If you’re out there

and you see this I hope you’re having a good day, a good week, a good life. I hope all the good things you’ve been looking for find you. Here’s to some positive changes friends. Cheers.



I’ve been angry and I cannot help it. I’m angry at every little thing lately and I feel like I cannot control it. Irritability is my least favorite attribute to this lovely disease of mine and it makes me feel sick. I hate feeling sick, as I’m sure most people do. I want to control it but I have no control so now I have anxiety and oh, how well do they mix together. I hope whoever reads this is in better spirits and I wish you well.



I have so many words waiting to come out and even though I wish to pour them out I can’t.

I’m stopped

words trapped, all jumbled and messy in my head,




the words are halted and I can’t think of a single word in a world so filled with words and it should be a grand


but it’s not and I can’t seem to find a way to pull myself up and string a few sentences together because no words can seem to fit the way I’m feeling;

and what I’m feeling is



I have found myself to be completely infuriated at my lack of motivation to do anything. I know I’ve hit the depressive side of things in my bipolar disorder when I feel sluggish. The only good thing that I can say is coming out of it is my ability to complete my “tasks” throughout the day. I am still doing what needs to be done but I just feel so blah and empty about all of it and that makes me more depressed. It’s a vicious cycle and I’m trying to climb out of it. I hope whoever is reading this is coming out on top of things that they are struggling with and I wish you luck.



A damp, dreary, grey morning yields to the comforting touch of hot coffee in a warm mug. The smell of rain on the air, lightly weaving in and out of senses. Pressing matters are no more pressing than the light purr of a fat cat on a windowsill, still and serene. It’s impossible to say what makes it so sobering and yet so intoxicating to breathe in this day. It could be the slightest touch of a blanket, crafted of mist and thin air. The steam from the coffee begs to fight off the damp chill and fills the voids in the air with the sweetest and most familiar of smells. It feels good to be here in this place, time stands still; nothing matters. There is no rush, no hurry. Worries have been drowned on this damp, dreary, grey morning.


How do we hold on to memories? Ever changing and flowing like time; they melt into the subconscious. Drifting and swirling, they mingle with the others like fine capillaries on a riverbed. Always growing, they become painted with moods and emotions; time and health. What comes out on the other side? Rose-colored memories tinted and stained by what we believed they were. They become different and strange but always filled with strong emotion that lingers on and melts, mingling once again with the riverbed.

Good Morning

Have you ever enjoyed your first cup of coffee and thought about how nice it was just to be alive? Normally, no, I don’t either but, today I am. It’s barely nine in the morning and I’m watching my daughter eat leftover popcorn and trying to sneak some to the dog. The sun beams in the window, softly illuminating the wisps of her hair and she’s laughing because she’s been caught. Sometimes if you’re not careful, these moments slip right on by, unnoticed.