One Goal at a Time

My therapist had suggested I don’t make to-do lists. Don’t write out everything I have to do that day. Don’t write out all the little (and big tasks), as that can quickly overwhelm me. She suggested that I write one thing at a time. Somewhere I can erase it, or delete it. Such as a white board, or a word doc on my computer.

I did really well with this strategy, actually. I flourished with it.

And then I didn’t.

Then I let my mind take over and pile on everything I needed to get done. I let myself get overwhelmed with each bit of housework that wasn’t complete.

So, today, I’m taking a deep breath and going back to the one goal at a time. It likely helps that I’ve been back on my medication for a few days, and that I’ve had coffee. Who knows.

I’m starting with dishes. Washing, and putting them away. The tupperware has been getting stacked on the counter to be put away for days. I have the dishes soaking in hot water while I finish up my coffee.

Between dishes, I write, and walk. Writing means so much to me, and yet I feel guilty if I write too much when I have housework to do. I refuse to let myself feel guilty for doing something that means so much!

Once dishes are done, I’ll decide my next project. However, I won’t think of everything I have to do until then.



Manic Days

Today didn’t start off all that well, really. Not even going down that rabbit hole.

Then, I snapped. A switch flipped. The manic set in. I set out to clean my 4 year old’s room. And did it all at once. I rearranged it, got rid of junk, organized her books, made her bed neatly, vacuumed, and organized her clothes. (as I hear the kids playing in her room, and I hope to hell it isn’t a wreck already!)

I’ve mopped, swept, vacuumed, did a ton of dishes, stripped our bed, started the laundry, and have no intentions of stopping. I’m just letting my phone charge up a bit before I switch the laundry, do more dishes, put the kitties in my room so I can open everything up…and then do some yard work.

I don’t know how long this will last, as there’s no formula for this. None. It could stick around until my psych appointment, or it could vanish the second I crawl into bed tonight. Who the fuck knows.

I’m feeling more creative. I signed up for a photography site and asked the other half to help me find a camera to save up for. I love taking pictures. I just have shit luck with things not breaking. Which I only have myself to blame.

I’m feeling more conscious about my impact on the world. I texted him about wanting to get more reusable straws, better water bottles (the ones I want give back- they donate profits to save the oceans), things like that. We buy in bulk, which I think is a good thing? Less packaging? Not sure. We also have a ton of reusable bags. Nerdy ones, of course! 🙂

I have some sketch ideas for tonight. Once the kids are in bed, and I can draw in peace. Or I’ll never get past the first line XD

But, today is certainly a manic day.

And that is a very odd feeling when you cried yourself to sleep the night before over who knows what (seriously, it’s like my body was crying just because….idfk).



Truth Be Told

The truth is, it’s my fault I ran out of meds on Saturday morning. It’s my fault because I miscounted. It’s my fault that I thought that my psych would actually get back to my pharmacy in a timely manner, and that I wouldn’t have to call them.

The past few days have been a steady downfall for me. And it is a huge reminder that I will be on medication for the rest of my life.

I will never go a day without taking medication for my mood. I will never be able to function without them. I will never be free. I watched a video on ‘forgiving assholes’, just to not be chained to them anymore. I wish that was my case. I wish I could sever the chain that binds me to the assholes of my past. Mainly one. However, the need for medication makes that impossible.

While I am not actually suicidal at the moment, that moment isn’t too far off. The urge to just…give up is in my reach. The hopelessness is setting in. That life won’t get better. That I’ll forever be crushed under the weight of my eating disorder. That I’ll forever look in the mirror and want to sob. That I’ll never escape this horrible relationship I have with food. I’ll never know what it’s like to truly strive for something, because my mind holds me back. Don’t do that, you’ll fail. Don’t even try, you’ll make a fool of yourself! Don’t try to think you’ll ever amount to anything, you’re nothing. My mind is my own worst enemy.

