February 8, 2020

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick.”
-Proverbs 13.12a


We share something, Langston.

We share memories of what we hope

Some futuristic novel, like science fiction, fantasy.

We know there is something better

some world where dreams are realized

hearts pump as they should

muscles work

We traverse roads that are slippery and sharp

barbed wire fences that keep us out

We climb walls like ivy

searching for the sun

We are phototropic

We take pictures in our minds of possibility

of intricate scenes not yet performed

They wait for another time

The play goes on without us

We sit, polite, hands folded in an audience of one.


” A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows.” — St. Francis of Assisi

I am bipolar. Have anxiety disorder and PTSD.

It is my shadow self, the black hole I fall into, sudden and fierce.

My winged arms fail me, my grip cannot hold, and in solitary silence I swirl. Grasp jagged rocks with bloodied hands, resist with powerful will and fortitude until the swirling gravitational pull wins, has its way with me, like a woman raped.

I bruise, my pink flash torn, ripped open. Wounded like a soldier carrying her dead sister.

It is a death. The interior Be-ing is pierced on the spiraled flight into the Eye, the very Eye of the storm.

The Black Hole is unimaginable suffering.

And yet..and yet.. orange light is discovered. Glowing and warm.

Fire bellows up in my lungs and I am now golden, as the dross is burned.

I breathe in Light like Aristotle in his cave. My own Nickajack where Johnny Cash went to die-but lived!!

I believe each of us has a shadow self. It is part of being human.

The dark side of la lune we fall into like a shocking chasm in the desert. The deep and rugged, ebony gorge.

None of us is alone in our pain.

But like a truncated poplar leaf at the end of the branch, our pilgrimage is ultimately solitary.

As we fall into our Black Holes–our shadow selves–may we hold onto our precious Faith in the Orange Fire, the interior glow which purges.

We emerge like amber embers while others glimpse the Holy Light.





Self-Absorbed and Julian

June 15, 2013

Depression makes one self-absorbed.

It goes with the condition.

I know I’m doing better when I can think of others.

So, tonight, I think of you.

83 of you read my blog today.

83 of you sat in front of a computer, or leaned over a laptop, iPad, or cell phone

I wonder about you.

Do you suffer depression?

Do you get angry with God?

How are you doing?

I hope all is well.

Julian said it would be.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know I am not doing well.

I sat in my friend’s kitchen today and shared with her my current struggles with mental health.

“I know, Patty” she spoke gently, “I read your blog.”

I almost want to apologize for taking you with me down the dark roads, the angry jaunts, the confused trails, but I won’t.

Instead, I say thank you for sticking with me.

Soon, I hope, the writing ( and I) will get better.

You are the best readers a blogger could have.

God bless.




May 10, 2013

I am bipolar.

I have been most of my life.

It was not diagnosed until I was fifty-three.

It’s been a hard pill to swallow.

It was misdiagnosed all those years as depression and anxiety, more common and acceptable mental health conditions.

I was given the wrong medicine.

I am coming out.

Why? Because unless I and others do, the stigma will remain.

I was turned down for insurance in 2009 because of my diagnosis. I’ve been afraid to talk openly about it because of what others may think, how it might affect my job..

I think about the cross. The nails. The palms.

I have my own stigmata.