Thank you

As anyone who spends more than a few seconds on social media every month probably knows, I'm bipolar. As probably nobody knows, my bipolar depression got so acute and so scary that I spent the week of Christmas in a psych ward. It was there that I decided I needed to move home to Iowa to help take care of my dad—who has lost his sight to macular degeneration—and where my family could take care of me. It was also where I told myself if I really did move to Iowa I'd get involved in the theater again. Now fast-forward four months. I've already done one show, and tonight marks the point where I am for the first time in my life doing two shows simultaneously. I start rehearsals for A Chorus Line tonight and I open Barefoot in the Park this Friday. Plus I have a kick-ass job. Plus my meds are working so well I forget what it's like to be manic until my increasingly rare manic waves hit me. And I honestly can't remember the last depressive episode I had. (Then again, huge chunks of my manic episodes are a blur too. Which is both a blessing and a curse of being bipolar.) I owe A LOT to so many friends and family members and social-media acquaintances who have believed in me and given me encouraging words and friendly hellos—and parts in theatrical productions—and I don't even know how to begin showing my gratitude. Which is a lot to say for a professional writer who usually can't shut up. So I'm showing my gratitude by living my life and enjoying what it brings to me and believing in myself even when I don't really believe in myself. I love my family, I love my friends and I love my life. And I send an epic thank you to everyone who's helped get me here.