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.
Before we get to the year that was or the year that will be, here’s your annual Christmas card. Brought to you by the little dogs that keep us happy, on our toes, and forever finding rawhide chews in the strangest places.
I’m still not entirely clear on how this happened. But apparently it did. OK, technically it hasn’t happened yet, but it’s going to happen because it’s in calendars and there’s advertising. And I’m going to be rehearsing. Perhaps I should explain.
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Regular readers of this space know that I’m the General Manager for Cappella Clausura. Aside from looking for volunteers for our group, running front of house, and doing all the other things I do, one of my other responsibilities is to find advertisers who’ll help defray the costs of keeping the doors open and the lights on.
That’s where you come in, dear readers. Do you own a small business that would benefit from advertising in Cappella Clausura’s programs? Would you benefit from buying linkspace on our website? If the answer is yes, (or even maybe) then I have all of the details below to help you contribute the arts and drive customers to your door at the same time.
Well, Rory has seen a lot in is trip at HMNH. It’s taken four previous posts that you can view here, here, here, and here. This is the last in the HMNH series. Rory had a very busy day, but, as you’ll see, he got quite a sendoff from the staff when it was time to go home.
Rory has made his way through much of HMNH at this point. In mypreviousposts, he’s seen much of what the museum has to offer and even got a “backstage entrance”. Thus far we haven’t seen Rory’s visit to the crown jewel of the HMNH collection, the Glass Flowers.
As I indicated in my post from the other day, my trip to HMNH with Rory involved a lot of photography. Enough that if I put it all in one post I’d either crash WordPress or everyone would give up because it was tl;dr. So, today we’ll see the photos from some of the parts of the museum that feature more dead things, though not quite as old. That’s right, I’m talking about taxidermy.
Today I took Rory out for his first Harvard adventure. As I printed Rory at work at MIT he’s seen a little of that campus. Tuesday, after I finished work at Harvard, Rory had a chance to see some of the, erm, flora and fauna of HMNH. Ok, less flora and more fauna.
After the post I wrote most recently and some discussions I’ve had with people in various parts of my life, I’ve run across a fair number of people who seem to think that this schedule I’ve been living, this logging of 60-70 hours of work a week, minimum, is fun. That I do it because I like it and that somehow I’m not aware that it is inherently bad for me.
They are so, SO very wrong. But they refuse to understand that this has been a matter of survival. This has been the way that I’ve adapted to keep us afloat and alive and not living on the streets. So few people truly understand that our economy here in the US has fundamentally changed. Geoff and I are living proof that the old way, each having one job, having some security in that job, buying a house, and then eventually retiring just isn’t the way things work anymore.