I think I'm tired too because I've been trying so hard to appear normal to everyone. People know me as well here and now most know my past or at least parts of it and I don't want to give any of them reason to think of me otherwise. Of not normal or unstable or whatever. So I smile every day and when people ask me how I am, I tell 'em it's all good. Because that's what they need to hear. If I told them I was paranoid as shit and that I dreamed of old habits that involved blood....I would be labeled as crazy again and just maybe, the next time they have a question, they will think twice about coming to me for the answers. If they knew what was really going on...I would lose credibility and I fought so damn fucking hard for it. It's too precious for me to lose.

So I guess that's my faith in humanity huh? That I have to lie or rather "omit" my true feelings so that I can be somebody. I already feel like I have lost credibility with some people because they found out things and I'm just scraping by right now. That everybody sees me as different now and I'll never be like I was to them before. Before, I was just a little odd and people found that charming. Now they know there is a reason for my oddness and somehow now it's more serious. FUCK THAT! I think people are looking at me differently now and I fucking hate that. I hate the pity I see in their eyes. Or my boss even asking if I was getting all the meds I needed or if I was having trouble with that. They're questioning if I have my fucking meds. What the fuck. They have no idea what I'm actually like when I'm crazy- this is nothing right now. Boy could I show them nuts. But I'm not nuts now, not even close.

But that's the kicker isn't it? Even though I am not currently crazy, at all, my normal is still fucking odd to other people. So no matter what...I won't ever fit in. I will always be that odd and that different. Maybe that is why it's so good when it's just me and the kids- because then the differences don't matter. When I'm with those kids, it's magical because we are doing amazing things and well, they are 'special.' So I use my special oddness to help their's and we are just a nice odd couple for those few hours. I don't have to worry about being different, I just have to worry about helping these kids.

At this moment...I just wish I could take back the words when I told people I had bipolar here and I wish I had just made up some crazy-ass story about why I have no license and my car was taken away and why I came here with $0 dollars in my bank account and why I would move to a place I've never been where I didn't know anyone and left all of my family behind two thousand miles away. Anything, I think now, would have been better than the truth. I could have used ADHD to explain a lot of my behavior and why I "click" with the kids.

But I can't take away what is done. I can only fix what I can and move on. What do I do now to reflect all the good changes? I want to do even better with the kids and just be "on" all the time. I will just have to do such an incredibly amazing job that people will have to look past anything else that may be going on with me. My work with the kids will have to speak for itself. I will do everything better, faster, and more than anyone else. I will do everything so that no one will find fault with anything I do. My paperwork will all be on time and perfectly filled out. I'll keep my office organized, I'll give 200% every minute of the day and come up with ideas that change these kids lives and I will communicate with the families and with colleagues and just be a shining star. And then maybe everyone will forget I have a brain disorder.

Oh, what the fuck. These are just my ramblings...of a tired woman...who is just trying to get her strength back. And people can't tell me that I'm not being a burden to them. I'm 25 fucking years old and that's all I've been to people all my life. My mom and her family- one big fucking burden my whole fucking life. She wouldn't even take me in when I really needed to be somewhere. I've had to live in my car or the streets and not with my family. If I was a burden to my own family...how could I not be a burden to people who are just friends and friends I've only known for three months. For some reason I can't believe in that goodness. When I moved back to Virginia briefly from Alabama and I needed a ride to get to a homeless shelter, I called about four different people- whom I had done so much for over the years...and not one of them could take an hour out of their day to help me. And that's when the reality of the world hit me. Because I had left Virginia in a blaze of madness and also in some respects returned in a blaze of madness (though they didn't know that)...that's all I was to them anymore. And I'll be damned if that is all I become to people here. Then I'd have to move again. I am someone and I am more than my disorder and past. And shame on anyone, ANYONE, who sees my disorder before they see me. Maybe that's why the kids and I get along...I see them as kids, not their disorder, this autism.

It sucks...I have to prove myself so much more than to anyone else. I can't imagine what people would think of me if I was just this medicore therapist. If I just did so-so with the kids. If I didn't have a ready answer any time someone came to me with a question about behavior. No I have to be a cut above the rest for people to see me as good and not just some crazy girl we hired with bipolar. I have to be better than most people's best. And I realize that a lot of people like me because of my performance. So maybe this is why God gave me this gift, because he knew I would need it as my ticket back into society after I'd be cast out. Because my normal would never ever pass as the norm and I'd always be a little odd and eccentric and that for people to accept that...I had to have something that would be worth something to them. And ain't that just the cold hearted truth.

And so BOOM, there's reality dose for the after life. What happens after the doctor's and hospitals and pills and therapy? You have to find your ticket back into society or face a group home or a life of institutions. You have to be better than most for people to put up with your oddness and eccentricies. Because you are not normal to them and to other people, that is scary. When you leave the mental health world behind...you are up against the stereotypes that you were actually protected from. When you see therapists and you go to support groups and you get hospitalized...in a way you are not quite in society- you are working your shit out in a protective environment and lots of people around you are odd and different and a little crazy. And you're told that it's okay to be "special." But then you get all better and you're ready to go it alone out in the world without all the crutches and little protective barriers.

