Hi, there. Thanks for visiting. I'm starting this blog as an advocate for mental and physical health. I'm a freelance writer and also own a home based medical transcription business. I was diagnosed in 1978 with paranoid schizophrenia and started to become acutely ill three years prior to that, unmedicated, frightened, confused, and in trouble with the law. I graduated from university with distinction the year I became ill. I've never regretted learning how to think at university. I struggled with my illness for 35 years and have reached the top of the mountain now, I think, or the other side, where the grass is greener and the path easier. There's hope for all of us, the whole human race, and never think there isn't hope or joy no matter your circumstances. I'd love to hear your thoughts and experiences with mental illness in all its forms: depression, brain injury, autism, schizophrenia, bipolar, anxiety disorders, etc. and your positive experiences as well as those lies and half truths society and even therapists would have us believe about ourselves.

We are different folks, and we are beautiful. The whole human race is beautiful. Let's celebrate life.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Bring your own flowers and forget the despair

I read two different blogs this morning, one about despair and one about hope. I chose to believe the words of hope, joy, and love.

We all have a choice. We choose every second, every day, every year our thoughts and actions. If we don't choose for ourselves, if we galumph through our own beautiful gardens with someone else's borrowed dirty boots, life chooses for us and swamps our birthing song with bitterness and death.

I choose to move on. My thanks to Joy Bing Fleming for the hope I borrowed from her this morning.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Interview with Stephen King

I've been wondering how and why normal, nice people write horror. Like myself. I've just finished a horror anthology and will submit it to a publisher in a few days. Then I came across this interview with Stephen King.

The woman across the table from him asked if he'd ever seen a Psych, intimating there's something wrong with an author who writes horror. She snickered when he said he'd never read Jane Austen.

Is there something wrong with uptight people who don't allow creative juices to spatter their shower curtains?