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Meet the Critic

At my darkest and loneliest times, she is there. In the silence of the night, she is there. When I’m at my weakest, she is there. She is with me when I walk into an uncomfortable situation. After a heartbreak and in my grief, she never leaves me. When I’m on cloud nine, and hopeful she shows up. When I’m anxious and unsure, she is talking to me. When I’m hurt and angry, she supports my feelings. She validates my actions. She gives me the option to run away. She remembers everything I’ve ever said. She knows my past. She knows my weaknesses. She takes pictures, so I remember what we’ve done together and all of our experiences. She is the one who hasn’t ever abandoned me, and the one never stops showing up.

I’m sure you’re wondering who this is. Maybe a mother, a daughter, a sister, a lover, or a friend. She is none of these and all of these. She isn’t anything and she is everything. She is the voice inside my head that I fight to silence every day.

You may think that you know her, but let me explain. She isn’t there supporting me or empowering me to keep going. She wants me to stay this way so she can thrive while I struggle to merely survive.

Who Are You?

You won’t meet her, but im sure you know someone just like her. You can’t see her, but her voice is always there. You probably aren’t a fan if by chance you know her as intimately as I do. Consider this your proper introduction. However, I don’t know if you will understand.

She steals the spotlight, demands to be heard, and aims to hurt anyone who dares to silence her. She is the one who tells me that I’m never going to be enough. She shows me the worst parts of the people around me. She drives them away, then tells me “see they don’t love you. Otherwise, they would stay.” She manipulates my feelings and twists my words. She tells me the worst-case scenarios and keeps me fearful of my every move.

Where Did She Come From?

Sometimes, she sounds like my mother, telling me I will never be pretty enough, thin enough, smart enough, good enough, or just enough. Other times, she sounds like my abusers who made me believe I was always to blame. In my head, she can make anyone sound like a hurt from my past. She has pictures and videos she can play to remind me of every hurt I’ve ever endured. She holds the buttons to my triggers. She is persistent and doesn’t care about the consequences.

I know she is made up of the broken pieces of my past. She is the child who felt unwanted. She is the teenager dying to fit in. She is the young mother looking for a way out. She is the abuse survivor. She is a traumatized woman. She is bleeding in the shower. High in the bathroom. A thief. A covert narcissist. An abandoned young adult. A lonely wife. The mother who was too scared to fight back and save her children. She is the addict. She is the worst part of me. That’s who she is. She is the version of myself I’m scared to become and equally terrified she is the real version I keep hiding from the world.

Change Her, Break Her, Abolish Her

I have tried to allow her visitation and then quickly see her out. However, she is relentless. At times, she is the only one who validates the unfairness of this life. She allows me to be not okay. It’s oddly comforting to be able to wallow and grieve a life I didn’t live. However, she aggravates those wounds I am trying so hard to heal. She breaks them back open and makes them bleed.

The past suddenly becomes present, and she revels in the power to overtake me. She feeds on my pain. It is as if my own mind is going to destroy me slowly. She holds me hostage. I struggle to break free. No matter how hard I try, I haven’t found a way to rid myself of her.

Fighting to be Free

You may think I’m just negative or that I’m weak. I’m the exact opposite. I am strong because I fight this voice that prays on my downfall each day. I’m successful in defeating her, but she knows when to strike. She pulls me to the darkness and holds me captive to her cruel onslaught of verbal blows.

I’m unsure if others fight off this toxic voice made up of their past. However, I know it’s lonely when it’s her and I. Maybe another person wont feel alone with no one who understands that the voice inside your head is sometimes hardest to silence. Even now, years into healing I still struggle to find my healthy escape from her torture.

Now you’ve had an introduction. If sometimes you see me cloaked in fear, paranoia, resentment, anger, or anxiety, please know I did not choose this for myself. I don’t need your attention, but meet me with compassion instead of judgment. I’m broken, and this is what repeated trauma has left behind for me.

It’s not easy. Sometimes, it’s the hardest battle I fight in a day. It is a battle of dismissing my past negative and limiting beliefs. I try now to remind myself of the 3 years of work I’ve put into my healing. However, I fight every day for the future I want, not to stay prisoner to the past, I escaped. I hope you, too, can find healing, and one day, I hope there is comfort in silence instead of her voice telling me how I will never fully overcome the trauma of my past. You and me, we’ve got this! ☮️ ❤️😊~M

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Stop the Insanity

I’m screaming. Why am I screaming? I know it’s not going to help. However, nothing I’ve done to this point has helped either. Here we are again. I’m sitting reading and re-reading the suicide note from my 14 year old daughter. Asking myself again, how we got here, what did I miss, and why she doesn’t want to be in this world anymore. I just want to stop the insanity.

Missing the Signs

I missed the Signs? AGAIN. She didn’t confide in me. AGAIN. I’m calling the crisis hot line.https://www.samhsa.gov › find-help
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline | SAMHSA I’m calling the psychiatrist. I’m calling out at work. She is bleeding. Inside and out. She is hoarding medication. Planning her suicide. AGAIN. She is deciphering if jumping off a cliff or overdosing would be a quicker way to end her existence. I’m lost. I’m confused. I’m angry.

Blame Game

I’m so incredibly angry. I’m not sure where to place my anger. Who can I blame? Why is this happening to her? To us? I choose to place blame on everyone, especially myself. I blame her, too, which isn’t fair. I bought the act. I handed her the weapon. I chose, yet again, to believe the pretty picture she had painted to cover her pain. I wanted so much to believe it. However, I should’ve known. Why didn’t I know? We’ve been through this before.

I Should’ve Known

I should’ve learned how to catch on quicker to the cover up. The first hospitalization in 2020 taught me to take it more seriously. The hospitalization in 2021, that lasted 18 weeks, should’ve been enough for me to understand the gravity of it all. After the hospitalizations earlier this year, I should’ve known that she would hide the hurt until it was nearly too late. Now, here I sit asking myself, what are we going to do this time?

What Now?

Another hospitalization, more medication changes, intensive therapy, inpatient, residential, intensive outpatient, or something else? There is no cure, that’s what she told me just last week. I know. I wish there was. In conclusion, I’m lost, but I’m thankful that I haven’t lost her to this battle.

Keep Fighting

Regardless, what the statistics say, I won’t stop fighting. No amount of money or time is going to stop me from finding her the treatment she needs. I’ll keep fighting her demons, and my own, for as long as I live. I’m not giving up. I’m never going to surrender even while I scream how unfair this is for us. My pain is no match to the pain she is living with. Pray for us all. Pray for #2. Pray for my threefold. Pray for this mom who is trying to mom mental illness. Together, we’ve got this. ☮️❤️😊~M

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Whinesday Wins this Week

Welcome to Whinesday! If you don’t hear enough whining and want to hear mine, stay tuned. I had much different plans, but ya know life. It throws the punches and I get to ducking, dodging, bobbing and weaving. Then I fight back. I would much rather be celebrating a Winsday. Unfortunately, Whinesday wins this week. In conclusion, I need wine and to do my own whining.

I’m NOT Limitless

I’ve heard every whine and been given enough snarky attitude my teenage daughters and preteen could muster. Normally, I’d find some solace in a moment of silence. You know the one. The bargaining with God to just cut you some slack before you make those spoiled kids see that light. This is my personal “come to Jesus” attitude. It consists of the snarky remarks and quick wit aimed indirectly at their every pity party moment.

I’ll spare the aches and pains of teenage girl trauma, drama land that I have the pleasure of residing in on a day to day basis. My patience, and I believe my husband would agree, falls either at near saintlike or ‘b*tch I wish you would I’ll burn your mf’ing clothes…real talk’ Honestly I don’t have that middle ground. Once its all used up, it’s DONE and momma has no qualms about being that mom either.

Share the Love with a Mother!

This one is for my other mommas in current battle, in post victory <or defeat> and for the other mothers. I desperately need some judgment, encouragement, skills, classes or keep your sanity strategies to get my life out of fight or flight and back on the winning Wednesday side of this war against the whine!

Self Assessed Hot Mess

I’ve carved out my strengths and my weaknesses as a mom, woman, human. I’m not scared of self criticism. Honestly, I know I’m a hot mess riding the my threefold bipolar express. The ride ain’t easy, nor is this mom life we live. Help a mother out!

Strong as a Mother

  • Understanding and empathetic.
  • Sees the best in <most> people
  • Giving of myself…love, body, mind, spirit, money, blood, sweat, tears, peace of mind and sanity. Not to mention my socks, my hoodies, snacks, caffeine, mascara and other life sustaining mom necessities.
  • The fixer. The chaos coordinator extraordinaire. The ultimate unconditional love and support of a mom.
  • I work my a double the s off for the money to meet their needs AND their wants as often as I can.
  • I’m not asking for perfection just the R-E-S-P-E-C-T I deserve as the giver of life, love, financial support, Nike shoes and fancy salad lunches. Not to mention the very comforts these children have access to these days.
  • I’m ALWAYS there. Every game, concert, award, meeting, conference and appointment. They can rely on me to be there and if I’m not, there is someone I have assigned to my role for that day.
  • I talk, openly, about our past, the good bad and the ugly, whenever they need me to. I give them space and listen. I give advice.
  • I’m honest. There is no sugar and no pretend. I’m real. Authentic. Weird.
  • My home is open to their friends. If they are all at my house I know where they are and *mostly* what they are doing.
  • I value presence and time with my kids.
  • I am open to their thoughts, opinions, and views. I’m accepting of their personal views. I respect their feedback.
  • I am a mom who will fight for them, with them and sacrifice to make sure they don’t have more trauma to unravel later in life.

Fixer Upper

  • I am intolerant of lying. It’s a guarantee that I will second guess.
  • I overthink, overanalyze and overall am a bit dramatic.
  • My mood swings have moodswings.
  • I feed off the energy of others…good and bad.
  • I’m quick to get defensive if attacked.
  • I tend to see the worst case before seeing the silver lining.
  • I’m overly money conscious. You may get Nike shoes, but I’m thrifty. Coupons, hand me downs, thrift shops, and outlets are my options.
  • I procrastinate.
  • I hyperfocus on work.
  • I run myself down to the point I need to check out to check back in at times.
  • I cuss like woman who has worked with men and in construction her entire life. <I have and still do>
  • I’m easy on my kids. I hate long punishments. I back down or slack after a bit of time.
  • I do put them first, above anyone else…even myself.
  • I have the guilt of all of our pasts weighing on me always.
  • I have a hard time drawing boundaries.

So…I’m the mom who grounds you for a week and let’s up after a few days. I’m the mom who will give you all the rope I have then free you when tangled it. I let it slide, but then get overly upset when that slide gets too slippery. I love them enough, but feel like it’s not enough to make up for their pain. I’m the safe place, but I am worried that makes me more of a friend. I’m the good cop, the bad cop, the judge and the jury. With three girls I’m constantly told this one is not held to the same standard as the others.

It’s a never-ending back and forth power dynamic. I want what all moms want, right? Take care of your own stuff, take care of our stuff, clean up your messes, do your best in school, help out for the money you want to spend, and treat the people in your life with respect. That and peace on earth, the usual, no biggie.

That’s my long whine this Whinesday. However, I’m hoping to have a Winsday soon. I need a win for the home team, and this momma is tired. Mommin’ ain’t easy! Real talk. However, there is no give up or surrender for my threefold and I. We’ve got this! Withe some mom tribe tips of the trade I’m sure I’ll be back to Winsday in no time! Comment below your motherly words of wisdom! Message me on Facebook or send me email. Until next time! ☮️💙😊~M

PS: Happy FALL y’all! 🍁🍂🍁

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Smile through the Struggle

There comes a point though that we can’t just smile through the struggle. We need support and someone to sit with us while we cry the tears, express our fears, and not try to tell us how to fix all of our problems. I’m here to tell you, it’s ok to not be ok. Mommin’ ain’t easy. It takes a village and in our case a damn army because we are fighters over here! But damn it, this part is hard. There are no cheat codes for raising teenagers with mental illness! Believe me, up-down-up- down, left, right, or whatever it was in the original Nintendo game, doesn’t work. I need a reset, pause or some power ups to get through our ups and downs!

I’m struggling with life throwing punch after punch. They are landing blow after blow. I’m at the point that I almost wish I’d get knocked out so I could rest a bit easier. Unfortunately, I’m just getting my ass beat. Life yet again is the bully who is kicking my ass and stealing my lunch money. Instead of just giving in and handing it over, I just keep fighting back. I still have hope that there is something better around the corner. I want to believe that all the hard my threefold and I have faced over the last several years will have some reward in store for us when we get to the other side of this obstacle course. I have to believe enough for all of us, because if I give up, so do they.

If you’ve been following our journey for a while you know 2021 brought a lot more than our fair share of hard times. Going into 2022, I was hopeful that we could close that chapter and begin seeing our way forward to the future. I felt like we finally had overcome big hurdles and found a groove. I was wrong. So wrong. 3 months in to the new year and we’ve already had 2 hospitalizations each now for #2 and #3 of my threefold.

