UnEmployment Headache (a poem)

Complicated imagery
Across my faded mind
Unemployed visionary
Going back to ancient times

Dreaming of fantasies
Forgotten goals that bloomed
Waking up to reality
No rent, no heat, depression consumed

Homelessness, hunger
My angry soul cries out
My mind an empty mess
Wasn't my faith devout?

One door closes, then another and yet another
Reality slaps me in the face
Brings thoughts of chills, skills & thrills
Prostitution taking place

So sad to see
How easy my mind creates these imagries
Desperation taking it's place

Praying ernestly
To see the numerous blessing unfolding in front of me
Smile, laugh, put on a good show
Keep the pain in feeling ashamed
No one has to know

What I need is here
Right in front of me
Just beyond my grasp
While everyone wants to ask

Are you sane?
Are you happy?
Can't they see my life is crappy!

BUT OF COURSE NOT!

I would not show
It's truly no one's business
I need to grow
And remind myself that recovery is on going
There is no one sure way to truly know
My stregnth is the face I continue to show

First NAMI Presentation

Today was my first NAMI presentation and I was overyly excited to be speaking in front of 123 nurses at the Maryland School of Nursing. I couldn't sleep lastnight thinking about what I was going to talk about and didn't have the nerve to look at my notes from training. I sat up all night thinking about how I was going to present myself and prayed that I didn't make a fool out of myself.

When I arrived at the school I took a deep breath in as I walked down the small strip to the podium. The instructor pinned a small microphone to my sweater so that the students in the back of the classroom could hear me speak. I felt pretty important having this microphone strapped to my chest and the mobile battery back attached to my hip.

My partner Gayle was a woman with a child like voice but her presence was felt through out the room as she spoke and shared her story with the class. Me, well, I felt right at home. I felt like I was putting on my best performance for my children and their friends as I presented myself with confidence and shared my Dark Days, Acceptance, Treatment and Hopes & Dreams with a room full of nurses.

It's funny, as many times as I have had trouble with doctors not listening to what I had to say about my illness and how it affects my life if felt so incredibly good to talk with people (health care professionals) who had a genuine interest and a thirst for the knowledge of how I (as a mental health consumer) ticked! They had no preconcieved notions or ideas just their stigmatizations of what they previously thought a mental health consumer was like. I stood tall and proud as I help destroy those images in their minds to show that not all people who live with mental illness are serial killers, stalkers, rapist, etc. We look and act just like those who consider themselves "NORMAL".

My instructor once said that "Mental Illness is not for sissies!" and I agree 100%. So I'm giving myself kudos for standing in front of a crowd of strangers (doing what I do best be a DRAMA QUEEN) and sharing my story with them and in the process allowing them to understand that a book is more than it's cover!

Living Will

A few years ago I thought about a living will. Usually when you think about a will you think about inheriting millions of dollars (at least that's what the movies project). I thought about what I had to leave behind for my children cause Lord knows it wasn't a million dollars!

Since Shawn's passing and having to sort through her unfinished business it makes me think more about a living will. We sorted through her clothing, important papers and memorables and decided what we were going to keep that reminded us of her. I've been wearing her shoes, jewlery and hair accessories. My niece asked me why would I wear her mother's things. I explained to her that I wanted to feel close to my sister because I missed her so much. My niece told me that even though her mother was dead that she still needed her things in heaven to wear. Pretty insightful for a 7 year old! I told her that her mother would want me to wear her things so that I could feel closer to her. I promised my niece that I would not hurt or destroy her mother's things. We made sure that we set some things aside for both of my nieces (Briana & Mary) to remember their mother.

I think about what I have to leave behind for my children and grandchildren. I think about wether or not my brother would allow my children to be in control of my estate. I never thought far ahead enough to save money aside for them to have for their future. I've always struggled to take care of them so extra money was not really an option. With Shawn's death I've had to really consider death benefits (or life insurance). My boys are too old to receive my social security benefits. I think the most valuable things I have to give are my stories. The little creative parts of me that have more of me involved in them than anything else I own.

So, with this said, it's time for a little responsibility on my part. Budgeting to get life insurance so that my family is not bogged down trying to pay for the disposal of my body. Really taking stock of all of my personal liabilities as to not make my children & grandchildren be responsible for my legalities. Dividing up the few properties that I own between my children, grandchildren, siblings and my mother. It's amazing how the death of a loved one makes you stand up and take notice of your own "mad house".

Triggers

A light whisper calling
My name in the night
Shouts of laughter
Screams of delight

A bond born with siblings
A celebration of life
A love like no other
Forever my light bright

My sister lived and suffered from ADHD and Bipolar disorder before she passed away. In a fit of anger over her passing my brother explained his fear and stigma of the disease by stating that I was next to die because I too live with Bipolar disorder. When I asked him why would he think that he stated that since we shared the same disability and our bought with medications that more than likely I would suffer the same fate as my sister.

I have tried to explain to my family that just because I live with biplor disorder that it is not a death sentence. Yes there are times when my depression moments bring me to suicidal tendencies and my manic moments cause me to do things that are out of the ordinary or frustrate me to the point that I become angry and agitated very easily. Just as I tried to explain to my sister before she passed that there is a way to control the moods and function among those who consider themselves "normal". She wasn't ready to take control of her disorder so that she could "live" as opposed to "suffer" with it. She wanted people to feel sorry for her but at the same time understand her. I wanted to teach her that it's hard for people to understand what she herself could not understand of her disorder.

So now begins the triggers.......

When I was diagnosed in 2006 people began to pay an unusual amount of attention to me. Always asking if I were ok. I couldn't understand why it was so important to pay attention to me now as opposed to the extreme hard times when I really needed it and no one knew I was alive. I often wonder if my sister had the same experiences. It triggers me when my brother says I'm next to die due to my disorder. I think about the suicidal times and how God didn't feel it was my time to go home. I think about why God felt it was my sister's time to go home.... Why at 37 was it her time to go? Why when she was finally finding a way to cope with her self esteem and trying desperately to get herself together was it time for her to go home? Why didn't I have enough time to be with her to teach her good coping skills for her disorder? Why, God, Why?
I don't want my family to keep a closer eye on me due to the fear of wondering if I'm going to die next because my symptoms got out of control.

Trigger #2:

My niece says "Auntie, I want to be just like you!"

You would think this is the best compliment in the world. I guess in some cases it is. When I think about her mom trying to be like me and the trouble it caused her it makes me cringe. It amazes me that my siblings are jealous of me. I'm not sure why but they are (by their own admission). I have never been very stable, always moving around. I suck with money and my sense of style is in a class all by itself. My self esteem is in the toilet and I don't even like myself! So why be jealous of me?? Since I've been in Cali with my family and helping with my niece I have enjoyed her tremendously. Doing homework with her, spelling words, walking her to school, bathtime, etc. It feels like it did when my boys were younger and when I used to have my grands all the time. When I think about the person I see myself as it scares me shitless to wish that on such an innocent soul. "Just like you auntie!" How can I make things wonderful for her to have a positive view to want to be herself and make life simple for her.

