I Need to Climb

You haven’t heard from me because my son and I were in a terrible car accident on Tuesday. I passed out at the wheel, I don’t know why (I am waiting to be tested) and we hit another car and rolled into a ditch- I didn’t ‘wake up’ until the car skidded to a stop.

Luckily, my son was okay and I just have a major concussion and I look like a Dalmatian from all the bruises. But it could have been worse, so I’m happy to be alive and I thank God we’re okay; especially, Vincent.

You know, just that afternoon, I wanted to tell my therapist that I needed to be put somewhere… anywhere. I called her and just hearing her voice and knowing I had someone on the other end of the phone was extremely helpful for my depression and my thoughts. I wanted to take a break. I wanted a break from life and I wanted a break from me; it’s hard being within myself- it’s exhausting.

I think God works in mysterious ways because I got exactly what I wanted- I was put in the hospital, I took a break from life and here I am, with a giant concussion sitting in the dark and doing all this by voice recording.

That accident for me was a wake up call. A sign that I need to accept what is and let go of what isn’t.

I know I am not healed from my depression- not by a long shot. Having BPD takes years of the right therapy and being mindful of the present and letting go. I’m not healed yet, but for that split moment I was thankful. I’m thankful my son walked away without a scratch, I’m thankful that I had a chance to walk out too. I mean, we walked out of the sunroof, so I was thankful for those fifteen pounds I lost… but I am glad we are ok and for that split moment, I was awakened and realized how good life can be.

I’m looking forward to getting better so I can enjoy life on a daily basis. Not just my family and my loved ones and friends but also myself. Day in and day out I’ve just been hating myself; internalizing everything wishing for something different, wishing for things to end and I realize in that split second, life could have ended.

I’m happy that I got a chance to hold my husband again, I’m happy that I had a chance to hold my babies and tell them all that I love them. I’m happy that I had a chance to take a break even if I’m bored to tears. I’m taking a break from life- a much needed silent break to be with my thoughts. A break to face my most inner thoughts and to face my demons as they say. And no
mom, I’m not possessed.

I am hoping that when I go to the doctors they will figure out what happened but right now I’m just happy sitting in silence. I love my family but I needed the silence so I was forced to sit with myself and fall in love with myself again. However, like any other love, it will take time, patience and most importantly, acceptance.

In order to change, I have to work my ass off in therapy and change my thoughts and realize that I am good enough. Accepting and loving myself is going to take time but I need to start to get out of this black hole of depression. This accident was like a rope tossed to me in a dark hole;  now I just have to remember how to climb.

Until next time,










Pass the Duct Tape

Vincent got in the car, all huffy and puffy. Then he sits down and drops a bomb on me… “mom! I got a zero on one of my papers!”

So I was really surprised by this because he usually gets an ‘A’ on everything so I told him that we would work on it at home.

He’s screaming that it was too late and that he wasn’t doing it. And that’s when you don’t want a ‘Teachrent.’ …I just made up that word… it’s teacher/parent. I know you are all impressed by my ability to create new words.

So I went into Teachrent mode and I was all understanding and trying to figure out how I was going to help from the teacher stand point and how i was going to make him work and follow directions from a mom standpoint.

I found out that it was a reading assignment:

“Well, did you go back and use the story to get the answers?” -me
“Well no! It was on the sheet!” -Vincent
“I understand but if it was a story, you should have gone back for the answers like we always do at home.” -me
“Well, I guessed instead.” -Vincent

Now at this point there is eye rolling, exasperation, and anger boiling but it wasn’t from me- it was the seven year old in the back seat.

I kept telling him that we would redo the assignment together and he didn’t want anything to do with my suggestions.

So this is what I decided to do… I need to take this seven year old, going on fifteen and go ape shit on him. If he rolls his eyes at me like that one more time, his eyes will legit get stuck in the back of his brain. Meanwhile, his exasperated tone will give me reason to take stock in duct tape. And for his anger, well, he gets that from me. Cute right? But not when it’s used against me.

So if he is like this at seven what are the teenage years going to be like? It will be a lot of anger, eye rolling and drinking… because that is how I will cope with this tiny teenager. Only eight more years left…

I think when he turns thirteen, I’m going to buy a cake for those awkward teenage years and it’s going to read ‘congratulations! Your mom is going to go ape shit on you if you roll your eyes one more time.’

Until next time,

Does this duct tape come in any other colors or patterns?

Welcome Home

I was on a retreat this entire weekend and I came back to my handsome husband and three lovely, loud children.

These are some highlights for the last two hours:

Vincent decided it would be good idea to walk Nicholas. I thought they were playing ‘dog’ but found out that that wasn’t the case.

