and so she waits

He’s coming today. He promised! He is sure and we miss each other so much. It’s been so long.

We text each other all the time. He talks about angst and darkness, and how the distance can be so difficult on such a relationship and I know the only way to fix that…the only remedy is to be together. “We have to be together!”, “I know, Baby”.

So today is the day – I get up so early and shower. I find the perfect outfit. I’m humming and singing happily as I put my makeup on. Not trying to brag, but it’s pretty good if I say so myself. Mom looks on, concerned, from the hall.


I wait. I text. I sit with my Mom while she works and she asks me what time. I don’t know, just when he gets here.

7pm, 8pm, 9pm. I get a text. “I’m sorry baby. I can’t do it. I tried.”

“Can Mom bring me to you? She can stay. We can bring you something! Food? Are you depressed?”

“No baby, I can’t explain. Maybe tomorrow…”

Maybe tomorrow.

Posted in abandonment, Anxiety, Caregiver, children, Dad, daughter, depression, divorce, excuse, family, Father, guilt, Health, major depressive disorder, medication, mental illness, motherhood, recovery, single parenthood, stigma, support, Therapy, TWLOHA, Uncategorized, work | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


4th Anniversary with my love today. The one who showed me that I, too, can have all that the vows I listen to week after week entails.

Every one of those close to me knows I have been in the wedding industry for nearly 20 years. I cry almost every time. Partially because I can tell when the couples are really in love and also because even when I was dating someone seriously, I knew I wouldn’t have every vow covered. Then We found each other. I didn’t make the ‘chase’ easy for him. I needed him to know the worst of what he was getting: the protective children that raised me almost as much as I raised them; the workaholic; the sick and the denial of the sick; the runner and the intense fear of failure – the always feeling that I was a failure. That I was paranoia that no one liked or respected me and everyone talked about how incapable I was; so I worked more and made myself sick and…the endless cycle of me.

He loved me anyway. I will never deserve him. His family also knows it all and could have taken the vows right with him and never blinked. I love them endlessly. His children, amazing. I love them all. Even his ex-wife – lovely as I could have hoped for. How does someone like me – broken from the inside out; as unloveable as a person can be – get so fortunate? Only God.

I love you, honey. Thank you for not giving up on me. I am so glad you waited for me to realize you weren’t going to leave me no matter how sick I got. And your parents weren’t going to try to “talk sense into you”. Your kids didn’t hate me. Thank the Lord. They are so beautiful and that would have been the worst of all because I love them so much.

Happy 4th anniversary.


Your wife who hates herself less each year you love her more 💚♥️💕

Posted in anniversary, Anxiety, Caregiver, daughter, depression, family, guilt, Health, major depressive disorder, mental hospital, mental illness, motherhood, OCD, perfectionism, PTSD, recovery, running, single parenthood, suicide attempt survivor, support, Uncategorized, Wedding, work | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Last call!!

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I haven’t written in a while. I haven’t been well but have been getting better over the past year and a half.

Slow but steadily making progress. I began training for my 9th race. The marathon is in 7 weeks!

#Run4AReason #NAMI #TheWoodlandsMarathon #LifetimeEntryWinner #LoveToRun #NoStigma #MentalHealthIsPhysicalHealth

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My Wish 

What do you have to be sorry for,

What is so sad about your life,

Why are you in pain?

Don’t bug me with your problems,

I’m tired of your clouded rain.


I don’t want to see your scars,

Shield me with happy thoughts,

Who talks about such fears?

How dare you make me feel for your plentitude,

I’m livid with your endless whining and tears.


Still Alive, So what,

So am I, Just get up and breathe,

How can that be so hard…

But oh…I didn’t know

Living in your brain was such Hell.


