Are You Ready?

Learning The New Spiritual Paradigm

I stumbled upon an article a couple of years ago on ascension. I had never heard of it. However, I had read “Seat of the Soul” by Gary Zukav and he had explained that humans all over the world are beginning to have multi-sensory perception; meaning that we are acquiring perception beyond the 5 senses. 

I have also read many other articles, books, and publications with similar information calling this ascension, the “Awakening” or the “Shift”. All of these are correct terms for this amazing new paradigm much of the world is beginning to embrace.

Paradigm shifts are hard. They are uncomfortable. This is because it changes belief systems that have been  ingrained in us for thousands of years. 

Early humans told stories of our creator being a female deity. Museums exhibit stone carvings of this goddess with a pregnant belly, which makes sense if we had limited knowledge of human procreation. This Spiritual paradigm lasted the longest, most scholars say it was a minimum of 20,000 years. 

Times definitely changed when men and women defined gender roles in their culture, and learned of the male role in procreation. This began a paradigm shift from the monotheistic view of a goddess, to polytheistic view of Goddesses and Gods. 

Fast forward about 5,000 years to a man named Abraham who brought the view of the deity to be male. This eventually became Judaism, and then with the birth of Christianity, began our Fourth Spiritual Paradigm shift. 

We are roughly about 2,000 years into this shift with the Fifth Shift happening right now. Not everyone is ready to hear about this. 

That’s okay.

If what I’m saying is pissing you off, this article isn’t for you. I am writing this because I know there are other people reading this who can feel the shift happening like I can. 

I know it’s uncomfortable. 

Our souls, or our “higher selves” already know about the shift. Unfortunately, the human brain only perceives 5% of information in the conscious mind, while the other 95% is perceived by the subconscious mind, also known as the soul. The 2 minds are not in alignment.

Our souls are arguing with our conscious minds. These arguments manifest in many ways both externally and internally, causing great discomfort. 

Externally, people began to see the misogyny in the current paradigm. It had become okay for there to be gender inequality, and people accepted it in the Fourth Paradigm. With “Father” God reigning, it was acceptable to block women from high ranks in religion, to keep women from having powerful roles in government, and all around, sexual discrimination was normal. 

Times have changed, and oh man, it’s been a hell of a ride. IT WILL NEVER BE COMFORTABLE TO GO AGAINST THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF PROGRAMMING. 

Beliefs are simply thoughts we keep thinking due to programming through our environment and culture. With that being said, it is entirely possible to retrain our brains. The Law of Attraction has taught us that. However, it’s not enough to simply repeat affirmations to ourselves, change our surroundings, and promote political and economical change. We have to believe that we are creating our reality through our thoughts, words, and actions. 

Our thoughts, words, and actions are the brain food forming our beliefs, and we have a choice as to what those beliefs are, and can change them as the universe is pushing humanity into a higher frequency of vibration, where our conscious minds become much more in tune to the connection between all living things, and the whole of the universe and Spirit. 

The hardest part of this shift is knowing what it is that we are supposed to do. Everyone is struggling with this. The world is in chaos which always accompanies a paradigm shift. Fear is a motivator for people to hold on to outdated beliefs. Fear is causing disease, mental illness, and fracture along religious, nationalistic, and racial lines. 

We are constantly focusing on changing external circumstances before changing ourselves. This is the opposite of how everything actually works. Until you make the inner shifts, nothing external can change. You just need to learn the right tools, tactics, and techniques for going about this. 

The good news is that there are people who have already ascended and these lightworkers are dedicating their lives to helping the rest of the world ascend, making this particular shift the most beautiful and enlightening of them all. 

I am working on compiling a list of ascension symptoms you may be experiencing, as well as a guide you can use to help you through your spiritual journey. I want to come from a place of love and inclusion because it’s your journey. I certainly don’t have all the answers for everyone, but my goal is to help bring understanding to what is happening so that you can form your own answers and manifest your best life. 

” Sometimes the people around you won’t understand your journey. They don’t need to, it’s not for them. “

The Spiral

I have recently had what some might call, a spiritual awakening. A series of strange occurrences took place which left me with more questions. Questions like, why me, why now, why this?

I asked someone who I admire and look up to, and they said, “why not you?”.

It’s obvious by looking at our world’s history that the way we have been looking at mental illness and addiction isn’t working. We have proof of that.

