My NAMI San Diego Walk Video

The video speaks for itself. Great weather, great day, great people. Special thanks to Annie Dunlop for her efforts and the crew supporting her.

You can still donate by going to my NAMI San Diego Walk page.

Scenes From My NAMI San Diego Walk

These are freeze frames from video footage I shot of the NAMI San Diego Walk on Saturday. I serve on the board of NAMI SD and was on the committee that planned the Walk. My main task was to bring my didgeridoo, round up drummers, and shoot video. I showed up at 5:30 AM to film people setting up and organizing. Then the mobs descended.

We had gorgeous weather, it was a great turn-out, and Annie and her crew did a spectacular job making this event truly special.

I arrived back at my place 5 PM, immediately crashed, and didn't wake up for 14 hours.

Stay tuned for the video ...

My NAMI San Diego Walk

This is video I shot last year. I'm walking again on Saturday, with about 3,000 others. I'm bringing my didgeridoo and hope to be able to round up some drummers. I can't emphasize enough the positive experience of walking for NAMI, and the video makes my case.

This summer NAMI San Diego will be honored by NAMI national as the local affiliate of the year. We're out there in the community, we're there in small groups, we're there one-on-one. Our people on every level are an inspiration, employees and volunteers. Many first came to NAMI San Diego in a state of extreme distress, then stayed in all kinds of capacities, helping out any which way they could, with the kind of determination and drive and compassion that words do no justice to.

I'm proud to be serving with them and walking with them.

We're walking to send the world a message and to raise money. Even when we are offering a free service run by volunteers, money is involved. The second someone switches on the lights, money is involved. Lights switch on. More money. More lights, points of lights. Lights, illumination. Money-money-money.

We want to switch on more lights. You can help by going to my Walk Page and making a donation.

Better, yet. Join me on the Walk. One of my readers from Arizona contacted me to say he'll be in San Diego this weekend and wants to walk with me. I can't begin to tell you how this made my day. But you can walk with me in spirit. Some of my readers are involved in their own local NAMI Walks, from places such as Iowa and Connecticut, and I'm there in spirit with them as well. Connections, community, healing.

This is about all of us. Physically apart, perhaps, but together - together - big time.

Why I Walk

 Following is a talk I gave six weeks ago at a NAMI San Diego Walk kick-off event. Our Walk takes place April 16 ...

I walk because I am haunted.

I am haunted by my childhood. By the strange looks from family members, from kids in school. They knew. I knew. Even way back then, I wasn’t normal.

I am haunted by my adulthood. A bright promise denied. They knew. I knew. I’m normal! I wanted to shout.

I’m haunted by what I encounter. A question by a father about his kid who refuses to acknowledge his illness - one I can’t answer. Queries I get from my readers - their loved one is acting strange, very strange. What is wrong? More questions - my doctor won’t listen, my insurance is running out. What the hell is wrong with me?

I’m haunted by a world that doesn’t give a damn. People who are supposed to be helping us who tell us that we have a highly treatable illness that at times is barely treatable, and then turn around and say we should be happy where we are - stuck in a miserable half-life, alone, left to fend for ourselves.

I’m haunted by the fact that everything I read or listen to bears no relation at all to my world, your world. Isn’t anyone paying attention? Doesn’t anyone give a damn?

I’m haunted, you’re haunted. Everyone in this room is haunted. That is why we come out in the rain on a Saturday. That is why we get on the phone. We make noise. That is why we show up at meetings. That is why seven weeks from now, rain or shine, we will show up. We will walk. A family, bound together by experiences that haunt us. We will walk. We will send the world a message.

So much to do, so few of us. A good deal of the time it seems hopeless. But we get involved, anyway. Anyway we can.

No one - absolutely no one - should have to endure one day of what we have been through. Not one day. We will walk.

