As I lay in bed hallucinating, waiting to fall asleep, I see a brighter future for the place I grew up. Maybe my experience can help. I don’t have a desire to live back in Vermont but I would like to be of service. How can I do that? How can I impact a change to a place stricken by prescription pills and heroin, my home that I am proud to be from but scared for friends and family.

Honestly, this time of year is always emotional for me. I lost my best friend 6 years ago to an overdose 11/13/08. We had been friends since preschool.

I did my best that day he died. I tried to save him. For years after his death I had traumatic dreams of the day’s events hoping that I could change what happened. Maybe I did CPR wrong. Maybe I should have figured out what was going on with him faster. I second guessed myself into oblivion. I lost myself in my nightmares. I was lost long before that day.

I didn’t possess the skills to cope with the feelings of despair, pain, and grief. In the days and months following his death I would have switched places with him if I could.

I can’t go back in time. All I have are my actions today that I can use to profoundly change someones day.

My energy is limited, but I have hope that will change in the future. My physical endurance is restricted but mentally I am not. Narcolepsy has given me perspective on what is important to me. I have the choice today to use all available wakefulness to achieve my dreams and to help others.

My friend Julie said this after my last post:

So glad to have met you and proud to call you my friend. For me, before narcolepsy, I didn’t mind spending my days doing things I wasn’t passionate about, it was no big deal, so I sat in the lazy river and enjoyed the view of my life passing me by. Now, there’s a huge difference. Doing things I love is like body-surfing in a huge wave – its wild, slightly out of control but exhilarating. Doing things I’m NOT passionate about is like fighting an undertow, gasping for air. So, narcolepsy brought me closer to my artistic side and for that, I’m thankful. It’s not always easy, but its worthwhile.

My emotions are extremely powerful tools. They help me to work on refining my podcast series, submit applications for grants and bursaries, while simultaneously finishing the 70 mugs I made this semester in my ceramic directed study. My plate remains full. I work patiently with my neurologist to adjust my narcolepsy treatments. I have a healthy fear of addiction. Each decision for new medication comes with hesitation and dialogue with my recovery support group and family.

A recent source of inspiration: Podcast Brian R. Jonescast Ep. #59 with Jeffrey Hatfield of Guild.

A short fun video to end. From Objective clay. FOR THE MUG OF IT (1:58) !