I’ve spoken a few times about the struggles my sister has and started a crowd fundraiser for her recently. Just two days ago… Please check out if you can donate anything to Her fund. She lost her eye last year and has been going through the toughest struggle of her life thus far. Please watch the video and share if this is something that interests your philanthropic soul.

My Accidental One-eyed World

Everyday I move towards acceptance. Acceptance of my new way of living, new face and new view of the world. Acceptance of something forced upon me isn’t easy. It’s f@#$ing hard! A small step forward followed by three steps back, quickly followed by a tiny step forward. I’m moving forward even if it is at a snail’s pace. I believe I’ve described my progress as sloth-like in previous entries so, I’ll stick with it because it is accurate!

The pace of the progress can be really frustrating but every time I take a step back or feel as if I might fall there is someone there to pick me up. I am surrounded by cheerleaders, motivators and supporters. Everyday I receive an uplifting voicemail, a love-filled text, a motivating phone call or a beautiful card. Everyday. I’m so appreciative.

This weekend my sister Tara and a great friend of mine, Jenny, created…

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We Lost a Friend Today (Trigger Alert)

This is an especially tough day. Let me paint you a clear picture. I wake up an hour after my morning call still with fever and congestion. The flu is literally kicking me in the ass. I got some disturbing news about someone I was once interested in. And I just continue to fight through. In Buddhism, we are grateful for obstacles, because the more challenges you have in your life – you are not stagnant. I have for sure not plateaued by any means in regards to today. That’s for damn sure.

When I walked into the break room at work this morning at 10:30 exactly someone came up to me and gave terrible, terrible news. Her relative committed suicide. Meanwhile, I didn’t exactly know this girl. I never met her. But I knew And you all knew her, too. She was one of us. One of our family. She suffered from bipolar (and psychosis).

Over the last few months my dear friend at work had invested time and trust into our talks about her relative. She is someone who isn’t like us and just needed to vent for the most part. I was there for her and gave her my advice as someone who has been through and is currently going through the troublesome times. A few months ago she told me that Natalie was doing well. When she described her current situation I instantly felt in my gut that Natalie was far from doing well. She was manic. And what happens after mania? A downfall. I predicted it and knew in my heart that she wasn’t okay, but never do I imagine that someone will fall down so hard. I know it happens and I’ve seen it happen. But I always want to have the benefit of the doubt that the disease is not as controlling as it is. But it fucking is! It pains me to say that. At least it is when you’re not receiving the proper care and you don’t WANT TO receive it either.

Last Friday she was going through a time that I grew familiar to years ago—before the awareness, before the therapy, before all of the hard work put into my life, before the sobriety, before the correct support—she was depressed. The depression that can only be described to the sane as a deep, dark hole full of solid nothingness. Where no light shines, because it’s too far into the earth and where our own light can’t even shine because it’s too hidden buried under any sort of stableness we never knew. The darkness that keeps us awake at night and wakes us up in the morning. Mornings where life is the most scary monster we could ever imagine and a smile is only a mask we were so that the sane can stop asking us questions.

I knew her feelings all too well that when I heard the news today I cried not because I felt for her family or the fact that it is a true tragedy. I cried because I know what went through her mind when she jumped in front of the train. It brought up the feelings that I had almost nine years ago. The night when I swallowed 60 xanax and somehow was jolted to a reality of pain. When my boyfriend at the time called me a selfish bitch and hung up on me and never spoke to me again. The Christmas I ended up in the hospital eating coal (what an ironic twist in fate) singing Amy Winehouse’s Rehab to cheer myself up in front of the nurses because if not I was going to really go mental. It was the day when my sister saved me because she happened to answer the phone.

But she didn’t have that. Natalie was so dark into the hole and somehow the universe was able to swallow her whole. The pain I have when I think of how much we all could have been there to save her, posing as her safety net with open arms because we understood her sadness.

It’s a sad day in my world today because her light is brighter than ever in this world since she has passed.

Physically Sick but Mentally Energized

My apologies for not writing the last few days. I guess apologies to myself. But I have been sick with the flu. However it’s allowed me some much needed rest and some time for reading.

I re-read one of my favourite books “The Four Agreements” and took even more from it than the first time. All agreements are fantastic but I especially like the second–don’t take anything personally. I need to remember this on a daily basis because when you make everything in your life about you for so many years you forget to realize that everyone has their own agenda.

What people say and how they act towards me has absolutely nothing to do with me as a person. What I think of myself is the ONLY importance because I have to live with myself each day. Peoples reactions to me will change with how they feel towards themselves. That’s why people always let us down. Because we take things personally.

