mental illness

Breaking the Silence


I realize I haven’t written in a while. So today I’m breaking the silence. I will in a later post continue to write about what I’ve experienced in my jorney of learning about my mental health, however because I myself am writing it and seeing what I’ve been through in my life in print for the first time. My heart, my soul, and my mind are taking some time to deal with the hurt. To mourn who I was and who I am becoming, by working through my past. I appreciate everyone that takes the time to read my words and hear my story and for that, I owe myself and my readers, my writing with a clear mind. My family has been going through a hard time at the moment, and at times (even though I try not to) I find myself placing the blame in wrong places and for that, I’ve put a stop to telling the story of my life until my heart and mind are calm enough to try and see the whole situation and I don’t come off as angry and irrational. Despite the very difficult time, I’ve leaned on my faith and have been able to see the good in life lately. I’m learning and have started meditating, so my mind feels healthy. On December 6th 2018, I had weight loss surgery and have lost over 50 pounds, so my body has felt healthy also. As for my mental health, I’m learning as I go. I have bad days (that thankfully lately I’ve been able to pull myself out of before the day is over) it wasn’t always that way. I also still have days where I feel invincible, I can do it all, I can endure it all, and I can make it all happen. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions. So all I have left is to hold on, try to make sense of the ride and enjoy as much as I can.


mental illness

Postpartum Depression II

“If you have been brutally broken but still have the courage to be gentle to other living beings, Than you’re a badass with a heart of an angel.” -Keanu Reeves

This has been the blog post that I have had the worst time putting out there. Not because I’m scared. I’ve been to places in my mind that makes it impossible to fear others. More because this is the first time I write about this time in my life. I’ve never seen it in print.

When I was 20, after my daughter’s father had left us.  I was of course not in the best place emotionally. I blamed myself for him cheating on me and leaving us, even after I had genuinely forgave him. About 2 months after he left and cut all communication with me. Regardless of whether he saw our daughter or not. From the moment he moved out of our apartment, My daughter Hailee only saw her dad again 2 months after her younger sister was born.

When I found out I was pregnant, my stomach plummeted, how can I bring another little being into this life? to a father that could careless about both her and her older sister? How would I hide and prevent them from hearing (their)/his familie’s tongue lashing against Hailee? after all, they still told everyone they could that she wasn’t her dad’s. When I found out about my pregnancy. I tried to contact their father, but like I said he never answered. I left him a voice message to let him know, and still no reply. I eventually contacted his sister and delivered an ultrasound picture to her for him to keep. Still, never an answer. I would later find out that he was dating a cousin’s sister-in-law, and that relationship there was the worst thing he could have done. I stopped trying to contact him, because I got the point. He was dodging his responsibility to our girls. Eventually, he says a conversation with himself and that girl took place, (the girl he was dating) he expressed to her that he still loved me. I have an idea why this girl felt so threatened, I’m positive it is because she is insecure . ( I say girl because no real woman would act in such a way.) She got a hold of my phone number which later my girl’s father told me that she got it off of his cell phone. She began to call me, from restricted numbers or numbers that where unavailable. Not just call me, but harassed me. I was in school and doing my internship, and every time I checked my phone, I had about 65 missed calls and 25 voice mails. In the voice mails, she would say that I should be jealous of her because my daughter’s father married her already. That my daughter’s where bastards, and that his family and everyone knew it. She said, that I now looked hideous, that my body was gross and flabby and covered in stretch marks and that’s why he left me. She called my dad a coke head. She sent threatening letters to my home, about how someone would harm my daughter.  Every time she called, I was ready to answer her calls to give her a piece of my mind, but she would call over and over and every time I answered her, she hung up. I was already going through way too much to play games with her. I actually had a little being that needed me. Unlike her, I had to grow up fast and I didn’t recent it because it was for my daughter’s. All of this however didn’t help my mental health. One day, I was sitting at the DMV waiting to be called (I had my identity stolen at the age of 19.) I had endless driving tickets that weren’t mine to take care of because I needed my license to always be active, it was what fed my girls and I. An older gentleman approached me and said, “I see your tired soul, just know, that he is with you and that all will be fine.” It was exactly what I needed, that boost to keep me going for my unborn baby and for my daughter. I finished school, and walked the stage 2 weeks before I delivered my second daughter worked 2 jobs, got our own place and was paying for my car. Then, I delivered my second daughter. It’s crazy because my mind was in such a haze then that there are many things I can’t remember no matter how much I try. My beautiful girl asked a while back, why there wasn’t a lot of pictures of her when she was a baby, and I blame myself, but I was so broken that all I could do was just exist, but the memories of her as a baby and her as a little girl, I keep close to my soul. After her delivery, I had a major depressive episode. I fed my girls, made sure they were taken care of and then cry by myself for hours on the couch. My dad has always had a sixth sense when it comes to my mental health. He felt what I was going through and he and my mom, decided to send the girls and I to my grandma’s. They thought it would be good if I had a change of scenery. They where right, being with family pulled me out of my depression. I wanted to live again, there was hope. I however had to eventually leave and get back to work for the girl’s and I. I was terrified, I didn’t want to come back and fall into that state of mind again. Soon after, I would learn that their father’s family was once again denying my baby, I can’t just blame his family either, he was there, he’s an adult why didn’t he stand up for them? it was questions that filled up my mind. The night I arrived from my grandmother’s house in Kansas, their father contacted me to meet our new daughter and to see how they both where. I took both girls to see him at a local burger place. Hailee remembered him leaving and wanted nothing to do with him, Lydia was only two months. He now wanted to be a part of their lives and I didn’t have the heart to deny him that… Little did I know the huge roller coaster ride I had just thrown on myself.

