Welcome to the New Blog


You know, sometimes things change…and you just need a fresh start. So that’s where I am. I’m not ready to explain where the name comes from of this blog, but don’t be scared off. There will be no specific guidelines or a plan of where this is going at the moment, but we’re just going to see how things go and where they go from here. I hope y’all understand. I’m so excited that you found me here.

Not sure if you noticed or not, but I haven’t actually closed down the other account yet. There’s some good stuff in there still that I have no other place and I don’t want to erase completely just yet. But this is the new home. Be patient with me as I get my feet wet again and figure out what I’m doing again.



Yes it’s 3am, but I feel ok

I’m about to go to bed. I was just trying to finish up a project and it’s storming. So I’m still slightly awake at them moment, but meds are kicking in.

I saw my psychiatrist today. She explained things and agreed with me on many points that I had made already to her. I took a list of this is what I’m experiencing in. Because I didn’t know if I would forget something, didn’t want the 500 questions, and didn’t want to forget anything. I also said this is what’s has been going on.

She decided that things had started out with severe anxiety and then the bad hospital experience on top of a severe blindsided personal loss and it snowballed into a huge mess of tons of things. She said it was perfectly natural not to be able to pinpoint one cause of this “episode” because even with just the few things that I had said she could see layers upon layers of what started and then added to my issues.

She increased 2 medications and i have to see her in one month instead of 3. I’m hoping that we are turning a corner and things are going to start getting better. We shall see.

She did warn me that if I am not kind to myself and take time to let my body heal fully from surgery and sickness so that my mind can sort it’s self out she would have me committed. But things are good at this point.

Nervous About Tomorrow

My regularly scheduled appointment to see my psychiatrist fell when I was recovering from surgery and a viral infection. I rescheduled it to tomorrow. (Actually about 12 hours from now)

I’m making a list of the things I’m going through and the symptoms I have at the moment because honestly I’m in crisis mode. I don’t know what else to do.

Too Many Things at Once

I look back over my life and I see bits and pieces of me. I see tiny little pieces of who I once was. Maybe because I have mental health issues the parts I see as the REAL me are actually just the moments of good times.

I am having a really hard time right now. I don’t feel depressed. I don’t feel manic. The truth is I just feel completely numb to everything. I do what I have to do because I have to do it. Even the things that I once found pleasure in doing right now I have no desire to do. I’ve been writing and working on a novel that I started a while ago. But for the last week I haven’t done anything to it. I try and get so frustrated with myself that I just can’t stand my own self.

So much was thrown at me in a matter of days and even though things are settling down now and starting to work out again…I’m not.

In a matter of days, a whole plan for my life was ripped out from under me. I lost people that I loved and cared about. I feel betrayed, replaceable, and unworthy of being loved. It has happened before and I’ve survived. But this one was so unexpected that felt like the air had been sucked out of me. The worst part is that I see the parts that didn’t add up and line up looking back and should have seen it coming. You know they say hindsight is 20/20. It’s true.

Then I had surgery and my bad experience in the hospital that I wrote about the other night. I came home and my Gram stayed with me for almost a week. She would have stayed longer if I had wanted her to, but I have a fierce “do it myself” side sometimes and I knew she wasn’t sleeping well here. So I told her to go home.

Then my niece was hospitalized with severe medical issues at two months old! She was in NICU 16 hours from me! And even if I wanted to go to her I couldn’t because I was recovering from surgery and had also picked up a viral infection in the process of recovering.

I had a huge fight with someone that I care about. I dealt with the fact that someone I used to date and still cared for was murdered. And while trying to adjust to all of this the one year anniversary of Dakota’s death happened.

It’s too much. My heart is mending and I am trying to get life back in some kind of order, but I’m going to have to deal with the feelings about it that I keep pushing back because I can’t believe that I was so unbelievably stupid yet again. (Guess that’s what I get for believing in people and taking their word.) My niece is doing great and is at home again. The fight has been forgiven.

I just have all these feelings inside me that are all mixed up and I don’t know how to deal with them or process them. I don’t know who to talk to. I’m suspicious of everyone and everything now. I’m paranoid about everything that I say to anyone. I don’t even know if I can trust my therapist anymore and I’ve been seeing her for years!

I’m so sick and tired of dealing with things in life. (No. I’m not suicidal. I have no intentions of doing anything to harm myself or anyone else.) I just want to be in control of something and know how to feel and process what I feel.

This month marks 10 years of having an official diagnosis of mental health issues. I’ve come a long way in 10 years, but I have so much further to go. 


Speak Up!

It’s been 2 weeks since I was released from the hospital from having my tonsils removed. I think I can actually talk about my experience at the hospital now. Before I just couldn’t deal with it.