Trigger #3

You are the spark and we want you to come back home

I get my sense of humor from my mom. She is the most hilarious person I know. My sense of humor keeps me afloat and keeps me from loosing complete control of reality. As much as I miss my family living on the East Coast I recognize my need to live far away from them. I see the drama and I worry about worrying my mother too much. But at the same time I know that they need me to be closer. It's hard for me to have a life of my own when I'm too close. Then at the same time I feel like I'm being selfish for wanting such a thing.

I'm trying desperately to hold it together and be strong for my family through our time of grief. I feel overwhelmed at times and I know that at some point that I'm going to have to let it all go but right now there is no time for that. Only one person at a time for grief. If I grieve then everyone wants to know if my disorder is out of control or if I'm going to be suicidal myself. With the depression looming around the corner I worry if I will be able to handle it along with the grief.

A Letter to My Sister Shawn Brown (7/12/72 - 9/15/09)

Dear Shawn,

I remember when we moved from Chicago to California when you were a baby. The times I played with you and watched your beautiful toothless grins. You were such a happy baby. As a toddler you loved to chase Poochie (the dog) with a brush and beat her with it but she kept you safe when you tried to run off. I can remember combing your hair and helping you look ever bit as pretty as you were born to be.

As we got older we wore each other's clothes often fighting over who could wear what on a particular day. We used to have races to see who's hair would grow the longest the fastest! When mama went to college we got separated and I didn't get to be around you for a while until I was in high school. Our five year age difference showed it's ugly head but it didn't totally keep us from hanging out. You were the beach bum always hanging out at Port Hueneme Beach getting the tan you so desperately wanted.

As adults our bond became stronger as I once again became your protector. Your choice in men has always been horrendous but then again you would say the same about me! LOL We never did like each other's boyfriends! The best memories I have is you trying to show everyone at Denny's how to drink a blow job (the drink!) and that idiot you chose to go out to breakfast with us asking if we were really sister's and you wrapped your mouth around that coke glass and downed that ice water in one gulp! We got breakfast FREE that night! LOL Your sense of humor rivaled mine in so many ways. I loved your zest for life, your courage and your straightforwardness. You could always say the things I never could and I admired you for that.

The last conversation we had you asked me to send you a picture and I sent you a pic of me flipping you off and sticking my tongue out at you to make you laugh. I know you laughed, I know you just that well. But something in my heart told me that you wanted more than just a laugh, you wanted our bond back. You told me that I needed to come home and be with you and Briana and mama. I was coming home for Thanksgiving.

I guess I waited too long cause you had to go home! I was devastated that I didn't get to see you one last time before you had to leave. I'm thankful that you don't have to endure the pain you were going through anymore. I know that you are up there teaching the Angels the Chicago Step! I'm home my sister. I'm home with your beautiful daughter and I'm helping her cope and teaching her about the wonderful person that were my sister. I love you Brat! You will always be my Brat and now your daughter is Junior Brat! LOL I will miss you with all my heart and soul.

Drea

Collegue

It is not secret that I am ultra sensitive to medications. I have said so on many occasions and have told every health care professional I have ever seen. Since learning about my mental disorder I have worked very hard to learn as much as I possibly can about the symptoms, the effects the disorder has had not only on my life but my family's lives as well. I have gone to school to get my certifications in Hypnotherapy, Human Services, Political Advocate, Mentor and Presentator and I have my sights set on becoming a certified group facilitator as well.

All these accomplishments have only meant (to me that is) that I am doing what I can to achieve the maximum functionalbility that I can to maintain a healthy life. When I am helping others live and function with their disability then I feel like I'm doing real service. I can see in their eyes the enjoyment they have gotten from their lives just in the way they carry themselves and how they have managed to learn a different way of going about taking care of themselves.

So why can't I see it for myself when I'm doing the same things?

I guess the best answer for that is I just see myself as living! It doesn't feel like a great acomplishment when I'm taking care of me. I struggle daily with just believing that I'm worth the effort! I love the fact that I can and do work with others and we find ways of teaching each other the values of everyday living and how it impacts the way we do and see things.

Today I saw a specialist to help me get back on track. I gave him my list of medications that I've tried and the many side effects that my body wouldn't tolerate as a result. He looked at me with a big smile on his face and said "You've definately given us a difficult challenge in taking care of you young lady." Then he asked me did I bother to take notice of all my accomplishments that I've made in educating myself and out living the stigma that I had placed on myself. I looked at him totally confused as I told him I was just trying to make life functional for myself. Then he said, "You are my collegue!" I was totally flabbergasted! A doctor that called me his equal! He said he is a community psychatrist and understands what case management was all about and knows that this is the line of work I have educated myself in and feels as though I am a good candidate for it.

So I guess we both have a unique challenge... His is to find a way to create a method for my madness and mine is to find a way to not allow my madness to run my life so that I can find out what makes me happy and able to function.

Welcome to The Shit Museum

Welcome to the Shit Museum where you can find all types of shitty works of art. The Shit Museum is located in Shitville USA. Asshole, the town Mayor welcomes all visitors to his shitty town. Shitville is easily accessible on the Hershey Highway. Unfortunately due to the massive amounts of shit that created the town there are no occupants but the Mayor.

Little Shit (AKA Cockita) is the museums coordinator and presentater. Cockita has worked long and hard through mounds of shit to create a special interactive presentation in the Shit Museum. Although there are no current residents in Shitville, thousands of people come to visit every day.

In the museum there are shit splatter exhibits, tall shit exhibits, piles of shit exhibits, little shit exhibits and exhibits of all colors and consistencies. There is even a special hall of shitty smells that range from rosie shit to down right "get the fuck out" shit.

We hope you come to visit our town soon. For brochure information please email www.welcometoshitvilleusa.com and leave your name and adress and we'll send you out a colorful brochure with all of our latest attractions. For travel you can take the Shitville train into our illustrious shitty train station. Till then, have an ultra shitty day!

Sign: Asshole, mayor of Shitville

Silence is Golden

Today's blog is going to be about why silence is golden. According to the dictionary this is what silence means:

si⋅lence 

–noun
1. absence of any sound or noise; stillness.

2. the state or fact of being silent; muteness.

3. absence or omission of mention, comment, or expressed concern.

4. the state of being forgotten; oblivion.

5. concealment; secrecy.

Bare with me folks there is a method to my madness!