To be continued…..

Lydia: “In my daughter’s eyes, I am a hero, I am strong and wise, and I know no fear, But the truth is plain to see, She was sent to rescue me. I see who I want to be, In my daughter’s eyes.


mental illness

Postpartum Depression I

“Mothers cannot give from a depleted source. Every mother needs emotional, mental, physical and spiritual validation, nourishment and support. When a mother is respected and well cared for, she, and her whole family, will benefit.”


I think this has been the post I’ve mostly put off. There is a lot of things that happened, that it scares me a bit to see it typed out. This was a time for me where I didn’t know how strong I could be until I had no other choice.

When my first daughter was born, I was 19. I instantly fell in love with the idea of having a little person of my own, so I wouldn’t feel so lonely. My pregnancy wasn’t planned or meant “to trap” anyone. I used every method possible to prevent from becoming pregnant, but nonetheless she came and she brightened my world. Soon after I gave birth to her, her and I  had a bit of trouble breast-feeding. I eventually started feeling as if I wasn’t worthy enough of being her Mom. She was so sweet and hardly ever gave me trouble. 2 weeks after birth she started having some respiratory problems. After fighting with every Dr. possible, we got an RSV diagnosis. My mind, being what it is, also blamed me.

Before she was born, I dealt with all my in-laws, and friends of in-laws tell everyone I knew and everyone that they knew, and basically anyone who cared to hear, that I had “trapped” my child’s father by getting pregnant with my daughter, and that my daughter was probably not even his. I think that their rumors, made me feel horrible not for myself but for my daughter because I knew that one day this would affect her. I eventually decided to work things out with her father having faith that the rumors would all just go away. I was still suffering from postpartum depression but would fill my time with as much work as I could. I eventually had a huge blow out with my mom because my parents didn’t agree with letting my daughter see her father because of all the shit they where talking and lying about. I felt like it was unfair for my daughter to be away from her father. So I was then kicked out of my parents house. I stayed with a friend for a day and then moved into my in-laws house with their father. My in-laws, eventually told us they didn’t want us there so we had to leave. I then decided to rent our own apartment with her dad. That apartment I would eventually loose. Her father was so attached to his family, that even though my daughter was his and he knew it, I wasn’t getting any support from him. I was working, going to school and coming home to my little girl just in time to watch the 11pm teletubbies. After a huge fight and her father not coming home, eventually he left. I also blamed myself. Now, I wasn’t just suffering from postpartum disorder but I also felt completely alone, but I had her, and she helped that loneliness. I decided that her and I would do it alone and we would succeed, because regardless of what her family said and thought, I knew we had a heart of gold and that, no one could touch. About 2 months after all this, I would find out that I was pregnant again with my second child, of course from my same first child’s father.

To be continued…….

To: Hailee

“Yeah I know sometimes things may not always make sense to you right now. But hey, what’d Momma always tell you? Straighten up, little soldier, stiffen up that upper lip! What you cryin’ about? You got me.

mental illness

Self Harm

“I lay in bed at night, thinking about every possible thing, I fucked up today.”


I think everyone that self harms, remembers the first time they cut. I can’t remember the exact day. I was sixteen, and it was on my wrist with a razor blade I removed from a razor. The feeling at the time was of relief, relief to feel something because for sometime I had felt numb. It proved to me that I was human after all and that everything I was going through was real. At the time, my cousin, my best friend since birth was killed, I was raped and harassed by an old boyfriend, when I stopped contact with him because of what he did to me, he stalked me and even got violent with me.  I was also in a car accident that totaled my car. All of this within a years span. I thankfully was already in therapy, maybe not the best therapy but Lord knows that little bit saved me. I eventually forgot about cutting and moved on to picking my cuticles till they bleed, biting every one of my finger nails so short that they hurt even to shower. I pull out my hair without knowing. I scratch until I welt. I pick at scabs over and over until I bleed. I thought back then when I gave up cutting, that I was done with self harming. Little did I know that I was subconsciously still doing it but in a different forms. The positive is now knowing because if I’m attentive enough, maybe I can remind myself not to do it. The problem is, sometimes you just want to feel alive.

