Messes. We make them. We clean them up. Hell, some of us are messes. I have a point of utter frustration I do not understand. I would dearly love too, but cannot, despite my best efforts. I am not a coordinated person. I forget things, I pay bills late, sometimes I eat cereal for dinner, and I can cry in the middle of public during a panic attack. My anxiety and bipolar disorder are crosses I carry. Having said that, I take medicine religiously. I follow a routine. I do everything I am “supposed” to do to manage my mental … Continue reading Making A Mess.