Three chords and the truth

It’s really hard to admit, after 53 years of toil…but I am mentally ill.

Could be worse. I could not know it…like most do not. You cannot convince them.

I am convinced.

It is embarrassing. Naked and a bit raw. I mean, wear it for a minute and you will feel it. “Mentally ill”.

Not nice…not clean …

But I know I am and that is worthwhile. Most who are mentally ill do not know or won’t admit. I do.

At the Eugene Mission is was everywhere. I sat with men who were far more gone than I could even imagine. One man, “Track” looked like Paul Giamatti minus his lithium. Scary. He scared even me and I do not scare easy.

Life on the streets is filled with those who are simply ill. They need meds and attention. I dunno…maybe this is my new calling because I am one of  them.

I am dual diagnosed. Thanks to my sister Heather I am on record as such. It matters. There may be a program for me.

Think of the men and women who are not so diagnosed and have no hope.

I Know.




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