The Facts of Life

I sometimes worry at times that people think I'm putting on a facade - that I appear to be handling everything well and able to help other because of how well I'm coping, when really I'm one big giant mess. I want to assure people that this is not the case - the facade, that is. The big giant mess part is up for interpretation, I suppose. Therefore, I thought I would muster up every single bit of courage I have, and write a dead-honest blog about myself, including the worst bits of me, without ignoring the positives completely. I never want to be accused of putting on a show, or of people not knowing who I really am. Of course, my view of myself is just that - my view. But I'm going to try to incorporate those things others have observed to me as well, to try to be as completely, brutally honest as I can.

I am not crazy. Sometimes, though, I act crazy. Observers, or even those close to me, might want to label me as such. My condition makes me particularly emotional, meaning small things seem bigger, and meaning that I can spiral out of control. Not like "running down the street in my underwear wielding a machete" out of control. More like 'this should not be a big deal but for me it feels like it's crushing' out of control. I have been known to fall to pieces crying in the corner, to get so angry I punch a pillow (an action advised by therapists for getting anger and hypomanic energy out that in no way indicates violent tendencies in a person), to yell or scream just to feel some sort of release from internal turmoil, to be such a bundle of nerves that I can't think that my situation will get better, to say things in an overly emotional moment that I barely realize I'm saying and later regret, to beg and plead for the forgiveness of all of the above. I often can't let things go and step away, feeling absolutely desperate to resolve things right that minute, despite knowing that just shutting up and walking away is logically best.

In general, I often talk to loud and too much - though this might just be me naturally, and not my condition - and because of this, have be accused of trying to focus attention on myself. In reality, I absolutely hate attention, especially in groups, and have trouble even looking people in the eye if I don't know them really well.

I have depressed days -  days where I don't want to move, where I feel like I'll never amount to anything and that nobody actually loves or likes me other than my closest family. I have, lately, a ton of social anxiety, constantly feeling like people don't actually want me around, are talking about me behind my back, or otherwise wish I wasn't in their company. I often have to emotionally prepare myself well in advance for even the most basic social gathering.

Where relationships are concerned, well...  I'm divorced and un-engaged (two different scenarios). I have, in the past, been abused in numerous ways, and in this respect am quite "damaged", for lack of a better word. I'm not saying this for sympathy, but rather to say, as I phrased it in the beginning, "I can be a big giant mess". I have trust issues, and confidence issues. Major, major confidence issues, as well as self esteem issues. I feel I've often brought out the worst in people, and I feel awful in doing so, but don't know how not to do it. I can be emotionally demanding because, let's face it, people with depression, hypomania, general and social anxiety need a lot of emotional support at times.

I'm not cool. I've written a whole blog about my lack of coolness, in fact. I'm not chill or overly laid back, though I'm not as high strung as I often appear - the fact that I talk loudly, fast, and frequently often makes me appeared worried/anxious/stressed about something when really, I just like to converse. I often do my best thinking out loud, and while I probably sound and look a bit like a Hollywood's version of 'crazy', I'm not talking to any imaginary friends or voices, I'm just sorting out my thoughts. Often, I'm actually reciting parts of my novel to see if they sound as good as I think they do when I write them.  I'll admit, however, that this is unfortunate for others who might be in the room at the time.

I'm not ashamed that I have a condition, because it is a medical condition that I was born with, just like others have heart conditions or respiratory disorders. But I do, at times, do and say plenty that I'm ashamed of when I am no longer hypomanic.

I am, however, not void of virtues and positive attributes. When it comes to loved ones, I'm fiercely loyal. I would literally throw myself in front of a speeding truck in order to save someone I love. I would also defend someone I love to the death, even if I don't necessarily agree with their specific action.  I have a big heart. I focus so much on love, desire and need it so much, that I think I tend to be led by it, and to it, at all costs. I would rather live in a cardboard box with someone I love than a mansion by myself. I admit it makes me emotionally high maintenance, but it's nothing that I'm not ready to give back. I don't think anyone could accuse me of being a materialist person (those five star hotels once in a while don't really count, right? We all have our vices).

I love to laugh. I have a somewhat dry sense of humor, and friendly banter is one of my favorite forms of communication. I can be silly, though I usually have to know you well to feel comfortable doing so. I have trucker's mouth, but it's all in good fun - I'm not so rough around the edges as I might sound when I'm frustrated or just can't find another word to say. I love to sing and dance, and if anyone ever secretly filmed me, they'd probably catch me embarrassingly singing to my dog and substituting words to make the song appropriate to her.