I nearly bawled while texting Daddy about my eating disorder today. It’s not something we talk about- because I hate it. I hate that it controls me. I told him I don’t think I’ll ever be much smaller than I am. I bust my ass, and don’t lose much. I gain .2 and I feel disgusting, fat, gross, and unworthy. I gain, and I gain a lot in a short time. Since last week? I’ve gained a good 5 pounds. It takes over, and I find myself hating myself while I eat.

Then I’m left with the guilt afterwards. The stomach ache. The urge to curl into a ball and cry. It’s nothing new to me, either.

It’s 7:15, and it feels so much later because of the weight on my soul. I want to go to bed, but the sooner I go to bed, the sooner I am forced out of it. When you deal with mental illnesses, and parenting, it’s even harder.

I’m holding back tears because I’m so drained. I’m so done with myself.

I don’t want to ‘die’, I just don’t want to ‘be me’.



It is what it is.

I meant to write a post last week about life after CPS. I had planned to write how the experience has changed our lives, mainly for my kids. But, I can’t. Life after CPS isn’t here yet.

Backtrack, right? I don’t think I’ve ever written about why CPS is even in our lives to begin with.

Back in October, we took my son to the doctor for something on his gum. It was sore, and didn’t look right. We got antibiotics and moved along. Then, just two days before his 8th birthday, CPS showed up. Apparently, they were called in because he seemed unhygenic, and ‘smelled’. First of all, this was our main doctor, who we have seen 2-3 times since switching to her office. We generally deal with one of the nurse practitioners. Our son still has accidents now and then, and face it- he’s a little boy! Sometimes, they stink for no apparent reason.

We had been fighting an uphill battle with roaches, as well. That caused us to lose our kids for 16 days. We busted our asses, trying to get our babies home. I was at a loss. One of my worst fears as a parent was coming true. Never did I imagine that I’d actually hear the words telling me my children could not remain in my home. They are well fed, happy, always have clean clothes, and are cared for.

After 16 long, dreary, depressed days, we got the okay for them to come home.

Since, our 4 year old has anxiety. She is completely terrified of sleeping in her own room. She’s terrified of waking up somewhere else, and even a simple weekend trip to my mom’s makes her worried. “You’ll be picking us up soon, right?” “Are we getting taken again?” Words that no child should have to utter.

In November, there was a followup, and I was told that our caseworker was looking to close the case. Awesome. Months passed, and then my husband told me that on January 2, they would be back. Family services would be here to check on the kids, etc.

It was during that visit that we were told we would now get weekly, unannounced visits.

I was floored. They also finger printed my kids, and counted my son’s Ritalin. This weeks visit is over with, thankfully. I don’t have to feel the daily anxiety that they’ll randomly show up.

Logically, I feel I have nothing to worry about. However, feelings don’t always listen to logic. If ever, really.

I grew up dealing with CPS- until into high school. I can’t recall my brothers ever being taken for any reason. In high school we were never threatened with it, either. My step-father was a pot head, a major one, and our apartment more often than not smelled like it. Yet, they never said a word about it. He’d slap on a smile, and they would just eat it up.

Is it because a well off white female doctor called us in?

Is it because I don’t meet what they view as mother material?

Is it because of the age difference between my husband and myself?

Is it because of the area we live in?

I can’t say for sure. We are looking into buying a house in March, and I hope that if they are still checking on them, that they see we are trying to better their lives as much as we can. We took this house because no one would rent to us when we moved to Florida. Despite my husband being retired military, we were turned down by everyone. Spending hundreds on application fees.

We were backed into a corner. We had two young kids to think of, so we took what we could get.

I finally asked my doctor for a referral for therapy, knowing I need it so badly. She referred me to my psych, who only does medications. It took them from back in November to even do this one, and now I’m forced to wait even longer. Having Tri-Care, I have to have a referral. I can’t just call up a therapist and make an appointment.

It’s very discouraging when I’m trying to better many parts of my life at once, and I hit a road block.

