Sunday, Sept 30: I've just checked out of the Marriott Irvine in Orange County, CA. Allow me to backtrack:
Two weeks ago: I go to the NAMI CA website. I check out their upcoming conference schedule. I will be one of the break-out speakers. They have the full PDF of the schedule ready for viewing. "Living Well With Depression and Bipolar Disorder." That's me. I'm in the same time slot as seven or eight others. Half of them deal with signature NAMI programs. Plus I'm up against my house-mate Paul. Plus I'm up against a star keynoter. Great. I'll be lucky to draw 10 people.
I take another look at the schedule. My time slot is listed as 1:45 to 3:15. I do the math. -One and a half hours. Just me. Ninety minutes. Keeping 10 people entertained, groggy from lunch. I'm traveling to Irvine for this?
No time to worry. I've got an email backlog dating from the first Gulf War. Plus I need to get my Newsletter production back on track. Plus I need to put my annual fund drive together. Plus a project I'm working on with some psychiatrists from Oxford. Plus a video thing I promised to do for DBSA. Plus I need to get off two blogs this week. Plus my personal life is starting to get very complicated.
A week ago: My personal life is starting to demand strict time management. This involves cutting off phone conversations after three hours, whether I need to keep talking or not. My involvement with the Oxford project comes up trumps. I manage to collaborate with someone in getting off a video to DBSA. My collaborator happens to be the object of my complicated personal life. I cancel a couple of weekend social engagements. Nose to the grindstone.
Several days ago: I get a Newsletter out. It's an in-depth feature on what the DSM-V for bipolar disorder is likely to look like. The feature draws from the psychiatric conferences I've attended, conversations with leading researchers and clinicians, plus the professional and popular literature. There is a consensus that the diagnostic criteria for bipolar needs to be changed, but to what? One sloppy sentence can make me look like an idiot. I need another day to sit on my draft, but I'm on the clock. I hit the "Send" button with great trepidation.
The day after several days ago: Now that my Newsletter production is back on track, it's time for my annual fund drive, which will carry on till about Christmas. I've got four hours to put together a convincing appeal. I get it right on my first draft. I feel it in my bones. I knock it into shape and send it out. The first of the PayPal results start rolling in. I'm gratified. The fund drive is on track.
The afternoon of the day after several days ago: I write a blog on relationships. I have two failed marriages, which makes me an expert on the topic.
The evening of the day after several days ago: Gotta get ready for the NAMI CA conference. Let's see, I have 90 minutes to fill up all by myself. No problem. I'll just jam two of my talks together. Cut and paste. Cut and paste. Snip-snip. Snip-snip. Print. Hard copy in my bag. I'll give the thing a run-through when I get to Irvine. More packing and organizing. I always manage to forget something. What will it be this time?