I am, at the core, a good person. I do not believe, even at my lowest, when I am in a horrible depression with no confidence at all, that anyone could truly convince me otherwise. I'm in no way perfect, not at all. But in my heart, I am a good person. It is the thing I hold onto most when I feel I have nothing else.

So there you have it. This is me, the best way I can describe myself honestly. I'm not trying to be negative, nor am I trying to say "yes, there's bad, but look how much more good." I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything.  I'm simply trying to say that I know who I am, for better or worse, and I never want to be accused otherwise. I've pretty much been the same for the past thirty five years, and probably be the same for the next thirty five. I don't hide who I am behind some facade or fake persona. This is me. I'm not an easy person, and some people might think I'm worth the effort, while others may not. Such is life, and I cannot deny it. If you are one of those people who does feel I'm worth it then, well, I think you're worth it too. 

Things You Want To Know About Mental Health But Are Afraid To Ask

When I tell people that I have cyclothymia and/or that I write a blog that focuses on mental health, I get a wide variety of reactions. Many people tell me that I'm courageous for being open and honest about my condition. Others just kind of nod and make some comment about how their best friend's cousin had depression, or how they tried to write a blog about xyz but couldn't get into it. A few awkwardly look at me and are probably calculating whether or not they think I'm "crazy" (society's term, not mine).  For the record, I'm not. Overall, though, I think there are a lot of questions that people have about mental health but are afraid to ask. Whether they are dealing with a condition themselves, or think they may be, or they have a friend or loved one that's been diagnosed, or they're just downright curious, mental health can be a daunting subject to many. I totally understand. It's been too taboo of a subject for entirely too long, and it's tough to get away from that, even with the best of intentions. So I thought I'd write a blog of things that people may want to know but are afraid to ask. As usual, these are in no order, other than the ones which they came into my brain.

1. Do you ever feel "crazy"?/Do you ever feel "normal"? Yes, to both. Well, let me rephrase. I don't really know what either feels like per se, because really both terms are in the eye of the beholder. But do I ever feel like I want to make my brain work one way but have a hard time doing so, even with meds? Yes, I do. It sucks. It sucks even more because I'm aware of it when it's happening, but feel helpless. Do I ever not feel cyclothymic (i.e. depressed or hypomanic)? Yes, surprisingly more than one might think. I'm not always up or down. I'm often somewhere in the middle. I guess you'd call that normal.

2. How did you feel when you were diagnosed? Relieved, scared, worried, sad, curious, slightly peaceful and hopeful. It was a complete mix of just about every emotion one can feel at once. A lot of people think being diagnosed is awful. In reality, it allows you to finally focus on what's going on, create a treatment plan, and get to it. It's way better than doctors randomly throwing inappropriate meds your way and having uninformed people tell you that if you just smile and have a positive attitude, you'll feel better.

3. Is having cyclothymia (insert condition) tough? Can you still live a normal life? I'm not going to lie, it's rough. Some days, it's downright awful. But please, stop using the word "normal". It's a setting on the dryer, nothing else. We are all unique creatures. My unique makeup happens to include this condition. I've had it since birth. I managed to get through college and grad school with 3.8+ GPAs; I run my own company and work a part time job at a conference center; I am a certified personal trainer and group fitness instructor; I have a good group of friends and a close family; I'm a published author and now working on my first novel. If you call that normal, then I suppose that answer is yes.

4. Can mental health conditions be cured? There's debate on this, both among mental health professionals and those diagnosed. In my opinion and my experience, no. Conditions can be better or worse; they can be managed successfully and you can live a successful, fulfilling life, but it doesn't go away. It might go into remission, but it doesn't disappear forever. That said, I'm not a mental health professional and I suggest everyone ask their treating professionals about their own condition. But personally, I was born with my condition and will die with it, and that's that. It's tough to come to terms with, but once you do, the pressure of "curing yourself" is off, and honestly, that's kind of a relief.

5. Does mental health impact your relationships?  Absolutely. I relate to the world differently. I often don't understand others and they don't understand me. They don't know what it feels like, and I can't put it into words at times. It's frustrating as hell, both to me, and to them. I honestly think anyone who said that it doesn't affect their relationships in some way or another would be lying. But it's completely possible to have a successful and happy relationship with someone with a mental health condition. Anyone who said that it's not would also be lying.

