Normally I would shrink down the images here to the "small" setting but I just can't with this one. I'm so incredibly proud of what that image represents that to shrink it would actually harm me. I'm sure you're thinking, yet again, that I'm a bit of a weirdo but that's okay. Let me explain what I mean...

That image is the cover to my very first book. Yep, I wrote a book. Okay, Nick wrote a book and then gave it to me and said it was mine now as much as it was his and to do what I wanted with it. So, after some serious nerves, I settled in and that's what I did. I tugged and tweaked, added a bit here, changed a bit there, and then gave it all back to him. He's taken it, formatted it, created this beautiful cover and is working on the publishing side of it.

When I first saw the cover yesterday, I nearly burst into tears because it's the fulfillment of a dream that I never thought would come true. It's one of those, if I were to die right now, I could die knowing that I did this. I was terrified, absolutely terrified, but I did this. I helped write a book and that's something I never thought I could do.

I can't remember a time in my life where I wasn't writing. By the time I was in middle school, I was writing poetry on a regular basis (and being envious of Kim Wisniewski because she got all the attention from classmates for hers) and it just grew from there. From the time my babies were in the womb, I told them stories. Still, it remained something private because like anything else I loved, I didn't think that I was any good at it. Years of being told I was stupid, useless, unwanted, lazy, etc had taken their toll and I rarely showed anyone anything that I wrote. Putting up my erotica pieces online helped with that a bit, but it didn't take long before people forgot that I even wrote them. I tried to be brave and followed a few people's advice and their belief that my writing was good and placed about half a dozen up on Amazon but in the 6 plus months that they've been up, I haven't sold enough for them to even send me a check.

Being a writer is hard. Being a writer who lacks confidence in her abilities can be crippling. When Nick asked me not once, but multiple times to work on this series with him, I thought he was crazy. It took him asking me multiple times over the course of a year for me to agree to work on it. I told myself that it didn't matter if I never finished, at least I would have stepped out of my comfort zone and tried. I had no idea how many areas of my world it would challenge me in.

If you were to look at the first five chapters, after my first pass at them, you wouldn't recognize me in them. In fact, I made an absolute mess of them. I spent those first five chapters fighting the anxieties that I would be a disaster at what I was doing, that Nick would see that I really couldn't write, and my dream of having my name on the cover would be destroyed. I can only imagine what Nick thought when I sent them to him. He never said anything though...simply I want to see more of you in this. He said that a lot as I worked through the 30 chapters that would become The Tether  - None Good. I want to see more of you in this. You can do this. You've got this. He wasn't overflowing with praise but every step of the way, I knew he believed in me. Knowing that saved me more than once as I fought my own shyness and nearly crippling anxieties to attend writing workshops and nanowrimo meetings.

The day I emailed him the final document, I so badly wanted him to be proud of me and to tell me that it was really good. I was proud of me. I don't often feel that way, but this time, I was proud of me. I'd overcome everything and maybe more of the words in the book were his than they were mine, but I'd had my "fingers" on every single one of them multiple times. This book truly is mine as much as it is his. It's my baby...my first and with someone I'm incredibly proud to be working with. Did he give me that praise? No, not really. He told me it was awesome work and asked about book two. That's him. Yep, good job, now let's start the next thing. He doesn't stop and he won't let me. I'm okay with that.

Then, yesterday and the cover...There it was. My name...and I was completely overcome with emotion. Sharing that image on Facebook and seeing him share it was like a dream. Then seeing people react and talk about how they want to read it, how they're just waiting to find out where/when..well, it just kept that high going. Every positive comment, every bit of encouragement and my insecure soul lapped it up. I had people offer to be beta readers and while I know that's not something we're likely to ever use, it felt really good to have people want to read it that badly. People believed in me and what I had done. They probably always have but I'm still insecure and worry. Nick will tell you that I worry far too much and need to shut off my big brain. He's right. I do and I do. It's a work in progress...

Then tonight something happened and I went from soaring high to crying in about 2 minutes.
Tomorrow I may see it as a silly little thing, but tonight it made me realize just how tenuous that pride and confidence about my writing really is. Suddenly I was questioning if I'd really messed something up and what if others read it and thought that it didn't work. Every horrible voice popped up in my head and suddenly I crashed.

