People who equate truth with fact are missing the point.

We’re All Insomniacs Here

No Points for Style

I woke at 3 am today, hardly ideal but no surprise. We’re all insomniacs here. I spent a little time with Abbie because her insomnia and mine cross this way sometimes, and I’m awake before she falls asleep. I drank some coffee, wrote for awhile, and woke Carter at 6:30. I dropped him off . . . → Read More: We’re All Insomniacs Here

Life Is Difficult


Life is difficult.

M. Scott Peck opened The Road Less Traveled with that line and I don’t guess I know anyone who’d disagree. A few weeks ago, when my family was in the midst of yet another minor crisis, my dad asked me, “Aren’t you glad you gave up on waiting for life to . . . → Read More: Life Is Difficult


Little Adrienne0004

“Adulting” isn’t a verb but it should be. Sometimes I look around my life and wonder, who the hell had the idea that I was qualified for all this? . . . → Read More: Adulting

The Crystal Ball She Wished She’d Had

I read the comments on an article at ABC News called 5 Disturbing Things We Learned Today About Sandy Hook Shooter Adam Lanza and it’s very clear that most people think that those of us who have loved ones with serious mental illness should a) understand the depth and severity of their illness in all ways, at all times; b) deliver appropriate treatment in all ways and at all times; and c) basically read their minds and use our handy dandy crystal balls (they give us those at diagnosis, you know, so we will always be aware when someone in our family is going to do something unimaginable) to predict all possible behaviors so as to protect others from our “psycho” family members. . . . → Read More: The Crystal Ball She Wished She’d Had

An Eternal Multitude of Despondency

No Points for Style

Instead of letting me go in an ambulance, my parents drove all the way from Albuquerque, New Mexico to Prescott, Arizona to take me from the tiny regional medical center where I had been for nine days to the much larger hospital in Phoenix. . . . → Read More: An Eternal Multitude of Despondency

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