest one just didn't make it to the hospital.

My knees were weak, my heart sank, and I was ashamed. I was more ashamed than I had ever been in my life. How could I question God about my miserable life when those little babies had suffered so painfully? I was ashamed as I felt the wiggles of the unborn child and embarrassed as I looked at the beautiful little girl of mine asleep in a chair.

That was a moment when I know God reached down and slapped me. He hit with the knowledge that no matter how bad you think you have things, look around.That night I did look around, and I saw sights that would haunt me forever.

As I stared at my little girl asleep and I laid a loving hand on my stomach, I fell to my knees and begged forgiveness. I asked forgiveness for the horrid ways I had forgotten all the wonderful things in my life. I had forgotten just how fortunate I was.

In my begging I thanked God for my beautiful little girl, I thanked him for the healthy pregnancy. I thanked him for the time that Lynn and I had together. I thanked him for everything in my life, and I told him that if it was his will to take Lynn, then I only asked for the strength to handle it. 

I said that if this was all the time with the love of my life, then I was grateful for that happy time. And I cried. I cried for those little angels that had suffered; I cried for the shame I felt at questioning.

The night continued as I cried and prayed. I gave thanks for every second of the time I had with Lynn and the morning sun finally came up.

With the rays of sun shining into that white hospital room,  my morning greeted me with the beautiful blue eyes of my husband. He was lying there staring at me, and he had a beautiful smile on his face. And he was hungry. I laughed, I cried, and I hugged him.

The Doctor was surprised by the strange quick recovery he was witnessing. But I told him I wasn't surprised I knew why. And I was thankful.

So when I look in the mirror and ask Who Am I?, I know I am a grateful, very fortunate woman who has suffered, but I have made it through.

Do I step over someone who needs help? Not if I can do anything at all to help them.


Will you help someone? 

Who Am I? Redheaded BiPolar Irish Danish Native American Gemini Mutt

Who am I? I am a person who wonders, do you ever get used to the loss of your parents? Especially on your birthday.

No matter how many birthdays I have celebrated with the gaping holes left after the passing of Mama and Daddy. I never stop thinking about them and longing to hear “Happy Birthday baby.” But they aren’t here, and I will never hear them say it again. That brings such a pain to my heart I can’t even put words to it.

Even though they aren’t here I see them everywhere, I see Daddy in Cole as his significant height looks down at me, and he cocks one eyebrow up. I see Mama in Heather as she does whatever she sets her mind to. And I see them in the flowers I plant, the stars I watch, and the laughter of my family. My parents aren’t here, but they are everywhere because they made such an impact on me.

I never went a birthday that I didn’t have them to say they loved me and wished me Happy Birthday, no matter what was going on or the circumstances they did. I never failed to call her every day even when we weren’t getting along because I loved them dearly.

There are instances in life now where children and their parents do not talk; I am sadly too familiar with it. I wish things were different, but you can not force others to do what they do not want to do.
So with my birthday approaching, I look back at the years. I never really had a birthday party, Larry was the one who had parties. It wasn’t until after Cole was born. It was an average birthday, or at least it started that way.
I got so mad at my girls because they ran off and didn’t help with the chores or do anything. They left me on my birthday. I was furious. Then I got a phone call that said they needed their dad and me to come pick them up at the neighbor’s house. So we got in the car, and I was still fuming, bitching and complaining about those ungrateful little girls.
We drove into the neighbor’s yard, and I was still furious as I walked inside to let my kids have a piece of my mind. Then as I entered their dining room, I was met by an entire lot of our friends. Yeah, my girls had left me to do all their chores, but they were off busy planning a surprise party for me.

The tears still fall my cheeks as I remember the feeling of everyone screaming Happy Birthday and the look on my girls’ faces. It was priceless, and everyone liked to remind me how mad I got

 But I had never gotten a real birthday party, and I had no idea this was going to be one.
It was unbelievable, and they were all so wonderful. But boy did I get mad that morning. Now, it is funny. Then, not so much.

Birthdays to me are a time I reflect on the past, a time I remember the tears, the laughter, pain, and joy of being me. It is when I try to see the world through the eyes of my family, and I know they haven’t had it easy.
Dealing with me is something they need commendations. Being a Bi-Polar redheaded Irish Native American Danish Gemini is not easy for anyone. They need medals.