Why am I telling you all of this instead of just saying omg, here's my book cover? Because I promised to be real with all of you. This book journey has had its highs and its lows and I wouldn't go back and change any of it. It's pushed me and I needed to be pushed. The past couple of days have shown me that I can do things, even if they're hard and scary. They've also shown me that I'm still pretty fragile in that oh my god I can do this department.  And you know what? That's okay. Life is a journey and each step forward is a good thing.

So, now that you've read through all of this...let me share with you the text that Nick included when he posted this image originally:

Yeah, I just had to show you again!

Something evil is stalking the streets of Baltimore, our only hope is the Keeper of the Tether - Sarah Taylor. The only problem, she doesn't want it and her only guide CT, the Grandson of the original Keeper wants it back. And there is a Demon, a Psychotic Killer and a secret society chasing them; all wanting the power of the Tether for their own nefarious plans. One bright spot, at least Sarah can summon an Angelic Guardian for protection, if she can figure out how to use the Tether. Watch the shadows as the battle for our reality is only just beginning...

The Tether - None Good is coming Easter 2017
written by Nick Davis of The Words & Art Of Nick Davis
And Katrina Roets of Katrina Roets - Author

Crazy, huh? That's me. That's my name. That's my little fan page. Of course, that's also Nick and Nick's fan page. I encourage you to like his. He does some really cool things. I think he also has a Kickstarter coming up so you'll want to be getting in on that if you can. Yeah, I know...I can't resist promoting someone else, but this someone else is pretty awesome. I promise I'm not just saying that because we have two more books to go or because I'm the editor on his other projects. He really is a great storyteller and talent. 

So what now? Well, now I take a few deep breathes and I get a firm grip on that feeling of excitement and pride that is still in there trying to fight past the anxiety and the fears. I take that and I smile because I did it. I did something I never thought I'd be able to do. Yep. Me. The girl/woman who was told she was stupid, that nobody would ever want her, that she wasn't any good at anything just proved every single jackass who ever spoke those words wrong, including myself. I did it. I helped write this book. I'll help write the next one and then I'm going to write the third one. Why? Because I can. I did which means I can.

As for all of you? Well, you keep your eyes and ears open for the official release date and the where to buy announcement.  I'll post it here, but if you want more regular book updates (I'm still getting used to this whole official author who needs updates thing), go hit like on my fan page. I post there about this far more often. Then, I hope that you'll try this book on for size and if you like it, let me know, write reviews, tell your friends, and maybe even buy book 2 when it's done and ready to go.

PS My next big dream is to have an actual book signing. Is that crazy or what?
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This is the photo that started it all.

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Edit: This was written a week ago, but for reasons..yes, reasons...I waited until today to post it.



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The other day I wrote a post about turning 40 next week and my attitude towards it. I meant every single word in that post and somewhere, under the depression, there is still that spark of excitement over a new year with new possibilities and opportunities.

But right now, it's under the depression. Every year, about a week or so before my birthday, I feel it coming on. I try to fight it. I try to keep busy, to ignore it, but I pretty much fail every time. Very few people understand and that just makes it worse.

I make joking posts on Facebook about how it's 10 days before my birthday and I haven't received a single card yet and how people should celebrate the 10 days of me or something equally silly but under all the frivolity is a grain of truth. I watch other people post about all of the love and gifts and time with people that they got for their birthdays and while I'm so happy for them, a bit of it slices at me. The voice in my head reminds me that when my birthday comes along, I'll be alone, that I'm not important enough or special enough for anyone to be with me. I'll try to tell it to shut up and to remind it that I don't live near anyone, but it reminds me of how I've dropped everything to drive hours and hours or to fly to spend someone else's with them.

My brain can be a total asshole at times. It's worse when I try to talk to others about it because they always have the same response. Stop depending on other people for your happiness on that day. Go and do what you want to do. That's great because I can't do that. You see, all these people have one thing in common...they're in happy, committed relationships or they're surrounded by friends. They aren't alone. They can't understand or don't try to understand that the one thing I want to do that day is not be alone. I don't care if I curl up with someone on the couch and have a movie marathon or what have you. It doesn't have to be big or flashy. I just don't want to be alone.