When I was a child I used to talk way too much. So much to the point that no one would talk to me for fear that I would blab and tell the world what was said. As I grew older I learned the perfection of speaking with a soft voice and the wisdom of silence. Mama always taught me that if you can't say something nice don't say anything at all! Well there should be an addendum to that phrase. Something along the lines of "if you can't get people to listen then maybe what you're saying isn't working speaking PERIOD!"

For the longest time I stopped talking about a lot of things and just wrote them down to get them off my heart or I kept them inside. I don't like to hurt peoples feelings on purpose (unless you piss me off then the gloves come off and I just don't give a shit!). I work very hard to be conscientious, thoughtful and considerate of others sometimes to the point of loosing myself in the process. I try to treat others the way I want to be treated, doesn't always work but I try hard. In keeping things locked away and not talking about them I became very ill. Physically ill! So I began to talk and release some of the pressure of what I was going through.

I'm learning that talking isn't such a good thing anymore. I'm learning that I need to be SILENT. People don't listen anyway so why talk? I need to paint on a smile (because people can relate to that) and go on about my business and keep to myself and not bother people. No more talking because silence is golden!

Silence is golden
Meaning
A proverbial saying, often used in circumstances where it is thought that saying nothing is preferable to speaking.

In Loving Memory

In June Facebook ask if I could say something about my father and I left a message on what I thought. The one person I didn't mention was the incomperable Rev Dr Carlton Lewis Jr. This man is a phenominal Angel that GOD put on this earth to guide and teach to stay on the path that leads to HIM. I first met Rev Lewis in 2005 just before I moved back to California from Maryland. I listened to his sermon at his church (Mount Olive Baptist Church in Dundalk, Maryland) and I was moved and stimulated by the message he had to deliver. The next time I saw Rev Lewis he was in the hospital with a form of gain green (his leg was green from the knee to his ankle) and GOD wasn't ready for his messenger to come home. Rev Lewis recovered fully and was walking without his cane preaching to his congregation about the miracles that GOD performs if you just believe! From our visit together in his hospital room I was inspired to write a story titled "The Special Child". The spirit moved me so powerfully that I didn't come up for air till I was finished writing this story. It just poured out of me like fine wine. When I was done I copied it and gave it to Rev Lewis to read and he was moved to tears.

The next time I came in contact with Rev Lewis was shortly after I moved back to Maryland. I began to go to church and became a member of the congregation. Rev Lewis pulled me into his office and had a long talk with me in which he asked me (very lovingly) if I would do him the honor (and yes he did say the honor) of being his daughter! This time it was me who was moved to tears. He said he spoke with his wife and they both agreed that I needed an East Coast family since I was so far away from my West Coast family. He even went so far as to have me call my mother and ask her permission to become my FATHER! I was in total AWE! A real FATHER! I didn't know how to act. Didn't know what a real father was or how to act with him or talk with him because all I've ever had was my mom. She was my mother and my father and now to have an actual male figure (who is a good man) ask no REQUEST the HONOR of being my father left me speachless. My mom was overjoyed that this man and his wife would want the reponsibility of looking after her daughter's well being and consented without hesitation.

Shortly after DADDY'S request for the job he began to put things in motion. He requested to talk with me in his office and we had a long talk about my life growing up and my relationship with the sperm donor who impregnated my mother. Daddy gave me a hug and told me to trust in GOD and allow him to take over and lead me down the path that I need to follow to be the woman that HE wanted me to become. Daddy went on to tell me that he was there for me how ever I needed him to be as only a REAL FATHER would. For the year and a half that he held that job he went above and beyond the call of duty. Providing me with financial, emotional and spiritual assistance at all times. When I needed a hug, he was there to give it. When I needed someone to talk he was there to listen. What more could a girl ask for in a DADDY!

Daddy died today....

GOD called daddy home, he was 82 years old. He had a laugh that could rock your heart to tears with laughter. As I sat in his special chair in his home I could feel his presence laughing, crying, but most of all shaking his head over all the fuss over him. He was the kind of man that was simple and uncomplicated. He could give you the meaning of the bible verse that he quoted then get deep with it all in the same soul searching voice. He was a reverend without being overly religious! Can you imagine that? I LOVE HIM. He was the best daddy a girl could have and I thank GOD for bringing him into my life if even for a short while.

The Special Child

Inspired by Pastor Lewis of Baltimore, Maryland

Jo had a rough morning and lay down to take a nap. As she laid there Louis came into her home and sprinkled a sparkly dust on her face that quickly disappeared as it touched her skin.

“Achoo,” Jo sneezed.

Louis smiled to himself and snuck out of the living room. Jo began to have an unusual dream. She was lying on a hospital bed with her knees up to her chest with Mack standing behind her.

“Push Jo! One last push!” Mack encouraged as he wiped the sweat off her forehead.

“Uhhh!” Jo grunted as she pushed.

The baby slowly fell into the doctors waiting hands. He didn’t make a sound. The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck and he was blue from choking.

“What’s wrong? Why can’t I hear the baby?” Jo panicked.

Mack lay Jo down on the bed and walked around to see the baby as the doctors were quickly unwrapping the cord from his neck.

“He’s ok Jo. The cord is wrapped around his neck so he can’t breathe.” Dr. Sweet said as he wiped the baby’s face clean.

The nurse quickly covered the baby’s mouth with her mouth and began to breathe in for him as another nurse was pumping his chest. After a few minutes the baby’s eyes opened as the nurse wrapped her mouth around his. She quickly raised her head and smiled down at him.

“Dr. Sweet, he’s awake.” The nurse said.

The baby looked around but still didn’t make a sound. Dr. Sweet lifted him up by his feet and swatted him on his behind. The baby’s eyes opened wide but he didn’t cry. Dr. Sweet turned the baby to face him and the baby frowned as he realized this doctor hit him.

“Hello little man. Are you gonna let us hear those lungs of yours?” Dr. Sweet asked.

The baby continued to stare at him and say nothing. Dr. Sweet turned the baby around again and swatted him on the bottom. Again the baby made no sound but the frown on his face deepened.

“Doctor, what’s wrong with him?” Mack asked.

“Not a thing, he might be mute. That’s hard to diagnose because he’s not opening his mouth just frowning.” Dr. Sweet said.

“Don’t swat him anymore! Poor baby, just come out and get a spanking for being born!” Jo said.

The baby smiled as he heard her voice and turned his body towards her.

“Well one thing’s for sure he’s not deaf or mute, he knows your voice!” Dr. Sweet said laying him down on the table.

The nurse wrapped him in a receiving blanket then handed him to Jo.

“Look at our son Mack!” Jo said excitedly.

“Can we name him D’nard?” Mack asked.

“D’nard?” Jo asked with a weird look on her face.

