You try to find one little piece of that paper that bounced out of the garbage can. That little shred that was left behind.
My own family and friends, and of course, my Bipolar Hot Mess Family.
- receiving an email or a comment
- thanking me for writing what I did, or playing the song that I did;
- thanking me for giving them a new perspective on things;
- thanking me for sharing my story and giving them hope; or
- thanking me for just being me.
That is where a whole world of black can instantly turn brighter for me. Knowing that even though some don’t understand or think what I do is anything good at all, there is a whole bunch of people out there that would disagree. I remember being in the place that most of those people are/were in and I wished and hoped that someone would or could relate to me, or that someone would reach out to me; or that someone would just offer me a hug. A hug would have made a world of difference to me in those situations. But, I didn’t have that. So, now I write so that those that don’t have that hug can at least have SOMETHING.
For me, knowing that I helped someone or have affected or impacted their life is like them giving a hug to me. People may not understand it. People may look down on me for it. People may complain about it. But for all those negatives, there are also those people who are proud of me for it, who are thankful for it, and who are excited for me for it.