Fountain House (FH) was probably one the first, most important, and positive things that happened to me, even though it didn't quite seem that way at the time. But it was hard to be objective about anything then"”I was working on an almost entirely intellectual hope"”the most important function of which seems to have been reserving judgment, being receptive, and then trying things on blind faith.

Once I was connected with Fountain House, I began my resurrection. I started getting slow but positive results from seeing the lower-cost interns at the Pacific College of Oriental Medicine for acupuncture, got into disability housing as a direct result of being part of the FH housing program, and having my FH caseworker advocate for me. I was seeing a pretty inexperienced intern at one of the bigger monolithic clinics most people with Medicaid get assigned to (FEGS).

After awhile, I realized I'd implemented, on my own, some pretty positive routines and had been making steady progress without even realizing it. I'd started a stretching and strength training program, and was cooking and packing more nutritious meals. A marching band, The Rude Mechanical Orchestra (RMO), asked me to participate while it was in its embryonic stage so I started researching songs to cover and choreographing and training to dance and majorette.

And I was inspired to also start drawing again"”first logos for the RMO and also marching uniforms and costumes. This led me directly into a larger community base outside of Fountain House and I started going out again, which also got me asked to sign on to other projects as a dancer/abominable snow-girl/majorette/break-dancer/samba-queen/choreographer/graphic designer. And I wasn't so lonely and isolated anymore.

One of my mischievous FH running cats moved into my housing just before I did and we had lots of first time adventures together. It was amazing having Cecilia to kvetch with or go roller skating in the ghetto with, having my rad housing worker, Burt, help me out with food stamps and Medicaid, and last but definitely not least, my black flag case worker, Elliott, to get me in and out of lots of trouble. At FH I received, first and foremost, a welcoming, undemanding place to go during the day"”and if you know NYC you know what a rare commodity that is. Second, I had needed housing"”that also came quickly"”I cried with relief the day I got my housing assignment.

I was given more responsibility, taking it on within the safe and forgiving confines of the clubhouse, becoming the literacy girl of the AV department and then began dressing up all crazy again and directing and clowning in segments we were shooting for an original program developed in house to teach the adult illiterate mentally ill how to read. I started a samba class, tutoring in the Education Unit when I was needed, and slowly but surely entering into projects outside of Fountain House.

I had a firm foundation"”my own safe, secure place"”I'm in something called "supportive" housing"”a form of rehabilitative housing, with a case worker who will do a cursory check on you daily, and a more thorough meeting with you twice weekly. I have a new housing worker, and while he is not all counter-cultural "hip," he listens and really tries to engage me. He respects any clearly reasoned requests I make, in the interests of my health even if he doesn't "get it."

I'm doing really well, been off meds for quite awhile now, still having depressions but working through them and making sure I get help, and in general fighting the good fight. I'm more independent and self-determining then I've been in quite some time. And while I constantly find myself comparing the current functional dysthymia to the "good old days," instead of panicking and spiraling into despair I struggle to focus much more on the present and what I have and can do NOW. And its lots more than I think at first jaundiced glance.