Hello

Dear 2019, You were supposed to the year my life finally fell into place. The year I was putting all the bs behind me and moving forward. This was the year I was going to feel like a grown up, being 35 and the youngest being in school full time, I thought this was the year I was going to figure it all out. Spoiler alert, it wasn't, but it wasn't for a lack of trying. 2019 was the year of some pretty interesting curveballs. I spent the summer becoming caretaker of an elderly women, who would just walk out of my life. It sucks when you know someone is mentally abusing and elderly person, but you can't control others. I set up a boundary line and moved on. If she called me right now and said she was sorry, I would dive back in, because that's the kind of person I am. I can't not help someone who was family by choice. I can't not help. Then, there was a really big thing that I don't really talk about because it's not my story to tell. My part of it I c

The ending to 2019, is proving to be a rocky one. I have been lied to, by the places that are supposed to teach my kids. They have put me through hell, and yet I still have to brave face it, and deal with them. My children have come to me crying. One wants to be home schooled, one is still doing well in school, and one I want nothing more then for him to come home. My kids, are so much of my life, that often I joke about what I do in my life that doesn't involve them. I have been doing some advocacy work on the side for a friend of mine, I got him started and he has been doing pretty well I thought. I have been wrapped up in my own stuff with my own kids, but he sent out the bat signal the other day, and I have been called upon. Then, then, there's the unusual health issue I had found myself just recently having. It sucks to be in recovery this close to Christmas, I can't seem to get enough ahead to hold my footing with my little health issues. First I was sick, then

Tis the season, what a complicated season it has become this year. I think I wrote a little while ago about being "stable" and the tailspin that sent me on. Why you might ask, because never in my life I have been the stable one. Passively suicidal, over dramatic, ten thousand emotions and a bit of a space cadet is what I am used to being called. SO imagine my surprise when I was sitting there in therapy and I was called stable. Typically I struggle this time of year. Seasonal depression and arthritis at my young age of 35 leave me often times lost in pain and in my head. NOW, now I got this new label. What happens when we go into a time of year that is normally hard for me and I fall all to pieces? Have I failed? Is it just my mental illness screwing up my life again? How do I function? Now let's add to this my weak immune system has already failed me and I have already had Bronchitis for a month. Yesterday I had one of the most intense flashbacks in my life and I s

      I care too much. I care too deeply. Once my walls come tumbling down, I trust too much. I think if they cared enough to chip away at the walls then they must care. This is where I get myself in trouble.      Throughout the year in therapy we have been working on boundaries, relationships and how to make those two work. I developed a three strike rule, third strike and you are out. This was to save me from the ever turbulent waters of navigating life with other people.     I suck at relationships, I push the wrong people away, and let in the words of my mom " energy sucking vampires" in. I have never known balance in relationships, personality disorders and PTSD gives a pretty skewed version of life. So I came with the three strike rule, show me your heart is ugly three times, and you are out. I think it's fair, and let me tell you it has been a life changing rule.     Over the course of the year, the whole year, this has come into play a few times. I tell myse

In life I have come across many people. In life I have endured more then most people will ever understand. In life, there are some deep scars that occupy my heart. They can't be seen from the outside, but inside, the scars are deep.  There was the man who I thought I loved, and he broke my young heart. He taught me a lot about perception, and people who are two faced. I thought I knew him, but man was I wrong. I was young, naive, and clueless. When your fresh out of high school you think you know it all, you think you are invincible. He taught me a lot, I was living outside of the safety bubble, I was fresh and new into the world. He was an eye opener, I don't think I actually loved him, I was still in love with the idea of the fairy tale.  Then there was the stranger who took something from me I can never get back. I wasn't prepared, nor ready. I was still naive, and young, he left a scar deep in my heart. It left me shattered and confused. I didn't speak about

I don't know what it is about summer, it always seems to be more chaotic then I expect it to be. It always seems to either stand still with time, or fly by. I accomplish the world, or start fall with a mess of a house and unfinished projects. For me, putting a name on things, labeling trauma, are very scary things. It makes everything concrete, it makes it real. It validates is happens, it becomes real, raw, and unavoidable. I avoid  a lot of things until I am ready because well, I have this really bad habit of sweeping things under the rug. Gray areas, I really hate them. I am more black and white kind of thinking. If it's wrong today it will be wrong tomorrow. You can do the wrong thing for the right reason if I can see your heart is in it, it's still wrong but I can forgive that. When you get into the clearly heavy stuff, the stuff that no matter your reasons is wrong, like hurting someone on purpose, then it's unforgivable. Now you are like, well these three t