I will conclude with this:

Back in 2004, when I was newly into my second marriage, I was facilitating a DBSA support group in Princeton, NJ. In walked Kevin, exuding a goofy charm, baseball cap on backward. But there was something about his presence that indicated he was no mere goofball. The others in the room felt it, too.

Over the weeks, I couldn't help but be impressed by the way Kevin carried himself. He would walk up to newcomers and introduce himself and start up a conversation. In the group, he was a great listener, dispensing the wisdom of a sage, leavened by a keen sense of humor.

It was amazing to observe him with people much older. At once, he was deferential, compassionate, and exuding great authority. You simply forgot you were talking to someone much younger. You simply wanted to be around him, laugh with him, seek advice from him. 

He had his setbacks, his dark moments. Yet, over time - in group, over coffee, over sandwiches, hanging out - I watched him blossom. With his extraordinary people skills, the sky was the limit.



In late 2006, my marriage broke up. Kevin was the first to offer me support. He also reached out to Susan.

Suddenly, I had my life in seven or eight FedEx cartons and a one-way ticket to San Diego. I popped into the DBSA group one last time. Kevin was facilitating. He gave me a heartfelt tribute. I felt the goodness in the man. Goodness, true goodness. That was the last time I saw him alive.



He had so much to live for, so much to offer. Yet, on a miserable muggy New Jersey morning, his brain tricked him into believing otherwise. He was 28. Years later, Susan and I, plus all those he left behind, are still dealing with it.



I've been suicidal. So have most people with this illness. We fully understand, yet - we totally don't understand.



Kevin, you still shine a light on the world. Nothing - nothing - is ever going to extinguish it.

That is why I walk.

***

Our Walk takes place this Saturday - April 16 - in Balboa Park - 6th and Quince - at 8AM. Please come, if you live in the area, and bring your family. If you wish to support me in my walk, please go to my NAMI San Diego Walk page.

NAMI San Diego Walk - We Need Your Support

I put this together for NAMI San Diego. Our annual Walk is taking place this Saturday, 8 AM April 16 at Balboa Park (6th and Quince), and I urge you to attend if you're living in the area. You can register on site (beginning at 6:30 AM) or in advance on the NAMI San Diego website).

Also, if you are a fan of this blog, I urge you to support me in supporting NAMI San Diego by making a donation on my Walk Page.

I serve on the board of NAMI San Diego, and I put way too much time into it, which is nothing compared to the heroes who founded NAMI and gave those of us living with mental illness a voice, and more heroes who kept the vision alive and more heroes pushing the vision forward. I am inspired by these people and the great work they do, so please pay attention:

I provide Knowledge is Necessity as a free service, along with mcmanweb. This is the only time I hit readers up for money, and it's not even going to me. Any small gesture of support would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Walking for NAMI

I put this together for NAMI San Diego. Our annual Walk is taking place Saturday, April 16 at Balboa Park (6th and Quince), and I urge you to attend if you're living in the area. You can register on site (beginning at 6:30 or in advance on the NAMI San Diego website).

You can help me support NAMI San Diego by making a donation on my Walk Page.

Why I Walk

 Following is a talk I gave this morning at a NAMI San Diego Walk kick-off event. Our Walk takes place April 16 ...

I walk because I am haunted.

I am haunted by my childhood. By the strange looks from family members, from kids in school. They knew. I knew. Even way back then, I wasn’t normal.

I am haunted by my adulthood. A bright promise denied. They knew. I knew. I’m normal! I wanted to shout.

I’m haunted by what I encounter. A question by a father about his kid who refuses to acknowledge his illness - one I can’t answer. Queries I get from my readers - their loved one is acting strange, very strange. What is wrong? More questions - my doctor won’t listen, my insurance is running out. What the hell is wrong with me?

I’m haunted by a world that doesn’t give a damn. People who are supposed to be helping us who tell us that we have a highly treatable illness that at times is barely treatable, and then turn around and say we should be happy where we are - stuck in a miserable half-life, alone, left to fend for ourselves.