I hope to get my learner’s permit next week, and my goal is to have my license by the end of May. We are driving out to Indiana to see my step-daughter and her little family in June, so I think that’s a good place to start.

I’m trying to eat healthier, and get in better shape, as well.

It’s hard when I’m stressed out by the kids, by CPS, and my mental illnesses piling on at once. I’m doing my best to push through them and not let them control my life anymore, and it’s hard as hell. It was hard letting them lead my life, but at least this has the possibilities of me living my life, as opposed to just barely surviving.

I can’t say whether I’ll finally lose the weight that has piled on. I can’t say whether I’ll ever be comfortable about cops or CPS. I can’t say that I’ll ever live a normal adult life.

All I can do is run with what I got.



New Year’s Resolutions and Me

I’ve never been one to create New Year’s resolutions. I suck at staying on track, and I get really upset with myself when I don’t meet a goal. It’s probably also why I never really try new things, or stick with things long.

This coming NYE, I’m still not creating any resolutions. At least not like I’ve seen most people do them. Nothing grand, nothing over the top, and nothing monumental to be read here. I’ve seen traveling resolutions, I’ve seen shying away from the scale for a year (uh, bra-fucking-o. I applaud you).

Instead, I’m going to try to do 12 smaller goals. One goal a month. If I stick with it after that, I’ll be proud. Hell, if I stick to them at all, props to me.  Maybe I’ll reward myself for each goal kept. Maybe I’ll reward myself at the end if I can keep over half. Maybe both. Manicures? A nice bouquet of flowers? An awesome new shirt? The options are endless.

Y’all are more than welcome to join me, too. Even if you don’t do the same, feel free to pick 12 small goals for your year. Most of mine will likely focus on family, mental health, and personal growth.

I’m very hard on myself and it’s tiring. I’ve been trying to live up to goals set for me as an honors achieving young woman. That is not who I am, so why can I not shake the perfectionist mindset? Why can I not evolve my thoughts to catch up with my now?

We all have to start somewhere. So, here I start. 12 small goals to get me through the next year.

  1. January- 10 minutes of BOOK reading a night. I plan to get my goodreads back up, and log that nightly. Feel free to ask for my handle, as I’ll have to get it for you (it’s been months since I’ve logged on).
  2. February- Monday night family game nights. Right now it’s honestly random when we play, but I think this would be excellent for the whole family.
  3. March- No make up or nail polish. This is actually easy on the make up front, but nail polish is the tough one. I’ve been big on getting healthy, and I’d like to take a month that is usually refreshing to do so.
  4. April- Color two nights a week. Any two nights, just sit and color with the kids.
  5. May- Spend more time outside. The kids love to play outside, and May is the perfect time to start doing that. Before it gets way too hot for us to be out long!
  6. June- No alcohol. I had to pick the perfect month for this. Jan, Feb, and May were no goes because of holidays and anniversaries. June it is (it helps the husband isn’t a big drinker so it’s not like omg hubby’s birthday, need drinks lol)
  7. July- Give myself 30 minutes of ‘me’ time to write, to blog, or whatever. Completely alone at least 3x/week.
  8.  August- No energy drinks. This one is tough AF. I tend to buy the zero versions, but cutting them out for a bit can only be good….right?
  9. September- Make it to Pride. Yes, this gets a whole month. Why? Social anxiety is a bitch, and it’ll take a lot of courage to make it, and it’ll take a lot to recover from.
  10. October- Do more fall crafts with the kids. Having OCD tendencies and parenting is one of the worst combinations you could have. Crafting and cooking with them takes a lot of effort on my part. I love watching them, I do not love the mess, the clean up, or the mental effort of not ‘fixing’ what their doing because I’m internally cringing. Yep.
  11. November- Vlog more. I don’t know what about, but vlog once a week. Good thing that’s months away.
  12. December- Lots of winter and Christmas activities. Start traditions and rewire my brain from being ‘meh, holidays’, to feeling more upbeat and magical for the two little butts in my life. Okay, and the husband. Mr. Photographer would probably like more picture chances!

