The ‘Talk.’

So last night was girls night and me and my daughter were home by ourselves. We picked up all the necessities for a girls night: sushi, oreos and ice cream. She wanted fruit but whaaaat? No, that does not fit in with a girls night.

After we ate sushi, I unwrapped my little girls first Ben and Jerry’s.

We had the talk that every mother should have when their daughter has their first Ben and Jerry. I looked deep in her eyes and told her the following:

‘Ok, you eat this ice cream for the following reasons.

1) If boys are being dou…er, butt heads. (Yup, I almost said douche bags).

2) If you are having a terrible day and you can’t stop crying. (I almost told her to accompany the ice cream with a bottle of wine).

3) If boys are being butt heads. (It needed to be said for emphasis).

And lastly, you never eat the whole thing because you will most likely need it the next day.’

And then, it’s that moment every mother looks forward to; I handed her the spoon.

Then she looked at me and said, ‘I don’t think I want this… I think I want Oreos instead.’

Until next time,

Just stab me in the heart because it would hurt less.


Trigger Warning: Suicide

I just wanted to give everyone a fair warning that this blog is going to be straight up honest and blunt.

I have a mental illness. I am not shy about sharing it because I hope that it will help others be brave enough to share or to get the help and support they need.

In case you are wondering, this is what I have: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Depression and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). I basically am like a buffet of issues- a little of this and a little of that. It’s like going to a Chinese buffet that has pizza and chicken nuggets.

Either way, I have discovered something about mental illness that made me so angry that I can’t be silent anymore. I was asked today why I am on intermittent FMLA (Family Medical Leave Act).

I am on FMLA because of my PTSD which was a direct result of an active shooter drill that one of the high schools did where I used to work. The school I worked at brought in three men with assault rifles, shot up the school with blanks and they had people banging on the door screaming to let them in because the ‘shooter had a gun and we are going to fucking die.’

So yeah, getting up and going to work is hard because I am going to a place that doesn’t feel safe and although feelings can feel real, they are usually not true. And as much as my mind understands that, my PTSD and Trauma brain does not.

When I was questioned about it today, I was open and honest. I mean I write a blog for God’s sake. But then this person, who is extremely kind but I feel like doesn’t realize how they come off, said that they ‘understand people that are on FMLA because they need medical treatment but they…

And that’s when it hit me. I told this person that just because this other persons pain is physical and can be seen, doesn’t mean that my disability doesn’t exist because it can’t be seen.

And that’s when I realized, in order for people to believe that you are in fact sick, you have to have physical problems. So it makes me sad but I believe the only way people will know that I suffer and that I am sick is if I self-harm and develop physical scars or if I just can’t put up with life anymore and decide to kill myself.

So do all of us who have mental illness a favor and believe that we are suffering. Believe that we are hurting. Believe that we are scared. Believe that we are triggered. Believe us when we say that we are trying to get better.

We don’t ask someone with cancer to show the results of the tests that changed their lives forever. You don’t ask a diabetic to show their pricked finger or their empty needles. You don’t ask a person in a wheelchair to walk just to be sure that they would fall. Why is mental illness different? I am fighting battles that you will never know anything about and for that I am brave. For that, we are all brave.

Until next time,


If you are suicidal and need someone to talk to, contact the National Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255).

You Have Been Downloaded to the Cloud.

So my sons are in cub scouts and they had their first, little banquet this past weekend.

Prior to this, my husband, Joe, sent me an email saying that I had to upload pictures of the boys in their scout uniforms. Knowing that I have a photography business on the side, I was thinking that this would be easy.

So I jump on the link and press the download button. All of a sudden, I am getting images of boy scouts that are not my boy scouts.

As I am watching these little faces pop up on my screen, I assumed my husband took all these pictures and then I remembered that he hardly ever takes pictures, so I stopped the download and asked Joe for help.

‘Hey. Can you help me? I started to download the pictures but now I am getting all these other kids in my phone and on my camera roll.’ -me

‘ What button did you push?’ – Joe

‘This one.’ -me

‘Ally, that is the download button. You are syncing the entire boy scout album to your phone.’ – Joe

‘Oh crap! I have all these little kids on my phone that aren’t mine! It’s like scout porn’ -me

‘Haha! I wouldn’t worry about that. I would worry that all of your personal pictures have now been downloaded to the cub scout folder. That is going to be some slide show…’ – Joe

‘Wait… what? I downloaded my personal pictures to the cub scout cloud?’ -me

‘Yup.’ – Joe

‘Holy. Shit.’ -me

‘Yup.’ – Joe

So when you are feeling blue, just remember that there are my ‘before diet’ pictures floating around on some cub scouts slide show.

Until next time,

On my honor, I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law;
To help other people at all times;
To keep myself physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight...’ -Cub Scout Creed

Yup… I will keep them morally straight alright.

A List of Clichés That Make Me Want to Punch You.

People are getting on my nerves so I have developed a list for the people that don’t have a mental illness. Study it. There will be a test douche bag.

Here is a list of what not to do with someone with depression or, in my case, Borderline Personality Disorder:

1) I don’t want you to tell me that I have a good life. I have eyes asshole, I know that I have a good life.

2) Don’t ask me what is wrong and then when I say ‘nothing’… don’t act like something is wrong anyway. It’s just my bitch face.

3) And even if it’s not my bitch face, did you ever think that I don’t want to share my feelings with you because I am sick of hearing myself talk about why I don’t understand why I am depressed? Or maybe it’s that I don’t feel like hearing your broken record telling me that, ‘I should be happy.’

4) Don’t tell me that if I exercise, I will feel better. When would you like me to do that? Between my full time job, being a mom or going to therapy three times a week? When I am not doing the above, I want to do something for me and that is not the gym. And why is it not the gym? Because the gym smells like sadness and despair.