Some of you know and others may not I have bipolar, schizoaffective disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, PTSD, and so forth. I am also 37 years old. I had been sick since September 2017. Every couple weeks I was in the doctor’s office feeling as though my batteries were run down. They tested me for a large variety of things but the one test that came back positive was a strep test.

Strep throat, if treated, is normally not a huge deal for most people. However, the top 3 antibiotics that treat strep throat, unfortunately, I am allergic to ALL of them. So they gave me another antibiotic and hoped that it would work.

They wanted to give me steroids to help me recover, but I refused. (Before you get huffy…let me explain.) I know my body well enough to know that they always make me extremely mean, unable to eat, unable to sleep, and they mess with my mental status to the point that I will have a HUGE episode of some kind when they are coming out of my system. So my doctors and I have agreed that they are a last resort drug. We actually had a conversation and discussed the fact that I would avoid them unless it was a matter of life or death. (Take this medicine to help you or you are going to possibly die – kind of thing).

From September 27, 2017 to January 24, 2018 I tested positive for strep 6 times! They had sent me to a specialist and that was an experience all on it’s own. I found immediately that I had issues in his office. All the gadgets and equipment started me into panic attacks. Upon meeting him, I fessed up! “I have generalized anxiety disorder. I am going to sit here with my eyes closed in order for me to deal with being in this room and not flip out on you.” He agreed and joked with me. He asked if he could keep his eyes open.

Surgery was scheduled. I went through pre-op, but received a phone call the next day saying that they wanted to do my surgery at the hospital instead because of other issues that I have. I agreed. But they set me up at the hospital that my daddy died in and to make matters worse I am the exact age he was when he died. (I know this is a matter or mind over matter. I know not to think about it or worry about it, but my brain is my enemy at times. I was extremely nervous about the entire situation. There was no comforting me!)

I have only had to stay over in the hospital once prior after surgery and my Gram stayed with me in order to help keep me grounded and not freak out as bad.  But that was prior to me having Moose, my dog. He’s never spent a night alone and has only been away from me 2 nights in the entire time that I have had him. So I convinced Gram to stay with him (because he is selective about who he will let attend to his needs). Which meant that I was going to spend the night in the hospital ALONE.

I came out of surgery and things were ok. I was attended to and given ice chips and things while my family was still there. Then they left.

Every time the RN came in she would inject pain medication into my IV and leave. The CNA was supposed to keep me with cold stuff to swallow to reduce swelling. I asked at 2pm about my medications for mental health. They told me they would check on it. They injected my IV with pain medication and I was out again.

By 6pm, I called the desk because I no longer had ice, water, or anything. I couldn’t talk or swallow. I was in pain. But I realized I also hadn’t had any of my mid-day mental health medications. The CNA came. She said she would be right back.

Supper was delivered. Orange juice and beef broth. (I just had my tonsils out – no citrus juices or hot liquids allowed to go down my throat.) But I did get a glass of room temperature tea which by this point was a blessing because I had had NOTHING to drink in hours.

By 8pm, I was in tears! I couldn’t find my cell phone or someone would have been coming to get me out. I was now in pain. I had to go to the bathroom because of the IV’s of fluid they kept going into me. I was hooked up to those massage things that stay on your legs to prevent blood clots so I couldn’t get up out of bed myself. By that point I had almost missed 2 doses of mental health medication for the day! I was still stressed out and anxious about where I was. No one was around. No one was helping me despite my repeated attempts at contacting the nurse’s desk.

I feel so bad for the poor nurse that came in. Because I unloaded on her when she came into the room at shift change. Poor nurse Christina heard about all the troubles and I and the fact that at this point I was begging for my mental health medications which are mood stabilizers and panic attack medications. I was hungry. I was thirsty. I still had to go to the bathroom and I was DONE! I was angry.

Angry doesn’t begin to describe it. I was beyond furious at this point. She immediately got the correction of information and gave me a dose my mental health medications. She took the massage things off my legs so I could go to the restroom when I needed to. She brought me ice chips, water, 3 jello cups, 2 pudding cups, and 2 ice cream cups. She did everything she could to help me out and I was grateful. And instead of automatically being injected with pain medications she ASKED me if I wanted it.

In a few short hours things were a ton better. My mood had improved and I even convinced her to remove the IV from my arm and began taking medication for pain by mouth as needed.

So this is my thought tonight….speak up! And keep speaking up until someone listens. Do whatever you have to in order to keep yourself mentally and physically safe. Don’t allow anyone (even if they are trained to do so) ignore you. If you have mental health issues, make sure that they give you your medications. If you need specific things, tell them firmly if they won’t listen. Talk to them about the options you have when you are doing well enough to know what your body needs.

Oh and here’s a side note — some of the pills looked different than the ones I take (different manufacturers) so I made her show me the packaging so I knew what I was taking. You have rights to know what is being done to you. Speak up!



