Just a kid on her bike and her dad jogging alongside. “I want to learn how to shoot the basketball better,” she said. “We play it every day at P.E.”. She was seven. So off to the elementary school grounds we went. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon. Approaching the asphalt playground, she jumped off…

My last bipolar manic episode was what my 94-year-old mother would call a “doozey.” (Sure, my Facebook analytics tell me my followers skew Millennial. Perhaps I should express myself in emojis and f-bombs. But I am guessing there isn’t a little icon or string of profanity that could properly describe an episode that still has…

Once again I was wrong. Once again it was due to my over-inflated belief that my way is the only way. Once again the error of my way was spoken to my heart in a moment of silence. You can call it God, Universal Power, The Inner Guide, Your Higher Self or whatever you please.…

If only shame were fleeting and impermanent. But it’s not. It’s sticky. Hard to remove. Crippling. Unlike justified guilt, which just tells me I did something wrong, shame says I am wrong-–defective to the core. Avoid me. Shun me. Whisk the children away at my coming. Guilt, if heeded, can be productive. I change my…