I can’t remember a time that I didn’t have to white knuckle it to keep this illness at bay. When I was still working as a therapist I would be clenching the steering wheel as I approached my workplace. In everyday circumstances I clicked the user switch to ignite  hard working and dedicated therapist. But in some situations the white knuckling was still needed. There were various situations in which the pressure from others was as painful as the pressure behind my speaking. For example in staff meetings with other therapists, I felt exceptional tension. I definitely while knuckled it to keep my opinions under control.

While this mental white knuckling was going on at work I continued to remodel my home.  Little by little my physical self was chipped away as the manic construction worker part of me had to do demolition and construction just right. More and more white knuckling through the physical pain.

One day while on a ferryboat ride to Madeline Island, just off the shore of Baypoint Wisconsin, I began to drift and ponder the conditions of my knuckles.  I figured if I could find this place, the distant bay of wellness, I could perhaps escape the illness. My wish is to have life without my knuckles remaining forever bloody and sore from daily white knuckling it. In my time of writing I have happened upon a map and found my way to the bay. White knuckle Bay is not a peaceful place and you will find no relaxing bed and breakfast. It is a turbulent bay with jagged rocks on the shore. If I take a deep breath to imagine in my mind’s eye the bay comes in clear view. It serves to keep the very most painful parts of my life. It is not a place to reside but is a place of depositing, going away from and leaving much of the ugliness behind. Once more I search to find small pieces that will fit together the puzzle of my life that is about surviving and coping.