Today was one of those days that make you want to pack up a bag and take off.

My girls were not naughty but per their usual they managed to sneak in some mischief.
It involved a chocolate cake with pink and green frosting and my entire living room. How that happened I have no idea. All I did was move the laundry from the washer to the dryer. Oops.


My day is pretty mundane but my girls keep me busy. Then I have work stuff to do and it can get hard to balance work, my home life, my work life (which oddly has its own life) and my personal life. Oh and I forgot being a wife. Remember how I talked about having no clue who I actually was? Well this is where that plays in to this whole mess.

This blog is hard because I am going to tell you about some very private and painful moments. Things that are really hard to talk about but I will be doing it. Why? Because I need the healing to finally happen. I carry baggage from my parents, my up bringing and death. I think you can help even if it is just by reading. Maybe you just need to know you are not alone? I need that too. Sometimes more than others.

That is just being honest. We all have some sort of baggage. Some of us carry it in the walmart brand of luggage and some of us carry it in Chanel hand bags. I think I got mine at a TJ Maxx but it is still pretty full.

I have been a manic depressive since I was a kid. I have extremely erratic sleep patterns and I am almost always anxious. I am so lucky to not have some of the symptoms I could and I have a pretty strong sense of how I feel most of the time. I really am lucky in this because all of my relationships have been long term. My husband, friends, and work relationships have lasted. Some people are not able to do this.

In 2001 I lost my mom, who happened to be my rock, best friend, super cheerleader, my favorite cup of tea, the one person I called 30 times a day… you get the picture.  We were prepared for it. We knew it was happening and would eventually happen. Yet as prepared as we were no one really prepared me for the post event. She tried but what did she know about dying and how to move on from that? She tried. And I think she did a pretty good job. Yet all these years later I am still really mad. She went through hell through her entire life and I am not really sure now what was meant to be learned from the entire thing.

Sometimes I think about if she were still here. I day dream about her being able to live in the extra room upstairs, smell her baking in the very early morning hours, the two of us in the garden weeding away our vegetables and seeing her “special concoctions” of the flowers she would breed. Her paintings are in my office and the very few portraits of her are spread through out my home. If there is anything I can say about my life with my mom is that was it has remained loyal and sorely missed.

I did not have her long enough.

Over the last few years I noticed when I really do need her I regress from people. They are too much for me to deal with. They can suck the energy out of me or they exhaust me with the amount of energy they exude. I will shut off my phone, lock up my house, and speak to no one but my husband and my girls. I dreamt of moving to Alaska and living peacefully in the wilderness for a long time. But it was a game changer when I saw how many homes you had to use an out house- at least where I wanted to live.


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