Marie stated in her own entry how hard it’s been having people shun, label and judge her all her life for having problems no one wants to deal with. Not her kind of problems anyway. I’ll be the first to agree that people are often quick to empathize with those who are suffering from physical illnesses, but when it comes to mental illnesses they are just as quick to run like hell.

I too, have been shunned, judged and labeled, though I will admit that most of it stopped in my 20s, and that I don’t care as much as most people do as far as what others think. If I did I wouldn’t put 95% of my life online.

In the 80s they didn’t know nearly as much as they do today when it comes to various disorders. I was misdiagnosed several times with various types of chemical imbalances – bipolar, manic-depressant – and I think I was a number of other things too, at one time or another until they finally got it right – ADHD. Despite being hyper and sometimes having a hard time concentrating and sleeping, most of my behavioral problems in the past were definitely a byproduct of my upbringing. There’s no doubt about it and simply no denying it. But back in the 80s, many people found it easier to blame things on chemical imbalances than on traumatic experiences simply because it was easier. It’s easier to take pills too, than it is to face and address the root of the problem. I know. I’ve been there before - Navane, Lithium, Xanax and a million other drugs whose names I can’t remember. I almost started on Tegretol till both my father and I finally put our foot down as far as turning me into a walking pharmacy went. This was some time in the mid-80s, but I didn’t kick my pill dependency altogether till 1990.

I’m not saying no one should see shrinks, therapists or take pills. I’m just saying that I totally believe that labels and pills are widely overused and misunderstood. Our chemicals can become unbalanced simply from not eating right. There are a number of things that can throw us off balance very easily from childbirth to illnesses, injuries to emotional trauma. We all walk a fine line between balanced and unbalanced and I’m not sure a lot of people realize this. But if we all start popping pills every time the shit hits the fan in our lives, what good will this do us other than cause us side effects and possible addictions? So I think this should be a last resort left for the extreme cases only.

I totally understand what it’s like to have feelings of inadequacy and like you’re being singled out and picked on by some unseen force for no damn reason at all. For everything I can do that most people can’t, there is something I can’t do that most people can. I can sing better than 80% of the population yet I can’t even sleep with my own husband because I’m such a light sleeper that his loud snoring and movements wake me up. I can dance better than most people yet I have a driving phobia. I could learn just about any language I want yet I can’t keep a schedule. I could learn just about any musical instrument I wanted yet can’t even do simple math. I can act just as well as the best actors and actresses out there yet the slightest noise has driven me absolutely crazy since being in the projects I was in before leaving New England in 1992.

So I know what it’s like to be gifted, blessed, loved, lucky, fortunate, smart, unique, special and extraordinary as much as I know what it’s like to be punished, hated, cursed, abnormal, freakish, helpless, hopeless, unlucky and unfortunate.

I was saying to Tom the other day, so what if I can sing? So fucking what if I can write well and learn languages? It won’t buy us a house or give us the security we want. Then he pointed out that it isn’t where we end up in life, it’s the path we take to get there. All that matters is that I enjoy the things I do along that path, and I do enjoy them except for the economic concerns.

I believe Marie when she says she would be by my side if I were suddenly alone and that she is determined not to push me away, and I appreciate that. As I told her, I’m sorry my words sting at times, but I do think we’re better off at a distance so we don’t jump down each other’s throats as much. This way I’m still a part of her life and she’s still a part of mine.

There’s this transcription company at the job site that’s been paying really well and has had jobs consistently enough. At the rate we’re going we could soon be up to about 2K a month and that’s what most people make. We’re close right now as it is.

Tom learned that I will get half of whatever he gets when he retires when I’m 66. This is nice to know (if we’re still alive then), but that’s 22 years from now! Damn, am I really that young still?

Last night I had a strange dream about Charlotte, a longtime family friend whom I’ve always adored, but haven’t seen in about 20 years. It was kind of creepy too, and I couldn’t go back to sleep for a while afterward. I’ll have to ask my folks if she’s ok. I think she’s a little older than them, so she can’t have much longer to go. I’ll see if I can find out her DOB. Yup, looks like she’s 81 now.

Anyway, I was at what appeared to be a Chanukah gathering. Present were my parents, the drama queen, and Charlotte. Of course the DQ and I were threatening to kill each other every chance we got. We exchanged gifts, and then at one point, I sat down next to Charlotte who was sitting sort of out of the way. She was suddenly all happy to see me and was hugging me fiercely. She asked how I was doing and I said I was fine. Then she said she was sorry she never got to see me again, and I said, “Never got to see me again? What do you mean, Char? You’re seeing me right now.” But then I realized that she didn’t quite look right, not to mention the fact that she was ice cold as well.

Writing is really therapeutic, alright, and I thank God for it. I’m not going to say what it was, but I learned something a few days ago about someone Tom and I used to know. In fact, they’re related to us. It made me so sad that I was kind of down and out for a while there, but decided not to bother telling anyone about what I learned. I just didn’t see the point in it. Instead, I wrote about everything it made me feel and that seemed to help a lot, only I didn’t put it online. I’m still bummed out, but not as much as I was when I first found out about it. I wasn’t sure whether to scream or cry at first.