I just screwed with this site too much. Moved over to an old blog I had. Join me if you love the crazy.


dont blame you if you dont. I aint that spectacular


my son has been going through an interesting phase.

and by interesting I mean – horrific and I am so done with this stage.

He cries/whines over everything.

And hes got this new whine that makes me want to skin my own self, my God is it horrible.

So one day, while I was getting him ready to put him to bed – he was crying and whining and triggering the crazy….like crazy. He obviously didn’t want to go to bed and he thought crying hysterically while whining, would magically change our minds.

Shockingly it didn’t.

So I was near on point of screaming my head of because of his crying, when I put him down off the changing table and pointed him in daddy’s direction.

“Go. annoy your daddy”

Immediately, the kid stops crying – LAUGHS – and says: “Daddy teef?”

My husband laughs and I look at him and I’m like: “Uh, sorry kid. Only room for one crazy person in this house”

Had my surgery.

things are going okay-ish.

I guess. I don’t know. I hate not knowing. I mean it’s my freaking body, how could I not know ya know?


I hate being crazy sometimes.

Anyways, started up my public blog again. People are not commenting like they used to and it’s irritating. Trying to get over it…not getting over it as fast as I thought.

Been trying to open up about my crazy there, but I’m finding it harder. Like how can I open up and be me to people I know hard. I know, weird – but true. But I’m going to. just working up the courage.

Dang, am I making any sense?

Sorry…just been feeling a little funkalicious. It’s starting to hit me. I’m not gonna have anymore kids.

Not that I want anymore – just……ya know?

Nope. Not ready. Not gonna talk about it.

So, had a furry visitor – I think.

There was a cover thing pushed out from around a pipe under the sink in our half bath. I saw some weird junk in that bathroom like broken pieces of wall), but no other signs anywhere else in the house. My mom told me to put masking tape over it…hopefully that helps.

Now it’s got my paranoia all out of whack. Which of course totally helps things.


I just want my brain to be quiet for once.

Been in a funk.

I’ve been creating all my stuff to start my writing career, and it’s just put me in a funny place.

Being a writer is a cutthroat job. There about a million … Okay maybe not a million, but sure feels like it; other people looking for the same thing as me.

It’s hard trying to get recognition. Yes, I know I should pray and I have been. A lot. But ya know this self-deprecating mind of mine needs something to do.

So here I am in a funk.

I already got my writing site up, I tried buying my domain name – but I have a common name. In fact I know the blogger who stole my dot com name.

Stinking chick. I mean, she’s cool and all; theres no competition between us at all actually. She’s a social media guru, I’m just a measely (but extremely awesome) writer.

I’m gonna start my other blog back up again. While I’ve rocked the blog entries on here, the other one is what I’m known for. I’ll blog there as frequently as I did…do here.

I’m still gonna blog here. I need a spot to talk & just be. Then again maybe not. I don’t know.

If you are gonna miss me too much – which I would find a little creepy, not gonna lie – email me will send you the link to my other blog.

Maybe. If my paranoia lets me.

Yeah, now that I think about it…I’m gonna keep this blog open. I need a place where I can be crazy…


I hate this.

I’m sitting here and my mind is racing.

Racing to do something.

Something awesome.

I wanna be cool.

I wanna be a famous writer – ya, I know. Who doesn’t. But I want to be famous like Paul is. I want to help people. I want people to hear my name and be like…wow. I wanna be like her OR We need to talk to her and get her advice.

Or something.

I know thats part of what I’m going through. Why can’t I get a single thought down on paper?!


There are kids outside making weird noises really freaking me out. Setting off my anxiety, more so my paranoia. I just wanna run outside and scream: ARGH! GET OFF MY LAWN.

Thing that would scare them the most is the way I look. Rollers in my hair, no pants, barefoot.

That’ll teach them to come near my house.

stinkin a. what the crap was I talking about?

Oh yeah.

I’m itchin’ to do something awesome. I wanna make a change.

I feel like I ain’t doing anything and that pisses me off.

I need to do something.

Something that will wow the socks off of people. No. Not wow the socks off….bless the socks off of people.

As I sit here in the quiet, well almost quiet. I can hear my son laughing hysterically, wrestling downstairs with my husband.

But as I sit here, I like to listen. I’m here hiding in my room cause being around my kids is just too much for me to handle right now.

Overstimulation sucks big time.

My ears were throbbing with their laughter. I knew I needed to get away.

But now I sit here in the quiet and listen. Funny thing is? I don’t get jealous of not being there to enjoy the laughter. I can actually really enjoy it now.

I can hear the birds chirping outside, my son laughing and finally? Feel my body relaxing.

But now as I type that? It makes me sad that I sometimes hafta step away from my children in order to enjoy them.

What type of person am i? 

So I had my pre-op appointment for my partial hysterectomy.

Or whatever.

Anyways, they gave me a brochure of the robotic machine that will be working on me.

They definitely should not have showed me that picture.

Anyhow, I looked at it and couldn’t help but think: crap. They are gonna hook me up to the freaking matrix!


I told my friend, she told me I should say “I know kung fu” when I wake up.

I totally am.

When I hit a bad episode, funktastic or manic, I drive.

I love to drive.

I love to feel the release, to feel the freedom. I almost feel like me again.

That’s a big almost of course.

But what completes it? Is the music. Now, I’ve talked about how matched with the right song; you can almost feel like you’re flying.

But when I’m in a bad episode? I blast the radio. I blast it loud enough to make sure I feel it in my soul.

Okay. Maybe not my soul…more like my chesticles.

When the music is that loud? It’s able to blast those evil thoughts, those evil feelings of doubt and fear from my brain.

Which of course, in turn makes the boys whines for fries at 10am & the girls cries for attention more liveable…ish.


Just got a call from my ob/gyn. The doctor who’s removing my catchers mitt? Yeah, he’s no longer my best friend.

Told me they have to push back my surgery for 20 more days.

But here’s the best part – he’ll refill the prescription of percocet for me.

Thanks doc. But I’d prefer the surgery.


I know he was trying to help and felt bad – but this is the only option.

Too long of a story to go into, but basically? It’s none of yo danged business why it’s the only option.

So of course, I’m back in a funk. I think I never left actually.

Oh wait. It gets better.

My inlaws are coming back this weekend for another visit. But don’t worry y’all. I’m gonna love them like Jesus.

I’m gonna kill them with kindness. If that doesn’t work…maybe I’ll just kill em.

I mean with humor y’all.

Yeah. That’s right. Ahem.

God help me.

Ya know, people look at me when I tell them of my condition and look at me in shock.

“Are you sure you have bipolar?”

At first it was irritating, but as my husband ever so irritatingly (I hate when he’s right) reminds me – it’s a testament to my strength.

I’m not so sure.

Sure, I don’t lash out and scream when every inch of me wishes to. So, okay; I don’t punch walls and cry and fall into a ball for the simple reason that the boy and girl need me to be functioning.

Maybe I get up and shower and take the kids out when all I wanna do is curl up into myself and push out the world.

Does that make me strong?

I still look at a knife (or anything sharp) no way a human should. I pray constantly for God to silence the crazy thoughts. I keep my nails short cause I don’t trust myself. I run screaming from my kids when they are being to much…..like kids.

Is that strength? Or is that just surviving?