I want my birthday to be special and in my head that means being with people or at least a person who loves me. I spend every day alone. Being alone isn't special. I can go to the movies or out to eat alone any time I want to. I've spent my entire life not feeling special or wanted.

When I was a child, my sister was the golden child in our household. She could do no wrong and I could do no right. At my mother's house, it was my brother. I had birthday parties canceled because of something they did. By the time I was in high school, I felt as if I were either invisible or expected to be an adult. I just wanted to be a teenager but I had been trained to take everyone else and so I fell into line and did just that.

Then, I got married to the first guy who paid me any kind of real attention and who I thought meant it when he said he loved me. I wrote in other post what birthdays were like for me. I always made a big deal out of his and out of things like father's day but it never worked the other direction. I still felt invisible and as if I were only there to serve a purpose.

After the divorce, I guess I thought things would be different. Instead, I was raped for my 30th birthday by someone I thought I knew and trusted after I'd spent over 12 hours traveling to get to where he was. The fact that I had any spirit left was something to be beaten out of me or taken another way. I was a nobody in his eyes, just something to use, abuse, and then throw away.

I don't remember the next few years...I moved to New York, spent birthdays alone or in class. I moved back to Michigan and I think once since 2007, I spent the day with someone I loved and it was lovely. For my 35th birthday, someone decided to throw me a birthday party...except nobody came which just solidified my feeling of not mattering. Now, here we are, five years later and it's 9 days before my birthday.

I'm depressed, in tears, and just want to put my head down until it's over. Little things feel huge and though I know they're not, I can't seem to push past them. I'm trying. Oh, how I try. I give myself little speeches about how it's not personal if someone sees your messages and doesn't bother to respond to them even though you used to talk every day all the time. It's not personal if someone you've worked with on multiple projects goes ahead with a project without you or without even telling you. It isn't personal if people don't like or comment on your posts or on things you comment on theirs. I tell myself that I'm not invisible. I tell myself that I am loved.

I tell myself all of those things and deep down, I know them all to be true but for the next 9 days it will be a constant battle of depression vs reality. I'm exhausted already from it and I know that there will be a million more tears, a million more times checking my email, a million more times stopping myself from doing things like checking my amazon wishlist to see if anyone has bought anything for me...it will be all of these things and I will win but for now, I fight.

So please...if you interact with me over these next 9 days, try to understand that I'm fragile, that I'm hyper sensitive and that my brain is ready in an instant with some lie or way to misinterpret things. Most of all, just try to love me. Know that I am not this way by choice and that it's something I'm constantly working on and trying to get past. It's hard but not impossible.

I love you all...really and truly, I do and if nothing else, writing this helped me. It cleared things out of my head and somehow, when it's in my own words, in black and white, it's easier to deal with. It gives me those moments of peace where I can take a deep breath and say yep, brain, you suck and you're full of nonsense but I'm going to keep going because I know I'm loved and I'm stronger than this. The depression will strike back but it's those moments..the moments of truth...that keep me going. This post helped me and maybe it might help someone else too.




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Yep. 40. In a mere 13 days, I will be arriving at that major milestone in my life. As with any birthday that ends in zero, it's caused me to be introspective and to look at where my life is, where my life was, and where I'd like my life to go. Then, because I so rarely post here as much as I would like, I decided to share it with you. After all, it was that or do more than pretend to watch one of my least favorite iCarly episodes with the boys. This way, I can be in the room, hanging out with them, but don't have to focus on it. Yay for having teenagers that like you around but don't care if you're watching the show with them!

So...40. Ben tells me that reaching 40 is a major life accomplishment. He didn't expand upon that, but looking back on my life and where I've been, I can't argue with him. There have been times in my life that I wanted nothing more than to no longer be on this planet, but somehow (and with the love and support of some amazing people), here I still am. Do I regret those feelings? No because fighting to get past them is part of what's made me who I am today.