The “war on drugs” isn’t working, that’s  obvious because we are more addicted. There are more people suffering, more  families torn apart, more incarceration, more overdose and death since we imposed the war on drugs.

Mental illness goes along with the drug problem because the two often go hand in hand. Now we have also imposed the logic of the war on drugs into our relationships and daily lives and as a result, we are becoming more and more disconnected.

I heard recently that the opposite of addiction isn’t sobriety, the opposite of addiction is connection. Humans are social by nature, and when we don’t have healthy connections to each other, we form bonds with other things and sometimes those things aren’t healthy attachments. This form of connecting doesn’t stop at drug use; there are other forms like pornography, television, cellphones, along with various obsessive-compulsive behaviors people seem to get addicted to i.e. gambling, exercising, or cleaning.

I saw a Ted Talk recently about this exact issue. Johann Hari explains quite elegantly, that everything we think we know about addiction is wrong. He talks about the addicts in his life that he loves, and about how although it’s difficult, that he told them he wanted to deepen the connection with them. He told them he loves them whether they are using or not and if they needed him, he would sit with them so they aren’t alone.

Beautiful.

I first saw that Ted Talk in December 2019 with Jason and I knew it was something special. I believe that not only is everything we think we know about addiction wrong, but some of what we think we know about mental illness is wrong as well.

There has been so much progress in mental health over the past 50 years and we are definitely doing better; I’m not discounting all of that hard work and discovery. However, I can’t help but be bothered by a few important things.

When I was a little girl, mental illness showed itself for the first time in me through obsessive compulsive behavior. I washed my hands… ALOT. My mom freaked out. She has a degree in psychology, plus we have severe mental illness in our family genetics, so her first thought was, something is wrong with my baby.

My mom took me to see a psychiatrist who said it was no big deal. He said to buy me soap for sensitive skin and hand lotion and to tell me if I was going to wash my hands like that, then to use the special soap and lotion, and eventually I would stop, which I did. Seemed like solid advice to me…

I started thinking about the times we are in now and how although we are more aware of mental health issues, I’m concerned with the type of care people are receiving, and if it’s the best course of action to get the best possible outcome.

Sometimes, there is an actual imbalance in the brain, and medications are in fact needed. It has also been studied that trauma may in fact also lead to a change in our brain chemistry. The thing that frustrates me is that although sometimes medication is needed, its leaned on as a cure, when medication only suppresses symptoms. As of now, there is no cure for mental illness. We are left with symptoms we still have little understanding of.

I have been plagued with various mental illness symptoms varying in severity throughout my entire life.

Nothing really works. When it does work, it’s always short-lived. This brings me to think again, about human connections; and the fact that we are a more disconnected society than we have ever been, while problems with mental illness as well as addiction is on the rise.

I don’t think this is a coincidence.

Since I was given several mental health diagnosis, I have been looked at as crazy, over-emotional, spontaneous, anxious, the list goes on and on. What I need people to understand, is that when I began focusing on connecting with people on a soul level, many of my symptoms faded, some disappeared, and others became more manageable. I began to see my so-called problems and issues as a gift I have been given and began focusing my attention less on suppressing my symptoms, and more on how to tune in and listen. The results have been magical. I have been better equipped at facing whatever is making me feel uncomfortable, and finding ways to let it work for me, not against me.

I think a lot of this is well known to an extent, just not much is being done to improve our current system. With the expanding need for mental health and addiction services, people are often all put into the same categories, misdiagnosed, and given medication. When these approaches don’t work, the patient goes off of their meds, sometimes has psychotic episodes, hospitalized, stabilized, then they are expected to go right back into the system that failed them. That scenario is also a very mild one compared to how much pain and turmoil some mental breaks can cause so many people involved, not just the person in distress, but their loved ones, coworkers, medical professionals, police officers, teachers, etc.

I think it’s past time to try new approaches to these problems and see if something else works. I have a few ideas I plan to talk about in the future. Until then I just want people to start thinking about how our approach so far doesn’t work. I want people to think about what it is that makes them feel good, important, more alive. I think we need to start embracing that there are many different types of humans, each with unique gifts. Possibly, instead of suppressing what we obviously just don’t understand, why not try embracing these gifts, and focus more on social interaction, coping, and healing.