6. Does mental health affect the.... "romantic"... part of your relationships? (Earmuffs/blindfolds, family/colleagues/anyone who doesn't want to read the answer to this). Personally, no. Generally, it could. First off, depression makes you not interested in anything. Anything. That includes whatever goes on behind closed doors. It makes you want to lie in bed, and only lie in bed, until it passes. Also, certain meds can "decrease libido," to use the official phrase. Not all meds, just some. This is very personal to each individual, and if you ask ten people you'll probably get ten different answers. If it's a concern (and I'm guessing it probably is to most people), talk to your prescribing doctor about choosing meds without this side effect, or at least combating it. It may not be possible, but it's worth a try.

7. Do meds make you gain weight? Again, they can, but don't necessarily. If you are concerned about this, let your doctor know. I told my doctor I didn't want a med that caused weight gain and we worked around it. Hopefully, it's possible for you to do also.


8. Do you ever do things when in a rough state that you are later embarrassed/ashamed/frustrated with/mad at yourself about? If I got a nickel every time this happened, I could retire tomorrow (and I'm 35). Just remember, everyone does this from time to time. People do things when they're mad, tired, drunk, had a bad day at work, etc. Nobody's perfect. You are not your condition. You have a condition. Expect to have  "oh crap why did I say/do that" episodes, and possibly more than those without conditions, but don't let others make you a scapegoat for everything, and don't take all the blame. I find it helpful to give people a heads up that I'm having a "rough day". This tends to soften anything you might say/do that you later wish you hadn't, both to others and to yourself. When it does happen, acknowledge it, apologize if necessary, and move on.

9. Do you ever want to give up? Yes, but don't do it. It's as simple, and as complicated, as that. Take it hour by hour, minute by minute, second by second, if you have to. But please, don't give up. People think mental health can't be fatal. They're wrong. Some days, every second is an internal struggle. Keep plugging along.

Have other questions? Feel free to ask me personally, if you don't want to ask them in the comments. Of course, comments are always welcome too.

Rhythm of the Rain

Wow, it's really been several weeks since I've written. I was on such a roll, but maybe I expended all of my blog writing energy in the end of September. Actually, I've been ridiculously busy with work - both my company and at the museum - which I say in the best possible way. I am one of those people who loves to be busy, and it makes my down time feel that much sweeter.

It's Saturday morning and I'm enjoying one of those much relished down times. Everyone else in the house is asleep, and I'm sitting at the dining room table writing and listening to the rain. It's incredibly peaceful, and it in fact is what inspired me to write.

I'm traditionally a sun worshipper. I love all things warm and sunny, and particularly dislike cold, dreary days. I assume I'm not alone in this. However, as I've gotten older, and perhaps as cyclothymia has played more of a role in my every day life, I have noticed a few shifts in myself. I certainly still mind the rain if it's going to ruin outdoor plans (or my daily commute), or if it continues for days on end and I start getting cabin fever, get the urge to build an arc, etc. But on most other occasions, I've lately enjoyed the rain. There's something melodic about hearing it beat on the windows and the roof. It draws me in, as if it's a meditation metronome, forcing me to just focus on the sound and quiet my brain. Maybe it's relaxing in that it provides the perfect excuse for not doing much. If it's warm and sunny, I feel lazy if I sit around in my pajamas writing, reading and drinking coffee. If it's raining and dreary, it seems perfectly ok to say "well, what else could I do really? Guess I'll just relax". Why work on the computer isn't possible in the rain, I don't know, but somehow, it seems an excuse for pushing even that aside.

Perhaps some of it is nostalgia. Rain in the car, especially at night (and especially when I'm not the one driving) reminds me of childhood trips to Buffalo to see my grandmother. We always left after work and drove through the night, arriving around 2 AM. It seemed no trip was complete without hearing rain on car windows and the sound of the tires rolling through water left on the roads.  I have a flashback to those trips, us pulling off at some local exit, probably in Cortland, Binghamton, Syracuse, to grab fast food at 11 PM because it was the only thing open. Riding in the car in the rain at night immediately makes me want to curl up in the back seat with my blanket and pillow and play the license plate game until I fall asleep. I usually don't do this at the request of my fellow travel companion(s), and these days I get queasy in the back seat, but if I could, I probably would.

