Thank You Psych Central

Psych Central posted their "Best Bipolar Blogs" of 2009 today. I am honored and gobsmacked to be an Honorable Mention, for the second year in a row.

 Some great blogs this year!

Thank You Psych Central!

Even Famous People Can Get the Blues

From yesterday's New York Daily News-


Hulk Hogan came "damn close" to killing himself after downing a cocktail of Xanax and rum, but an unexpected phone call saved his life.


In his new tell-ll book "My Life Outside the Ring", the notorious wrestler turned reality TV star admits he hit rock bottom after his divorce from his ex wife Linda, even reaching for a gun and putting his finger on the trigger. Fortunately, a phone call from his "Gladiators" co star Laila Ali, who noticed that Hogan was looking distracted earlier at work, prevented him from ending his life. 

It doesn't matter who you are, rich or poor , famous or not, we all get like that and the important thing to know is the feeling does pass. Listen to Elton John's song "Someone saved my life tonight", It does happen.  Good luck to Mr. Hogan. 


ETA: Blogger is really acting up right now....

Repost- Talking Baseball

In honor of the Phils getting into the world series, some childhood memories of seeing the Phils play at Veteran Stadium. 


What does the final game of the 1980 World Series have in common with the final game of the 2008 World Series? It was the only time in my father's life, where he, a die hard Yankee fan, wanted the Phillies to win the World Series.  

My father grew up in Brooklyn. And like all pre-teen boys, he lived to play baseball. Baseball was his passion. When he wasn't playing, he was with his friends at Ebbets field watching the Brooklyn Dodgers, or the Polo grounds. It was a treat when his mother, the woman I was named after, took him to a game at Yankee stadium when school was out. Dad rooted for the Dodgers and the Yankees, and to this day, will tell you what he was doing when Bobby Thompson fired the shot heard around the world. 

He played ball every waking moment as a boy, stopping only for a stretch when he was drafted into service during WW II. When he came back home, he settled down in NJ and played locally on a softball team, as pitcher. He was so good, that in the early 50s, he was approached by the local Negro league, as a reverse Jackie Robinson, to be the first white player on their team. Dad was humbled and accepted the post of pitcher for this team as well. 

Eventually dad met mom, they got married, and had a nice two bedroom house with a back yard in the suburbs of NJ. My mom, a Brooklyn girl, was thrilled to have a back yard to garden. She has, and still has, a green thumb, as does my father.  

But you can take the boy off the baseball diamond, you cannot take baseball out of the boy. My father became my father, and from the moment his girls were old enough, he bought us mitts, bats, (painted pink) and taught us how to throw and pitch softballs. My sister excelled at this, it was more difficult for me. But the time with my father was priceless, since dad often worked such long hours, time with him was wonderful. If he wasn't playing with his girls, he was sitting on "his" chair, watching the Yankees on WPIX. I use to crawl up and sit on his lap, smelling his Old Spice as I would watch the game with him. I had to be perfectly still and not move until commercials, but it was lovely. 

When the girls got a bit older, a client at my dad's laboratory, had season tickets for the Phillies at Veteran Stadium. My father would go 5 or 6 times a year with the whole family; mom, and the two girls. It was a treat. Dad was at his element, first bundling the entire family in one of those monsterous Pontiacs with white walls he use to drive. My father was a Pontiac man.  

We would get to Veteran's stadium early, so dad could see the players practice. He would get a score card, and mom would have one too. Dad taught mom how to fill out a score card when they were dating. Dad would point out the players to us, like the King entertaining his court. One time we saw Willie Mays warming up. Dad walked down to the fence with my sister, watching in awe. Mays saw dad and my sister, waving to him, and (this is a true story) picked up a baseball to throw at my sister to catch. Dad caught it, whipped out a pen, and asked Mays to sign it. Mays came over and said something like "I don't like signing autographs, but my sister was way too cute and he signed his name and handed her the ball.  

In Junior High my father was down sized and lost access to the games. There were no more live ball games until I went to college and would drive out to Yankee stadium with a friend.  

But in my Freshman year in college, dad was not only following his beloved Yankees, he was closely watching the Phils. Maybe because their line up was so fantastic, Pete Rose, Mike Schmidt, Tug McGraw. I had gone to bed early that night they won the World Series, the dorm was quiet, and I had spent the evening studying. The next thing I knew i was in the fountain in front of the dorm. Seems like the guys were so excited (and drunk) that the Phils won, they went into the all girls dorm and raided it, dumping every girl they could find in the fountain. I had gone to bed that night as my wont, in a t shirt and panties. I woke up in the fountain, soaking wet, and when i raised up, one of the Frat boys, drunk as a skunk, said " First prize wet T shirt" and handed me a medal.  

Those were the days. I will let Terry Cashman take it from here.

Well, now it's the 80's, And Brett is the greatest, And Bobby Bonds can play for everyone. Rose is at the Vet, And Rusty again is a Met, And the great Alexander is pitchin' again in Washington.

Baseball. Fast foward to 2008. Phils are once again in the World Series. Rose still isn't in the Hall of Fame. Veteran's stadium is long gone, but the Phils are once again great, and the fans- let's put it this way. No other city has fans as devoted as Philadelphia, whether it's the Eagles or the Phils. As I start to write this, some high school boys are in my apartment complex parking lot setting up fireworks. They weren't even conceived when the Phils won in 80. The players, from that year, are ensconced in Cooperstown. The players of today will be there soon. And these boys, someday, will take their sons and daughters to the game and tell them what they were doing the last time the Phils won the Series. And have a drink and reminisce. Like I do when ever I hear about the players from the time I came of age in the 80s.