Just a thought…

The Blame Game

I have been having a problem since my boyfriend Jason died. My problem is that I have been unfairly blamed for his death. 

Being blamed has taken a toll on me because a part of me blames myself. During these moments, I luckily have some people I can confide in to set me straight. 

The morning Jason died he confided in me some very personal things that I will carry with me forever. The fact is, I knew him better than anyone. He could never truly be himself with anyone except me. The closest second would be his ex-wife Shawna and they were still good friends and she is now one of my best friends. 

One of the first conversations Jason and I ever had was an argument. I had said that I believe people come into our lives for a purpose. He agreed, but then added that the people in his life were there for him to use whatever they had to give. I was not impressed, and said I believe we are all supposed to give more than we take. 

He did however make a good point. He said that just because that is what we are supposed to do, people rarely do that. He said most people are selfish and are always looking out for number one. His outlook, was if he gave more than he took, he would always lose. 

He taught me something about boundaries but I didn’t really get it until he was gone. Now here I am, having been stuck in this weird twilight zone with people who thought they knew him, and knew nothing. 

When thinking about this today, I realized something even better. Although his words were different for everyone, one truth remained constant. He stayed with me. He chose me in ways that hurts some people and infuriates others, but he continued to choose me/us. 

I’m writing this because I want to say why I blame myself sometimes and also what sets me free. 

I blame myself because the morning he died he told me he was getting clean and going to rehab. He had planted a seed a couple weeks prior which he used to his advantage to get treatment quickly and in a town he hated. No one would suspect him to be there. He said he wanted to marry me on his birthday and then he would be safe in rehab. We were to get married on his birthday, February 8, 2020. 

At first I was just elated that he was serious about getting clean. After several minutes I revealed my doubts. I couldn’t simply forget about everything that had happened between us. He said, “You never have to worry again. I’m better when I’m married, ask Shawna.” She later affirmed that what he said was true. However, I was pissed and had a right to be. Jason pointed out that so many of our issues stemmed from drug abuse. I agreed. Unfortunately, I lost a lot because of the issues. 

At that point, Jason was all I had…

My mom, sister, mother-in-law, and kids wouldn’t have anything to do with me as long as I stayed with Jason. When I expressed my concerns he told me he would do whatever I wanted, then he fell asleep. 

This is where the blame comes in…

I made some biscuits and sat on the edge of the bed, eating and thinking about everything. I knew one thing. I was pissed. 

I sacrificed a lot for Jason, and he showed up that morning without my car. I got more and more mad. Finally, I woke him up demanding to know what had happened to my car. His behavior was erratic and he grabbed his gun and pointed it toward the living room threatening to kill my friend sleeping in there if I tried to leave him. 

Instead of seeing the actions of a desperate man, I told him I wouldn’t marry him. He pulled the trigger and was gone. Immediately, I blamed myself. 

What set me free is this… 

Couples fight and argue all the time. Couples struggle with substance abuse and mental illness. Most of the time, they don’t kill themselves over it. Especially if everything is okay within them. When he chose to put that gun to his head, he made a choice. No one can make us act or do anything. We all have free will. 

Since his death, I have been blamed. It has been a problem for me, but now I am at peace. Jason had taught me boundaries, which I was finally exercising, and Jason, made a split second decision. 

I wish I could bring him back for 10 minutes. Just to tell him how much I love him and appreciate him for the things he taught me. The most important things, I didn’t learn until he was gone. 

I am finally coming to a place where I don’t worry about him as much. I feel him all the time. Especially now that my stuff is in my new place. It’s like a bit of his energy is forever ingrained into my belongings. Sometimes I hear noises that cannot be explained, but I don’t need them to be. I know he’s here with me. I know he’s watching and protecting. I know that the horror show our relationship could be sometimes was because we had a drug problem and he is now free from that. 

When Jason comes to me in my dreams, sometimes it’s like he is alive again. We are usually going about a normal day. Inevitably, he walks into the room I’m in, and instead of saying, “Baby, do you want a shot of dope?”, he says, “My kids make me so proud. You make me so proud. Look at you, you’re so strong. Call your kids and tell them you love them.”  

Jason and Keith are proud of me, I can feel it. It feels good. I hate that so much tragedy has happened, but the best gift I have been given are the lessons I learned from these experiences. No one can know what it felt like to witness Jason take his own life. I thought the heartache would kill me in those first moments as he laid lifeless on top of me. 