Mack nodded yes staring into Jo’s eyes.

“Do you like D’nard?” Jo asked her son.

The baby looked at her with wide eyes still adjusting to being out of the womb.

“I think he likes it so D’nard it is. Happy Birthday D’nard. You are loved.” Jo said.

D’nard looked at his mother and began to calm down. He felt safe and secure. The nurse took D’nard out of his mother’s arms so that he could be weighed, bathed and printed. The nurses pushed Jo back into her room as Mack followed behind them.

“Do you think there is something wrong with our son, Jo?”

“No, I think he is the perfect blessing he was meant to be.”

“But he didn’t cry, Jo. He didn’t cry…”

“I know he didn’t cry. I was surprised too. Maybe his special gift from God is not to cry over trivial things.”

Mack leaned down and kissed Jo on her forehead. He had never thought of breathing as trivial. Breathing was an important part of life. How could it be thought of as trivial?

As D’nard went through his first year of life he displayed many unusually wonderful gifts. He had an inner peace that no one could touch. He sang gospel songs instead of gurgling. Jo played gospel music all the time. D’nard would rock from side to side and sing along with the music. The first time Jo noticed that her son sang she was checking on him in his playpen and she stood there watching him rock and sing. He knew all the words even though he couldn’t say them completely he could sing them.

“Thank you Jesus for blessing me with one of your angels.” Jo prayed.

D’nard rarely woke up in the middle of the night. He was content with everything that he had in his crib. Mack would check on him every night just before he went to bed and find D’nard sleeping with a peaceful smile on his face. D’nard was dry and his toys circled him as though in a ring of protection. Mack often wondered how D’nard managed to get his toys in a circle around his body. One night Mack walked into D’nard’s room and found him on his knees with his face into the mattress. Fearing that D’nard may smother himself he quickly walked over to the crib but stopped short of moving him. Mack heard D’nard praying.

“Wha…” Mack gasped quietly.

“Lord…Shepard…Jesus…Thanks…” D’nard said.

Mack quickly ran out of D’nard’s room and into his bedroom.

“Jo…Jo…” Mack rocked Jo trying to wake her up.

Jo sat up looking at Mack confused.

“What is it Mack?”

“I think D’nard is praying!” Mack said excitedly.

“I’m not surprised. He sings the gospel too.” Jo said sleepily.

“He’s only 1!”

“God has blessed our son Mack, D’nard is only praising him.”

Jo kissed Mack then lay back down. Mack swallowed hard at the thought. He walked back into D’nard’s room and saw a bright glowing light around D’nard’s crib. D’nard was lying on his stomach sleeping soundly. Mack fell to his knees and wept.

“Thank you Jesus for blessing me with D’nard for he is truly one of your special children.” Mack

prayed.

D’nard was an easy child to take care of. He practically did everything himself. By the time he was 3 years old he could tie his own shoe, read a children’s book and dress himself. Jo thanked God everyday that she had a child that was so self sufficient. Jo would sit D’nard on her lap and read the bible to him. D’nard began to testify. Sometimes he would testify to things that would blow her mind. He was only 3 years old, how on earth could he know the things that he knew?

“Don’t worry mama, Jesus loves us.” D’nard comforted Jo.

D’nard began to have a following at Sunday school. There would be a small group of children in a circle and D’nard would teach passages from the bible. The same passages the grownups were reading D’nard was teaching to babies! The Sunday school teacher was amazed as she watched him teach. He seemed to know what he was preaching and managed to capture the attention of the children. The teacher could never manage to make the children sit for longer than 15 minutes at a time but D’nard could get them to sit for 30 minutes and teach them the Word of God.

“Just remember guys that God said that we have to do what our mama’s and daddies tell us to do.” D’nard preached.

“Yeah!” The children cheered.

During one of D’nard’s sermons the teacher pulled Jo and Mack into the classroom to watch. Jo began to cry as she watched D’nard teach. Mack was in shock. He remembered the night at the crib when he saw his son praying but this was over the top. This was truly a miracle!

When D’nard turned 10 years old Jo threw him a birthday party at the park. All of his friends and teachers from school were there. He was very popular. There were so many people Mack had the party catered. As D’nard was sitting in front of his mountain of birthday presents one of the caterer’s named Louis brought him a gift. D’nard looked up at him and smiled.

“I know you. I know you very well.” D’nard said confidently.

“No, you don’t know me. I just work parties and I’ve never worked any of yours.” Louis said nervously.

“You know who I am and that’s why you requested to work my party.” D’nard said smiling.

Jo became worried as she wandered towards D’nard.

“It’s ok mother. He will do no harm here. He is here to observe.” D’nard smiled at his mother.

“I’m sorry; I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was hired to work your party sir.” Louis attempted to sound convincing.

D’nard set his present down then stood up and put his left hand on Louis’ shoulder.

“Ladies and gentlemen I would like for you to meet Louis.” D’nard said.

“Hi Louis.” The crowd greeted.

“Don’t be afraid of Louis he is here to gather information today.” D’nard comforted the crowd.

Jo watched her son in awe as a bright bluish pink aura covered him. She heard a voice whisper to her.

“He is safe, don’t worry. Lessons must be learned.”

Jo instantly understood as she felt warmth and love encircle her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, could you please excuse me. I need to talk to Louis for a few minutes. Enjoy yourselves,” D’nard encouraged.

The crowd quickly left and found other activities to busy themselves with. D’nard grabbed Louis by the arm and pulled him to a bench behind a tree.

“I was wondering when you would show your face.” D’nard said.

“I’ve been around since the day you were born. I was in the delivery room,” Louis said.

“I am here to teach and heal. Your temptations are beyond me and you know that.”

“You are human; you can be tempted and turned.”

D’nard laughed at Louis.

“You would only see the outside cause you are damned! I am more than this human stature that you see. You will not have any effect on anyone who is here today for they are loved and protected.”

“I’m not here for any of them, I’m here for you.”

“Leave this party for you are not welcome.”

“Till next time.” Louis bowed in front of D’nard then walked into the horizon.

“Thank you father for showing me his human form. Thank you for giving me the strength and power to expel him. I praise your name. Thank you for your continued presence in my life and your many wonderful blessings in Jesus name, Amen,” D’nard prayed.

As D’nard became older he became blessed in the knowledge of the Word of God. He taught his fellow classmates the Word and helped them through many trials and tribulations that life had to offer. His parents knew nothing but joy and comfort as they raised him. Jo and Mack were blessed beyond their imaginations and they shared their blessings with their neighbors and friends. Every so often during turning points in D’nard’s life he would encounter Louis. At 16 Louis came into his life again. D’nard was sitting in his math class when he saw him.

“Thank you Jesus,” D’nard prayed as he smiled.