Even before my current bitterness...people thought I was odd. I had tons of energy and it came out a lot- I would show up two hours early for work, so work a total of 10 hours and I was never tired, I was always hyped up. And as my boss put it, "effecient" with all my use of time. I didn't waste anything. I didn't see that as abnormal, but I'm coming to understand that others did. And more of late, sleeping in the quiet room for a night was not all that odd to me- I could have just as easily found a good tree to sleep under (but I live in the fucking desert where the only tree's are palm trees and cactus'). And that just wasn't odd to me- I needed to sleep somewhere. But apparently it's more odd than I thought. But since I've slept on the side of highways and train tracks and god knows where else...that wasn't so odd to me. The things I understood about many of the kids and various dynamics...apparently that was a little odd as well. The fact that I can't ask for help- or at least it's extremely hard for me- that's odd. I just...don't have a sense of what's normal or not. But still, even before the more recent odd acts...people thought I was different but just couldn't put their finger on it- and they have told me as such.

And the kicker? I have to go in and teach these children that their specialness is awesome and that people will accept you for you and if they think otherwise, shame on them and damn them. Oddness is wonderful kids!!! Sure, right. I've witnessed that alright. Not. What a fucking paradox. For a lot of these kids, their normal will never be "the norm" and people are going to know it. Damn it and damn this world. I think their specialness is wonderful and no, I don't want to make them "normal." I want to make them who they are, whatever that may be. But it breaks my heart at the same time and I just pray and hope they are surrounded with wonderful people who will be okay with the oddness. But even then, autism is almost better to tell people you have than bipolar. At least with autism people might think of you as a miracle if you live and interact in the normal world. They'd be like, sweet, good job, way to go, awesome job. But tell 'em you're bipolar and they look at you real carefully and one day they may ask you, are you sure you're on your meds?

And once you tell people you are bipolar- that is one little detail about yourself that they will never forget. If I were to die tomorrow in a car accident, perhaps they will remember a few of the good deeds I did with the kids, but they will most definitely remember the fact that I had bipolar. And if I was the driver in the car accident, they might wonder about the cause- did I do it on purpose, did I have a hallucination...it wouldn't just be a car crash. Everything is suspect.

Or maybe I am just a paranoid mess right now and if someone read this they may be like, geez Erin...delusional much? But I just feel like people are looking at me differently right now. Actions aren't in isolation, but now grouped together and then seen as symptoms as one thing or another. People fucking ask me if I'm on my fucking medication or if I have someone to "talk" to. Like, just because I have bipolar that I have to be on meds in the first place (which well, the truth is I do, so they are kinda right there I guess), and that I have to have someone to talk things over with.

You know, I actually wrote my boss an email and I gave her a rundown of what I would look like depressed and what I would look like if I became really manic. Now I wonder if I would do some of those actions of some of those moods and what their reaction would be. That'd be a fun experiment. Go around for a few days acting like a ghost, not smiling or being excited, answering no ones questions and also asking everyone if I am doing the right things, asking them if I suck or what could I be doing better because I'm not good enough (which is what would happen if I got depressed), or even fucking, get a red pen and make some designs and then put a band aid over it. But- still rock with the kids. What would they really do? Because my quality of therapy is not impacting the kids on my caseload. Why should they even say anything then if my performance is not lacking. They shouldn't care if I am just doing my damn job, and doing a good job at that. God, I'm sick aren't I?

I just...I remember being different. In fact, here is a direct quote from my suicide letter from the suicide attempt that should have actually killed me, but by the grace of God, I was saved: People have always called me different. Different because I strove to get better even without parental support. In a sense, I was healing on my own. All the while I was surrounding with people getting all kinds of support. There were the children I work with and their families fighting for their kids. There were others like me, but at least their parents visited them in the ward and not go to Disney World.

For a long time this never bothered me. Or at least, I never acknowledged that it did. Until tonight, when it all hit me. I’m at the top of this unconventional pile and I no longer want to be different. I don’t want to take all those meds to make me stable, I don’t want to do these amazing things with the kids to keep me sane, I don’t want to advocate for others and give them a voice…when I was never given a voice."

Fuck, I can't have that all happen all over again. Except that was my before life...this is the after life. Right now- no one has actually seen me crazy. I have not been to the hospital and I have not harmed myself. I haven't said really weird things, I haven't been manic and I haven't been depressed. They've just seen my normal oddness. And so, in the before life...being unconvential weighed on me a lot more because people lived through my craziness. The people here haven't. They've just heard stories. So that is different.

It just sucks, that in the after life...you still have to deal with being different. I wasn't expecting that and it just hit me. So it's just another thing that I have to deal and contend with and just fucking get over. And like I said...I will just have to be better than most people's best. I need to overcompensate so people will see me as this awesome therapist above anything else. And I need to channel my differences into this- this is my ticket to life. I just need to keep the focus and try to be aware of things that other people might think of as odd and try to lessen it, mask it, or accept it.

Boy that one quote, "Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal." Ain't that the damnest truth you've ever heard. And yeah, that is the fucking real life truth. Welcome to the after life. Welcome to the truth. Welcome to the normal world where you'll never be normal. Welcome to the way the world works. Welcome to...the fight of your life.