Life hasn't always been grand, but I don't want to dwell on a lot of it. For that you'll have to buy my book. *grins* So let's just talk about birthdays. I don't remember having a birthday party after maybe my 13th. My birthday just kind of became a non thing. After I got married, even my husband didn't give it much attention. If I had a cake, it was because I made it. He'd tell me to go buy something for myself. As the years went on, I felt less and less like I mattered to anyone. It didn't get any better after the divorce.  For my 30th birthday, I was raped. For my 35th, someone decided to throw me a birthday party that nobody came to. After that, I tried to make plans with friends so that I wouldn't be alone but every year for the past 4 years, I've made plans and people have bailed on me.

This year was going to be different. Last year I said that I was going to spend my 40th in England, surrounded by friends. It didn't happen because financially the kids needed those funds for various things. Then, I made tentative plans with someone really special and awesome. Sadly, circumstances have made that impossible.

So where does that leave me? Well, that depends upon how you look at things. Let's look at a couple of scenarios:

1) I turn 40. I spend the entire day alone until it's time to go into town for the football game. At the game, I sit in the stands alone. After the game, I chaperone the dance where I stand alone against a wall and just feel generally miserable. I've had this birthday before. It pretty much sucks.

2) I still turn 40. I don't think I'm going to avoid that. I spend the day doing something I love, like learning or writing or talking with any friends who may be around online. I go to the game and enjoy watching Ben on the sidelines and Roger on the field with the band. Afterwards, we skip the dance, come home and hang out for a while. Then, we take the rest of the weekend and just have fun (except for any homework that needs doing).

In the end, it's about attitude. It's about my attitude towards the day. I could look at 40 and sigh and say life is half over or I could smile and say hey, I have half a life to go, what should I do with it? It's all up to me. I know that option 1 will be what my programmed mind will want to veer towards. My mean brain will tell me that nobody cares enough about me to come and spend my birthday with me, that if people loved me that they'd make a big deal out of the day I was born, that cards and gifts somehow show my self worth. None of that is true, but I've been programmed to believe those things. The bonus of being human and not a computer? I can retrain myself. I don't need anyone else to do it for me. So, that's what I'm going to be working on...that and planning what awesome shenanigans I can get up to in my 40th year! Keep your eyes open for the annual birthday post with my hopes and plans for the upcoming year!

Oh...and if you wanted to get me something, ocd me created an Amazon wishlist specifically just for my birthday. Don't worry. If you don't, I'm not going to take it personally because y'all show me you love me every time I post anything here and you stop by to read. Let's create another year of amazingness because after all 40 is going to be the new me!



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Today isnt a good day and I question my own judgement in writing this here, but I swore that I would live my life out loud, where people could see that others go through maybe what they're going through....and so here we are...

About ten minutes ago, I posted this to Facebook...soon it will go onto my other site:

I want to apologize in advance that I may be scarce in the coming weeks/months. I have some mental and physical health problems that I need to take care of and really focus on. This may mean me taking more time for myself so that I can get well enough to tackle life head on again. I've been trying to juggle so much that I'm not giving my best to anything and the guilt and stress of that are adding to everything and are taking their toll. I know that I owe things to people and I will get them done. I just can't say when. All I can do is apologize and hope that you can understand that right now I need some time away from things that aren't directly helping me get better.

 I promise all of you that I will get better and I will come back stronger. I'm not disappearing but taking a step back. Call me, text me, email me, message me...it all helps but please understand that right now my focus is on fixing myself and my world. I love you all very, very much. That will never change. I just want to be okay and that's going to take some work.

I wrote that last night and waited about ten hours before posting it. I had hoped that sleep would change how I felt, but it didn't. I feel as if I'm falling apart and nobody sees me anymore. Oh sure, the rational part of my brain knows that isn't true, but as so often is the case with the things I suffer with, the rational side isn't completely in charge.  Instead, I find myself in this place that I don't understand and I don't like. For 90% of Valentines Day, I was okay. It was just another day and then suddenly a post was made by a friend of mine and I got angry. I got angry that he's with someone and I'm not...and yes, a bit that when he was single, he didn't notice me. Please, don't mistake this for jealousy. It could easily be seen that way and it's not. It's not just certain people being in relationships. It happens when a friend had a story published in an anthology and I saw him give a ton of credit for it to someone else even though I was his cheerleader and his editor. It happens when someone tells me I have no idea what I'm talking about even though I've been doing something for years. It's just that right now, I'm having these knee jerk reactions...I'm reacting and it's taking every last bit of energy that I have not to lash out. I'm living in a constant state of stress...my chest feels as if it's ice cold and burning at the same time all the time. I'm breaking apart and though I know there are others struggling too, all I seem to be able to see is everyone else's joy...new babies, new relationships, happy relationships, etc. More and more I feel like an outsider and it allows my fears to get a stronger grip.