5) Don’t tell me that things will get better in time. Shut. Up. Like seriously, do you have a book of clichés?

6) Don’t tell me to use therapeutic skills. Do you know what I want to do when I am in a rage of emotion? It’s not to use skills… it’s to do the opposite. It is just to sit there and wonder why the hell I have to be the one to use skills to regulate emotions. Maybe you need to use skills because you are pissing me off.

7) Don’t tell me that if I eat better, I will feel better from the inside out. I will tell you what will make me feel better. It’s a few eggrolls, a whole pizza and ice cream, you clean, eating, health hippie. Go hug a tree while eating granola.

8) Don’t tell me that I am thinking too emotionally. You know why? Because I can’t control my emotions… that is part of being a Borderline you ass.

9) Don’t tell me to take a deep breath. I will tell you why, because when I take a deep breath, it only helps me to channel my energy into pummeling you to the ground.

10) Don’t tell me to enjoy what is around and take in the moment. I want to get out of the moment and I want to run. I want to run but I am fat because I don’t exercise because of my emotions which is part of my disorder which is part of who I am which is part of what I can’t control which is why I have my problems in the first place, hence the therapy. Jerk.

So, remember people… think before you speak. Don’t give us the clichés. Just sit with us because we just want to be with people that are comfortable with being in our presence.

Until next time,

This is not a multiple choice test.


Let’s Talk About Being Naked.

No parent is ready to talk about sex with their child; especially if the child is seven.

‘Mom, why are you attracted to daddy?’ -Nicholas

‘Well, he has nice eyes, he’s kind and sweet. He is a gentleman and he has a great butt.’ -me

‘I bet you guys had so much fun before you were a mom because then you and daddy could have so much fun doing things.’ -Nicholas

‘I love being a mom. I have fun now.’ -me

‘Yeah but you and daddy could have been naked and danced in the kitchen.’ -Nicholas

‘Well, yeah but we can be naked now… just not around you.’ -me

‘Hey mom, when you and daddy are naked, does your penis and vagina ever touch?’ -Nicholas

‘…uhh…’ -me

How does he even think about that? I didn’t even know what to say… instead I did what any good parent would do and used distraction…

‘Hey, let’s watch Harry Potter!’ -me

Thank you to my friends, Harry, Ron and Hermione for getting me out of the sex talk. Now my son is just traumatized by Voldermort… it seems like a fair trade. He would of been traumatized either way…

Until next time,

I will never be naked again.

Is this Cheers?

So, you want everyone to know your name right? Just like in the old sitcom, Cheers.

I always thought it would be so cool if I could just enter a bar and everyone screamed out ‘Allison!’

Woo! I got so close…

So earlier this week, I went to the pharmacy and the woman asked for my name and I started spelling it and she said, ‘I know who you are and you are the teacher right?’

Well, it finally happened. Someone knows my name… maybe she can be my best friend now… I mean she knows my medical history and all.

So why is this such a different experience than Cheers? I will tell you using my all mighty list.

1) She knows my name from all my antipsychotic meds. Just kidding, they aren’t antipsychotic… at least, I don’t think they are.

2) She remembers that I am a teacher. It must be the bitch face I have going on.

3) She asked me which medication I was looking for and how many… so she has good attention to detail.

4) We bonded in the drive-thru about our crazy classes, (she is also a teacher).

5) We discussed how it would be beneficial to have a bottle of wine in your desk drawer so you can drink before classes.

6) My pharmacist understood me and is aware that you shouldn’t mix alcohol with medication but here she is, supporting me 100%.

7) She didn’t care that the pharmacy drive-thru was getting long because we were having a deep discussion about how we can’t wait till we retire.

8) I think I found my best friend in the pharmacy drive-thru.

9) She doesn’t know it yet that we are best friends but I feel like when my medication is ready, I will ask her out on a best friends date. I mean, I have BPD so boundaries are a non-issue for me.

10) And just like Cheers, I am happy to go where this woman knows my name, knows my medication and still likes me enough to hold up the drive-thru. That’s real friendship right there.

Until next time,

🎵🎶🎵Don’t you wanna go where everybody knows your name? And they are always glad you came… as long as you are still taking your anxiety medication. 🎵🎶🎵

The Lights Fade Out

The best feeling in the world is to make someone laugh. It’s the only way I know how to connect with someone. However, I was recently told that I don’t always come off as funny and sometimes, my humor is mean even though that is not the intent.

I am struggling with that.

Not because of the criticism. I mean, you never want to hear something bad about you when it comes from someone you care about and love. What I am struggling with, is that I don’t know who I am without it.

I’m noticing.

I am noticing that since this was brought to my attention, that I am more quiet. I am noticing that I am reserved. I am noticing that I am cautious. I am noticing that I feel like I am overreaching with people. I am noticing that I question myself more after I make someone laugh.

The noticing is hurting me the most because I am over analyzing my every move, my every thought, my every interaction. This whole time I have been sarcastic because it protects me from a world that has treated me less and taught me that less was all that I was. So, I started treating myself less to defend myself. No one can get to you if you get to yourself first.

I am less.

I feel less because I don’t know if my jokes are the right ones. I feel less because I don’t know if it’s the right time. I feel less because I may have hurt people. I feel less because I feel like I don’t know any other way to connect.

I want to make people laugh.

I want to make people laugh because that is the only way that I know how to connect with you. I want to make people laugh because it helps me to feel like I am close to you. I want to make people laugh because I just enjoy the sound of your laughter which makes me feel like I am more.

Now, who am I?

Until next time,

Mic drop