Friday, September 21, 2012

And Now a Saccharine Moment...

Enjoy this photograph of an orchid I took at Busch Gardens
I know I often show a darker side of myself on here, when my life isn't going so well, and that can be scary. I get vitriolic and bitter and angry and sometimes I am damn near inconsolate, and yet you all keep coming back to read. I even have international readers that I like to think actually read and aren't driven here by weird adbots or spambots. I appreciate all my hits, comments, concern, and love. Feedback keeps me writing.

This blog truly has been helpful in many ways, from the small, seemingly inconsequential cure for a chronic 6-day headache just through verbal vomit of my stressers, through the longer, more complex examining of physical environment, emotional connection to my world, to people and to culture, to work my way through this Stygian morass known as bipolar disorder. In a time when I can not afford my therapist, I have turned to writing for therapy, as I did long ago when I was a teenager and I knew something was Not Quite Right, but this time my writing is not private.  And it truly helps. Now, as far as physical symptoms go, my headache isn't completely gone, it's still there, a small dull throb, but so much improved over the last six days that I can ignore it.

Not just for funerals any more!
Anyway, every hit I see in my stats, every redirect from Facebook or Twitter, lets me know you care enough to read. And for some of the things I write about, I would hope you read and share; I would hope I have some things that are important enough to share, have lived through and experienced things that others are struggling with as we speak. Even if it is to bring levity, to inspire thought or to introduce new music (and hold on, because I have a music post bouncing around in my head) I hope   that I've touched someone, in some way, with my words and experiences. If nothing else, I hope you enjoyed the pretty pictures it sometimes takes me longer to find than it takes me to write the damn post. (All images in this post are my own photography). And if I die tomorrow, someone, please, find out how to publish this into a book. Not for my own narcissism, but because life isn't a movie, and maybe it will help people to see that. I'm a real person, and I've let my life play out here, for the most part. Some things, always, must remain private.

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