I was diagnosed with Bipolar I in college. After a clear manic episode while going to Temple University, a psychiatrist working on the campus prescribed me a mood stabilizer, along with the depression and anti-anxiety medications I was already taking.
America was never perfect, and it never will be. But things keep getting worse, and so many of my fellow Americans seem to want to inflict suffering and sorrow on the vulnerable. What is behind this hatred? Is it simply a thirst for power and control? I can’t understand it, and I probably never will.
I am the daughter of a heterosexual White Christian couple from Tennessee. I am the granddaughter of many generations of southern families. I am unclear if any of my family ever owned slaves, but I won’t rule it out. I was raised in the church, but in reflecting upon everything I learned as a child, it was not the church that taught me how to be a good person – it was my mother and my grandmothers.
Lost time in cold, leaden fields Forsaken epochs, unable to yield Shadow desires, darkly concealed I wear my armor like a beaten shield Stone-faced, aching, my fate is sealed Blood on my body swiftly congeals And you, my love, are not here A tender touch to tell me Everything will be okay And this dark landscape Is but a fleeting nightmare
And what if the apocalypse comes? Do we not deserve it? Have we not been traveling down this path for a very long time? I think of this often, and I believe there may even be sweetness in the flames that will consume us.
But this is beside the point. What is the point? That something is coming. Call it prophecy; call it what you will. I get the feeling everyone knows, though some are pushing it out of their mind.
When was the last time I saw a man die? It was yesterday, in fact, right in front of my eyes. His head was blown apart, point-blank range, and I was about twenty feet away, watching the violence unfold. It was cold and gray that morning, but nothing else about what happened was unusual. This is the reality now.