Rather, I choose not define myself by a label I did not give myself. I am much more.
I am a wife to a man that I’ve spent 1/3 of my life being in love with. I am a mother of a child with special needs. I am a daughter of a disabled veteran and a homemaker who battles alcoholism. I am a sister of a man born with Autism.
I am an inner-city music educator. I am a vocalist of 24 years and a musician of 17 years. I am an amateur graphic artist and photographer. I am a master crafter, and specialize in jewelry, sewing, and crocheting. I am a blogger and have kept a written journal on and off for the last 12 years. I am a writer.
I have been a cashier, a delicatessen clerk, a retail clerk, a saleswoman, and a telemarketer.
I am a recovering alcoholic in a long line of alcoholics. I will always be recovering. It’s not something that can’t be cured.
I am chronologically inside of my second quarter, but 30-something in my experiences. My body ails as a 40-something, but I have the face of a teen.
I am the sum of all of my experiences. It just so happens that I have bipolar disorder. And maybe we could say “I am bipolar” and find some truth. But not one single thing here is the focus.
More than anything, I can be described as Lulu. Think of me as her. I do.