I can’t erase it. I can only move forward from where I am now. 

I am holding onto truths that are absolute. I know what the truths are and Jason knows them. That is enough for me. People always want someone to blame for deaths like Jason’s. I can’t change how some people feel and don’t want to. If they need to blame me to feel free, so be it. I’m going to close my eyes, let the love from Jason and Keith envelop me, and for the first time in my life, enjoy total and absolute…

Freedom.

Life Is Ticking By

I have been really bad about taking time to just relax, write, and just be me lately. I’m always worried now-a- days.

The entire world is worried right now with this crazy pandemic. My sister and I respectfully insisted our mother quit her job. She has stage 4 COPD, and was a cashier at Walmart. So really, there was no way in hell we were letting her go back.

I’m glad it wasn’t too difficult to convince her to quit because man, it would have gotten ugly. She couldn’t get by me anyway, I’m twice her size. Plus she can’t breathe.

Easiest fight ever

Other than surviving this pandemic, my focus has continued to be on my grief and how to manage the incredibly invasive thoughts and memories flooding my brain on a constant basis.

I made a video about me, Jason, and his suicide. It was difficult to make, but oddly therapeutic. I posted it on Facebook, and at first I was really nervous about that. I was surprised that I was met with such compassion and understanding. I would like to share it with you all now.

My goal is to bring more awareness of the effects of mental illness and suicide to save lives. Please share this.

**Tip: Turn up the volume. The songs should have played at his funeral, it’s what he wanted.

Please share

A Break

You may have noticed I’ve taken a break from writing, you may have not noticed at all. I had to put it down for a minute because every thought I had was about Jason. I have been thinking a lot and you know what? I’m fucking pissed. Instead of telling you all the reasons I’m pissed, I’m going to tell you how I’m getting through, how I’m coping with the mess he has continued to put me in, although he is a world away. The fact is that Jason knew I would be ok, even though I didn’t know it.

It turns out, I’m a fucking fighter. This experience is not getting the best of me. I started this website to cope with my husband’s suicide and I’m continuing this website now because I have a job to do.

Since Jason’s death, I have talked to many people with legal issues. Everything from drug charges, extensive jail or prison time, as well as life threatening illnesses. Everyone I have talked to has something in common.

Their problems all stem from trauma.

This system we have in the United States isn’t working. Not only does it not work, it’s further stigmatizing mental illness and addiction. This problem is so severe, that as a society we’re oblivious to the fact that lives are being derailed and families are being torn apart right in front of us, and we don’t care.

People that do not understand the complexity within illnesses of the mind are content because the “bad guys” are in jail or prison. Why aren’t we looking at the situations which put these often good people in these situations in the first place?

There is something terribly wrong when we refuse to take trauma into account when we judge people addicted to substances, in prison or jail, and mentally ill. After people serve time in prison they are “thrown to the wolves”, so to speak. Sure, they have their freedom, but do they really?

NO!

Basic needs are food and shelter, and money with which to obtain these things. I have a really hard time finding a decent place to live that accepts section 8, but when I imagine the struggles of someone fresh out of lock-up, I feel like an asshole for complaining about that.

I’m going to break it down.

First, when someone gets out of prison, they need a place to stay. An ex-convict can forget about section 8. Not only can you not get a section 8 voucher with a felony, most apartment complexes and home owners won’t even rent to a felon anyway. So they better hope they have someones couch to crash on.

Once this person has found a place, safe or otherwise, they need cash flow and badly. Have you ever tried getting a job worth a damn with a felony record hanging over your head?a I hear it’s a bitch.

Most of our jails and prisons are full of folks with non violent charges. Mostly drug related. Most of the time, the drugs started as a coping mechanism to handle their lives and the trauma they have faced. They just wanted to feel differently.

Instead of treating the trauma, we punish them for the superficial things which are only visible on the surface. Using drugs, selling drugs, petty theft, prostitution, etc. What we need to be educated about, and take action on, are the events which led to these things in the first place.

So now we have this person, who served their time without treatment for the actual problem, they more than likely can’t find a decent place to live or work, and they continue to not receive help for underlying issues they are plagued with.

Ray Charles could see what will happen to these people, and it’s society’s fault. They often end up right back in the lifestyle which got them put in prison in the first place. How else are they supposed to survive?