When the class was over the students filed out of class and Louis confronted D’nard at his desk.

“You grow stronger in the Word. I know the Word too! I know the wisdom that you refuse to teach your friends and followers. I will teach it to them,” Louis sneered.

“You know nothing but lies, Louis! My friends who listen to the Word know truth and know God. They don’t fear you. They are not tempted by you. You are nothing!! Go away for you are not wanted here,” D’nard brushed Louis off.

Louis stepped back and allowed D’nard passage. Louis tried his best to get next to D’nard’s friends but they paid him no mind often laughing as they walked away from him. Louis began to get impatient at his inability to rock D’nard’s world. Louis had a following all his own and swore that before D’nard’s life was over he would turn him. Louis sent Janet to D’nard to tempt him. Janet was a beautiful and intelligent young lady. She carried herself with poise and held her head up high with confidence. She found D’nard sitting in the quad alone reading his bible.

“What’s up D’nard?”

D’nard looked her up from her feet to her head. She was dressed in a short black skirt with pink heels and a pink form fitting sweater that enhanced her blossoming breasts. Her long red hair was tied up in a pony tail and her face was made up like a models. D’nard smiled at her as he closed his bible.

“Hello Janet, how are you today?”

“I’m good, just chillin’. Thought I would come here to see what you were gettin’ into.”

“Not too much, enjoying the warmth of the sun.”

“I was wondering if you had a date for Saturday nights dance.”

“No, I’m not going. I have something else to do.”

“You don’t want to go to the dance?”

“No, I’m going to my revival to teach. The music there is soothing and I would rather dance there. You are more than welcome to come if you want.”

“A revival?! I think not! C’mon D’nard, a dance would be much more fun than a silly old revival.”

D’nard smiled at Janet and put his hand on her shoulder. She felt an instant warmth flow all through her body. A love so intense it made her tremble.

“The dance is trivial but this revival is cleansing and uplifting. Won’t you come?”

Janet was confused. She felt loved, truly loved. For the first time in her life she felt clear. The earth moved for her.

“Yes, I will come. Thanks so much D’nard,” Janet lightly kissed D’nard on his cheek and walked away.

Louis was standing behind a tree watching the whole thing. As Janet kissed D’nard on the cheek he felt a sharp pain in his stomach and doubled over. D’nard looked towards him and nodded his head as if to greet him. Louis growled and walked away.

As D’nard went through high school he studied and received good grades. During lunch breaks he would teach his friends the Word. He attended some of the pep rallies and the school games. He didn’t have a girlfriend he had young ladies that admired his love and intensity in which he taught and listened. They found in other boys all they wanted was to go out and find ways to get into trouble. D’nard listened and he listened intently. This made some of the boys very jealous. Louis played on the jealousy of the boys and pitted them against D’nard often participating with small groups of boys who had gathered together to fight D’nard. After getting their plans together the boys decided to jump D’nard in the locker room. Louis got them all riled up and they were out for blood. D’nard was sitting in front of his locker gathering his books together when he looked up and found himself surrounded by a small gang. D’nard smiled and closed the door to his locker.

“What can I do for you guys?”

The boys didn’t say anything just hovered over him grunting.

“You don’t know any better, I get it. I know that you think you want to fight me but someone has planted untruths in your minds and you’ve got better things to do with your time,” D’nard looked into the eyes of one of the boys as he drew his fist back.

D’nard blew on him and the boy fell backward. D’nard then took in a deep breath and blew it out above his head creating a tornado like wind that surrounded all the boys that was around him. They all fell backwards onto the floor. D’nard stood up and smiled down at them.

“You all have been healed and touched by that hand of God. Stand up and receive the message that he has whispered to each of you and follow his guide. Louis is a liar. Recognize him for who his true nature is. You are loved and blessed.”

All the boys stood up and walked away each feeling a sense of accomplishment and love that they had never felt before in their young lives. Louis stood at the end of the lockers watching everything as it unfolded. D’nard looked him in the eyes and smiled. Louis pointed at him then walked away.

D’nard coasted through high school with honors and graduated top of his class. He enrolled in an Ivy League college to complete his studies in Theology and Philosophy. He had his own dorm room. He was a teachers’ aid and often taught when the teacher was in meetings. He also taught bible studies every Wednesday and Sunday evenings. He would find Louis in his Sunday classes every so often. During holidays and on special occasions D’nard would come home to visit his parents. D’nard came home for his 23rd birthday and found his mother lying on the couch sleeping. She was mumbling something in her sleep and seemed troubled. D’nard touched her and an instant smile crept across her face. She looked peaceful. Smiling to himself D’nard went to his bedroom to relax and that’s where he found Louis.

“Back again huh Louis?”

“It’s time for you to learn your lesson D’nard.”

“All lessons have been brought to me by God and I have served Him as best as I can. You have nothing to teach but lies. Be gone!”

“No, not this time D’nard. This time is MY time.”

D’nard laughed heartily.

“That’s right laugh. There is a time for all things and now is the time for you to leave this earth.”

D’nard turned towards the window and breathed in the fresh air. He then smiled and said, “Yes Lord.”

“There’s nothing He can do for you now D’nard. You are mine!” Louis said with authority.

D’nard laughed at Louis again.

“I was brought into this world a child of God. I shall always be a child of God. There is nothing that you could ever do to touch me or harm me in any way. God has carried me all the days of my life as He will continue to do so. In this last time and this last hour He is with me and will carry me home. Good bye Louis.”

D’nard then closed his eyes and his body fell to the floor. Louis was angry as he stood up and kicked D’nard’s body.

“Even in death he defeats me!” Louis exclaimed.

Jo heard a loud thump and woke up. She hurried into D’nard’s room to find him slumped on the floor with Louis standing above him. She was horrified. Immediately she jumped on Louis tackling him to the ground and began choking him. Jesus appeared in a bright light holding D’nard’s hand.

“Rise up my daughter. Your son has been my messenger through out his young life here on earth. I have brought him home for his work has been completed.”

Jo let go of Louis and rose up onto her knees and sobbed.

“My Savior, he was my only son. I knew you touched him at birth. I’m gonna miss him so. I love him.”

“He will be with you always. He has taught you how to love and love unconditionally. Continue on the path and keep your faith.”

Jesus took D’nard to heaven. Jo was surrounded by a brilliant light as Louis looked on. As Jo stood up she looked down at D’nard’s lifeless body.

“Get out, you are not welcome here,” She spoke between clenched teeth to Louis.

“I am eternal. There is no getting rid of me. I will always be in the background to tempt.”

“I have Jesus by my side. You don’t scare me or worry me for I am truly blessed.”

Louis disappeared from her sight. Jo kneeled down beside the body of her son and kissed him. A shroud of light encircled him and he disappeared before her.