I’m haunted by the fact that everything I read or listen to bears no relation at all to my world, your world. Isn’t anyone paying attention? Doesn’t anyone give a damn?

I’m haunted, you’re haunted. Everyone in this room is haunted. That is why we come out in the rain on a Saturday. That is why we get on the phone. We make noise. That is why we show up at meetings. That is why seven weeks from now, rain or shine, we will show up. We will walk. A family, bound together by experiences that haunt us. We will walk. We will send the world a message.

So much to do, so few of us. A good deal of the time it seems hopeless. But we get involved, anyway. Anyway we can.

No one - absolutely no one - should have to endure one day of what we have been through. Not one day. We will walk.

I will conclude with this:

Back in 2004, when I was newly into my second marriage, I was facilitating a DBSA support group in Princeton, NJ. In walked Kevin, exuding a goofy charm, baseball cap on backward. But there was something about his presence that indicated he was no mere goofball. The others in the room felt it, too.

Over the weeks, I couldn't help but be impressed by the way Kevin carried himself. He would walk up to newcomers and introduce himself and start up a conversation. In the group, he was a great listener, dispensing the wisdom of a sage, leavened by a keen sense of humor.

It was amazing to observe him with people much older. At once, he was deferential, compassionate, and exuding great authority. You simply forgot you were talking to someone much younger. You simply wanted to be around him, laugh with him, seek advice from him. 

He had his setbacks, his dark moments. Yet, over time - in group, over coffee, over sandwiches, hanging out - I watched him blossom. With his extraordinary people skills, the sky was the limit.



In late 2006, my marriage broke up. Kevin was the first to offer me support. He also reached out to Susan.

Suddenly, I had my life in seven or eight FedEx cartons and a one-way ticket to San Diego. I popped into the DBSA group one last time. Kevin was facilitating. He gave me a heartfelt tribute. I felt the goodness in the man. Goodness, true goodness. That was the last time I saw him alive.



He had so much to live for, so much to offer. Yet, on a miserable muggy New Jersey morning, his brain tricked him into believing otherwise. He was 28. Years later, Susan and I, plus all those he left behind, are still dealing with it.



I've been suicidal. So have most people with this illness. We fully understand, yet - we totally don't understand.



Kevin, you still shine a light on the world. Nothing - nothing - is ever going to extinguish it.

That is why I walk.

***

If you wish to support me in my walk, please go to my NAMI San Diego Walk page.

NAMI Runs in Iraq

You have to watch this.

On April 17, concurrent with the NAMI San Diego Walk for mental health awareness taking place in Balboa Park, John Bell and members of his Army unit in Iraq ran 5K in full body armor. One in six veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan is affected by PTSD, depression, or anxiety. Only half seek help.

Scenes From the NAMI San Diego Walk

Balboa Park, Saturday, way too early in the morning.

Walk organizer, Annie.

NAMI doer-of-everything, Rita. She is pictured here, reacting to a rumor that didgeridoos have been banned from NAMI walks.

Little does Rita know ... I'm handing out didgeridoos to kids like candy. More to come ...

Yesterday, I Walked for NAMI San Diego

More to come ...

I Walk So That Others May Cheat in Scrabble

I have no idea what that means.

Tomorrow, I walk for NAMI San Diego. I cordially invite those of you living within jumbo jet distance of San Diego to join me tomorrow. Watch out for the volcanic dust.

I also invite all of you to support me in my walk by making an online donation.

I know a lot of you like to wait till the last minute to donate. This is the last minute.

I serve on the board of NAMI San Diego, and I devote a lot of time to the organization. We are leaders in making vital outreaches to the community, but we need your help.

If you like what I do on this blog, this is your way of showing your appreciation. Many thanks to those of you who have already shown their support.

