I think things.
I have scribbled my thoughts down on bits of paper, soggy napkins, and junk mail for as long as I remember.
The few things that I am collecting here are saved for new days. I want to remember the day that I had a thought that was so urgent; it poured out of my head, through my hands, and onto a scrap of nothing. My heart was consumed by the words written that day. The writing was a pressure valve that released me from consumption.
The things that I have written and lost or that I have trashed or deemed unnecessary or unimportant are my gift to the wind. The wind is my most loyal listener. To the sparrow, my little songs sound sweet.
This collection of words, thoughts, memories, and more is my attempt to allow others a glimpse into the mind of my madness.
I am mentally ill.
My illness does not define me, but it is one of the many things in life that has shaped my soul.
There is still stigma attached to mental illnesses. It may always be this way. Yet, in a way, my illness is a gift. It allows me to see things askew. It causes me to see aspects of the extraordinary in the mundane.
My illness is similar to yours if you take a pill to control an organ, have an autoimmune disorder, or a digestive issue, that requires medication, we are not so different. Your body is not healthy without medical intervention. Neither is mine. I take a pill to control a chemical imbalance in my brain.
It is not the illness I would choose if I were to pick, maybe the one who suffers Parkinson’s Disease, or a kidney or liver disorder would trade places with me. We each bear a burden. However, my illness is stigmatized and misunderstood—still today.
I am no longer embarrassed or ashamed. I am thankful.
I am thankful for the gift of seeing things differently. I enjoy writing little ditties to the wind and for the birds. Someday I hope my grandchildren will see and understand who I am and why I love them with no reservations.
I am sure many of the thoughts I log here are irrelevant to most in this generation and in the ages to come; however, some need to hear that they are loved and valued for who they are.
Do not be ashamed to be you.
Be willing to think things.
Try a new point of view. You are worth it.
I know that I use the phrase “profound revelation” too often. It is how I think and see. I find many aspects of life profound.
I am an amateur. I always will be. However, I exist, survive, and thrive. I desire to be a continual learner. I want to remember the young confused me so that I understand the young and confused. I want to be a flicker of hope to them, light in their darkness. I have been in very dark places. I emerged. There is always HOPE.
Do not let this world dictate to you who you should be. You are you. Find out how to love yourself and embrace that in your heart.
Think and believe. You are a gift to us.
Be willing to think things.