Things that I thought I had gotten past...like my family and their pure jackassedness ...are popping up and instead of walking away and shaking my head, I'm struggling with the desire to just tell them precisely how I feel about how they're behaving now and in the past. My blood pressure is up, my body is one stress reaction after another...
 
How many of us have seen this image on places like Facebook? I'm sure a lot of us. I saw it again last night and it hit me...I'm not getting better. I had been getting better, but something shifted and now I'm getting bitter. When I feel as if nobody sees me or nobody appreciates what I do, I'm getting angry. I'm getting frustrated. I just want to throw my hands up in the air and walk away from everything. I want to say "fuck off" to everyone and just live a life of seclusion where I can be alone...except, I'd be alone with my anger and everything else. It wouldn't help. 

There's so much more to this....how I've become afraid of the outside world, why I hoard people even those who have been nasty to me, how I don't feel as if I'm worth spending $35 on....and I know that I'll write those and maybe a few of you will read them and maybe it will resonate with one or two of you and somehow help. If it helps even one person, it makes the fight a little more worth it. 



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I never wanted to go back and yet here I am. It's been about six weeks since everything seemed to fall apart and in those six weeks, I've slowly been trying to piece my world...myself...back together again and all it took was a couple of pictures and I'm on the floor, curled up, crying all over again.

PTSD can be a bitch like that. All it takes is one little thing and suddenly you're reliving everything all over again. I thought I was getting better. Sure, there were rough moments, but I'd kept going. I'd fought. Even in the worst of it, he told me that I would get back up again and go on kicking ass like I always did.

I'd been trying to condition myself for things that might come...things that might hurt...things that might trigger, but I didn't expect them to come the way they did. I didn't prepare myself. I have this cold spot. It's right in the middle of my chest. If you touch it, the skin is actually colder there. It's as if seeing what I did sent an ice arrow right through me and it's so cold that it burns. It'd been weeks since that had happened. I was stronger. I was ready to move on.

Now, it's as if everything just happened. I want to hide. I cry. I sob. I pant trying to stop myself from hyperventilating. My skin feels like there's something crawling and I have to fight not to scratch. Every single awful thing keeps running through my head like a movie reel. I stare at my screen...at pictures of friends...and I whisper help me, someone please help me. Take me from this hell...but they can't hear me. I'm alone in this awful place.

Why do I write this? I write this to save myself. Maybe if I share this with the world then maybe there's a chance I can survive this. Maybe I can tap more into the anger that's deep inside of me...anger at myself for giving anyone this kind of control in my life and anger with him for letting his cowardice lead to cruelty. The fact that it's in there means there's hope. I'm not totally lost to this. Maybe if I share this, someone else will realize that they're not alone when it happens to them.

So what's next for me? I don't rightly know. More and more I'm starting to think that therapy is something I should seek. There's also the voice of someone I love in my head telling me to fight, not to hide...I don't know what I'm going to do. Hiding keeps me safe from the world and the scary things in it. Nobody can hurt me if I don't open myself up to them.  I feel as if I don't really have anyone that I can talk to about this. The platitudes don't help a lot though the thought behind them is appreciated. Those who try to intellectualize this just make it worse. My support network has gone eerily quiet, even when I've tried to reach out. I don't judge. I know life gets busy and that there's not always the time for things like this.

For today, I'll make some lunch...and wish that I weren't always the one reaching out to those I love...and maybe let the cat have her way in her desires to sit on me.



