On not giving a damn

Disclaimer: Geoff loathes this movie and book upon which it is based.  That’s not why I am posting it here.  That’s just a bonus.  (Love you, sweetie.)

The scene above is important for one really major reason.  For all of their ups and downs and crazy drama, Rhett no longer cares for Scarlett.  At all.  He doesn’t love her, he doesn’t hate her, he just doesn’t care.

This is probably where I should warn you that this post is about unpleasant things.  Trauma, PTSD, abuse – a lot of stuff.  Turn back here should you need to.  Likewise, for a variety of reasons, what I’m going to write may be a bit opaque with oblique references.  This is necessary.  I apologize for the confusion.

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Notes and Open Letters Regarding the Election

These are things that have been rattling around in my head since the horror began to reveal itself last night.  Some of them are fully formed letters, other are just too long to be tweets.  Read them, share them, do what you will (with credit of course).  Fair warning, I don’t have the tolerance or patience to argue with Trump supporters, anyone who opted out of voting yesterday or who voted 3rd party.  If you show up here spouting crap that in any way irritates or stresses me I’ll bring down the ban hammer so fast it won’t just be the door hitting you in the ass on the way out.

Oh, yeah, and I’m probably gonna break my own rules and swear.  It’s the apocalypse.  I think my mom will understand.

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Gratitude & Grief

Life is always a mixture of the bitter and the sweet, the dark and the light, the gratitude and grief.  I admit that I often focus on the bitter parts to the exclusion of all else.  That is in large part due to the fact that a large portion of my 20’s and almost all of my 30’s have been spent dealing with one crisis or another and, last year, dealing with death after death.  That, and the way that people treat you, tends to color one’s outlook on the world a bit.  Depression doesn’t help either.

That being said, this year is turning out to be one of the best in a long time.  Despite losing Bucky last week, things seem to be looking up for us.

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AIR, Empty Shoes, and Coming Out

I’ve been thinking for a very, very long time about writing this post.  Years, actually.  Part of it has been the courage of Jenny Lawson, The Bloggess, that’s allowed me to even think about doing it, part of it has been the necessity of living a life that is so controlled by this somewhat hidden part of myself, and part of it is that I feel more and more like I’m lying by not being open.

Truthfully, there’s still a huge stigma.  I have lost at least one job because of it.  I have family who flatly refused to believe me when I told them.  Interestingly, it was an email I received from a friend at Harvard yesterday that made me realize that not only did I want to spread the word about the contents of her email, it was the perfect venue through which I could finally open up and come out of the mental illness closet.

My name is Kelly Hopkins and I am mentally ill.  I have Major Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and PTSD.

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