Hello

How did we get to almost the end of November already? Two years ago I was basically in the same place physically. I threw out my knee. I sulked for MONTHS and MONTHS after this happened. A few days before Thanksgiving in 2018, I blew out my knee again, I sit pondering the irony in this. I just had finished doing those appointments this year, as strange as that seems but yes I really waited two years to follow up with the specialist. Another year almost gone by. Another year, when life totally didn't go as planned. Another year, another excuse. Another year, another reset. Another broken record. Or is it? Truthfully, I accomplished great things, you just can't see from the outside. I battled my PTSD and my Borderline Personality Disorder for much of the year. I opened up, to a new therapist non the less. I have talked about the skeletons that are in my closet, and I gave them back to the universe, they don't belong in my closet. I survived hell, I am not a victim.

A few weeks ago there was a bad night here. It cemented two things for me, I have PTSD and my flight, fight freeze response is off, well more then off, like totally of the rails, down the ditch and into the water never to be found again. There was something going on in the neighborhood. Usually I mind my own business because life has taught me it always ends poorly for me. The urge because this night was different was strong so I waited till the moment was safer as it was dark, and had hubby come with me. Let's say the whole thing went left. Not only was a knife pulled but I entirely frooze. I felt like the world was spinning away from me and I was frozen. I felt like I was in a nightmare. While I was standing there being charged at, my husband looked me square in the face, touched my elbow, and in three very clear, consise words brought me back to earth, " House, run, now." I'm not sure if that's what he really said, but my memory that is all he said. Now,

Deep Thoughts By Jessica: I realize with Grayson starting pre k, and him outgrowing his 3t clothes, that I HAVE NO MORE BABIES. There will be none coming from this house, now what the heck do I do with this clothes I don't want to get rid of because all three boys wore half of this stuff. Hold me while I cry. Tough love. It breaks my heart to give it. It breaks my heart when I find one of the boys in a situation where I have to let them sink or swim. They have to learn, but it doesn't make it any easier to watch especially when they are making the wrong choice. Watching someone from the older generation slip away, because the path they are going down ends with memory loss they can't help is EMOTONALLY draining. Especially when you have no legal ties and they don't have to let you help. How do you swoop in? How? I'm not willing to walk away, because being the only family left in their eyes has brought me to a point where I feel like I am wa

As some parts of the Nation are watching a Momma Orcha go into an unprecedented third week of grieving for her baby calf, I really got to thinking about her, her pod and why this means so much to me. Secretly, (not so secretly if you have been around here for any length of time) you are aware that sometimes my thoughts and feelings take on a life of their own. Sometimes the simplest thing can make me cry or make me angry, my threshold for stress often times can be crossed by the drop of a pin. I had rough pregnancies. There is no denying this, actually Grayson is my miracle baby. We lost him for a week, there was no heartbeat, they said I miscarried. I was too far along to pass him on my own so they were going to have to do an in office procedure, so I went back the next week and to everyone's amazement there was a heartbeat. A strong, loud, can't be missed heartbeat. The baby I had lost was suddenly found. We were elated. We were left with no explanation. I had just grie

I have sat down to write a blog many times, in fact this is the 5 edit of an attempt to write and non have been posted. Why? Well let me explain, this won't take long. My mind is a swirling vortex of words, thoughts, feelings and actions not attempted. While it is all in there, the words are not flowing well in writing or out of my mouth. I am tired of feeling like I have to pretend. I am tired of forcing through the bad moments and being the strong one. I am tired of being silenced because I am afraid to speak. I am tired of being brushed aside. I am tired of feeling less then, but more then anything I am tired of being tired. Welcome to the world of depression. There I said it. It's out there now. No fancy mood meds could save me from this last round of life continually punching me in the stomach. Life has punched a whole right through. I'm floating through my own life. Every day is some sort of charade, some days are easier to pull off the charade then others. I

Please note: Song lyrics in Quotations, coopyright information at bottom.  ********Trigger Warning for Sexual Assault, helpful links below************************* "Couple cover charge stamps got her hand looking like a rainbow In and out of every bar on a whim just like the wind blows She's either a bachelorette or coming off a breakup Take a drunk girl home. She's bouncing like a pinball Singing every word she never knew Dancing with her eyes closed like she's the only one in the room Her hair's a perfect mess, falling out of that dress Take a drunk girl home."      I was listening to this song when it brought me tears. I have heard this song a time or two and I really find it hard to listen to. Because sometimes, that drunk girl, well she doesn't wake up in the morning feeling good about herself. Sometimes that drunk girl wakes up in the morning with a hangover like none other, regret, sadness, and her soul is shattered.  "Take a

Sometimes in life you are a given a second chance. A chance to change for the better, usually it's with the small stuff, seldomly does it seem to be for the big things, the life or death things. What do you do when you are only 33, and told you will be dead by 40? You won't die from diabetes, high blood pressure or like, but you will die from your body shutting down. Essentially you will die from pain and your heart will give out. BUT, before you die you will loose your right leg, and then probably your left. What do you do? How do you muster up everything you got and be like okay I can do this? How do you not beat yourself up? How do you make this commitment even if in your head you have been taking a stroll down that dark tunnel. Mental illness complicates things for many people every day and the outside world doesn't know. How do you do it? Well, you put one in front of the other. You sit everyone down and tell them you are going to need them. You learn to say no

There's something to be said about the affects music can play a soul. It can be the same effect of that random perfect breeze on an otherwise still day. Or even watching a butterfly land so close you can actually see it's body. There's something to be said the feeling you get when you get that first true kiss or that first time someone tells you I love you. I think it's important to hold onto those feelings because sometimes in life they are fleeting. I understand that for the good to be understood there has to be bad, and by the same token I understand it can be hard to find the good around the bad. I find myself often running two trains of thoughts, the image of the angel and devil is largely how I live my life. I know nothing else yet. Often times I am reactive, and operating off of some maladaptive coping mechanisms. I live in a world where it takes little to make me paronoid. I live in a world where I doubt most decisions I make, no choice is decided upon on th

The skeletons in my closet don't actually represent things I have done and are ashamed. The skeletons in my closet are things that have been done to me that I blame myself for. I drank too much that night. I smoked Arabic tobacco. I was high. I passed out. I thought the worst was over. Until my eyes struggled to open and I could feel your breathe. You had no right. It took me years to realize that it wasn't my fault. You took my innocence. I physically couldn't say no. This skeleton is similar to the first. We dated. I thought you were a good guy, until you weren't. You were emotionally manipulative, abusive, and you physically and sexually assaulted me. You borderline stalked me to the point I almost had to break my silence and seek help. I still can't have my neck touched, I still remember how it felt to have your hands wrapped around my neck. I still remember when you picked me up and wouldn't let me go until I said I loved you. I remember my toes not bei

It's me again. The me who is fragile, not fragile like a flower but like a bomb, set to go off. The suspense is mounting, the fuse is lit and it's going to go off. I countdown the seconds like fireworks because once I reach this point there is no stopping me. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Explosion. Now there is no real bomb going off, nobody is in danger of being hurt. The only explosion is the one that I feel in my body. The moment the dark creeps in. The moment when all the progress I have made, is in jeopardy. If I am really honest, this wasn't a small moment. As I read the labels on my medication my last fill was in December. It is now the end of February. Did you know you have mental illness and you don't fill your prescriptions some insurance companies will call your dr and let them know you didn't fill your meds? I know now. There was a moment when I sat in an appointment and my doctor opened with " Your insurance company let me know you have n

Outwardly I am calm. I go most places in public presentable dressed, I put on lipstick for those outings I think I need to impress someone and I force a smile. Inside, inside, I think this person hates me. I think this person is disappointed in me. I am failing. I messed up. I am a horrible parent. How am I ever going to fit in and be normal? Why do I have a panic attack when my neighbor and his buddies are loud and yell at each other outside? Why is my fight, flight, freeze, so messed up. I want to shave my head because my scalp itches because I am stressed but don't want to seem crazy. I am crazy. Shut up you are not. You are a normal person. No wait normal people don't freak out over these things. Oh hell now I am talking to myself in my head. The dull ache in the back of my head starts. There is panic running through my whole body. I see the vibrations in the air with every noise. Damnit I am losing this battle again. I want to win the war. Will the world every be won

Dear Every Friend I Ever Turned My Back On, There are a few of you that I actually miss. Every once in a while Facebook likes to throw it in my face that I from time to time fall apart. Facebook likes to remind me of the people I have lost, either through walking away from or people who became my angels. This is my letter to you, because even though I swore I didn't owe you an explanation there is always this nagging part of me that wants me to tell you that I am not really an asshole, well I can be, but mostly it stems from something bigger. If you are new here, I have PTSD. It controlled my life for a greater portion of two years recently. The ending of the 2017 really was the ending to that. It is hard to live your life in fight or flight mode constantly. There were other things going on then too, and I found my home, in constant turmoil. Though it is not my story to tell, I will say the person who needed help has finally found it. Through their work, my home is safe now,