I am a 44 year old bipolar, bisexual writer and father of two. My son is autistic and I work with kids with developmental disabilities so I live in a very strange reality of trying to navigate the human mind with non-verbal children, many of whom have endured deep childhood trauma and cannot express it with words but only fists. Yet I have never felt so gratified by a job because the 9-5 existence has never interested me and it triggers my manic behaviors and I purposely sabotage. I am not a good person by any means, I have done terrible things, hurt people and stolen, lied, cheated and broke my own soul but I am seeking redemption through art, through writing which is my only therapy. My two children keep me grounded, they are sometimes the only thing that keeps me from going off the cliff of my own psychosis. I am also guilty of being too open and honest with total strangers. I don't understand social cues. BONUS: I also enjoy arts and crafts and hot glue guns.