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July 17, 2012


I imagine how hard it must be for you, but I feel happy and relieved too because there seems to be a lot of progress... in spite of the suspicions and edginess. As for feeling like you could keep talking forever, it's not just you... I'm like that too. I've learned to keep to myself and observe and just be quiet, but, if given the chance, I won't shut up. (& in my case I guess it has to do with the impulsiveness from the adhd). I can feel concrete progress & I'm happy for you. I hope it continues steadying more and more...

Oh, man. I can't say I know what it's like to have Bipolar Disorder, BUT! My biological mother has it baaaaad (like, mental hospital, danger to others bad) and I spent the first twenty-eight years of my life TERRIFIED that I had it. Every so often I'd take myself to a shrink for a mental checkup, and they'd tell me I was kinda neurotic, and had some anxiety issues, but no, not bipolar. Then when I was twenty-eight I had MRSA septicemia, and five surgeries and a week of IV Vancomycin later was discharged on Zyvox. Only problem was, I'd been taking an SSRI and ended up with Seratonin Syndrome, which sucks EVERY BIT AS MUCH AS WIKIPEDIA WILL TELL YOU IT DOES, HOWEVER: having experienced iatrogenic drug-induced mania I can now say with absolute confidence that I may well have ninety-nine problems but THAT ain't one. Holy hell it was awful! I can't imagine what it must be like to be neurotic and full of angst AND have that to deal with. I'm glad you seem to be on the right path to finding treatment that helps, and hey, one of my favorite writing professors always used to say "write as if you're going to throw it straight in the fireplace when you're done and see how that goes," so maybe this'll be a good creative exercise?

"And no one ever sees them"--what occurred to me when I read this is: Every instant of pain you've ever had in this area came from your own thoughts, not other peoples' thoughts. That's almost the definition of neurosis, isn't it?: the constant chatter in our heads that paradoxically feels more like reality when we're paying less attention to it. Because when you slow down and really listen to that chatter--in your peripheral perception it's like August Strindberg, but with more attention then it starts sounding like a telenovela ... and then ultimately more like Ren and Stimpy. Nothing to be agonized about, just 'oh, silly me, there I go with THAT thought again.' I'm not minimizing how hard it is to get there. And definitely it's more challenging when you have to sift out the psychiatric from the psychological. But clearly you are on the path, and that's much more than half the battle. No turning back! xo

REN AND STIMPY! Yes. And MFA Mama, yikes! Lilian, thanks. :)

smashable art. i believe it's a whole new genre. and i suppose it could eventually even have an audience, a participatory audience, who helps smash it. but even if you make it and then smash it -- that's the whole problem with art and despair. art always gets the last word, doesn't it? that impulse to create, even if what we create is ugly, or hopeless, or immediately smashed -- it still got created first, didn't it?

go ahead and slap me for being overly perky, but i see this as a great thing. smashable art!

Whoa, marta. No, that final sentence of first paragraph. And: art always gets the last word.


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