Despite losing my father at a young age, I had a quite normal and happy childhood. I was never abused by my parents, my older brother, my older sister or by anybody else growing up. I did well in school and excelled on the school soccer teams. I served 4 years in the U.S. Navy as a dental tech.
Not long after being honorably discharged in 1977, I began to experience particularly intense episodes of depression. Also, I started drinking too much and taking drugs. Eventually I was professionally diagnosed as a manic-depressive. This, along with other mental illness’, was something I would have trouble with most of my life.
Well, I haven’t drank alcohol or taken illegal drugs since 1992. I have been getting therapy and taking medication for my mental illness for years. I can remain normal if I continue to do so. At times, I have been hospitalized, but I have not had a hospital stay this century (actually, this millennium!).
I believe church and prayers have helped me.
I am grateful for my family and friends.
Today is another day to be thankful for.
I have know the author of this blog for eighteen years, and know the author is a very kind and caring person, the one event that has remained with me, is the time that the author had to be my caregiver, when I had surgery on my knee.
I had to be taken to my doctors, therapist and performed other duties and required me to need assistance, a position that was filled with a lot of compassion and patience.
I admire this person tremendously. Thank you for sharing and caring. Happy blogging.
Thanks for your caring and encouraging comments.
I met this author in 1965 in elementary school and we became the best of friends. I spent many a night sleeping over and doing crazy things. Just today I remembered him and I on a street at the bottom of a hill. It had rained and large puddle were formed on both sides of the street. We had one umbrella and as the cars drove by through the puddles, we would duck behind the umbrella to not get wet. We were young, what did we know. We had fun. The last time that I saw him, he left a hospital to move in with his brother. Through the years, I often wondered how he was doing. A few years back, I located him through his sister. I called him and sent him a letter. I had hoped to visit him again. He was a special person who I have cared about for 50 years. I wish I could see him again.