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I should probably apologize for falling off the face of the Earth, but all I'm going to say is that the past few months took on a life of their own and everything came to a head last Tuesday.

I'm not going to get into a lot of details here because on some level, they just don't matter. What matters is the end result.

As most of you know, I deal with a multitude of mental issues every day...bipolar 2, ptsd, anxiety, ocd...and most of the time, I manage. This time, I didn't. In the midst of a depressive cycle, the man that I had fallen in love with decided that he wanted to pursue a relationship with someone else. It was too much. I've been fighting my own demons for months and I was emotionally exhausted. I had nothing left.

So, last Wednesday, while driving into town to do homework with the kids, my brain wouldn't stop ticking. It wouldn't stop thinking about everything and suddenly, I had this moment of clarity..the kind where everything seems to fall into place. I didn't want to live anymore. I wanted to die. This wasn't just one of those passing thoughts. It was as if a lightbulb had gone off in my head. There's no reason for me to be on this planet. I could die and life would go on for everyone else and it would be okay. Everyone had someone. They didn't need me.

I did homework with Ben. I tried to spend time with Roger. I tried not to cry. The one person who I had trusted more than anyone on this planet reached out to me and I told him. Even though just seeing his name caused me physical pain, I told him. He reached out to others who tried to contact me. I ignored them all. I didn't want to be talked out of this. The decision felt right.

When it was time to leave the school, I sat in my car saying goodbye to my children, to those that I love. I sat there crying for a while, the pain raw and consuming. Then, I started my car and headed out of town. As each car passed me, I prayed that it would hit me and I would die. I scouted places where if I drove my car off fast enough, it might roll or hit a tree or cause enough damage that I wouldn't live. As I got closer to home, a truck stopped a ways up in front of me and for a few moments, my foot didn't reach for the brake. I thought if I ran into him, it might kill me and I almost didn't hit the brake. In the end, I did...simply because I wanted to come home and finalize some things...then, the next night, I would do it. Some would say this was me looking for a way out, but it wasn't. I wanted to die. I just didn't want to leave more chaos behind me than was going to happen anyway.

In the end, I made it home alive and since I'm here writing this, you can guess I didn't go out the next day and off myself. Some tiny thing shifted and while every day has had its battles, I'm still here. Still, I'm tired and I'm fragile. Sometimes I'm living minute by minute, not day by day. Mantras that worked in the past are now contorted by what has happened. My brain changes you are loved to you are alone. The battle with myself is one of the hardest that I've fought.

Is there a moral to this story or even a point? If there is, I'd say that it's a simple one. Take care of those you love. Don't accept I'm fine as a response to how are you? Get details. Care enough to listen. Be there for one another and if nothing else, hold someone's hand so that they don't feel as if they're alone as they struggle simply to survive.



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By now, you've probably seen hundreds of posts about Robin Williams committing suicide. Personally, I've walked away from social media because every time I see one, I find myself sinking lower and lower. Why? Because it's too close to home.

I've been there. I've stood on the edge of that abyss and even though that I know that there's no coming back from it, I've stared into the abyss and listened to the demons that whispered that the world would be better off without me, that my children would be well cared for and loved by their father and others, that those who love me most would be better off not having to deal with the ways my mood would swing. It is only by the grace of the gods that I've never taken that final step.

What I have done though is hide. I have hidden my passions, my desires and so much more because I have a disease. I've written about it here in my braver moments. There are times when I tell myself that my story could help others and just because I have this it doesn't mean I'm any less of a person than anyone else on this planet. Then, without fail, I hear someone make a comment like, "You just need a positive outlook." or something along the lines of suck it up, you can choose to be happy. That's when I go back into hiding. Sure, those things might be true for a person who is sad or unhappy but not for someone like me. I can't just suck it up. I have Bipolar 2.

For a long time, I didn't know what was wrong with me. I just knew that sometimes I was miserable and sometimes it was like I felt nothing..I was in a void. I would put a smile on my face and fake my way around people because I didn't want anyone to know that I wasn't like them. I always knew that I wasn't like everyone else. I just didn't know why.