Birthday 2009

Birthday's have always been special to me. I treat them like personal holidays because they are an anniversary of the day that God permitted you to be a human being on earth and no longer an Angel. I have always thought that on your birthday that it should be your special day and you should be able to do or have whatever your heart desires. Of course this isn't always possible but whenever possible everyone should try to achieve this goal.

When my children were small I used to treat them like royalty for their birthdays. They had the option of picking whatever they wanted for breakfast/lunch/dinner, they didn't have to do chores, I waited on them hand and foot and they didn't have to go to school if they chose not to go. It was their special day and a time to celebrate in all ways possible to celebrate.

I can't remember ever really wanting anything special for my birthdays except to not have to work! I have been blessed to have never have worked or gone to school on my birthday. Being a summer baby the no school thing was quite easy but as I got older the going to work thing became quite a challenge at times. I even lost a job for requesting my birthday off a month in advance! For some reason this birthday was different. This birthday was sad and no matter what I did to try to make myself feel better I'm still miserably SAD! Haven't been able to quite put my finger on the reason why. Maybe my menopause (Mental Pause) has gotten the best of me. I just want to crawl in a corner and ball my eyes out. I'm getting tired of people getting angry with me for doing things but not being there when I want to do things with them. Or worse, making plans to do things with me then forgetting or ignoring me. If you don't want to be around me then don't take the time to get my hopes up to be around you then disappear or pretend that you didn't make the plan in the first place! That's quite agrivating.

I did some pretty stupid things over the last few days that I'll probably later regret. I know I allowed my mania to get the best of me and I have to pay the piper at some point in time. But now, all I can think about is how sad I feel. How alone I feel. It'll get better eventually so in the mean time and in between time I have to put on my simi happy face mask so that not everyone can see what's really going on. In closing I'll share my Niagra Falls in the dark picture. Happy Birthday to me!

Answering Machine at the Mental Health Hospital

I received this email years ago and ran across it through some poems I had stacked up so I thought I would share it. Don't forget to laugh!

"Hello, and welcome to the mental health hotline...

If you are an obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.

If you are codependant, please ask someone to press 2 for you.

If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5 and 6.

If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want. Stay on the line so we can trace your call.

If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be transferrd to the mother ship.

If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a small voice will tell you which number to press.

If you are a manic-depressive, it doesn't matter which number you press, no one will answer.

If you are dyslexic, press 969696969696969696.

If you have a nervous disorder, please fidget with the pound key until a representative comes on the line.

If you have amnesia, press 8 and state your name, address, telephone number, date of birth, social security number and your mother's maiden name.

If you have post-traumatic stress disorder, s-l-o-w-l-y & c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y press 000.

If you have bipolar disorder, please leave a message after the beep or before the beep or after the beep. Please wait for the beep.

If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.

If you have low self-esteem, please hang up. All operators are too busy to talk to you.

If you are menopausal, hang up, turn on the fan, lay down & cry. You won't be crazy forever.

If you are blonde don't press any buttons, you'll just mess it up!

Ms. Independent

According the dictionary Independence means:

Not dependent; not depending or contingent upon something else for existence, operation, etc. Not relying on another or others for aid or support.

I've been called Ms. Independent a lot lately and it's not necessarily a compliment! I've been told by friends & aquaintences that they don't need to worry about me because I'm so independent that I don't need assistance in anything even when I ask for it! My question is, since when is independence such a bad thing?

I am #3 of 4 children that my mother raised all on her own. Because I talked too much as a child no one talked to me very often for fear that I might blab it out so I was kept in the dark about many things. I watched my mother (an independent woman) go to school, work and struggle to provide for the 4 of us as best she could on her own. So I learned very valuable lessons early on in life about how to take care of what needed to be done. I learned that if you wanted to eat, have shelter or the things you needed in life then you have to work for it. Of course I had the fantasy that all little girls have which is to find my knight in shining armor, marry well and have my husband take care of me for the rest of my life.

THEN I WOKE UP!!!

I got pregnant my senior year in high school and my boyfriend left so I had to learn how to be a single mom. I used to look at my son and think he was the most beautiful doll I had ever owned! Mama gave me the blues about having a baby saying that I was not going to be able to do anything that I wanted to do because I would be bogged down by this responsibility that I had given myself. I had to prove her wrong! I took my son everywhere I went and we had a blast! Then I met my first husband at a party that I threw for my brother. Didn't think much of him when I met him and tried desperately to make him leave me alone but alas he grew on my like a wart and I allowed him to talk me into marrying him. So I played the housewife. Didn't know much about how to do that considering I was 21 and couldn't cook! Not that it mattered, he ate at his mom's house everyday anyway so I only had to feed me and my son. I believed the fairytale that the husband works and takes care of the bills and I'm supposed to be home with my son and try to have a happy house for my husband when he came home. YEAH, RIGHT! I tried to learn how to cook but I sucked at it royally. My husband wasn't taking care of the bills because all the bill collectors kept calling wondering how come they didn't get paid. So I learned that my husband was taking the child support money that I was giving him (it was my only income since I wasn't working) and was doing God knows what with the money because he wasn't taking care of business or buying food for the house. I wasn't allowed to drive the new car he bought or allowed to leave the house without him in tow. I got tired of that real fast. I have never been the type of woman to allow ANYONE to control me and I learned to do for myself and my son not to mention the fact that I was pregnant with another child. We went through hell and high water and a lot of physical abuse (on both sides of the coin because I wasn't going to stand idley by while he kicked my ass. He got his share of ass whoopins too!) before I finally got out with both of my boys.

I was on my own for the first time in my life with 2 children. I applied for welfare and found a job and got another man. This man was a dream. I married him and spoiled him rotten. A little too rotten! I actually learned how to cook, learned how to be a "girly girl", learned how to be the freak he needed in a woman/wife! He was a good husband (in the begining). He provided for me and my children and treated them as his own as I treated his son as my own. We had a beautiful life (on the outside). Of course things began to crumble, a little here a little there as he became unfaithful time and again. He came to me with heavy duty baggage but as long as we were together (us against the world) then I was willing to help him with his baggage and endure all that a REAL marriage had to offer. I couldn't understand his need to cheat when I was giving him all that he desired (including menage trio) and then some but it didn't end. Now I'm no angel, I wanted to teach him a lesson so I did my share of cheating too and did it right in his face AND got so bold as to tell him about it (he never believed me though) but it didn't stop him from roaming. After 6 years of marriage we ended it.

