My role as identified patient extends beyond my mother…apparently. I spoke up to my immediate family about recent mistreatment I received by my sister’s boyfriend. The result – they sided with him, and the whole thing became about my mental illness. I’m not getting help. But actually I am getting […]
The Identified Patient Extends to Immediate Family Keep Reading
“Out of all the times I’ve seen you, this is the best I’ve felt.” — me “That’s great. You are making progress.” — my psychiatrist Poor guy. I wasn’t intentionally lying. I honestly felt like I was doing soooo great. That was about two weeks ago. Now that I’ve cried
It was a Monday about 3 years ago. I had a super depressed day, spent all day in bed on Saturday. Did some crying, felt like I wanted to disconnect from everyone in my life. I thought, “After my husband goes to work is the perfect time to hang myself.
The day my dog saved my life Keep Reading
So I couldn’t sleep tonight…well yesterday to be exact. So I thought, “Let’s just get the day started. I can blog. I can craft. I can take my Vyvanse.” There. That’s it. The big one. Vyvanse. As I sit here typing to whoever wants to read someone’s sleepless ramblings, this
Midnight Type: Let’s Get the Day Started Keep Reading
I just want to float away. It seems too easy to be that easy – you can just leave all the pain behind and no longer be in pain even though you’ve floated away from everyone who loves you?
Giving up things of the world Keep Reading
It’s my mother’s birthday on Friday. I never considered her birthday to be a trigger for my childhood trauma, but alas it is. When I say childhood trauma, I’m not referring to physical abuse or sexual abuse, neither of which I have experienced (surprisingly, considering the amount and quality of
“Let me know, let me know when I’ve got room to run” – Dermot Kennedy I’m very much moved by music. I easily cry during my favorite songs. And my favorite artist is singer-songwriter Dermot Kennedy. I listen to him a lot. Therefore, I cry a lot. His music makes
“Feels like winter follows you around.” There’s a song by Dermot Kennedy and that is a line in one of his songs. I relate to that lyric so much. Like that Peanuts character who was always getting rained on, or Oscar the Grouch (he lives in a trashcan afterall). Depression
Currently close to 2:30 a.m. I’m sitting outside, with my laptop of course, and I’m just enjoying the night. While listening to Dermot Kennedy. I actually feel a sense of joy, which I haven’t felt in awhile. I couldn’t sleep and I had some work to do so I said,
Mental Health Woes and Wanderings Keep Reading
A. A for abortion. This post is about abortion. So, if that is a topic that offends you or you feel strongly about, I’m telling you now: reading my personal opinion may ignite something inside of you. And to an extent, I hope it does. But we’re all adults so
The Other Scarlet Letter Keep Reading
I attended an emotionally absent mother (EAM) 6-week course offered by Motherless Daughters Ministry in October with the intention of opening up my space, my heart really. I wanted to bring you on my motherless daughter journey by writing to you about it in real time. But I soon realized
Laying it out there Keep Reading
I have no idea why I’m sitting outside, in the sunshine and fresh air, writing. Yesterday I was in bed until 2 pm, then I went to the grocery store with my husband. Don’t even ask about showering. But today I was out of bed by 8 am, took care
Making Waves: Keep Moving Forward Keep Reading
My Instagram feed told me that Michelle Obama just turned 57. Some may say she’s at the peak of her life. Her beauty, inside and out, is so apparent. And she is beautiful. She is America. Then I got to thinking, I’ll be that age in 20 years. I was
I actually forgot I had written my most recent blog post, you know the one about consistency and “we’ll see how long this lasts.” Well I hopped on my computer at 2:00 a.m. this morning because I couldn’t sleep because I took a stimulant medication at midnight. Why? My stimulant
A.M. Ponderings: Medication Adherence Keep Reading
I am reading The Memory Palace by Mira Bartok. Her memories take shape as a.house or maybe a castle. Nevertheless, they take shape. I feel close to Bartok. While she has a schizophrenic mother, I have an emotionally ill mother. Not to say that I am not an emotionally ill
…that which bring healing. Keep Reading
Struggle: this is a word I am familiar with. Sometimes too familiar, sometimes way too familiar. Hourly I find myself asking, “Will my struggle always be real?” Talking with my counselor earlier this week, she said something very Oprah-esque. “You either struggle backward or you struggle forward.” As my counselor
I was given the opportunity to contribute stories to be published in a book about PTSD, suicide prevention and overcoming trauma. Of course I didn’t hesitate to say, “Yes!” Until I started piecing together my personal stories. I’ve been journaling semi-consistently for almost 10 years and I have never cried
Reliving My Pain Through Sharing My Story Keep Reading
“As a social worker, I’m seeing red flags when you say that. Do you feel like you are a burden on your friends and family?” I was completing my discharge after-care plan with the social worker provided to me by the hospital. Her name was Hanna and she was soft