This system is totally fucked up.

We aren’t understanding or compassionate either. I have heard things like, “Well, why didn’t they learn from the last time they got caught up?” That is such an unfair question. Learning is not the issue. Most of the time, they don’t even want to do this shit! They simply have no choice but to go back to what paid the bills before. Before you know it, they are deep in this culture of backstabbers and thieves, all trying to survive. Meanwhile, families are angry and resentful, often alienating the person needing love and support more than anything in the world.

With all of this being said, I think my job is to advocate. The existing system isn’t working, and good people aren’t getting the help they need. They are judged, and then given enough rope to hang themselves.

Fuck that.

Something has got to give. There needs to be programs in place with possible incentives to stay on the straight and narrow. You can’t say, “Ok, now live right and don’t break the law. Also, you can’t vote, but you better find a job and pay taxes! Oh no, you can’t live there! You have to live in squalor and deal with a slum lord in the worst part of town. You know, where all your former associates are. Oh, but stay away from them.”

It’s ridiculous.

I have to do my part to change this deeply flawed system because it’s the right thing to do. I’ll start by finding like-minded folks and educating myself about the programs that are available, no matter how flawed.

Here we go…

Is This Fucking Real?

I am still in shock. I know this because I am not really dealing with Jason’s death. I have so much on my plate right now, it’s kind of ridiculous.

I had to wait for a bio-hazard cleaning crew to clean my apartment before I could go home, and they had to get three estimates before hiring a crew. The apartment manager had the first estimate done a few hours after the investigation was completed, a mere hours after Jason died. I was hopeful the cleaning would happen quickly. Well, they took their sweet ass time. I waited two weeks to be able to go home.

The walk from the parking lot to my front door seemed like a five mile trek. As I approached the door, I noticed a very mean looking paper attached to the clip on the door. I knew what it was. I unfolded the paper and read the words, “30 days to vacate the premises”, and the worst word of all, “EVICTION”. All of this before I even opened the fucking door.

Once I opened the door, I immediately noticed all of the carpet was gone. I walked into the bedroom, and the bed of course, was gone. I sat in my recliner and took a deep breath. I couldn’t believe I was having this feeling. Again. Deja-fucking-Vu.

Just a little over two years ago, I walked into me and my husband’s apartment for the first time after his death. I sat on my couch and breathed just like this. I had the same feeling, that my love would never walk back into this place again. This apartment would never feel the same. Life would never be the same. What I never thought in a million years, was that I would be sitting in a different apartment two years from that moment, feeling the exact same feeling about someone else.

I thought I was immune from this type of tragedy happening again, I really did. Whenever Jason would take off for hours or days, I would be comforted by the thought of at least not having to worry about him dying the way Keith had. Shit. The universe has sick fucking jokes, let me tell you.

Jason has been gone three weeks now, and I have hit brick walls in appealing my eviction, I still have to pack up this place, and I have two weeks to get the hell out of here. To say I’m stressed out is the understatement of all freaking time.

I also feel so incredibly alone. I have some support and I am so grateful to have it. I never thought I would be left high and dry like this by a certain handful of people, but I know from experience that death can bring out the absolute worst in people sometimes. Especially when the people are grieving the loss so hard. At the same time, how the fuck do these people think it feels to be me?!

I have spent my life alongside this man. I sacrificed a lot, including my family to be with him. Not only did I watch him end his life, the nightmare is continuing for me in ways only I am having to deal with. I have the threat of losing me and Jason’s home and my housing program all together, my children are barely speaking to me, Jason’s family seems to blame me for everything and are pretty much pretending I never existed. Jason’s friends either can’t handle being around me, or blame me as well. My mom is battling stage four COPD and my sister is so self absorbed I would be surprised if I even enter her mind on a semi-regular basis. Well, unless it’s to talk shit about me or accuse me of using drugs. I’m sure the accusations make it easier for her to turn her back. Otherwise she’s just a shitty sister, right?

So, my reality right now is fucking crazy! I am getting better sleep, however. My psychiatrist gave me a new medication that is keeping me from dreaming, and that has been such a blessing. The final moments of Jason’s life replay in my mind all day. Before this medication, even my sleep was invaded. There was no time-out for the flashbacks. I am finally getting rest. Not a ton of rest, but more than I was.