Vincent tied a beaded necklace around  Nicholas’ neck and decided to take him for a walk around the house. When we told Vincent that this wasn’t a good idea because Nicholas could choke and die, Joe suggested that he place the leash around Nicholas’s stomach.

So we assumed Nicholas was a dog, but that was wrong. Then Nicholas, Vincent and Emily changed the game and Nicholas became a cat and then Emily corrected us again and changed Nicholas into a cow.

Later, Vincent, Nicholas and I, all played lightsabers. It was awesome to get my head chopped off and then get a light saber right to the face. My glasses fell off and I think I have a giant black guy. Cool.

Then at bedtime, we were reading the kids books and Nicholas leans on me. If you read my blog, you know that I have been trying to lose weight. So it didn’t help when Nicholas laid on my lap and  turns to me with a smile and says ‘you are like a giant, warm marshmallow.’ First, we all know that I’m a little bit fluffy but does he really need to tell me that I’m a giant marshmallow?

Meanwhile, I am in my pajamas and my giant boob is resting on the poor kid’s forehead. My boobs are already low to the ground and man, when he fell under my boob, i thought we lost him. Luckily, I picked his head up so he could breathe and live a long life.

Until next time,

Your big, warm marshmallow with a black eye.

The Light is Dim.

Life is full of ups and downs. And now I have to figure out what to do with it.

Having Borderline Personality Disorder makes you feel like you’re alone; mostly because you assume you will be abandoned by everyone anyway. It doesn’t matter how many people are around me or who is ‘there for me.’ What I need to learn is how I can be there for myself.

Most times, I’m not here for myself or my family; I want to escape, I wanna leave, I want to run. I want to hurt myself; I want to hide from the world. I want to hide from the deep part that is within me that is in so much pain.

I want to run and escape… I want to run into the open meadows and into the dark forest because I feel like that’s where I should be.

Some days, I come out into the meadow and can feel the warmth of the sun and there are some days I hate myself so much that I burrow into the ground and wait… wait for the end.

I wait for people to stay with me, to want to stay with me, to want to love me. I wait for me to love me.

The hardest part is when you repeatedly get knocked down by people; by life. It takes air out of your lungs when people constantly beat you down. Something happens and your emotions take over and aphixate your windpipe. Crushing it until there is nothing left.

Unfortunately, I feel dead today. I feel numb. I’m hiding in the forest. It’s dark and I’m alone. I am currently at a retreat this weekend and that’s not enough. My heart and head are so clouded with runaway thoughts that even the warmth of God can’t break through the thick, green tree tops of the dark forest.

I reach out for help. I reach out to my therapist because today is so bad. My breath is fading, my world is fading in and out.

I need to find the light; I need to find the strength to carry on. And I realize the light is within me. It’s dim, it’s flickering, but it’s there. Only oxygen can keep the flame going; and only breathing steadily in and out will keep oxygen in my lungs.

Living like this is barely living but I need to work hard, even when it is exhausting because I love my family and that helps me. They keep me going. And one day, I will learn to work hard for not just my family, but for me as well. Someday I will realize and discover that I matter.

Until next time,


Mental Illness is Real

This blog is probably the hardest blog I have ever shared. I have debated whether or not I wanted to share my personal information with you and then I figured, why the hell not? Plus, I just had ankle surgery and I am taking pain medication, so you know, it’s like alcohol… you are more brave.

I am not doing this for sympathy but clearly to help break the stigma of mental illness. Mental illness is not taken seriously because it often is not visibly seen and when it is, people don’t know how to deal with it. Have you ever told someone you have a mental illness or you are depressed? Suddenly, they are looking at the clock, rubbing their hair or checking the time. They are fumbling over their words like a baby trying to talk for the first time.

I hear all the time the following clichés: time will heal all wounds (lame), just stay positive (oooh, that’s a good original), maybe you are just tired (maybe, I haven’t slept since my son was born seven years ago), it just takes time (can you look at your watch and give me an exact time?) and my personal favorite, you’ll get over it (it’s not like I am crossing a bridge, you jackass).

Well, people of the world, mental illness is not that easy; if it was, I would do all of the above. No one, including me, likes to go through the bullshit of depression or emptiness or thoughts of hurting yourself. Who the hell wants to do that? Is there a sign-up sheet for depression or something? Should I be the point person for that? What the hell people?

Let’s examine how life would be for people that had diseases you can see; that you ‘understand.’ My grandfather had diabetes… I should have just fed him cake and told him to stay positive. Maybe if he stayed more positive, he could have eaten the whole cake and the sugar wouldn’t kill him. Maybe someone that was recently diagnosed with cancer, I could let them know that they will get over it. Yeah, all of those phrases seem sensitive enough. Maybe if I was a total bitch?

