During that time, there was one friend who never stopped seeing me underneath all the wildness of my manic behavior. That man was my longtime friend, Joe Rahn. When I was with Joe, I not only didn't feel crazy, I actually acted more sane. In retrospect, I think this was largely due to the fact that Joe never saw me as crazy. As a result, he felt protective of me, but he didn't try to control me in order to alleviate his own concerns about my unusual behavior.
Writing is an act of creativity, which means that it is an act of love.
Most importantly, Joe was not afraid of me, and he never judged or labeled me. He took my words at face value, and he tried to help me get whatever I said I needed. He continued to assume that I knew what was best for me, even though everyone else thought I was nuts. Because he treated me with respect, I was able to treat myself with more respect. I vividly remember waking up in restraints, alone in my room on the psychiatric ward.