I have managed to couch surf my way out of staying at my apartment for the most part. It’s incredibly difficult to stay there. It was hard to stay at the old place after Keith died because it had been out home together, but he jumped off a bridge. Nothing could have prepared me for the feelings involved with being in my current apartment after Jason dying there in our bedroom. The residual energy left by Jason is completely different from what had remained of Keith. It’s much thicker. It’s practically alive if that makes sense.

I stayed in my apartment on Valentine’s Day, I am not so sure it was the right choice, but at times throughout the day I was comforted by Jason’s palatable presence. At one point I was laying on the couch and took a photo of a heart sticker I was wearing for Jason in honor of the occasion. I posted the photo on Facebook and upon further inspection, discovered something resembling a face. Jason’s face. I’ll share it so you can see for yourself.

Hmmm…

Whether it’s Jason or not can’t be proven of course, but the photo gave me comfort. To me, it was proof that Jason’s spirit is with me, watching over me, protecting and loving me.

My world is completely upside down and crazy right now. Jason’s presence is having a grounding effect that is so needed and I am grateful. Perhaps it’s selfish of me to want to keep him with me, and a part of me does hope his spirit will eventually move on to wherever he’s supposed to be. At this moment, I’m satisfied feeling that right here next to me is where he is supposed to be. I need it. I guess I’m more of a selfish person than I thought…

This Bitch Of A Road

I talked to a psychic the other day. If you don’t believe in that kind of thing, open your mind a little bit because I’m here to tell you, that shit is real.

I am very intuitive myself, but unfortunately I cannot turn it on and off when I want to. I can tell you however, that when I’m “on” I’m “on”.

After hearing this woman speak for 20 seconds, I knew she was “on”. I soaked in every word.

She said a lot that gave me great comfort and I was so grateful. I would like to share with you the most profound thing she said, and it was actually just plain old good advice.

She said, “I know you have been asking why. Why has this happened to you twice? Right?” I said, “well, yeah.” She replied, “well, imagine you are on your way to Oklahoma City, and you are going down the creek turnpike, but you would like to be on highway 44. All of the rest stops, restaurants, and people you see are all along the creek turnpike. People around you exit and take a different route all the time, but you can’t. You’re stuck on the turnpike. Your husband couldn’t hang, he exited but exited the planet. Your fiance exited as well. You need to exit. Just not in the same way they did.”

“Ok, so how? How do I freaking exit?!”

She patiently replied, “well first, you have to turn on your signal. You’re a good girl. Tell yourself that fact every day. Also, tell yourself that your feelings matter. What you want matters. It’s not going to feel right to you because you are a caretaker. You feed everyone, give people a place to stay, you put others before yourself even when those others don’t care enough to help themselves. Stop that. Say, I’m a good girl, and my feelings matter. Once you turn on that signal, you will exit and get on highway 44 and there will be different rest stops, restaurants, and people. These horrible things will stop happening, and you will fullfil your destiny.”

“Ok. I understand”, I said.

Then she told me that I am supposed to help people, but not in the way I have been. She said that people who help thousands of others never have easy lives. Isn’t that the fucking truth.

I don’t know about the thousands of people, but hey, it’s a nice dream.

And stranger things have happened…

What Am I Supposed To Do Now?

I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel my mind drifting from reality into a dark place it hasn’t been to in a long time.

I need my family right now. My sister says I need “tough love”. So I am alone.

I wonder how she would feel if after her husband was missing for hours, she was told he jumped off a bridge? Then 2 years later, coming up on 72 hours of her boyfriend’s disappearance, not knowing if he’s alive or dead?

I can tell you how I feel. TOTALLY FUCKING ALONE.

I have never felt so alone in my entire life. I understand my family not agreeing with my choices. I understand their choice to not enable my choices. I’m not asking for money. All I want is their presence. I want my mom to hold my hand and tell me everything will be ok. I want my sister to hug me and tell me she’s here for me.

I’m stranded in my apartment since my car is missing with my boyfriend. I’m sure the police are doing what they can, but this waiting thing is making me feel like I’m going insane.

The seconds feel like minutes, and the minutes feel like hours. Time has lost all meaning and the last couple of days seem like a lifetime of sorrow and anxiety. I have small moments when I don’t even want to be alive anymore. I don’t want to kill myself, I just wish I could pass away in my sleep and end this pain.

