I am manic. Have been manic for about two weeks. I went to my hairstylist and told her I’m ready to get crazy. She loves when I say that. Thankfully the weird chopping and stinky chemical I bombarded my hair with, I think I love. For real. But check back with me in a week.

Our camper needed to be rebuilt, and my husbands friend spent some time at our home helping with this project. Now, when I am manic I have an overwhelming desperation for men to find me attractive. Also, I become a slithering seductress with only one end game. Disgusting, I know.

So anyway, every time he came over we would exchange witty banter and maybe a few flirtasious comments, made in fun. When he was gone I would go into what would appear to be a woman contemplating the to-dos of the following day… when in my mind I was having sex with him everywhere, anywhere. Detail by detail the story unfolded for me and I would be stuck in my mind again, unable to break free, and honestly I don’t think I was trying too hard.

The next day I would walk out into the garage and give him one of those smiles, but I was abruptly reminded that he was not there.

I have not slept for three days.  And I’m taking my meds, so my symptoms are mild.

Before meds I would be flying high talking to Jesus in the morning, and seducing another one of his sons that night. I go out it what you could loosely call clothing, drink drugs sex and still be going when the sun rises. Feeling invincible… no regrets…

Truth is mania on meds is calmer, quieter. It allows me to avoid divorce court, the loss of my children, keep the remaining family and friend that I have left. It allows me to seem mentally healthy at parent teacher conferences etc. Etc. Blah blah blah

Truth…. sometimes I want it back. The out of control in your face energetic sassy happy girl dressed only to atrack men. Flying high, owning it, breaking every rule in sight.

Probably why people stop taking lithium. The highs oh they can be magical. Unfortunately the lows can end in suicide.


{April 17, 2013}   Stick with me on this one…


If you read the following post you are stating that you are aware of my diagnosis of ADD, and Bipolar, and you are aware that I am completely out of control manic right now, so Im sure it will be random, cuz thats what is going on in my head.

I just finished painting two walls in my much anticipated “Alone Room”…

I suck at painting, according to various reliable sources.

Painting Tips

1. “Cutting in” is not necessary, and in truth is mechanical and stops the flow of true creativity. I have learned that the edge of the prior wall color acts as a frame for your masterpeice.

2. Dont get upset when your significant other goes ballistic about all the paint stains on the new carpet. Try “Grandma’s Secret Stain Remover”. (Not made by my Grandma, probaly not made by anyones Grandma. Probably made by the underpaid and sexually harassed assistant of some man that has B.O.)

3. Do not paint in a well ventilated area. Close all the doors and windows. Feel free to add an ocillating fan, however. Turns the fumes into a breeze of LSD flashbacks. (Say no to drugs…)

4. There is no need for a second coat. Consider the shading and crevices as a faux painting effect that you invented all by youself. Truly beautiful.

5. Take your time. This is not a race, unlike masturbating in you car in the parking lot at Kohls. Chances are someone is going to park next to you, and that, my friends is a bummer. Now I park next door at the used CD resale shop. No one ever parks there, trust me.

6. Dont be upset if you choose the wrong color paint, and your boudoir turns into PeeWees Playhouse. Buy a few pillows from Pier 1 (another excellent parking lot), and pretend you meant to do it and critical visitors have no understanding of abstact art and satire. The Marilyn Monroe clock can still be returned to Walmart. But the Zebra print fur you bought to make into a loveseat slipcover? Just go with it, and remember if PeeWee was still on TV in 2013, Chair-y would have definately been upgraded since animal prints are all the rage in pre-teen bedroom acrosss the country.

one more thing… If you find yourself rolling the paint roller across the wall with out paint on it, thats cool too. Its called practice.

BTW… I got the stain remover at ACE hardware, even if I am still pissed that the smelly overpaid Jackass took all the credit.

{April 15, 2013}   How did I get here?

How did I get here? Right now, this moment. Sitting at the kitchen table, alone, silence so loud my ears are ringing. Not happy, not sad, or angry or bored or ashamed? In this moment, who am I, and how did I get here?

A series of moments, a series of decisions…. my decisions and those of others. My father stabbing my mother in the head with scissors.  Going to work with my mother when she was young and beautiful. She was an aerobics instructor and I sat on the weight bench and ate grapes.

New house… dad at the door with flowers, red roses. Mom likes yellow. We don’t open the door for daddy anymore. We hide and cry in the bedroom.

Days of Our Lives… I was named after Rachel Cory. I remember when Mac died. I think that’s when botox was invented, Cuz Bo and Hope still look the same.

Eating McDonalds on the porch in the rain. I think that was the only childhood memory I have where my older brother wasn’t a total jerk. I love him so much. He’s so far away from me now. I haven’t heard his voice in a year. Only one letter…

When I was seven, things got crazy. I took a bunch of tests, pictures on cards, a string of beads. I spelled thermos and they said I was gifted. New kids, new class. Only I was too smart for my friends, and too dumb for the new kids. There was a lot of room at my lunch table.

The teacher told me not to hold the jar of paint by the lid…

I had to go so bad…

My mom met a man with a red face. He smiled too much. I drew him a picture.

I guess that’s not how I got here, to this silent kitchen.

But that was the beginning…

{April 15, 2013}   “She’s Gay”

Picture this… Your having lunch with your coworker, and she says the following…

“So I went to get my nails done the other day with Laura, she’s gay. Anyway, we went to this new salon. You should try it out.

