In My Head *Trigger Warning: Self-Harm*

***Trigger warning: Self-Harm***

The rage bubbles up like a once dormant volcano about to explode. There is nothing I can do fast enough to stop the feeling and I feel the warmth on my skin and the ringing in my ears- it’s going to happen; I am about to lose control. The rage inside me is hard to explain; it’s like an untamed wild animal that is trapped in a cage. There is nothing that necessarily provokes me; just everything and nothing all at once. As I break out of this cage, I feel more able to control what is going on in my head but I know that that is a lie.

The ringing in my ears isn’t even ringing, it is just a constant buzzing like bees swirling my head with their stingers at the ready. The warmth in my face is so hot that I feel like my skin is bubbling like cheese on a hot skillet. My stomach drops. I feel nothing and everything at once and I feel like I am plummeting down a roller coaster; no twists and turns, just a straight free fall. And then it hits me. I am watching my body punch the walls and release some of the rage. It’s like I just paid the matinee price on a Sunday afternoon. I am watching my body react like an Oscar winning movie except I am not dressed for the occasion. I watch myself punch walls and I can hear the bangs in my ears but I can’t stop my fist from punching.

As soon as the rage hits me, embarrassment and shame follow; kind of like my shadow at high noon. They follow me around taunting me and poking me; egging me on. The shame runs so deep that my mind goes to dark places. Part of my brain is telling me to hurt myself and the other part of my brain says that I am stronger than this; however, I don’t know which part of my brain is right. My thoughts bounce back and forth like a tennis match- back and forth, back and forth.

As the night draws to a close, my emotional level is low and I feel numb. I am literally in an emotional collapse. My body has gone from being revved up to being numb. I feel nothing. I watch the rest of the night just like I did with the matinee before but this time I don’t want to be a part of this movie. I am just too tired; the rage has come and drained what was left of me for the night and I start to fall asleep. I start to drift in and out of consciousness and when I wake in the morning I realize that I made the choice to live another day.

Until next time,


*If you are having suicidal thoughts text 741741 to talk to someone.


The Silence

I sit and listen to the silence. The only thing I hear is the ringing in my ears. I know I am alone in my thoughts- this is when I become the most dangerous.

I sit and wonder why I am here; I sit and wait for answers but they don’t come.

I wish there was someone who would notice my pain; someone who would notice my struggle but the only person that knows the truth about my struggle is me. My response to your question is, ‘I’m fine.’

Just as I beg God to send me someone or to end my being, I pick my head up and see the only person who is capable of helping me. She looks at me with sadness and compassion in her eyes. We stare at each other; holding our gaze just a little too long.

I reach my hand out to touch her and to make sure she is real. She reaches back to me. I finally feel like someone has seen me.

Her eyes are sad for me and her touch is cold. All she wants is for me to feel the love that she is struggling to show. There is a barrier between us and I can sense her discomfort.

She stares at me; unable to break free of the two dimensional prison that she is in. Then I realize that I am looking in a mirror. The girl is me.

I whisper a message of love to my reflection. Love yourself. I hear the words but my thoughts tell me I am not good enough. Here I stand hoping to hang on for one more day.

Until next time,


If you are struggling with thoughts of self harm or suicide, text the National Crisis Hotline at 741741

Getting Bullied

So I have a fucking bully.

She is pretty much a bitch and is always talking about me. She has said the following:

1) I am a horrible mom/wife/teacher.

2) I am fat and ugly.

3) I am worthless and stupid.

4) I have done nothing productive with my life.

5) I should go kill myself because I don’t matter to anyone.

You name it and she has said it. And what hurts the most is that this is someone that I thought I knew. Someone I thought I could depend on but in all honesty, she is a fucking bitch and I don’t know how to get rid of her.

She comes around often and she is constantly saying these mean and horrible things to me and the worst part is that I believe it.

If this was one of my friends telling me this same story, I would tell them to just get rid of this person and cut them out of their life. But hey, easier said than done, right?

We all have that one person that is impossible to get rid of. I always have good intentions that I will talk to her, sit her down and be honest with how much she is fucking hurting me but I never do.

I guess I am stuck and don’t know how to get out. I even tried to talk myself through a mock conversation in the mirror. But see, she was there, looking straight at me.

I’m the bully and I hate myself with so much anger and force that it hurts to be in my own skin.

If only someone would understand.

The pain is so awful that hurting myself feels like the only way out. It is the only way I could be away from her forever and she could never hurt me again.

Until next time,

The victim

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).

It’s a Wonderful Life

I went to an old movie theater with my mom to watch, It’s a Wonderful Life. 

If you hate spoilers and plan to watch the old classic, stop reading. 

If you already know the plot, then you know the main character, George, thinks everyone around him would be better off if he was never born.

It got me thinking because every year I watch this movie with my mom and every year I feel like George. I have been on the brink of rage only seeing that suicide is my only option. Praying to God that I was never born. Wishing that he would take me in the night.

Every year I watch this movie, I also notice a change within me. Last year, I wanted to self harm after the movie and this year I wanted to celebrate that the thoughts of self harm and suicide are not as frequent because of dialectical behavior therapy and my amazing therapist.

Although I can’t self validate yet, I thought it would be nice just to tell people what they mean to you now. Why wait till death? Enjoy this holiday season and tell people how thankful you are that they were born into your life.

Until next time,

Thanks Clarence

Watching the Clouds

I sit here and watch the clouds pass me by and wonder what it would be like to fly?

I wonder how clouds would feel in my hand. 

Would they brush through my fingertips the same way the cool ocean water slips through my fingers on a warm summer day or would the clouds feel soft like my favorite blanket that I wrap myself in by the fire while it snows?

If I try to hold them tight, would they disappear like the warm sun drifts off into the cool night?

If I hold them carefully, would they stay like a fragile piece of glass intact in my fingertips?

If I smell the clouds and inhale deeply, does it smell like clean cotton on laundry day?

And if I took a bite, a bite right out of the cloud, would it taste like cotton candy after a day at my hometown carnival?

I just don’t know but I hope one day to find out but it can’t be today.

Until next time,