Once again I was on my own with my sons. Only this time things had really changed for me. I was turning 30 and I had lost my mind! I descovered freedom. I finally understood what my mom was talking about all those years ago. I went to night clubs, met men, hung out till all hours of the night and it was fun! Of course I worked exahustive hours and I made time for my boys and sat in their classrooms and helped and looked out for them. I took care of it all...ON MY OWN! I brought home the bacon, paid the bills, cooked, cleaned and made time to spend with my boys and show them the fun in life. I wouldn't allow men to flirt with me around them (that used to piss me off so badly. I felt it was disrespectful to hit on me in front of my boys). Didn't want to bring anothe male figure into their worlds who was not going to stick around. But I was Ms. Independent who provided for herself and her family.

Fast forward to a life on my own (without children). Even though I feel more vulnerable now than I ever did when I was younger I still have to be Ms. Independent. I've got no one to rely on, no one I can call on to make sure that I am provided for. I have to work, I have to make due with what I have...ME ME ME ME ME ME ME! So what's so wrong about being independent. I've learned (often the hard way) that if I don't make it happen then it won't happen. Even when I ask for help it is often not given or I'm rejected. I get tired of being rejected, I get tired of helping others and being there for others but not having anyone be there for me when I need it. I feel like I'm being SELFISH! So in response to that I HAVE TO DO IT ALONE!

So, after all my ranting and raving I guess I'm saying that Ms. Independent has needs too. Not just sexual ones (although that is quite a need) but I have the need to lean on someone else for a change, I want to have companionship, friends..... Someday, it'll happen.

Relationships

I think men are amazing. Especially when you meet the one that makes your heart beat that much faster when you meet them. Someone who listens when you talk, makes you feel wanted and needed. But what happens when those feelings are one sided (on either side of the fence). You find a man/woman that you really want to be involved with. Show them the bests parts of your heart, mind and soul. Then when it really boils down to it they don't want YOU!!

My favorite line from the men in my life is "You are beautiful Drea and you can have any man you want!" This is such bullshit! Think about this statement.... I'm so beautiful that I can have ANY man I want! ANY MAN I WANT??? If that's the case then why can't I have YOU? What's up with that?

Usually I cut men off at the knees because even though I find a man that I'm attracted to they ruin it by speaking! Sometimes the things that come out of a mans mouth are so bassackwards that I don't want to be bothered period. I can think of stupid stuff all on my own I don't need to hear it come out of a man's mouth. But, every so often I meet a man that intrigues my intellect as well as my eyes and my interest goes on a hunt. I become the Cougar (isn't that what they are calling women these days). I see something I want and I go after it full throttle. Sometimes I have to slow myself down because I forget that men like to do the chasing and don't always like an aggressive woman. I listen intently because I want to make sure that I hear everything that is going on. I want to make sure that I don't misunderstand anything that's going on or NOT going on for that matter. I know that I tend to take things to the extreme so I try to be real careful about the things I say and do. But, when I'm really into him sometimes those warnings go right out the window. I want to show him what kind of woman I can be, what I can offer and spoil him rotten.

Doesn't always work out for me though. I guess in a sense I come out overbearing. Even though I try to be attentive, attractive, thoughtful, considerate, understanding and a freak (lady in the street but a freak in the bed!) it doesn't work out for me. I get that same line "you can have any man you want". What a crock! Maybe I need to re-evaluate that sentence. Maybe I have to re-evaluate what it is I want. I've settled before in my life and it was hell so I refuse to settle anymore. I have a healthy appetite for life and I want to explore my options to the fullest extent. But someday I'll meet someone who will want me for me. Someday I'll stop trying to scare people away on purpose. Someday....

Choices

I made a choice a long time ago that California wasn't the place for me. I guess I have always known this from the time that my mother moved us there back in 1972 from Chicago. The running joke was that she moved us from the projects of Chicago to the projects of Compton!

People ask me all the time what made California so bad that I had to "escape". For as long as I can remember about California I have never fit in. Even as a child the other children hounded me about my midwestern roots and told me to go home. I would often get into fights about one thing or another stemming from having long hair, to being bright skinned to being from a different state. I never was able to keep any friends due to being an outsider.

As I grew older and had to go out into the world to work and take care of my boys I learned that the working world is no different than the children I had to encounter. I could never really find my niche and be able to keep a job for longer than 6 months. Granted, I had big goals for the life I wanted to lead. I've wanted to do everything from being a seamstress to being an airline stewardess. Most of my goals I have accomplished even for a short period of time. I have worn many hats in the working world. As a child I used to crochet and sell my creations door to door to make a little money for myself. I've owned a lingerie business, I've worked at McDonalds, Chuck E. Cheese, Sears, Taco Bell, Sizzlers, Red Lobster, Tony Romas.... believe you me the list goes on and on. I've been answering the phone professionally since I was 10 yrs old! They've always told me I have that "proper white girl" voice. Even today people are afraid to talk with me when I call because they automatically think that I am a bill collector. But I'm getting off the subject of this blog.

The subject is CHOICES..... CALIFORNIA or MARYLAND (or anywhere for that matter!)

When we moved to Bakersfield, California I discovered what small town living was like. Having grown up in Compton/LA I was used to big city living. The first time I laid eyes on Bakersfield most of the streets didn't have sidewalks and I wondered what my mother had gotten us into! She was a prison guard at Tehachapi (don't feel bad at first I couldn't pronounce it either!) and Bakersfield is a neighboring town. Because my family has been in and out for over 20 years they've become very well known. My brother made a name for himself as a musician/singer/songwriter/producer (do I need to add anymore, I think you get the gist of it) and of course all the girls love a man who can sing them out of their panties and is cute too! Then on the other side of the spectrum is mom who was the LAW. Needless to say that with this being a small town you can just imagine how life was for me. As we've gotten older the town still remembers my brother (the infamous Sparkle) and of course they still worship the ground he walks on! It's sickening at times. There are some people who even still recognize my mom from the times that she has locked them up. So what does that say for me having a social life? IT MEANS I CAN FORGET IT! Hence the feeling of being closed in and under the thumb. I can't tell you how many people have come to me asking how to get in touch with my brother or if my mom is still locking people up! Got so bad I wouldn't leave the house.

So, when the children grew up and left home so did I! I put a map on the wall and threw a dart and ended up as far away as I could get from California and my family....BALTIMORE, MARYLAND. What a move and a coulture shock for me when I first arrived here. What's sad is that I almost went through the same thing I did as a child in California... People kept asking me "Why did you come here?" "Go home!" "You left all that sunshine to come HERE!" "Are you on drugs?!" "You're running from the law!" and of course my personal favorite "Does it really not rain in Southern California?" All I could do was shake my head. Most of the people here are so rude you have to learn how to cuss people out just to fit in. I had to leave Ms. Nice Lady at home because people don't know how to deal with you when you're kind. Now that I've learned how to blend in and explore my surroundings the one thing that I said I would cross that bridge when I get there keeps popping up. Now I don't know if it's my mania that's making my thoughts go into overdrive or if it's listening to my mom pursuing me to come home.

