My hairdresser recently asked me why I made a website. I told her I started it to promote my first manuscript. The blog thing sort of happened as an offshoot. But the story began when my brain caught fire. I wrote a book to explain what went down as I grew up.
In 1968, my family suffered loss, with death and alcoholism. I was a lost girl, pretending to be ‘normal’ in the world. That same year, my best girlfriend attacked her mom with scissors. Her family placed her in a crisis unit, and she never got out. She has been institutionalized her entire life. No one really understood what happened, but people thought I ought to know, since I was her best friend around the time of her violent outburst. I felt like I should know why she became a ‘paranoid schizophrenic.’ I didn’t know why illnesses get people like they do. Continue reading “Easing My Sense Of Absence” »