I've noticed this same shift lately in my appreciation of the countryside and nature in general. Lately, I've longed to be outside hiking, or kayaking, or just listening to the sounds of the birds and the crickets (but not the bears). I've loved being away from technology, in places where I can't even get a phone signal - albeit for a limited time of a day or two. Don't get me wrong, I still love the hustle and bustle of the city. But escaping to places where you feel like you can't help but unwind, put down your electronics, and actually relax and communicate with each other in person, is something I've been enjoying more and more.

I wonder if much of this shift has to do with all of the nonsense that goes on in my brain daily. And by nonsense, I mean cycling. Perhaps the inability to escape constant stimulation internally makes me desire it that much more externally. My brain actually feels quieter when I'm sitting here writing with the rain rapping on the windows, or when I'm hiking with only the sounds of nature and the voices of the people I'm with. Maybe it's simply age that helps me appreciate the ability to slow down. Whatever it is, I need to follow it. It makes me calmer, more peaceful, and miraculously almost makes me feel like a normal human being. If you've ever felt hypomanic, you know how amazing it feels not to be - and not only to eliminate hypomania for a few moments, but to do so by being peaceful, rather than by being depressed.

So I think I'll sign off and enjoy this rainy contemplation while I can. I'm looking forward to plans with friends a little later, but for now, I'll let myself sip coffee in my pajamas and detach.

Birthday Lovin'

I have been a blog posting MACHINE this past week and a half. Are you proud of me? Because I am. I'm kidding, of course. I post simply to get thoughts "out there", and occasionally to inspire/motivate/make people laugh/laugh at myself because sometimes the option is to laugh or cry, and the former is more fun.  I am glad, though, that I'm posting more and that it's coming completely naturally.

Before I continue, let me say, that the title of this blog is meant in the most generic sense, as in "thanks for the birthday acknowledgements/wishes/serenades/etc". So if you were worried it would be about something more... um... intimate...I promise it's not (this is where you breathe a sigh of relief and decide to you don't need to close your eyes and quickly click the little 'x' in the corner of the screen). Also, I know I said no more birthday posts, but I so love birthdays.... just one more.

My birthday was awesome. I felt so loved and appreciated. As I mentioned in the previous post or several, I have trouble with attention focused on me. But I was, for the most part, rather comfortable with it yesterday. Perhaps this is because no wait staff came up to me at a restaurant doing some sort of odd rain-dance-looking maneuver, clapping their hands, and singing a non-trademarked version of Happy Birthday - that surely would have made me want to crawl under the table (thank you, loved ones, for not subjecting me to this). Other things, however, did make a huge impact. I got cards, and texts, and Facebook posts of birthday wishes. And yes, I do count Facebook posts in this instance, especially since so many of my FB friends are located outside of the US and it's therefore the easiest means of free communication. One of my best, best girl friends sent me flowers at work, which I'm still enjoying today. My team at work had a mini apple-tart type of dessert made for me and surprised me with it at the end of my shift, singing happy birthday (the real version, no rain dance involved), candle and all. I went out to dinner at a surprise location, which happened to be a place I've really been wanting to try, and had a delicious meal.

And so, I have to say that my first 24 hours or so of being thirty five have been quite enjoyable. Just 364 more to go until I can call it an unexpected success! In all seriousness, as I've now gotten past the dreaded deadline, I do feel a bit more calm and peaceful about this upcoming year. I think it will be a  year of action and changes - hopefully ones that put me in the direction that I want to be headed.

So thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for all of the birthday lovin'. And thank you, to all of those who thought I was turning twenty five rather than thirty five. You are particularly awesome. 

You Say It's Your Birthday....

Sick of hearing about my birthday yet? Of course not! But just in case you are, since today is the big day, I promise you won't have to hear about it much for the next 300 plus after this. I'm not officially thirty five until 1:20 PM, but who's counting, besides me? I thought that with all the retrospection I've been doing about this occasion that's momentous for me and probably monotonous for everyone else, I'd do something fun today, and provide a few interesting/little known facts about my birthday/day of my actual birth. (And no, I'm not sure if retrospection is a word, but f*^& it, it's my birthday and I can make shit up). Obviously, some of these facts have been related to me years later because, as good of a memory as I have, I don't particularly recall making my way through the birth canal and the days immediately following, so I'm getting as close to as accurate as I can here. These are in no particular order, except for that in which they come into my brain. Which of course means it's completely random.

