WanderingAmylessly 2.0

I did a drastic thing last Sunday. I went to the salon and got my hair colored. BLONDE. Those who know me would tell you that I have mud brown hair normally. (mud...depending on what part of the country you live in...like it's not Oklahoma clay or anything) Anyhow, I really like it. Its an all over strawberry blonde color and I've had a lot of compliments on it. And then there was one of those simply lovely people who tells a person just exactly what she thinks. She says to me "OH. Your hair is yellow. I think it would've looked good if you'd done something different." And I think she would look good if she got her head out of her ass. But I said nothing. And laughed internally. And remembered that when I was going to be having more fun, she was going to be sitting at home with her mousy locks, rearranging the pancake turners in her kitchen cabinets.

Since being diagnosed with some serious mental illness I've noticed a few things. Here are a couple observations. 1. People say "I'm bipolar." I am not saying this because I do not want it to become my identity. 2. People say the following words. A LOT. Crazy Nuts Wacky/o Lunatic Don't say them anymore. They have bad connotations. 3. Doctors are not perfect. There's always the last graduate of the class somewhere. Perhaps it was that person who sent me home from the hospital with a pamphlet. This was, it turned out, a pamphlet on a disorder that I had been diagnosed with but never told about. Never told about being diagnosed. Never told anything. Gold star for the teaching hospital. Lesson learned?

From a woman in my group therapy, who is a fellow knitter... There's always going to be a dropped stitch or two -- you just gotta get out the crochet hook and pull them back through.

The Guest House by Rumi (medieval poet) This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all. Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you our for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice.... Meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, Because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

I'm taking a leave of absense from my blog. The day after I wrote that poem, I was admitted to the psych ward, suicidal and emotionally exhausted. Now, two weeks later, I'm still in the hospital. I'm a bit better, but on about a hundred pills. Only slightly exaggerating. I'll write again when I'm able. For now, hug your friends and family and remember the truly important things in life.