#2 just finished a week inpatient at the beginning of the month and stepped down to partial hospitalization or day patient {hospital during the day and home at night} after this last round of inpatient care. Today while at partial #2 got upgraded to an inpatient unit at the grippy sock hotel, extended stay addition. She needs medication adjustments again. Bipolar is difficult to manage, in case you weren’t aware, now add in the fact that #2 has Bipolar 1 and also happens to be a teenager…that’s more difficult to manage. .

I know I’ve spit the statistics before but bipolar is one of those super unpredictable mental illnesses. It’s also super difficult to diagnose. Most people seek help when they are in a deep depressive episode. Most often bipolar disorder has depressive episodes that stay for months and even years without relief. When you have a manic episode in between it can appear like you are ‘getting better’, but you’re not. Mania is the ‘polar’ opposite of depression. I like to explain it like this – if depression is the worst you will ever feel than mania is the best you can feel. If depression makes you believe you’re worthless then mania is the feeling of being worth your weight in gold. This can make it seem like you’re capable of anything. If depression makes you worry about everything then mania is the absence of worry. It’s not a good thing. This is when people ruin relationships, cheat, steal, experiment with drugs, spend every dollar they have and become invincible.

Usually a depressive episode on average has been found to last 50% longer than a manic or hypomanic episode. There is a 60% greater chance of substance abuse with bipolar disorder. The main statistic that scared me most and steals my sleep is that nearly 50% of those with bipolar will attempt suicide with an alarming 15% who complete suicide. That’s why I share our story. That’s why I won’t quit fighting for our future.

I fight hard for my threefold and I everyday to make sure that our names don’t become part of the scary statistics. I fight the stigma surrounding mental illness because the misinformation isolates us and tells us we should be ashamed to have a disorder. I laugh about our crazy life and how I am the trauma bipolar bear momma because it makes the bitterness and heaviness of these statistics a little easier to swallow. I smile through the struggle, but I guarantee tonight these statistics will steal my sleep and my peace. All I can do is continue to try and stay positive. We’ve got this! ☮️❤️😊~M

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Adulting {ish}

Today is #1’s 18th birthday. It’s been a weekend full of partying, celebrating and more reality checks than I wanted to face. Today, my oldest is legally an adult {ish} heavy on the ish. When they say time flies and in a blink of an eye they grow up, it’s true. I barely remember sleepless nights anymore, but it still seems like it wasn’t 18 years ago that this tiny, red headed child was coming into the world. It’s crazy how fast it went by, and even though it’s not like it’s over it’s like grieving a loss. She isn’t a child, she’s an adult, a grown woman capable of making decisions that could change her life. I’m just a bystander, an onlooker, and a resource that she can choose to listen to…or not. That’s scary as hell!

I’m confident that she has been raised to know herself and her path. I’m proud of her for a million reasons. I’m not worried about her, I’m worried about the world around her. She is loving, giving, accepting, inclusive and people pleasing. People take advantage of the nice ones sometimes. They walk on people like #1 then call them naive for seeing the best in people. She is scared to let others see her as someone who has an opinion. She is hard on herself and she thinks perfection is an attainable goal. #1 hates conflict and doesn’t want to disappoint others. Her inner voice is very much her biggest obstacle. I believe in her, but now she has to believe in herself.

My girl, is a strong person who has overcome challenges. She doesn’t see that side of her. She has had trauma, but still has a bright light that she shines on those around her. So much has been stolen from #1, but still she gives without hesitation. She is full of love and a genuine sweetness. That innocence and faith of a child that has never been hurt, but she has been hurt. That amazes me. She hasn’t allowed that past hurt to make her cynical or bitter. She is warm and endearing. She chooses her attitude. She isn’t perfect, and never will be, but I want her to be her. Regardless of who that is I will love her unconditionally.

I’m sad and happy today. I’m sad to know my baby, the first of my threefold has officially graduated into adulthood. I’m happy because I know this means she is going to embark on the adventure she chooses for herself. She is a beautiful person, inside and out. Her light will guide her on this path forward into her future. Mommin’ ain’t easy, but I have to pay myself on the back today too and say I’ve reached a milestone as well. I’m the mom of an adult {ish}. One down, two to go! Stay positive! I’ve got this! ☮️❤️😊~M