1. It was approximately 110 degrees (Fahrenheit, obviously) the day that I was born.

2. While I'm a jersey girl at heart, I was actually born in Indio, California (that's Indio, with an "o", part of the United States. It's amazing when I tell people that, how many people think I was born in the country of India.)

3. In the hospital, I was given a blue blanket, bracelet, etc and labeled "baby boy Northen" by mistake. Things clearly weren't quite as regimented back then.

4. Fittingly, I was born during (or immediately following) a Buffalo Bills vs. BOSTON Patriots game. My mom was determined not to give birth until the game was over. I believe that the Bills won. I have literally been a Bills fan since birth.

5. I had no middle name when I was born. My parents allowed me to choose my middle name when I was four, and I then chose Allanah. (I changed the spelling once or twice until it was official). I assume my parents policed this and wouldn't have allowed me to choose a name like 'sandwich' or something equally as rough.

6. Because I initially had no middle name, my official documents all said "N.M.I." for No Middle Initial. People continually thought my middle name was "nimi" (pronounced ni-mee). 'Sandwich' might have been an improvement.

7. My birthday falls on day in which both the astrological signs and the seasons transition from one to the next - first day of Libra, and the autumn equinox - which means that the universe is more or less in a giant identity crisis this day. This probably explains my restless spirit and wandering soul.

8. My great grandmother wanted to name me Trixie. I am thankful every day to my parents for having more common sense.

9. I share a birthday with Bruce Springsteen and Kublai Khan. I find the fact that people say "oh Bruce Springsteen! But who the heck is Kublai Khan?" a testament to the fantastic world history curriculum offered here in the U.S.

10. The number one billboard song on the day I was born was My Sharona, by The Knack. I had to google this, but I thought it was a fun way to round out the list,

That's all I have! So, happy birthday to me. And to Bruce Springsteen. Not so sure about Kublai Khan - seems he wasn't the nicest fella. And happy autumn equinox to everyone!

In My Next Thirty (Five) Years

My last post was downright depressing. I totally get that. I don't regret it, because I think it's important for people to understand what goes on inside the head of depression exactly when it's happening. Not later, after perspective and analysis, but right then. Still, I'm going to try to keep from posting that way on a regular basis because, let's face it, nobody wants to experience that on a regular basis, whether it's going through it or reading about going through it. 

Tomorrow is THE day. The dreaded 3-5 that I've been thinking about for, oh, the last 5 years or so. For a bit of a laugh, I googled "great things about being 35". Inevitably, I got numerous lists of "35 great/weird/fun/insert adjective things about being 35." As I read through the lists, I found myself laughing and nodding more often than saying "oh crap", which I take as a pretty good sign. Things like 'hearing your favorite songs from childhood being referred to as classics'. Most of what these lists touched on is this, though: 35 is that great age where you can still be 'young and fun', but are also old enough to legitimately think, ahh those young kids, with their noses buried their phones all the time, wearing clothes that barely cover the things that should always be cover in public. Basically, you have the best of both worlds. At 35, I can be young when I want to be young, and use the "I'm old, I have to go to bed by 10 PM" card to get out of a social engagement that you really don't want to be at.  I never looked at it this way before but really, it's ideal. 

With this new found perspective, perhaps 35 won't be all that bad. Perhaps, it'll be good, or even (gasp) great. Of course, I'll still deal with all of the ups and downs, including the depression and over-analysis of life, that come with my condition. That, I'll most likely never be free of, no matter what age. And yes, there are some places in life that I had hoped to reach by the age of 35 that I won't be reaching. But maybe, just maybe, there will be some other cool ones I will reach that I never thought of - and yes, one of the advantages of 35 is I'm still young enough to use the word cool without sounding like someone's great-grandmother trying too hard to fit in.  

So as the countdown to 35 chips away over the next twenty four hours, with my mental image of the new years eve ball dropping ever so slowly until 1:20 PM tomorrow, I'm feeling calmer and slightly more at peace. And because I LOVE birthdays, regardless of the age, I'm still going to relish the actual day just as much as I would any other year. While I traditionally hate attention all focused on me, for one day a year, and one day only, I actually enjoy it.  That, dreaded thirty five and all, I refuse to change. As the song goes, perhaps I'll do it (even) better in my next thirty (five) years. 