So here we go CHOICES:

PROS of going back to Cali (LL eat your heart out!)

I get to see my family more often
It's warmer!
It doesn't rain as much (notice I didn't say it didn't rain at all!)
The mountains are visible
I can start driving again
Go to the beach (it's closer)

CONS of going to Cali

Smothered by family
No privacy
Too hot (dry heat, fire season)
Job possibilities are slim to none (& let's not forget the govenor is the Terminator!)
Extreme unhappiness

PROS of being in Maryland

Comfortability
Job Prosperity
Opportunity for exploration
Anonymity
Clean Air
Freedom
Peace of Mind
Diversity of Culture

CONS of being in Maryland

It's sooooooooooo COLD!
RATS!
Rude People
Too many trees!
Beach is too far
Over taxation
Streets are too narrow to drive on
Too much drug traffic


So in looking at my list of why's and why nots I ponder on a daily basis if I should cave in to my family's wishes to have me move closer to them. I hear mama say that she wants me to be happy in one breath and in the other she wants me closer. DECISIONS.....DECISIONS.

Sux! For right now I'm gonna keep pursuing my goals of education so that I can implement other goals into action. So Maryland is my choice and for now I'm sticking with it while I keep my options open.

Living

In 2006 I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and it felt as though somone had given me a death sentence. I was angry, bitter, and violent then I became secluded. I am not the kind of person who likes to allow others to see herself out of control so I wouldn't allow myself to go out into the public. I felt like a sign had been hung on my chest saying "You were right about me... I really am CRAZY!"

As Google became my best friend, due to all of my searches to learn as much as I could about the disorder, I began to see that the things I had done throughout my life began to make a lot of sense. The severity of my highs and lows were not just a normal part of life but apart of something more than myself. I never really thought about how I came through that time in life because I needed to survive and take care of my children. There was no time to sit back and analize every single event or reasoning. My children were my first and ONLY priority! Not that they didn't suffer or rejoice in my highs and lows. Lord knows they experienced more of my highs than the lows. I was pretty good about hiding the depression parts. But, man.... when I was manic and EXTREMELY MANIC they had the time of their lives.

When I became alone for the first time ever was when my walls all came crashing down and I had to face a new reality. I had to figure out how to take care of JUST ME! I had to realize that I was IMPORTANT enough to take care of and on top of that LIKE! Wow, just the thought of that right now is still a total trip to have to LIKE myself enough to want to take care of ME! And, to take it one step further to find myself important enough to contemplate what I wanted out of life was an even bigger stretch. The first time I was hospitalized for this disorder I had to share my experiences in a group. I was severly depressed and I refused to eat, refused to socialize, refused to come out of my room but I talked when I had to. People kept staring at me in amazement and asking me the same question...

HOW DID YOU FUNCTION?

This is an amazing question. I've asked myself this question a million times and the only answer I have is...

I HAD NO CHOICE!

I had children to feed, clothe and to provide for. I laid down, had sex and gave birth to them therefore they were MY responsibility....no one else's MINE! So, I was robotic. I got up, I crawled, I begged, I pleaded I even did some illegal things (that I'm not going to mention here) to make sure that they were provided for and taken care of. I'm not proud of everything that I've done nor do I think I deserve the mother of the year award. But they survived ME! Poor boys! When I ask them about their childhoods the worst thing they say is that I worked too much and obsessed over EVERYTHING!

So now we come to today when I have to live on my own and take care of me. I've thought of suicide many times. I've thought that my children are grown and don't need me anymore. My sister told me that I was being selfish and that I had allowed myself to believe I had a disease that I didn't have to receive money that I don't deserve so that I didn't have to work! She said that I needed to get a grip and get off my ass and go to work like normal people and get a normal paycheck and stop trippin! That hurt my feelings so much. I pondered long and hard about what she said. Thinking about all the struggling I did to make sure that my boys were provided for, thinking about how the only worth I ever thought I had was through my boys then finally thinking about how I had to learn to care about myself enough to want to provide for myself. So I picked myself up, dusted myself off and decided to learn. I moved away from my family to an area that I knew absolutely NO ONE and went to school to learn about my disorder. I graduated, I got a job in the mental health field and now I'm being asked to help others learn about their disorders too!

Yes I LIVE with bipolar disorder but it doesn't dominate me. My symptoms get the best of me at times and I have to ride them out with lots of prayer and love through my family (even though they are 3000 miles away) but I come out on top and smelling like a rose.

Advocating

According to the dictionary Advocacy means:

ad⋅vo⋅ca⋅cy Show Spelled Pronunciation [ad-vuh-kuh-see] –noun, plural -cies.
the act of pleading for, supporting, or recommending; active espousal: He was known for his advocacy of states' rights

As I think about advocacy I think about how long I've been an advocate in my lifetime. For as long as I can remember I have always helped everyone I've come in contact with through testimony or just plain old networking to advocate for a persons needs. I guess the best way to advocate for anyone is through personal experience. You have to experience most things so that you can give an accourate account of the things that you're advocating.

The hardest things about advocating is how do you assist others in a field that you yourself have had difficulty in finding the help that you need?

Hmmm...

I ponder this question on a daily basis. Especially as I encounter people who don't believe what I say as I experience the difficulties that I experience in life. Because the good Lord has deemed it necessary to be as sensitive as possible it is difficult to adjust to medications that are given. It's a long and lengthy process of adaptation and life doesn't allot the time for the adjustment. So, when you are advocating for medications that are supposed to be life altering and you yourself can't take the meds that you're advocating for then what good are you as an advocate? I have to help people understand that what may be good for them is not necessarily good for me. I encourage others to follow their doctors orders and feel good about the progress that they are making in their lives to become healthier individuals for themselves.

Then I come back to me again! I advocate for myself all the time. I work very hard to find assistance with mental health professionals, general practitioners and all other medical professionals that I can find to help with my over all health concerns. I Google to find the proper people in my area to go to (then I mapquest, google, call the bus company and walk to find these people since I still get lost going around the corner!) and ask a zillion questions to make sure that I understand what is going on. As I do what I am told and things don't work for me then I feel like an never ending cycle of "what now!" All the while I keep my frustrations to myself (when I'm not complaining to my mother...thank God for her!) as I advocate for the facilities that I come in contact with. Just because they can't provide me the assistance that I need doesn't mean they can't help someone else.

I guess that makes me the "Town Crier". The people that I network with give me all types of information that I happily pass on to others. When I am asked what services these organizations provide I happily reiterate what I've been told or what I've read about the organizations that could be of use to the people that I am sending there.