I’m going to start really working on this in my everyday life and see the change it brings to me. Maybe at times it might seem as though I’m nonchalant or uncaring about circumstances. However, it will definitely help my overall balance because instead of having constant triggers, I will allow situations to more likely roll off my back.

Has anyone ever tried this? Or really been aware of this…?


I woke up today with depression all around me. Even though it was a beautiful sunny day, I know why. It’s because I had two beers last night. Nothing more than alcohol depresses my entire fucking system. I need to stay away from alcohol for the next few days. At least it was two beers and not there, because it could’ve been worse. And what’s more to say is that I’m surfing the crimson wave, ladies. That’s another terrible time for me each month. Nothing better than being on the rag and already having a spout of depression.

As I sat in my miserable moments and thoughts, I needed to mentally PUSH MYSELF. It crossed my mind to place myself into the hospital, because what once was a good idea has now become a bad habit. Escaping life is not the answer. I have to continually tell myself. It’s bullshit. Knowing that I can’t fucking fix this disease always weighs on me. I have enough stressors.

In years past I used to miss on average about 1-2 days a month for mental health days. It disgusts me that that’s even a term at times because many Millenials seem to take those days less seriously and miss them just because they need a mental break. But on those days, I sat in my house and slept. Did absolutely nothing. Wasn’t really good for me because I got even deeper into my misery. However, I took them because I could barely get out of bed.

I sit in the bathtub now pouring my heart out onto an anonymous audience I personally don’t know because that’s the only thing I can do. I will probably go to my keyboard next.

Having an internal battle each and every day makes me sad. All I wish for is stability and peace. But our minds are our worst enemies. Why can’t I just be normal?, I ask myself. Oh right, because I’m fucked up. Isn’t that the easiest way to describe it to me. Knowing there’s a name for my disease helped in the past, but it doesn’t help me anymore. It almost weakens me because my mind uses it as a crutch to explain the dumbness that is found within me in times like these. I don’t want to be like this forever!!!

I feel paralyzed by this disease. I give my power to the disease and allow it to take over me. I want to accomplish so much in my life but when it comes down to it, I have so much fear. But being weak is all relative. If I compare myself to others’ strengths, most of the time I will come out on top. I try not to compare usually, but in this situation, it’s somewhat helpful. We bipolars have been through so much (not physically) that we are battling OURSELVES all the damn time. If I could fucking spend half of that energy just battling through more important life issues, I would probably be a damn billionaire. Unfortunately, I’m not. I’m just a single mom with financial issues like most other middle-class Americans who is working hard every day for a 9-5 job just to get noticed at times so I can push forward.

It’s all about the push.

And I’m tired. Maybe some of you have answers for me… or words of comfort. Because right now, I’m crumbling on the inside.

Here comes the sun…

I can feel it. My concentration is back. I’m focusing more than ever on work. Work is going fantastic. Not worried about my love life anymore. My son is happy. And I am musically driven. Why? Vitamin D. That’s all it is.

It was a beautiful weekend and I went for a long hike in a beautiful state park, went sledding a few times, and got so many things done around the house. I’m almost finished quite a few projects and I couldn’t feel more content. It’s no coincidence that because the sun is out, I’m feeling great.

However, an underlying fear is that I will feel too great in only a few short weeks. I’m nervous about traveling for work in a less than two weeks because well, that irritates my mania, and because I will be extremely relaxed and hyper. There’s no other explanation for it. Meds haven’t changed, and I’m doing the same exact things.

These are reasons why being in a relationship for me right now is just not right. I can predict my moods when I feel the subtle changes, but I will never be able to entirely control them. The sun is a love-hate relationship for me. I am accepting when he is there, but I’m pissed when he makes me ecstatic.

This is when I become annoyed with the fact that I have this disease and I can’t do much about getting rid of it. The shit ain’t going anywhere!

I have to remember that I’ve come a long way and to just enjoy the moments I have that are truly wonderful.


Yup! Story of my life. Let’s exchange thoughts sometime…


Does every bipolar person get to that stage where they can’t be bothered to take their pills. Or think they’ll do better without them?

Because I’m at that stage. Taking my tablets makes me feel sick. I absolutely despise taking them. They make me feel like an out cast, not normal, different. And yes it’s good to be different but not in this way.

Taking my tablets in front of friends is horrifying. Going out to a club is horrifying, people ask, “why aren’t you drinking.” I say I don’t feel like it but they try & force you to. Then you end up telling them the whole story. “Because I take tabs,” “why?” “I’m bipolar” & so on & so forth.

Quick quote:

“Be careful who you open up to. Only a few people actually care, the rest are just curious.” -Anonymous


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