Daily Archives: July 17, 2017

On Trial

So, I have both been avoiding this essay, and also chomping at the bit to publish it. This one is a difficult one, and I think suicide attempt survivors are united both in our visceral reaction to this story, and our opinion of what happened. You have probably all heard about this, but if you […]


I found out something new this weekend.  No one ever told me that my children were eligible for Social Security benefits when I was found disabled.  So now I am starting the process to try to get them the money they’re owed.  I have an appointment in two weeks to fill out the paperwork.  I’m really kind of stunned about this.  I’ve been disabled for eleven years and they all three should have been getting benefits until they turned 18.

So we went to the dance competition and it was all right. They got trophies for all the dances so that was good.  The youngest one had fun at all the classes.  My middle one came home while we were gone to get some things she had found out she needed.  SO that was kind of interesting.

But they were some long days of dancing, I’m glad to be home and everything.  But the youngest goes off to camp this week so I will be a little lonely.  But hopefully I can get back to writing and doing other things for the week.


Am I A Slave to Time?

The passing of time
Is not flawless
Minutes on the hour
Can be torturous
The ticking in the air
Is never serendipitous
The movement of my hand
Or a voice incredulous
Changes wavelengths
Can contort heart rates
Its when the sunshine dissipates
Darkness encroaches
And sometimes sets fate
That I am most afraid
Fear my breath is stolen
Depression lingers and waits
For if my guard sets down
The devil somehow anticipates
My weakened and fragile state
The clock on the mantle
The watch on my wrist
Simultaneously dictates
The very existence I emulate
Much to my dismay
The second hand has now
Made me a slave
I cannot count the seconds
Left in my life
But clearly
By all accounts
They are for whatever reason
Keeping me alive




Walking the Line

Living with bipolar is like walking on a tightrope, trying to maintain my balance, fearful of each step I take. As a young adult, I didn’t understand what triggered my highs and lows. I saw depression as a problem, but…