I never thought I would feel like this again… Isn’t once enough for a lifetime? I waited almost 10 hours to find out my husband was dead. I’ve been waiting almost 72 this time and the torture is so intense I feel like the feeling alone could destroy me.

Nothing makes me feel better. Music reminds me of Jason or Keith. I can’t focus on a movie or book. Writing is the only thing that passes time, yet all I seem to be able to write about is this.

No one wants to read this.

If I have already lost you dear readers, it’s alright. Click here for something more positive and uplifting. Seriously, go ahead, click it. I’ll wait.

Don’t you feel better? I do, a little.

Where’s Waldo?

My boyfriend is missing…

The thing is, no one is taking me seriously because technically he disappears all the time. He is usually gone for 24-48 hours and then returns and tells me some lame excuse for why he didn’t even call. 

This time is different. 

We live in the age of technology. We are always connected, my boyfriend is no exception. If he’s not texting or messaging through Facebook, he’s playing a game, listening to music, streaming porn. 

He walked out the door 36 hours ago and has not been connected one time. His phone can only be used with WiFi, it has no service. So for him to not be connected means he hasn’t sent a single message, checked messenger or sent any instant messages. He hasn’t played a game or played his silly casino slots he’s addicted to. Not a single time. 

It doesn’t look good. There is someone who I think knows something, but he isn’t talking! I am so distraught and I have no idea what to do about any of it. There isn’t really anything I can do about it except sit here and wait. 

I’m going insane with worry. 

I filled out a missing persons report this morning and now I’m writing this because I need help. I need someone with some knowledge of ways to search for people using technology; perhaps using an IMEI number or pinging his phone. Anything!! 

If you can help me please email me:

sarah.jones@bipolarlivingtoday.com

Meet The Fear Family

I didn’t think I could do anything to advocate for mental health.

I have issues. 

There are days, and sometimes weeks that I can’t bring myself to walk outside. It takes a very strong motivator, like seeing my kids, or when it becomes vital for me to eat. You know, to stay alive.

The age of online shopping is heaven for a person with agoraphobia. Amazon, eBay, and my new favorite, the Walmart Grocery Pick-Up service, make life so much easier for me; I have a lot less anxiety as well. 

The first time I ordered my groceries online, I was so thrilled to be shopping for food and breathing normally at the same time. A short time later, I received an email informing me I could pick up my groceries. 

I told the app I was on my way, apparently they can watch your trip in real time through GPS. Once I arrived a message popped up asking which stall I was in. A couple minutes later a woman walked out to my car with my groceries, she even put them in my car for me, it was amazing. When I returned home, I informed my boyfriend I was never stepping foot inside a WalMart ever again. 

Agoraphobia is such a strange thing. It’s hard to describe the way it feels exactly but I’ll try.

There is a town in the brain called the Amygdala and this neuron called Mr. Fear and his wife Nonsensical Fear live there. When I should be afraid, Mr. Fear uses his neurotransmitter which is kinda like a loudspeaker, and tells all of the other neurons that I’m scared. Every now and then however, Nonsensical gets on the loudspeaker and says some crazy shit. All the neurons know it’s inaccurate information, but what Nonsensical does is plant a seed of doubt. So these happy, healthy neurons who were perfectly content, now think it’s possible that a huge crack will open up and swallow me whole if I open my front door. I don’t know. That’s the only way I know to describe it. 

Sometimes, if I am late to an event or late for plans with someone, it’s simply because I am struggling to leave my apartment. When my brain is functioning correctly, I am never late. I hate being late for something. If I’m having anxiety over leaving the house, plus anxiety over being late, I will usually end up cancelling whatever I had planned, cry for awhile, then just go to bed, hoping that will push some kind of reset button and I will wake up normal and happy. 

The times agoraphobia is really bad are when I’m depressed, which makes sense. Depression already makes me not want to do anything. Combine depression and agoraphobia and you might as well forget about me leaving my apartment. I would probably have starved to death by now if Postmates and Doordash didn’t exist. 

Hopefully after reading this, agoraphobia makes a little more sense, although you might be confused instead. There is so much about mental illness that doesn’t make sense and thanks to a loudmouth named Nonsensical, I’m as confusing as they come. Oh well. 

You can’t have everything.