Cup Of Coffee & A Side Of Cynicism 

We don’t wake up to coffee & breakfast anymore. We don’t fall asleep to peaceful nights & cool summer breezes.  We are enveloped in a blanket of hatred, choking the soul so we can’t breathe & playing God. Summer is ripe with the stench of death. Domestically we have seen the worst mass shooting in US history, countless black men die in by police, officers killed by snipers … That’s only the past month.  Abroad the death tolls mount, with Paris an epicenter.  Hatred. We see it often in recent weeks. It’s a buzz word. Have you ever thought about what … Continue reading Cup Of Coffee & A Side Of Cynicism 

Inside These Pretty Walls

Lovely white wainscoting.  On the walls & even the ceiling. A bronze chandelier because we dislike brass but silver was too brash for the space.  When it’s 3am, they’re all asleep and I’m in my finest form, I wander the halls of my house. Delving all the way back to childhood musings to the fights I had yesterday, I recount every moment of how I came to be here. Born into a trailer to an alcoholic father & absent minded mother, I was simply another baby born into a September.  My illness tells me I am not a good mother. … Continue reading Inside These Pretty Walls

Less.

Less space you inhabit. More you’re worth. My racing thoughts are uncontrollable. My ship is off course. It’s capsized. I’m drowning. No one can see. Smaller bites. Smaller servings. Congratulations on less of my existence. Down Alice’s rabbit hole where I drink that potion that makes me shrink. I’m losing this fight. I’m losing. I don’t know how much more I can endure, because I keep enduring it. Testaments to strength, medication or will. I have no clue. How do I continue to wake up and slowly die each day a little more in a soul I’m not sure I … Continue reading Less.

;

I am an advocate. I am an advocate for all women to be accepted in the bodies they create, desire and maintain. I am an advocate for LGBTQIA communities. I am an advocate for mental health being seen as merely health and losing the stigma it carries. Today, I choose to be an advocate for myself. Scrolling through social media is an endless stream of pictures idolizing bikini ready bodies, makeup tutorials, contouring and glamour shot filters that blur the subject’s face into an unrecognizable image. I am not immune to cyber bullies who want to rip away my message … Continue reading ;

Slipping.

Sometimes you know the white rabbit has his grip and is pulling you downward into the rabbit hole. The length of days is longer; my resolve melting away. This demon, this depression taking hold and I’m slipping. My grip is weak as is my mind, body, and spirit. The hopelessness is all encompassing. I just want to know… Is there hope? Will I stop feeling so broken and hopeless and empty one day? Continue reading Slipping.

Twinkle Lights

Cue the pictures of the beautiful home. My son is smart, resourceful, well-liked and cute. My SO is every dream I’ve ever dreamed in the history of always for how I’d be loved and wanted. My friends are happy and smiling people. It’s Christmas and our home is filled with elves on shelves, twinkle lights, hidden gifts and cookies for Santa. Tell me then, why on this beautiful and star encrusted December night I can think of nothing more than not waking up tomorrow because each day is more painful than the previous. My bipolar depression does not care if … Continue reading Twinkle Lights