I arrived for my very first psych hospital stay without any books. Without anything, actually, because I was operating on a profound, dangerous sleep deficit and there was nothing going on in my brain that wasn’t destructive. The doctor at that little hospital started giving me a Prozac capsule every day, this brand-new drug . . . → Read More: A Rickety Bridge
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.
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
“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
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