The first time I heard the words Bipolar Disorder was back in 1996 when I sought treatment from a therapist in Mobile, Alabama. I was convinced I was legit wackadoodle (not an official mental health term, but one I find endearing) on account of some character flaw or maybe I was cursed or maybe it was my lousy, no good childhood. I didn’t know why. I only knew I needed help. Everything bad and terrible about my past was firmly planted in my present which made for a decidedly messy future. Continue reading
19 January 2017
1 January 2017
I’ve always kept a journal. And a spiral bound planner. And a notebook just for daily to do lists. Oh, and if I have a special project going on, I have a notebook for that as well. The chaos of keeping three to four books going at all times was causing tons of confusion. I had no way of knowing what was where inside each book. I couldn’t carry all those books with me all the time. My kids tried to show me how to use my phone for everything, but no. I have to write things down. That’s the way I old school roll.