Seriously. What the hell? These are people that have serious conditions but because people ‘understand’ the situation it is accepted. Mental illness… is not accepted by most people because they can’t see it, they have never experienced it, nor do they have a family member going through it. And honestly, I wouldn’t give depression or any disorder to my worst enemy and I don’t like a lot of people… so, you know, I wouldn’t be that cruel. I hate that word by the way.

So, now it’s my turn to be open… like a freaking book in your local library. I have been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).

No, I do not have other personalities (although if I did, I would like one that was a chef and one that was a maid) but I fall into specific BPD categories and I was born with some of it. People who have this disorder are born exquisitely sensitive. Through childhood, you can go either way… to a normal life or to a life with BPD. The website below has a really good explanation if you want to read about it and God forbid, if you want to understand it (no pressure or anything):


I fall into all ten qualifying categories for Borderlines. At first I was distraught over the diagnosis and then my therapist brought me back to reality and told me that nothing has changed about me- I was always this way and she was right. After that it was time to throw a tantrum like a two year old in the therapists office and then learn how to deal with it.

Finally getting diagnosed correctly was a breath of fresh air. It was probably the first time that I really started trusting my new therapist. My therapist has helped me so much because she has made herself available to call anytime and she has taught me skills to handle my thoughts and feelings. Don’t get me wrong, I still have a lot of anger and terrible thoughts but  I have an amazing support behind me… which is Joe (my husband) and my therapist. If it wasn’t for these two people, I would probably have given up by now.

With my disorder, I think my main issues are fears of abandonment. I have had many people leave me, or promise that they would be there but as soon as life gets tough, they are out- much like a card dealer in Vegas.

I feel extremely alone; even in a crowded room. There is this feeling of emptiness and a hollow feeling in my soul. There is a feeling that I am not good enough; not a good mom, not a good wife and not a good person. There is a feeling of wishing I was never born and what would it really matter if I was here or not?

Don’t feel bad, it is just part of the disorder but also, don’t tell me that I will get over it or that time will heal all wounds because honestly, with my rage, I will probably bitch slap you. After I slap you, I would use my life skills and maybe meditate.

I am making strides but my therapy will take at least three more years; maybe longer, maybe shorter; who knows? I don’t mind the time but I want you to know that people with mental illness don’t want to live this way. Stop feeling sorry for me (or for anyone). Just be here for us; stop telling me clichés because if you keep doing that, I am going to throw you into a wall. I have written this before,  just get me a drink, eat ice cream with me and make me some freaking bacon. Just listen to me; don’t try to fix me… I already have a therapist for that. I just need you to let me talk and feed me and I need you to stop being dumb.

To all you people that have mental illnesses out there… we have two choices:

  1. work our asses off in therapy and work hard on ourselves on the days we don’t have therapy and…
  2. literally walk around like crazy people and make others feel uncomfortable.


Much love to all of you and thanks for reading,






Pain Medication and You

Top Ten Things You Should Not Do on Pain Medication:

1) take medication and then assume that your ankle is healed and try to walk on it because you are ‘pain free.’

2) taking medication late last night and then writing your lesson plans for the next day.

3) writing to everyone you know and sending them love notes about how much you love them.

4) sending those above people the same meme because it’s so accurate.

5)making hot coffee and then trying to carry it to the couch.

6) texting anybody and hoping auto correct will help but auto correct doesn’t even know what you are trying to say.

7)trying to use your crutches as a grabber. I picked up trash off the floor and put it in the trash can. I have skills.

8) figuring out how you are going to get Chinese food for lunch, considering that you can’t drive, have no money and are not wearing a bra. Maybe the no bra thing will work in my favor but the delivery boy would have to look at the ground because that is wear my boobs will be.

9) trying to control your bladder after two cups of coffee because your house is a mess and it’s like an obstacle course in here. Legos everywhere and naked dolls to get around. If you aren’t careful, you could die.

10) wishing you had eggrolls but knowing that you have to eat leftovers instead and then it just depresses you. Maybe I can persuade my hot husband to bring me some hot eggrolls. I need eggrolls and money and a hot husband and a bra and a bathroom in the family room.

Until next time,

I really need to pee.

Ps- many of you got this from me today… consider yourself loved.


It Finally Happened.

Well, it finally happened…

Just to catch you up, if you didn’t know, we are happily raising two boys and one little girl.

Tonight the boys, for the first time, purposely farted on me. And it was gross… and then one said, ‘I think I just pooped my pants…’

I will always cherish these moments.

Until next time,

Something smells like potato chips…