It wasn't until someone who I loved accused me of not having any passions, of taking on those around me, that I realized that somewhere along the road, something had stolen my life from me. I was living more in survival mode than I was living in the world. It took losing someone I loved to realize just how far I was gone. Granted, he wasn't right about most of what he said..I had passions, I just wasn't living them, but it was my wake up call. It was then that I looked for help.

I don't know if Robin Williams was truly diagnosed with Bipolar, but it wouldn't surprise me if he had been. You'd be amazed at how many brilliant people suffer from this disorder. Perhaps it's the universes way of "making it up" to us. You can be absolutely brilliant, hysterically funny, but you have to suffer for it. Perhaps it's just an unlucky draw of the brain chemistry. I don't know, but I know that he was brilliant but that he struggled. His addiction issues have been spoken and written about. If you looked in his eyes, there was a sad, haunted look about them. He was a man that I feel knew great joy and great sorrow. He was a man that so many looked up to, but in the end, his demons won and the world has lost a great man.

It is because he is a great man that I hope people don't stop talking about this for a long time. I want attention to be drawn to mental health.  I want people to become aware of the fact that depression and things that have depression as a symptom are diseases and not just a case of the blues. I want people to understand that just because we may have these things, it doesn't make us less human or that our feelings don't work. The problem is that they work overtime. Something that might make a "normal" person sad, might knock me down...and sometimes, when I'm knocked down, it's very hard to get back up again. It takes a lot of energy to live with depression, bipolar or any number of other mental illnesses. We are some of the strongest people you will ever meet because of this. The other side of that coin? Sometimes we will be some of the most fragile.

So, the next time you notice that I'm a little more down than usual, please don't tell me to pull myself out of it. Stop and give me a hug. I don't need your advice. I know that my brain is overreacting. If I choose to vent things out to you, realize that it means that I trust you because I still hide this side of myself. I've had my diagnosis for over a year now and I've still not told my children or my ex-husband. I've put it on Facebook and I've put it on here, but I don't tend to mention it otherwise because there is still such a huge stigma attached to it. I'm hoping that by slowly coming out of my own shell and writing about it, people will come to realize that I'm still the same me..I'm just showing you more of who I am.




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It's been a long time since I wrote about anything personal here. I bet some of you have noticed that. Others of you may just be used to coming here for book reviews. Tonight though, I write about myself and my life and I hope that you'll read it with as much love as you do my other posts.
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I love quotes. Even on my worst days, it's not uncommon to find me looking for new quotes on a variety of subjects. Tonight, I came across the one posted in the graphic and it made me stop and think about my life and my daily struggles. It was just about 14 months ago that I was diagnosed with Bipolar II disorder. Let me tell you that those words brought the strongest combination of fear and relief that I think I've had since Ben was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy.  I finally had a name for what I was going through. With a name, maybe I could find a battle strategy..

Battle..seems like a word that's saved for things like cancer, doesn't it? I guess I was just gung ho about reclaiming my life from something that had been stealing it from me. It took me nearly a year to come to terms with the fact that it would never go away. There is no cure. It is and always will be a part of my regular life. It's taken a year, but slowly I'm taking back my life.

For the first time in probably about four years, my kitchen is nearly scrubbed back to immaculate. My bathroom and laundry room are both about 15-20 minutes away from company ready. My living room is still cluttered, but I'm making progress on it. If you remember, hoarding tendencies came along for the ride so the fact that you can easily navigate the downstairs is a huge deal.

Is life perfect? Oh goodness no, but it's so much better than it was. I've accepted that daily medication is going to be a part of my life for a long time, if not forever. Yes, there will be time when we have to adjust it and yes, the weight that it's helped me to put on will be a fight to get off. However, neither of those things are end of the world things for me anymore. I can accept them, take a deep breath and get back to my life of being a mother, a writer and an editor.

Want to know the best part? I'm feeling strong enough these days that I've reached out to a friend in the blogging world about getting back into writing. I've also reached out to someone in the comic industry about potentially doing some show travelling this next year. Who knows...I might even start getting a small income to help us catch up and get ahead again!



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The holiday time are upon us again and I realize that it's been a long time since I wrote more than a book review for this site. It wasn't because I didn't want to but because I needed to focus on rebuilding my life. Finally receiving a diagnosis was merely the first steps in what will be a lifelong journey.

