Category: Writing
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On Edge
On edge Fingers shaking Irritable Prickly Damn, what one missed med dose can do to one’s body
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Do I Need an Editor?
Do I need an editor? Do I need to organize my writing into a more cohesive whole? Or, does this format fit what I am trying to accomplish? What is it I am trying to accomplish? I believe that I have a ministry to educate others on mental illness, specifically bipolar disorder, more to the…
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To Blog or Not to Blog
Last week as I started interviewing for part-time positions, I considered taking down my blog, worried that I would be found out and that prospective employers would avoid hiring me, fearing the worse. We hear of nightmares on the news, of mentally ill who did not receive adequate treatment and did unthinkably violent things. My…
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Autobiographical Update
Today I added some autobiographical writing to my About pages. I describe the beginning of my struggles with mental illness and the sense of religious calling. For me, the two are confusingly intertwined, as I can describe some of my manic symptoms as mystical experiences and have found meaning in them.
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Inspiration
So now that I am no longer hypomanic, the big question is will I continue to write? Where will I get my inspiration without the push of manic thoughts and my need for catharsis?
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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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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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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…