Three Days to Go for My NAMI Walk

I'm trying really hard to raise money, so please bear with me:

I've been involved in mental health since I was first diagnosed with bipolar 11 years ago, following a lifetime of denial. I used to be a financial journalist, so turning to mental health journalism was my means of coming to terms with my diagnosis. Literally, I wrote myself out of the hole I was in. Here I am, 11 years later, still writing.

Over the years, I have also been in involved in DBSA and NAMI. I was the founding facilitator of a DBSA chapter in Princeton, NJ, and have spoken at national conferences and to local groups. Later this month, I will be flying to Kansas to deliver a keynote address to the Kansas State DBSA Conference. (See side panel for details.)

This Saturday, I will be walking for NAMI.

Over the years, as a journalist, I have had the privilege of hearing the stories of NAMI people from all over the country. I have attended national conferences and I have spoken at state conferences and at local meetings.  Since moving to Southern CA from NJ more than three years ago, I have become increasingly involved with NAMI San Diego.

Last year, I was asked to serve on its board, which I regard as a great honor. Even by NAMI standards, NAMI San Diego does incredible work. This includes a very full menu of NAMI signature programs such as In Our Own Voice, Family to Family, and Peer to Peer, not to mention an info line, numerous support groups, educational programs, conferences, partnerships in the community, advocacy, and outreaches to ethnic and cultural minorities.

I could go on and on and on. Suffice to say, over the years, NAMI has been a tremendous comfort, both to myself and my family.

You don't need to be living in the San Diego area to support me on my walk. NAMI San Diego may have a local focus, but a lot of our work here has a national impact, and is used as a model for local NAMIs everywhere. We have a dynamic new Executive Director (who learned the ropes from our legendary recently retired ED), a highly-dedicated (and hugely underpaid) staff, and volunteers who are an inspiration.

So, here's the pitch: We need money. We're a non-profit organization. Our programs are free of charge. We serve many thousands of people a year in San Diego County, but we badly want to serve more. Everybody in fact.

It can be so frustrating at times, from board level, staff level, and volunteer level. So much need in the community, so much that needs to be done, only so much we can do.

All of us here at NAMI San Diego are motivated by doing things. Serving our community. Our only limitation is our limited resources, and you can really help us out.

Please support me in my NAMI walk. Every little bit helps. If you get something out of what I do here on Knowledge is Necessity, this is your way of showing your appreciation. You can make a donation online on my Walk page.

Also, if you live in the area, I cordially invite you to walk with me on Saturday as a member of my walk team, McMan's Silly Walkers. You can join by going to my Team page.

Many thanks.

Join My NAMI San Diego Walk Team

Last year, I joined the board of NAMI San Diego. Most of us are aware of NAMI and what it does. Whether you live in San Diego or Cincinnati, chances are you or a member of your family has contacted your local or state NAMI seeking information or support.

I know my family did when I went into crisis in Connecticut 11 years ago. I also know it brought my family peace of mind.

Since then, I have been peripherally associated with NAMI. I’ve attended conferences and fundraisers, I’ve spoken to various local groups, I’ve contributed pieces to their publications and websites. Then, last year I rolled up my sleeves and got involved.

Anyway, NAMI San Diego has its annual walk coming up on April 17th in Balboa Park. As well as being our biggest fund-raising event of the year, it also sends a strong message to the community. Here’s the deal:

I’ve formed my own walk team, McMan’s Silly Walkers. Those of you living in southern CA are cordially invited to join me. Be there, be square, be silly. Sign up and get your friends to sponsor you. For info on joining my team, check out my Team Walk Page.

For those of you interested in sponsoring me, you can go to my Personal Walk Page and make an online donation. Trust me, you have my personal word that this is money very well spent.

Also, location is not an issue. Yes, I encourage you to contribute to the NAMI in your locale, as well. But if you support the work I do here, I also encourage you to show your appreciation by sponsoring me on my NAMI San Diego Walk.

Go to the NAMI San Diego website for more info.