Good morning

I mean that. It is a good morning. It will be a good day and good night too. I mean that too. I didn't get much sleep last night. But then lately I haven't been anyway. Nothing like a morning free write after prayer to get me started. It's better than coffee. Really.

I was so afraid last night. Not so afraid, but afraid. I don't know where panic attacks come from but they come sometimes. I felt afraid of losing it. Of my mind slipping. I'm not in this fear now, but I was last night. I don't get meds until the twenty-third. According to the mental health office if I have to have them before then I have to go to the other place where I went last time and I don't want to go through one more other place. Mostly I'm afraid of being hospitilized. I really don't want that. So I'll hang on until the twenty-third. The fear and racing thoughts only lasted a few hours and eventually I did fall asleep and I did wake up.

And here I am. Awake and thankfully a little sleepy. It's Saturday and I am behind on some photo editing and am still editing my new book, but I don't have to leave the house today. Except for the walk I intend to take. I sleep better in the day than I do in the night so I am going to take the opportunity to get a little nap.

My mind feels easy right now. I am thankful for that.

I had a dream last night, rather, early this morning when I fell asleep, that a stranger chastised me for posting personal things about my health on this blog. I don't know who she was but she was a black woman about my age. She walked up to be and grabbed my hand and began pointing at me like I was a child who had run out in the middle of the street.

So why? Why do I? Mostly because writing, journaling, blogging eases my mind. It gives me something to do besides counting and praying. But also because I know that I am not alone in restless nights and mental health issues and everything else I post here on this blog. I promise you I'm not alone. There is such a horrible, horrible stigma on people with mental illnesses that many people just don't want to get help because they don't want to be labled as crazy. We have incorrect images of what we think all mental illness only is. Like anything can only be one way. Well, dear friends, it looks like all of us. Hello. It looks like me too. But it is not all of who I am and does not define me. That's why I post so much of me. I post my good days. I post about my shows. About work. About my relationship with my son. About relationships. Friendships. My family. About how I function in society. About stress. About menopause. Fibroids. Bills. Being a woman. Being black. I post about being. I am a whole, complicated, loving, beautiful being.

I hope that answers it for those of you wondering (judging). And if that doesn't I hope this will: because it's my blog and I can post what I want to. Go get you some business.

Banana hand hugs
Jaha