Let’s try a few others…

She has a hammer toe,
She snores,
She grows vidalia onions,
She was born in Nebraska,
Her first car was a Mercury Topaz,
She likes Starbucks,
She has a mole behind her right ear,

Why do we have to say “she’s gay”, or “he’s black” for that matter? Why do we have to say, “she’s a democrat”? (Just kidding, I know that last one is worth pointing out). “She’s bipolar”? The above is what I call “passive prejudice”.

In some conversations its appropriate, I guess.  But let’s all be a little more careful choosing the verbage and context. I’m just saying…

Show some RESPECT to your brothers and sisters. Cuz that’s what we all are…. FAMILY

I love you all, regardless of the color of your skin, who you love, who you worship, what is your mental or physical condition, or who you vote for.

But really… Democrat????? Really????

My mom came to visit me today. She was behind me by or on the couch. I think she just stopped by to check in, I didn’t feel any urgency in her visit. She was laughing at my feeble attempt at painting.  She always laughs at you, not with you. It used to make me so mad, but now I realize she does it not out of meanness, but to entertain herself. Well, maybe a little out of meanness. God knows, she’s got enough of that to go around.

I told her I was sorry the kids were not home, the are more entertaining than I. She held the ladder for me when I almost fell and rolled her eyes dramatically I’m sure. Pointing out my mistakes again, so like her.

I told her I was sorry I didn’t invite her over more when she was alive, but we both know if she hadn’t died, she still wouldn’t be visiting. Her fault and mine I guess.

There were times in my life when I laid in bed and examined myself, wondering if I even loved her. But I knew, deep down, she always loved me. Maybe more than anyone. I only felt that occasionally, however. She was nuts. Like me. Thanks Mom.

Now I know. I love her and she loves me. Theres no crap to get in the way now. She still laughs at me and acts holier than thou, but shes been to heaven, so I guess I’ll let that pass. For now…

I took my dog to the groomer today and he looks worse than he did when I dropped him off…

I’m disgusted with my husband. I don’t even want to look at him, but I’m definitely in the mood for a horizontal mambo…

I spent the last ten years wishing my son and I could communicate. Now I can’t find ear plugs strong enough to drown him out…

I would love to have another baby. But I wish there was no jail time involved in dropping my current three off at the fire station…

Yesterday was the day of my fathers birth. I was hoping it was going to be the day of his death. (Lord forgive me).

I told my husband I wanted to turn the office into a room just for me, to have some alone time.  He is all of a sudden working hard on it, “because he wants me to be happy”.


{April 8, 2013}   My husband…

My husband very rarely does anything around here. Granted, he works hard and long, and I am grateful for everything he does to provide for our family. And I love being a stay at home mom. In all reality, I just love being a mom in general.

But when its time for dinner, I cook.  When its bath time, I start the water, test the temp, and pour in the bubble bath with whatever cartoon character is currently popular on the front.

When the tears flow, I kiss owies and calm fears. And I always stand at the bottom of the slide to catch you on your way down.

When its time for homework I read about Columbus and help grow bacteria in petri dishes.  If your having a hard time with math, instead of giving you a little lost puppy face, I will happily type “how to do fractions” in the internet search field.

I zip up coats, pack lunch boxes, and sign field trip forms. I have hand sanitizer in my purse and wet wipes in my car. I always check to see if your shoes are on the right feet BEFORE I check to see if mine are.

My husband rarely does any of this.

So tonight, I’m tired. I tell my daughter that daddy is putting her to bed tonight. I lay there, and across the hall I hear him reading her a story.

I relax back into my pillow, jealous Cuz he stole my job.

{April 8, 2013}   Pop quiz….

I just finished shopping.  Did I buy a car, a computer, or a backpack?

{April 8, 2013}   The sun is peaking through…

Not literally…

My princess just climbed up on the couch next to me and sat there silently pinning me with what I think she assumed was a “mean” look. I looked at her for a minute and I said “your not really scary you know.”

She growls at me “I’m a dragon”.

Her hair is curling from her recent bath. She’s wearing hot pink Disney princess pj’s’ and smacking on pink bubblegum…

I say, “Dragons are pretty scary…”

{April 8, 2013}   I hate days like this…

I believe in God. Actually, its not that I “believe” in Him, like I believe in Santa until that little bitch who lived next door ruined it for me… I know Him. “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God”. I think I’m one of His favorite sinners. And no, I can’t answer any of the questions we all have, I just know that when I finally see his face they will all be answered.

Anyway, its raining today. I bring up God to lead into my belief that everything happens for a reason. And its not always a reason that will benefit me, or you for that matter, in that moment.

Wow, I’m all over the place this morning. ANYWAY, its raining. Just think Mufasa and the whole circle of life thing.

Holy CRAP! Lion King just started, I am not even kidding! Kismet.

Anyway!!!!! Its raining. Zero sun. Gray skies. Wind. Necessary for the survival of our planet, right? I get it. What the fuck ever.

The weather seeps through my skin. My eyes greedily suck in the lack of color, the cold wet nothing that surrounds me. I am not even safe in my home. I hear it. I feel it pushing in, pushing at me.

I have no defense against it. None. I can close all the doors, pull all the blinds and curtains, even though I know there is no point. None of that changes the weather or my aversion to it.

I feel heavy, dark, can’t sit still, but I don’t want to move. And as I hold God Close to me, I don’t ask him to change the weather. I will not cheapen My Lord into a magician, or some sort of circus performer. Plus, the rain is necessary.

This too shall pass. My beautiful spicy mamas tattoo.

And, last I checked, God is a little busy at the moment. Go get em, Father. I can deal with the weather.

et cetera