I’m glad you are Still Alive; Stay Alive




Posted in Anxiety, Corporate, daughter, depression, family, friends, Health, major depressive disorder, mental illness, motherhood, OCD, perfectionism, predjudice, PTSD, recovery, stigma, suicide, suicide attempt survivor, Therapy, Uncategorized, work | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Day That Remains Unnamed

I remember being cold and that it was dark but not so dark that I couldn’t see what was happening. There was a light, that’s right… one light was on. I was crying without making a sound. I can’t recall any noises. There were just tears. My eyes were blank. If you could have seen me you might think I was stuck paralyzed inside my body; eyes blank, body slack, slow unsteady tears falling occasionally.

That man was there; his warm hand on my cold one. I couldn’t look at him. I can’t accept what he is doing to me. I have long ago disassociated, separated myself from what and where reality had me. Who am I kidding; I did this to myself. I put myself here. This is the end result of a long line of mistakes and failures.

Only a thin cottony dress covers me now. Nothing underneath and nothing over. I am laying on my side not even trying to put up a fight, that man looming over me. He says nothing to me. I sense that he wants to, but maybe since I am behaving he doesn’t want to press his luck. Instead he continues what he came to do.

Surprisingly, I’m not feeling any pain. I don’t feel anything at the moment. I can’t or the world will fall in on me and I will panic. The man would not like it if I were to panic. The man has a sharp object in my body and I have to stay calm. Disassociate. Deep breaths. I look down at the floor. So much blood on the floor…

The man finishes one side and asks if I can roll over so he can stitch up my other inner arm. He gently lifts my thin, pale, filleted arm onto a table from my hospital bed and unwraps it from the layers of bandages. He sighs and prepares a hooked looking needle with some stitching thread while trying to keep part of my wound from bleeding before it is stitched. The tears start to flow again. I feel sorry for the doctor man, feeling pity for me.

When he’s finished I look like a monster. I feel like one, too. I have to stay numb inside. I’m not worried about the violence I have done to myself, that pain I need to feel. I’m concerned about the fallout to my family. My kids. I couldn’t worry about that right now. I’ll lose all sanity for sure.

I have to breathe and accept wherever this leads me to now.




Posted in Anxiety, depression, guilt, hospital, major depressive disorder, mental illness, suicide, suicide attempt survivor, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

It’s Been A Long Time (I.E. Happiness ~ Survival > Existing)

The title is kind of making fun of some of my former posts. I am currently in remission from Major Depression (Thank God). Of the things real/possible/suggested/hypothesed/etc. this condition is the one I know I am most in danger of. I was scared for my life every day and lost many friends to suicidal depression. I lost many more to my being open about my condition but I know I at least left some seeds in their minds. They knew me as worthy, sane, and a like minded individual once. It is no joke and nothing to take lightly. It has many levels and a variety of spectrums and luckily suicidal MDD is more rare, but I was there. No longer today. Not right now. But I cannot and will not ever let up on stressing my warnings; do not ignore those signs in your loved ones! Please. No one is too good/ smart/ well educated/ from too good of a family/ strong of a background; No One! 

Many great minds have researched a human’s basic needs for ‘happiness’. In my depression this became so overwhelming for me. Just planning a day was overwhelming. Heck, gathering items needed for a shower was… So once I was in remission I looked at those projects with less disgust. For the most part all agree on the following:

(1) Physical Needs

– Shelter or “reasonable standards of living”

I grew up in a very modest, but comfortable home. When I dream about ‘home’ this is still the house I dream of being in. Some of my best and most terrible memories took place during my time living in this house.  I always imagined living in a nice, big, beautiful home. My parents moved on to a large Victorian and have lived there for over ten years; the three homes I have lived in since have been progressively nicer and bigger but I don’t think they have made me feel happier or more at home. 