Dear  Whoever Reads This, If it's my mom, you probably won't like this one. This is your warning. Seriously stop. Okay, here's the thing, I talk openly about my PTSD, I have no shame in saying I have Borderline Personality Disorder. These don't fully define me but they are a part of me. I blog, and like nobody reads it, well besides my mom, so I tend to put it out there. It is public but it is safe because I am a hermit, a wallflower, a sideline sitter, one of those forgotten people. I am very used to this. I tend to write for the hopes that one day someone who sees this will be like yes, she gets me. I am not alone. Today isn't going to be on those blogs. This one is for me. This one is because I need to get the thoughts out of my head. They are starting to eat me up from the inside and I can not hold it in any longer. I have been in therapy for a while, like two years now or something. For a long time my day to life was Chaos, and I was in survival mode. I

I have been thinking about things lately, big things, things I haven't said because well the world seems to keep me down. I find myself constantly lost at being the one who sits on the sidelines, and the one who leads the group. The silent one, and the voice. I often feel like I am two people trapped in one body. My heart tells me to follow my passion. My heart says to be the voice, to be loud, to be proud. My heart says blaze a path a mile wide and leave the haters in wake of the flames. My heart says I can do this. My brain, well, it says to not rock the boat. To stay in the sidelines is safe. I won't be shame on anyone for being me, or loud, I just won't be noticed. My brain says this is okay because who remembers me, or who really cares. Sometimes I wonder how I got kids who are so confident. My flighty little bird, who is proud of his leggings and his love of my Little Ponies. My oldest, who thinks the world should play by his rules because to him it makes sense,

The thing with me is my day can change so fast. I can be the one who was laughing and then I read something or I hear something, sometime's it's a simple as a stupid commercial, and my day has gone to shit. This is Borderline Personality Disorder. My reaction time is so quick I could make your head spin, before you have taken in a breathe and released it, I have done a complete 180. This is me every day. It's exhausting trying to be normal. It's exhausting to know that I am being completely irrational and yet I honestly can not control my feelings. I have to work really really hard to pull myself in and not blow my top. I have to talk to myself like it's not me I am talking to, because we tend to be nicer when we are talking to others in crisis. Right now as I type, I have this tab up and another one on FB as I await the message back from hubs letting me know when he will be home. As a pre-warning he has been told I am in a mood, and I hate my brain. This mornin

It It's been a long week, says me in the middle of Wednesday. Here is the thing with this statement, it means I am done. It means I want to crawl into my bed and ignore being an adult. My brain won't shut off. I am stuck in this uncertainty feeling that I am messing up everything. My Insomnia, my depression, my PTSD, my labels are starting to consume me. From the outside I hide it well. To many on the outside it looks like business as usual. This is my mask. I have a pretty high ability to maintain just enough of my normal routine that I make it through. If I see you I will smile. I will tell you I am tired, and for most they don't understand my tired, they look at me as a mom, and well what Mom isn't tired? My tired, well my tired, is different. I am exhausted, mentally, and physically from fighting the demons that live in my head. You can't run from your thoughts, so my brain spends all day running from one thing to the next. The mask is really good at

     I said to my mom, " I am an introvert with extrovert responsibilities." She said it was a good idea for my next blog. I laughed. She will probably steal this wording, and it will be one of those that live as a Jessism, sometimes I stumble into greatness.     I think we need to look quickly at the introverts and extroverts, in my world my Mom is an extrovert. She could talk to people all day long, she can think on her feet. She can people on the fly, without batting an eye.     Me on the other hand, I have called my husband from inside the grocery store crying before because there was too many people. I have called him from the parking lot because I couldn't handle other drivers and I was white knuckle griping the steering wheel. I still have to bring people to my appointments because either I can't drive myself there, or I won't talk, or I just won't go. Yes, all three of those reasons are different. This means, I don't people well.      I am an