I faced a fear today and visited The Looney Bin

Some would say that this post is counter to my "brand." But my brand is about helping others and if one of you out there reading this is moved by my words... then I have done my job.

I faced a fear today and visited The Looney Bin. No, not my design firm bearing the same name, but the real one—the real Looney Bin—the State Mental Hospital in Norwalk, California.

Over the years I have used the term with great affection and respect as the name of my creative studio, going so far as to trademark the name (yes, I own the name The LooneyBin) because my mom was a patient at this fine institution back in the mid 70's. I was only 14 at the time. I visited her there only once but I remember it well.

Soon after ending her stay... she ended her own life. I never got to say goodbye. Years later the aforementioned became "the seed" for my art, my writing, my passion and pension for helping others.

During my visit I was drawn to a particular set of dilapidated old buildings which were built over 100 years ago. Some say they are haunted. On the other side of the mile square property, covered in brown grass on which they sat, are several other buildings, still used today, which house the criminally insane. Many sheriffs deputies were on high alert and, of course, wondering why I was there. I explained my story and with raised eyebrows they sent me on my way.

Soon I discovered the abandoned building my mom once resided in. It sat stoic even in disrepair, covered in vines. Its broken windows peered back with a blank stare that I am sure many of it's long lost patients also shared. I entered the building. The erie ambiance was straight out of the movies. Long pitch-black hallways, old brick archways and well worn linoleum floors spread throughout. A wild cat or two. Dark, dreary, dusty and trashed. I soon found the very same room that she once called home if only for a little while, with the teal colored paint I remembered so well, cracked and peeling, still adorning the walls. And then it hit me, many things I had put to rest came flooding back in an avalanche of emotion.

I reflected for a moment letting everything sink in. I thought of forgiveness. I thought of the good and the bad, the memories and of my mom's fondness for horses. She grew up very close to Santa Anita Race Track. I looked to the shadows and saw something. A small plastic horse laying in a corner covered in dust, a symbolic reminder of why I was there. A gift if you will for facing my fears. I can't put into words all the emotions I was feeling, other than to say that my visit there felt like an atomic bomb of emotional confetti going off. A bomb of closure, healing, sadness, and yes, strangely enough… joy... all at once. One of the hardest things I have ever done was to visit there. Yet I needed to do it. I did it.

When you face your fears, they become your strength. When you have strength you can help others. After all, isn't that why all of us are here?

For more of my writing read Giving Candy To Strangers on Amazon or at:

GivingCandyToStrangers.com/books