Fifteen years! From the hypomanic first draft of Prozac Monologues on a yellow legal notepad to a published book, and the nail file that inspired it all.
The book was officially released into the wild this week and will be celebrated in two launches, one sponsored by Paulina Springs Books in Sisters, OR, and the other sponsored by Prairie Lights in Iowa City, IA.
It's a good time to talk about gratitude. Forgive my self-indulgence. It is a day to reflect.
First, people have asked whether it was hard to write about such dark times in my life, if it retriggered some of those emotions. Occasionally, it did. Occasionally I would have a sleepless night remembering, in particular, difficult encounters in treatment. One can forgive sincerely. One can forgive over and over. Still, the brain remembers. I don't harbor resentments, but I can't always hop off the time travel machine that is my brain, how it repeats the tracks laid down by past traumas.
For the most part I kept that time machine in idle with two techniques. One is reframing, putting the experiences in a box and pronouncing the "Riddikulos!" spell over them, transforming them into humor. It has to be outrageous humor, not a simple chuckle, performing the spell like I mean it. And I do. Prozac Monologues is, frankly, hilarious.