I just needed to take a moment to say thank you to those of you who sent encouraging messages to me after my post the other day. I was very upset and I found myself here venting in a way because I felt as though I had no one to talk to about it.

Today was a better day. Not perfect. Not great. And maybe not even good. Just better than the other day.

It takes some adjustment when friends who have been family for so long just ghost from your life and you truly begin to question everything about yourself. What did I do? What did I say? What’s wrong with me that everyone leaves me?

And from there it spiraled downhill as life became overwhelming for me with sicknesses and hospital scares for my real family. It seemed every time the phone rang or a message came to me it was something else I had to digest and adjust to. And I was nearing a breaking point.

I’ve tried to avoid using my blog as a place to come and vent, but I had no other way to get it out. I had to say something to someone and I didn’t even know if anyone would read it, but a weight began to lift from me slightly as I just let someone see how vulnerable I was at that moment.

The hardest part for me about mental health is that there are times that no matter who is there or has been there — I feel like it too much to ask them over and over again when I hit that place where I’m nearing the breaking point. From the bottom of my heart I am truly grateful to you all.

Photo by Hanny Naibaho on Unsplash

When You Forget What You are Fighting to Hold on to…

Again it’s late and I should be in bed. I have my “happy” playlist on at the moment trying to mentally prepare myself to try to force sleep on me again tonight. I’ve been awake for just over 48 hours straight. I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I tried to nap today and my phones kept ringing.

I’m standing on the edge. And I’m fighting to keep me — me. I’m trying to hold on, but with every passing minute I’m forgetting why I’m trying to hold on.

I dealing with a huge heartache and feeling blindsided and betrayed by people that I love.

I have been faced with my youngest great-niece being hospitalized 17 hours from me.

I’m trying to recover from surgery still.

The one year anniversary of Dakota’s death is tomorrow.

I feel ALONE. I feel forgotten.

I don’t FEEL depressed. I don’t FEEL suicidal. I don’t have plans to do anything to harm myself or others (and those thoughts aren’t there).

I’m just….I don’t even know anymore.

At 3am…when your brain won’t stop!

I’ve been away. I had my tonsils out almost 2 weeks ago. It was one of the scariest surgeries I have ever had. Not because of pain or what they were going to do. My surgeon and I had previous conversations about my mental health and my generalized anxiety disorder. This was a great help because in pre-op all the doctor’s and nurses cut up with me and kept my mind calm. It’s funny when the doctor who is planning to knock you out promises you that there’s no ginger or paprika in the operating room that day. (Or maybe that was the just I don’t care drugs they had put through my IV already.) Those are two of my allergies by the way…it had a purpose and connection to me.

When I woke up the nurse began asking me questions and I was freaking out. I kept repeating “Where’s my Gram?” She tired to explain they were trying to get her to me, but that made no sense to me at the time. All I wanted was my Gram to come sit by my bed while I woke up. Finally about 15 minutes into this, the nurse said she’s on her way up, you need to answer my questions so I know how you are doing coming out of surgery. I still refused to answer anything until my Gram was by my bedside.

I spent the night in the hospital ALONE which was a new experience for me entirely. It was NOT a great one either. (I’ll write about that one later)

The good news is the pain is getting less still. The bad news is I’m one of those odd people that the stitches that are supposed to dissolve in your body — well….they WON’T. So at the moment because of healing and such it keeps triggering my gag reflex. That’s loads of fun. I can talk for about 10 minutes and then my voice doesn’t want to work anymore.

Life is crazy for me and every day more seems to be added to my plate. For the last week I literally cry at nothing in random times. I am not depressed. I have no suicidal thoughts or feelings and I have no warning signs. I’m just overwhelmed with everything and I am breaking out in tears on a regular basis. My care team is fully aware of this and we are monitoring the situation at the moment.

In 3 days it will be one year since my precious angel baby (Dakota) died. My 2 month old niece is in the NICU with RSV and she’s 17 hours drive from me. I got a viral infection on top of the trying to recover. My friend’s premature baby is in another NICU and is having a hard fight of his own. My grandfather is a lunatic and trying to cause issues in the family. NO ONE in my family has checked on me since my surgery. I had an allergic reaction to pain medication and what they put me on I realized I can’t take — because it was awakening the sleeping dragon known as addiction. So I’ve dealt with most of the pain from surgery with only Advil. The people that had treated me, called me, and made plans with me in the future like family — ghosted on me after ripping into me for something that I have no fault in. The list could go on….but I can’t right now. It’s 3am and I truly need to try to find that mystical state that people refer to known as “sleep” which doesn’t seem to be a place that I can get to easily.

So…sorry I’m not caught up yet. Sorry I’ve not been around. And sorry for saying sorry so much.

I’ll try to write more soon. I’ve got to get a hold on things before I lose the knot at the end of the rope. That’s all I know right now.