I'm talkin' baseball! Like Reggie, Quisenberry. Talkin' baseball! Carew and Gaylord Perry, Seaver, Garvey, Schmidt and Vida Blue, If Cooperstown is calling, it's no fluke. They'll be with Willie, Mickey, and the Duke.

For Liz and Anthony and Pete - Go Phillies

I am not a Phils fan. I am a Yankee fan. But  the Phils are my third favorite team, after the Mets. So in honor of my friends who are Phillies fans, a little something while they become unbearable to live with while their beloved team plays in the world series. Yes, it's 5 am. Yes, some idiots outside my apartment have been up celebrating and making way too much noise all night to sleep. ;-(


Go Phillies!


ETA: According to Stuff on My Cat, this cat's name is Joey. I wonder if they named it after Joey Vento.

Best Gift Ever- Repost

In honor of my 2nd blogoversary, I would like to take a page from the book of Bitter Animator, and re post a post. This is my most favorite post I think from this last year. Amazing how doing something small can make you feel so good even though you never did it to get anything out of it.
*****************************

Life and gifts don't get better than this. Sometimes the best gifts in life are free- or are the cost of a first cent stamp.

Two years ago I worked on a suicide hotline. I cannot go into any more details than that.

I was on the phone one night- around twilight- with a very very suicidal man- who not only had a gun in his hand and was clicking the chambers, but he was very very very drunk.

I spent a long time talking to him, and when the call was over I went out in the pitch black night, no stars, overcast clouds blocking them. I bummed a cigarette, and a lighter, sat down on a bench and cried.

Fast forward to present day. I got a phone call from my former supervisor, and made a commitment to start again on the hotline in the fall, after completing 35 hours of class work this summer. Then she said she got a letter from someone I talked to eons ago, and wanted to mail it to me.

The letter arrived Monday. It had beautiful penmanship, but poor spelling. It went in kind, "thank you for helping me save my life that night, and the few things you have taught me have saved me again when life got that bad. Fortunately, it never got that bad again. I am working now, joined a church and dating a lovely woman.

I wrote this poem for you. I hope you like it and again, thank you.

"There is a rose in the garden

A Beauty with thorns adminst her leaves

If one desires to pick her

He must ask his hands to bleed"

.

You know, he says I saved his life, but he may have also saved mine.

Interesting:Antidepressant Sales Rise as Depression Falls

This goodie from the Neuroskeptic blog-

Antidepressant sales are rising in most Western countries, and they have been for at least a decade. Recently, we learned that the proportion of Americans taking antidepressants in any given year nearly doubled from 1996 to 2005.

The authors examined medical records from 1.7 million British patients in primary care (General Practice, i.e. family doctors.) They found that antidepressant sales rose strongly between 1993 and 2005, not because more people are taking these drugs, but entirely because of an increase in the duration of treatment amongst the antidepressant users. It's not that more people are taking them, it's that people are taking them for longer.

In fact, the number of people being diagnosed with depression and prescribed antidepressants has actually fallen over time. The rate of diagnosed depression remained steady from 1993 to about 2001, and then fell markedly, by about a third, up to 2005. This trend was seen in both men and women, but there were age differences. In 18-30 year olds, there was a gradual increase in diagnoses before the decrease. (Note that these graphs show the number of people getting their first ever diagnosis of depression in each year.)

More here. Worth a read. (Sorry for the colors and what not, blogger is acting up again!) 

It's My Second Anniversary

I never thought when, two years ago today, I started this blog, that;

1. Anyone would read it.

2. The people who read it actually liked it.

Two years, I am humbled by the people I have met through this blog, and who have added me to their readers, blogrolls,  and Facebook. I admit, I am still a relative newbie, and the blog is a living thing, still evolving. I still don't know where I am going with this, but I thank you for being with me on this marvelous journey.

Susan

Diminished

I cannot resist not posting this.  I think it applies to most of us....From Non Breaking Space blog.

measuring yourself
by shallow expectations
diminishes you

More here.

Hello It's Me

Hello it's me.  I've thought about this blog entry for a long long time.....
(Apologies to Todd Rundgren).

I am finding it hard to write the last few days. My brain is swarming with ideas, and I write and I write and I write. But I cannot end these pieces.  Hence, they cannot be posted.

It doesn't help that it's almost time for the World Series- a stupid title, since it only involves the USA, and not the rest of the world- and I have to watch the Yankees. It's like in my blood. Must. Watch. Yankees.

I still have my cold, I have had for most of the month of September- low grade temperature, 100- 101 daily, but over the weekend it grew to 101-102, with the same cough I cannot get rid of,  lots of phegm, etc. etc.  I have been mobile though, but this weekend, the cold came back with a vengeance.Saw the doc this morning, another round of antibiotics, this time it's the 4 round in 7 weeks,  and a warning for bed rest and drink lots of fluids.

And a cautionary comment about my white blood count is probably going through the roof.

Called the blood doc when I got home, and yes, it seems that my white blood count is going through the roof again. Must come in next week for a blood draw,  and we will see from there about another bone marrow biopsy.

When it rains it pours.

So I am still here, going to take to my bed, and read, which is a treat, and snuggle with the kitty. Work on an application for a Psychiatric Guide Dog. And sleep sleep sleep since the antibiotics make me sleepy.  All that's missing is a Snuggie, and a cup of hot chocolate.

Having huge problems with blog template

Please bear with me. I went to update one thing and lost almost everything in my template including blogrolls, pictures, and cannot make things move from one part of the blog to another.

It is most frustrating and I don't know what to do. I am so sorry that it looks very plain and horrible right now.

Any help with new blogger would be appreciated.