Author: Kitt O’Malley
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Siren Song
I have heard the siren song of alcohol and marijuana. Craved the quieting of my thoughts, the slowing down. Prescribed medications do help immensely, but I still understand and am wary of alcohol’s hold on me. I have that Irish gene, that propensity to become an alcoholic. I can sense it in me and fear…
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Theology
Under the heading About God I will be publishing edited and adapted versions of essays I wrote while attending Fuller Theological Seminary. These essays were written in the language of Christianity, in language appropriate for a multi-denominational Christian seminary. I do not consider myself exclusively Christian. Aside from a brief flirtation with Sufism (mystical Islam), reading…
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Grief, Anxiety, and Hypomania
So what brought on this flurry of activity, this bout of defensive hypomania, the birth of this blog at this point in time? Two things: one, I forgot to take valproic acid Thursday night, and, two, my grief in facing my father-in-law’s health crisis. Writing is one way I can deal with my grief, the…
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Titrating Stimulation
Find I must titrate exposure to stimulation. Need enough to prevent depression, but not so much as to trigger hypomania. Enough, but not too much sun. Have to be very careful with social stimulation. Easily get on edge when spend too much time with too many people. And, not able to limit myself, to set…
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Writing History Trashed
At one point in the past year, in an attempt to de-clutter a hopelessly cluttered house, I tossed all of my letters, journals, papers, and essays into the recycling. Later I regretted it and went to retrieve them from the recycling bin, but the papers had gotten wet and dirty, so I left them. Some…
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The Outsider
As some of you may know, I struggle with bipolar disorder. I’m impetuous, speaking without thinking. I feel compelled to say what others won’t. And, by pointing out the elephant in the room, what is clearly obvious but no one dares state, I pay for it. I once again offend, infuriate, and alienate those I…
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Orator in my Mind
I think in dialogue. Actually, it’s a monologue, an interview, and I’m the oh-so-interesting interviewee, sharing my thoughts on everything. I know I am “daydreaming,” that I am talking to myself in my mind, but it leaks out, my facial expressions, my gestures. I look like what I basically am, a crazy woman talking to…