I'm sitting at Fort Monroe Beach, having just captured a dolphin leaping from the Chesapeake Bay, when the most profound realization hit me. For the first time in almost two years, I'm alone—and I'm discovering that having Tony and Calista in my life is probably one of the biggest reasons I don't sink into depression anymore. It's not their emotional support, though that matters. It's simpler: I never stop doing things. There's always purpose driving my days forward. This revelation, witnessed by dolphins, led me to see how limitations become tools for freedom—in Jack's wheelchair, in my bipolar brain, and in the deep waters that aren't barriers but home.
bipolar memoir
Behind the Scenes: A Summer of Cutting, Crafting, and Chasing Dreams
The sun crested the York River this morning at 5:59 AM, and I was there to meet it, rosewood ukulele slung across my shoulder, journal tucked under my arm. Same 9 PM bedtime, same sunrise ritual—rain or shine, whether I'm alone with my thoughts or surrounded by the Fourth of July crowd that descended on … Continue reading Behind the Scenes: A Summer of Cutting, Crafting, and Chasing Dreams