I think those are pretty reasonable goals for my year. It was so hard not to focus on my physical goals, letting those go in hand with a happier life for me and my family. I plan to put these in my planner, to remind myself of what I’d like to accomplish this year.

Of course I want to get more fit, of course I want to lose weight. However, if I want to show my kids that’s not what you need to focus on, I need to show them. I do my best to be honest with them. I do my best to explain things in ways that they can understand, but kids learn by example. Up until now, I know I haven’t been the best parent. I’m thankful that Anakin doesn’t remember me at my worst. I’m glad that he never will.

Now to make better memories.


About Me, Life

Borderline Personality Disorder


Borderline personality disorder is a serious mental disorder marked by a pattern of ongoing instability in moods, behavior, self-image, and functioning. These experiences often result in impulsive actions and unstable relationships.

Disclaimer: I am by no means an expert on borderline personality disorder. Everything I’m writing is my thoughts, and not to be taken in place of a medical professional’s opinions.

Does BPD affect parenting?

Yes, it does. BPD effects every relationship in your life. Making each more difficult, and making you need to learn how to deal with things as well as you can.

What was your first thoughts when you were diagnosed and/or researched bpd?

That is was spot on, and that I had never read anything I related to more. It was like someone was writing about me, and I finally had answers to every question I’d ever had, and some I never even thought of until then.

Did you know about BPD before being diagnosed?

I did. I had been researching everything I could to give me peace of mind. I read more and more and it hit home. So, I mentioned it to my therapist at the time and we discussed it at length. I had previously been diagnosed as bipolar, but she says that’s common.

What’s the worst feeling that comes with BPD? Is there any positives to it?

The extremes. It really messes with you, and it’s tiring. Nothing is simple for someone with borderline personality disorder. Love or hate- imagine bouncing between the two. Not only with how you view your relationships with other, but how others see you. You could have a tiny disagreement with your best friend, and suddenly, they’re nothing. Or they think you’re stupid and hate you and you need to rush to apologize.

Sometimes it’s the feeling suicidal, but not actively. It’s not caring if you die, but not wanting to do it yourself. To think “it wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t wake up”, but not “I’m going to kill myself tonight”.

The only good I can see from it is that we love with everything we have. We are empathetic, and that’s all I got.

In my experience, it may explain why things are happening, and help me notice them…but I have yet to be able to stop my destructive behaviors. I can tell when I’m not in my right mind, and when I’m blowing things out of proportion, but I can’t stop. Even when that’s all I want.

There is no cure for BPD. It is something you live with for the rest of your life. There’s therapy, and learning to manage, but it’s never gone.

It’s being terrified of being abandoned when you haven’t heard from someone in X amount of time. It’s being afraid to tell someone how you feel because you know sometimes that you sound crazy. It’s failing at relationships because of your own extremes. It’s the self-loathing, the self-destructive behavior, and constant worry.

I’m sitting on my back steps at 6:45 pm EST, listening to the random noises of nature and my kids playing in the moonlight, only aided by our one back light. They’ll come in dirty, and in need of a shower, and a bath. They’ll whine about brushing their teeth, they’ll fight about bedtime, they’ll ask a million questions…

And then it’s quiet.

That’s when it starts. The worrying you didn’t do enough that day. It’s the worry that your extremes got to you while you were trying to get your kid to brush their teeth. That you were too harsh when it comes to getting them to bed. It’s taking the usual parenting worries and multiplying them by 100. It’s being terrified of this rubbing off on them. Two completely innocent beings who watch everything you do, and listen to everything you say. It’s going to bed with tears threatening to break because you weren’t present enough. It’s promising to do better the next day, and hoping with everything in you that the next day is better.

Because those bad days?

Can fucking break you.