mental illness

Debilitating Perturbation

“And all of a sudden I felt really tired. Like the world had drained me for everything that I had.” (bgt)

anxiety picture

Everyone has some anxiety in one way or another. The college student that is in finales will most likely have anxiety and nervousness about her/his upcoming tests. The first day of a new job or the first day of school may cause most people to have anxiety. That type of anxiety is healthy, it keeps us going and gives us a sense of accomplishment when done. Debilitating Anxiety however, isn’t healthy. I can only tell you how I experience debilitating anxiety. Physically, my hands and feet sweat puddles, my feet will literally slide of my sandal from them sweating. I get flushed, my heart beats a million miles an hour, I start to feel like my whole body is over heating, I get migraines from anxiety, sometimes my body aches for no reason. Mentally, If I’m not busy, my mind starts over thinking,over analyzing. My thoughts become dark and not to tear anyone apart in any way, only to tear me apart. The darkness in my brain engulfs me with thoughts of not being worthy, my mind forgave the people who left my side, but it never forgave me for what my mind was telling me, which was that I must have done something or something in me wasn’t worthy of them staying. Simple things cause anxiety for me, making calls and talking on the phone gives me anxiety, meeting new people gives me anxiety. My anxiety is debilitating at times in so many ways. It has such a power to affect the ones I love. I’m hoping to one day fully mend the pain that my anxiety has caused myself and my loved ones. For now, I’m trying to enjoy the journey of finally putting my mental health first. Self Care is one thing in my life that won’t be put on the back burner again.

mental illness

Black Despair

“You wake up every morning to fight the demons that left you so tired the night before, and that, my love, is bravery.”IMG_7930

I think I remember my first depressive episode happening in my early 20’s. I had gone through so much already at that age that honestly I’m not surprised I didn’t end up in a long term hospital because I lost my shit (please excuse my language, I come from a very blunt family so I feel like if I can’t be myself in my blog, if I can’t write it like I think it,  it will be difficult to get to know me, so I embrace who I am.) I however of course was still majorly depressed, so I did what I normally now do and sleep, I slept what felt like days. At the time however I already had my first daughter and it was just her and I against the world. I vaguely remember her and I sleeping a lot, I remember getting up for work everyday, making sure she ate and was clean and then, it was like my mind turned off, I would end up sleeping with her for hours. Till this day I feel guilty and it breaks my heart to know that in some way or another she is affected by it. However being so young and coming from a family that knew, nor taught anything about mental illness, I was so hard on myself, I retraced step by step every single thing I thought I did wrong or anytime I hurt a family member with an outburst (caused from keeping quiet so I wouldn’t upset anyone.) I didn’t just retrace it but I would beat myself up about it. I blamed myself for people who walked all over me and left me to pick up the pieces. I was and still am my worst critic. I am now learning however that I can’t continue to make excuses and blame myself for a handful of people that have chosen to walk out of my life. I also need to let go of the idea that when I hit a depressive state, I’m being a horrible mother, I hope my kids understand that on some days  Mommy only did her best because her mind was so engulfed in darkness that in that moment that’s all she could give.

mental illness


“You are so brave and quiet, I forget you are suffering.” -Ernest Hemingway


I’ve always been a balls to the wall person. I don’t have a grey area, I either do it as impeccable as I can or I refuse to do it at all. Being in a manic state, is when I get things  done. When I’m manic, my feelings are almost gone. I pay attention to only the moment and give my all to anything until I and only I am satisfied. When I’m manic, I have racing thoughts. I stress myself out about getting it all done because I never know when the mania will leave and my depression will invade my thoughts. I can go on almost no sleep.  I of course get irritable quickly because I run on no sleep at all. In my mind though I think I can do it all, and maybe at the moment I can, but eventually it’s like my mind betrays me. The problem with doing it all while manic, is that people think you’re thriving when in reality, it’s just a matter of time and I’ll need help. Help emotionally,  and help physically. I also am horrible at asking for help, because I feel like helping me isn’t and shouldn’t be anyone’s priority. I guess this feeling comes from the belief that we accept the love we think we deserve and for some reason I’ve got it in my head that I shouldn’t be a priority or someone worth holding on to. With medication and some therapy I hope to fully work through that. As for mania, I have the most energy when I’m manic, my feelings don’t get hurt that easily, I can be there for every single thing that my kids need me for, because I don’t need sleep. In conclusion, I know being Manic is not the best thing for a person, but I’m gonna miss that energizer bunny I would become. Super Mommy is what they called me.