– Satisfactory Work

My family are hard workers. Building their own business from the ground up, starting with my uneducated grandfather who, although a genius, had severe dyslexia and couldn’t read. My father and his brothers added to the company and now my cousin and another man who will take over the company when my uncle retires. My other cousins work hard in their chosen fields (many in education, sports and sales; I chose sales, hospitality management). Most of us are college educated, a couple just high school (one of those is out-earning all of us in sales) and a couple have earned Masters (including myself) and probably are mid-earners ironically but I could be wrong. But money has been proven to not be a happiness indicator. Just look at the last ten millionaire lottery winners to prove that theory! I just continued my education because I loved school and my employer paid for half.  As of two weeks ago I had to take a step down from a 16 year career in executive/management due to my health (I’ll discuss later) and take a clerical position in the same field (hospitality). I still enjoyed the work even though it was at a significant paycut and it will also mean a change in my family’s standard of living. But ultimately, would I (we) be happier? That would be difficult to know without the entire picture. 

(2) Mental/ Emotional Needs

– Good personal and intimate relationships

This was a tough, painful, tearfueled lesson to learn. Someone famous once said, “I either care too much or not at all.” I always care too much. Always. If I make a connection with a person and tell them something about myself, that connection is real. It hurts me everytime a client I have invested a lot of time in starts to ignore me instead of just letting me know they have chosen another venue (just horrible treatment, in my opinion but I get they don’t want to dampen their happy vibes). I hurt when friends I used to be close to fade away and even ‘fall off’ of social networks because my truth makes them uncomfortable as if my illness may somehow float over to them. I am the same me I have always been, I just do not silently plot my own death anymore. I don’t plot my own death anymore*.* But, yes, I once did. And then tried to carry it out. People find this odd and creepy and I get that, but I wouldn’t hurt a fly. I carry spiders out of the house! Suicide ideation and murder are two completely different pathologies. I raised two beautiful, healthy, very well attended little girls. Which brings me to my family. My immediate family. They haven’t abandoned me and do love me still, which is all I need. My husband is a saint and eternally patient and my children have been the sunshine in my darkest days. Those three are the reason I survived and continue to. I even got a bonus two children who are precious. Friends, well I have a handful of those I would call true friends. I supposed many married, almost 40 year olds would say the same. A couple I thought were hurt me badly. A few more drifted away. The ones that are still there I will cherish forever. I will do whatever possible to maintain those friendships. Their still being there for me makes a huge difference in my life. 

– Appreciating art and nature

There were many times when my physical health was better that music and running (both together and apart) were my escape and salvation. It was there I cried and prayed. Only there I trusted myself with my real feelings because I KNEW I would be strong enough to come back from them. I could lose myself in the beauty of a winter tree lined sunrise and thank God I was alive and ten minutes later hear a song that brought memories from a past relationship and all the anger I had repressed at the way I had been treated. I could take my sadness, fear, shame and anger out on the pavement and know he was far behind me. I knew I was stronger than his abuse now. There was someone else in his grasp and he couldn’t hurt me anymore. Running and music was my church and my gym. My therapy and my gallery. I hope to someday get back there again. 

– Religion (or philosophic point of view)

God. I very strongly believe He exists. I will discuss but won’t debate Him. I don’t think He is exactly what people imagine Him to be. The reasons people give for Him to be either an imperfect or harsh God. I believe we will only truly understand when we die. Our understanding of Him is our own interpretation. Between us and Him, as it says in the Bible we have our own personal relationship with God. We are not to judge, lest we be judged.  I try not to judge. I’ve actually been too fast to trust people. Even people who have hurt me over and over again. It still makes me happier to think maybe someday I will be able to. Start by trusting BUT have cautious protection in place just in case. In other words; just don’t put your guts on an open table for them to smash and then spit on. At least not with out witnesses to tell you yes, you are not crazy …he/she is a jerk and you did not provoke that attack. Happiness is no attack.  Close to happiness is validation. I think God understands. 

Posted in American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, Anxiety, Christian, Corporate, depression, Education, family, God, Happiness, Health, hospitality, major depressive disorder, mental illness, perfectionism, PTSD, rape, recovery, running, suicide, suicide attempt survivor, Uncategorized, Wedding, work | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment