The ship’s sail was the color of ivy. The ropes twisted up the mast and snapped in the wind as though they shared the hunger of the snapping dragon. The pale wood planks groaned with the shifting waves that clapped against the sides of the ship. People moved on the ship with the certainty that they were as much a part of it as the wood and sail. Their hands commanded the wind and defied the rage of the water. (more…)
It’s Me, Isn’t It? My dream was to get a PhD. in Philosophy from either Vanderbilt or Princeton. I’d been accepted to both of their graduate / postgraduate programs. It was Spring. I had spent all my years since college saving and planning for this. My problems started out with a (relatively) simple emotional issue:…
This is the trap of stigma. Those with mental illness often find themselves afraid. This is a dark and terrible part of our culture. Our society has built a world where people are afraid to have an illness. How terrible is that? Imagine if this fear applied to all illness. Part of the trap is that this fear feeds into the stigma. By hiding it, we suggest to those around us that there is a reason to hide.
At this time of tumult, I am afraid. I am not here to talk about the new president or my political view points regarding him. I’m sure I will get there some where along the way in future posts since there is plenty of material out there for me to respond to. Read the rest of this entry
But he knew it was a stupid thought. The dead did not dance. They were gone. Nothing remained after death. Her body had been burned up and her ashes spread. There were no more dances. He’d long ago lost his chance.
It was strange, the things that he regretted now that she was gone. He wondered if he had ever told her how much he loved her. Perhaps his actions had been enough to make her know. But there are no certainties like a declaration. Read the rest of this entry
The fire was bright and hot. It felt comforting against the cool night air. The breeze picked up the smoke and swirled it around. Sparks flitted and then died. The music was loud and she could feel the pounding of the drums in her chest. She danced in the heat and light the fire cast. Her shadows flickered and scampered in impossible directions. Read the rest of this entry
Charlie’s excitement was almost too much to contain. Karen grabbed onto him and scooped him up from the floor. He barked and wiggled; struggling to get down.
“Hey now! What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
She tried calming him by petting him and scratching him behind his ear. But Charlie didn’t seem to notice. At first she had thought that he was happy about the guest in the living room, but now he was beginning to seem upset. She wondered who it was that mom was talking to any way.
Karen carried Charlie over to the living room door and stood there to look at her mom talking to the strange woman sitting on their couch. She was sipping at the tea that her mother had made for them. Her hair was long and the red locks curled around her face then tumbled over her shoulders. It wasn’t a natural red. It was a vibrant candy cherry color. Her eyes were a chocolate brown. Her skin was a pale creamy color like vanilla ice cream.
Karen shook her head. Why does everything about her make me think of food?
Charlie had gone still and was now growling softly in his throat.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” she asked him.
The woman looked up at them and that seemed to be too much for Charlie to bare. He burst into a loud fit of barking and fought Karen’s embrace with new vigor. She could not contain him. He shot out from her arms and went bolting into the living room. He jumped up into the recliner next to Karen’s mom and he barked at the visitor.
Karen hurried into the room behind him and offered the visitor apologies. But when Karen met the woman’s eyes, she stopped. Her eyes were now green. She had been certain that they had been brown. She shook her head.
“I don’t know what has gotten into to him,” she said.
It occurred to her then that he mother had not yet said anything about the ruckus Charlie had started. Karen looked up at her mother. Her mom was sitting there, balancing her tea plat in the palm of one hand while using the other to lift the cup to her lips carefully. She did this without seeming to be aware of either Karen or Charlie.
“Mom?” Karen shook her mother gently.
She got no response. Her mother just sipping her tea.
“I’m afraid that she can no longer hear you,” the woman said.
“What did you do to her?” Karen yelled as she spun around so that she was facing the stranger. She let Charlie go. He had known that there was something wrong with this woman and she no longer cared if he bit her.
“I’m not actually here to see your mother,” the woman stated.
Karen gasped softly. The woman’s eyes were now blue.
This post is both a clinical review of the disorder and an attempt to help others understand the way it deeply effects those diagnosed with it. I personally have this diagnosis and often have a difficult time expressing to others why that matters. I’ve collected quotes that I think help illuminate the experience and while they may not seem to be related to the clinical matters discussed here I have sprinkled them through out this post. I invite you to try to imagine the impact this would have in your life.
I dunno about the most scared to do, but I really am terrified of the idea of sky diving. What would it take to get me to do it? The plane would have to be about to explode.
This is an excellent documentary that opens the door to consideration of some of the most basic christian teachings. This post really isn’t a review of the documentary, but rather a discussion of the implications and ideas presented within it. Read the rest of this entry
When things come along in life, for good or for ill, we mostly find ourselves just dealing with it. But there are times that we are just enough removed from things that we can begin to imagine the possibilities. The “what if” game can be either freeing or enslaving. Either way, it is the most powerful force within the human mind. Read the rest of this entry