I'm on medication now and it helps. The ups and downs are still there but for the most part, I can ride them out and still be functional. Once I got used to taking the medication, I started building routines to help me get through the day and to get back on track. I've been thrown off a time or two, but the basic routine is still there and it's helping me get through. Every so often, I add back in a piece that has gotten lost.

I sat not only this website aside, but also Geekorama.net which was a tough decision but one that was necessary. It's just now, nearly 6 months later that I'm slowly coming back to both of them. Instead, I focused on spending time with the boys and on slowly reclaiming my home. In that time, I've lost track of how many trash bags have gone out and how much we've donated. This past weekend, we helped load up 5 trash bags of stuffed toys, a full box of books, a fan, a vacuum and a small bookshelf to go to a family who lost everything in a fire. There will be a lot more to go as I slowly work my way through our home. So far, there are only three rooms that have been seriously worked on. Our laundry room has been redone, the bathroom is done and the boys' room is in progress. All of those I'm struggling to maintain but they're better than they have been in years. I'm hoping that by May..a year after my diagnosis, I'll have the entire interior of our home done and then I can focus on the van and the barn.

All of this sounds good, right? I've been making progress. I can't argue with that. There has been some really good progress around here. Except in one area...finances. Financially, we're barely hanging on. We're behind on some bills and there's never any extra money for anything and it kills me. Whenever I think about money, I feel like a complete and total failure.

I know there are those who know me who judge me because I don't work. They point to the trips that I've taken for the website and make comments about how they wish they had someone paying the way. They comment how I'm an abled body person who just lives off of their ex-husband and the generosity of others. They comment and I bleed inside. I want so badly to shake them and scream they wouldn't take my life if they had the chance..a life without a special needs child who *needs* his mother to do homework with him as much as she can because without that extra help, he doesn't succeed at school..a life with a mental illness that can be downright crippling at times. It's not a life that many would choose if they looked beyond the surface to what was happening inside.

I'm not making excuses. I'm telling you how it is. My oldest son is 13 and in the 8th grade. He's one of the joys of my life and I wouldn't trade those after school homework sessions for anything. My heart breaks on the days when I don't have the gas money to go help him and he calls me crying because he doesn't know how to do something. I would give anything to find a magic cure to help things not be such a struggle for him. There is no magic cure other than a lot of hard work, hard work that both he and I and his father and his father's wife put in. He'll be joining Special Olympics soon for bowling and I don't care if I have to beg on the street, I will find a way to get him the hour drive to practices.

As for me, I'm still rebuilding and it's going to take a while. One thing that I've learned in this process is that I have to go slow. I have to add pieces back in slowly. It's like a tower of cards. If you move too quickly, the whole thing collapses and you have to start over. I wouldn't give this to anyone. It's a challenge that nobody in life should have to face, but to many of us do every single day. Am I physically able to work? Yes. Am I emotionally and psychologically able? Unlikely. Adding in something that huge right now would cause my house of cards to collapse.

Would I trade my life for another? No. I love my children and I love the world that we're building together. I am who I am but sometimes being who I am makes me feel like a total failure. These past few years have been miserably hard for me and for the boys and it was my hope that this year I could provide them with an amazing Christmas..tree, decorations, wonderful Christmas Eve dinner with family movie time and then just for once, really spoil them on Christmas morning. That isn't going to happen this year. Both of the editing jobs that I had agreed to take on for this month fell through and
money just isn't coming through the door. I have bills that are piling up and we're struggling. I try really hard not to compare my life to others, but when I see people saying how broke they are and yet they're going to the movies or fancy places, it's hard. Then, I remind myself that I can't see behind closed doors to know their life more than they can know mine.

“In fact, if you're wondering if I expect miracles---the answer is yes. Even when they don't seem to happen, I keep believing in them. Even when I stop believing in them, I'll always start again. Because if you don't have hope, what's left? I believe. And maybe they'll happen in a way I never saw coming--they usually do. Or maybe I'll find the way to make them happen myself. But ether way--I expect miracles.” Jennifer DeLucy



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