Here’s my new head shot.

It was taken last night by my son-in-law Andrew Baxter, a professional videographer and photographer, at our birthday dinner for his wife, Rebecca Lager, the older of Marty’s two daughters.

I needed a new one…

The photo running here at Psych Central with my May 1, 2010 introduction was taken in 1998.

Time for an update.

So, Andrew, an absolute darling, schlepped all his lights, camera, backdrop and other photographic paraphernalia up here and took an hour to set up the lighting, whilst everyone was imbibing wine and merrymaking, before he sat me down in front of the camera.

He made “it” quick, easy and painless…

Not always so, for me. Let’s rewind a bit.

Okay. I’ve not been here for a while. I’m sorry, but reinvention takes time.

You need to work at it. It’s painful and frightening.

Right now, I’m still in my caterpillar stage, though I’m dreaming butterflies. Monarch Butterflies.

Remember my Emotional Health and Happynomics post?

That’s what I’ve been working on …

Last week, part of my dream about Emotional Health started taking shape.

At the same time, l had a major upset last week, too.

It rocked the foundations of this raw, delicate, fragile new persona and social entrepreneurial business I’m trying to develop. Robbed me of every shred of confidence, of which I don’t feel I have tons of right now ~ for a day or two.

Then, something happened…

A self-determination story…

Copeland, WRAP’s founder, has a dramatic recovery story beginning with her mother, Kate, who was taken at age 37 to a mental institution in the late 1940s.

She was diagnosed as incurably insane. Her doctors told her family to forget about this once vibrant and accomplished woman — she would never get well.

Doctors were wrong…

Kate began improving. Her mood swings became less severe. Several hospital personnel took a special interest in her, encouraging her to talk.

They listened to her and for the first time in her life, Kate felt emotionally supported. With the help of one psychiatrist, she started what was probably the first-ever patient support group called the Mental Health Fellowship.

She was able to organized her fellow patients and disrupt the program. So much so, that she was discharged after eight years. She reclaimed her life and lived actively and well until she died of a stroke at age 82.

A reader, who is very upset with my use of the term “emotional health,” wants to stop reading this blog and leave our community here at Coming Out Crazy.

I see “emotions” and “moods” as synonymous…

That’s where we differ. I am not my diagnosis. That the first thing. I am me. My mood disorder is unlike anyone else’s, despite a similar label. Oh, how I detest labels, but “emotional” is no label. It’s a reality of life. We all have emotions.

I wish we could sit down and discuss this…

But that isn’t going to happen because of our differences, which can be opportunities for learning. Personal growth, I think, evolves when two people can work through a problem and begin to understand each others differing opinions and perceptions.

Honestly, I interpret the word “emotional health” as a benign and inclusive term encompassing a whole health hemisphere ~ the other being “physical health” ~ and together, you have the totality of health. Mind and body, soul and spirit.

I don’t see “mental health” issues as disorders or illnesses or diseases…

Today, my friend, blogger and former babysitter Ruth Zaryski Jackson sent me Roger Cohen’s column in today’s Sunday New York Times titled The Happynomics of Life. Fascinating piece.

He opined about The Brits and their approach or lack thereof to our so-called happiness industry.

Ruth’s email was no coincidence…

Yesterday morning, we sat next to each other at the monthly meeting of the Writers’ Community of Durham Region, (WCDR) where I spoke last month about blogging. Remember? (Now, Marty and I are full-fledged members.) Yes, it’s been a while. But I don’t want to discuss where I’ve been right now. That’s for another post.

Here’s why Ruth’s email and Roger Cohen’s column clicked for me. Why she sent it.

“You’ve changed my life today,” she said, tears streaming down her bespectacled face.

She was standing amidst a crush of people at the Ajax, Ontario Convention Centre on Saturday, February 12 at 10:30 a.m., following a keynote I had just given to 136 members of Writers’ Community of Durham Region at their monthly breakfast meeting.

She seemed small, diminished, fragile ~ like a little faded, once-beautiful, now-chipped fine china teacup.

I knew nothing about her. Had never met her.

Inspiration was not on the menu …

“Why?” I asked, dumbfounded, but with a few suspicions. Changing-lives was not my intent that day. Remotely. I hadn’t even attempted to be inspiring. I was just talking to writers about ”blogging.”