Me, in those years in which birthdays were an excuse for party and cake. 

Life Through A Fish Eye Lens

It's been a couple of weeks since I last wrote. Maybe my busy weeks are catching up to me, or maybe I'm going senile at my old age of mid-30s and forgetting what day/week it is. Anyway, it's been a rough couple. There's been lots of topsy turvy, up and down action in my life and my brain, in which I seem to be cycling more rapidly than usual. I also seem to be dealing with more depressive episodes than usual and let me tell you, I don't like it one bit. For all of you who battle long depressive episodes or major depression and manage to continue to function as a normal human being, you have my utmost respect. And those of you who cycle from full mania to full blow depression (as opposed to my hypomania and less intense depressive episodes)... well, you guys must be superheroes humbly dressed as every day people.

I've been going through one of those phases in which I completely question almost everything about myself. Ever have those times? It feels like I'm on the outside looking in, examining myself as if I were a potential friend or dating partner or something. When I try to create a mental picture of what I'm going seeing, I imagine the view through a fish-eye lens, in which things are most likely distorted, by you can't entirely tell what, and by how much. In addition to subjecting myself to brutal honesty, it is a bit paranoia-inducing in that it causes me to question my own perspective - am I actually seeing/hearing/experiencing this right, or is it skewed because of my cyclothymia? From this bizarre perspective, my level of excitability, which I always thought endeared me to people, looks annoyingly hyper instead of charmingly, if perhaps a bit awkwardly, energetic. From this vantage point, my being happy, lively, and a bit quirky looks like I'm trying to call attention to myself instead of just BE myself (the latter which may cause attention, positive or negative, but is not aimed at doing so). My voice sounds too loud. My conversations sound too self-focused. From this perspective, every loud word or laugh, every talkative conversation, every time talk at all about myself, feels like it's happening at rapid fire and in slow motion at the same time. That's confusing, I know - it is to me too. It feels like it happens so fast I can't stop it, and then it replays over and over again in slow motion to ensure substantial regret and kicking myself for not being able to shut up.

The result? I'm becoming closed up. I'm drawing into myself. I still have bursts of energy because it still comes naturally and, let's face it, I have hypomania. But I'm becoming afraid and, if it's possible, more socially awkward. Now more than ever, I have trouble looking people (who I'm not very close with) in the eye, because I feel so awkward, nervous to have any attention on me, even if just through simple one on one conversation. Now I'm concerned that all this time, I haven't accurately been perceiving myself, my personality, and my actions. Now more than ever I'm worried that most people merely tolerate me and don't really want me around because I'm annoying/loud/embarrassing/fill in the adjective. In short, my view of the happy, sweetly energetic, humble woman who brightened a room with her smile and laugh, who disliked the spotlight, who loved to focus on others but not herself, has been destroyed - or at best, seriously put into question -  and I'm left wondering who I am.

I'm not sure of the solution. I don't know how to tell what people really think, and what is just based on my anxiety. I'm don't know if I should trust my own judgement, that of others, or some combination. If I believe in the person I thought I was, and others' positive opinions of me, am I in denial of who I really am? If I don't, am I giving in to some cyclothymia-induced brain warp and trying to be someone I'm not? Is there another solution that I'm completely missing?

I realize I've just talked about how I am trying to stop talking about myself and don't want attention on me, and now I've just written all of this about myself. But this blog, and this alone, is my turf. This is the one place I know I'm safe to say what I need. If you think I'm writing any of this for self-pity or using my condition as a crutch - and yes, I've been accused of both by those who have never had this condition - let me tell you that in this and this alone my perspective is crystal clear. You're wrong. I have never used the "I can't do this I have cyclothymia" excuse. I've never once said "screw it I'll just give up on myself I can't ever change". I've never asked for people to feel sorry for me (to clarify, asking for support and asking for people to feel sorry for you are NOT the same thing).

Take what you will from this post. I'm sure that it's not going to win me any popularity contests, but as I've never been a contender for the popular crowd, that's ok. I simply wrote this to get it out of my head and into space. I so often write to inspire that I feel sometimes I need to share the difficult moments as I'm in them. As always, if you ever are going through something similar and need a thought, a vent, or a virtual hug, please feel free to reach out. I undoubtedly can't solve what you're battling, but I'm happy to listen and offer support as best I can.