Desperate for quiet when your voice betrays your brain and yet there is no peace. You cannot phathom that your delusions are false; quiet please – I cry in the softest voice. 

Will there ever be quiet in my brain or yours? Will your noise please stop invading my life?



I Can’t Sleep

It’s the deep middle of the night and my mind is at full speed despite all of the medication. 

Do I take more little pills, feed the problem or suffer, unable to keep the wheels still? 

On the sofa with my dogs, my bed is not a comfort, the television is white noise. 

Questions pour from my brain that have no answers. My monsters and demons taunt me at nearly 5:00am. 

I haven’t the concentration to read, or connect to anything other than my spinning thoughts. 

I can’t sleep, cursing the coming dawn.


All of the words, the work and the stress involved in remaining in this marriage are bullshit. He is never going to get well and I am never going to have the guts to end the insanity.

I’ve adopted two dogs, they are my CPR. They have breathed life back into this empty soul. 

My twin hounds are going to save me from this enormous anchor called my marriage.
Otherwise, I’ve got no more words to share with the abyss of this blog.


My Confession: No Sleep

My Confession: No Sleep

It is nearly 8:00am and I have not slept. My mind refuses to allow any rest. 

The truth about being married to a man who will never be “whole” is that my burden is often overwhelming. While there have been months where I was able to relax – those days are in the past. 

A person with schitzoaffective disorder is sadly dependent. Luckily, my dear spouse found a woman bred to be a care-taker. 

Thank you Dad, I love you always, despite this cursed gift.

Illusions:  Inside and Out

Outwardly, he may appear to be in control, social and helpful. All the while the delusions rage inside of his mind. 

Outwardly, he may speak in impossibilities: conspiracies and secret tests done against his will. All the while the delusions have bloomed into madness.

There are days and nights where we laugh and talk for hours. He can be kind, understanding and the man I imagine to be a permanent gift.  I keep those memories in my mind’s vault for when the tides turn against me.

There are days and nights where he accuses me of ridiculous crimes of betrayal. His words are shards of glass that embed beneath my skin. I do my best to remember that it is his “illness” alas, his words are kept in another vault in my mind.

At 5:00pm

At 5:00pm he tumbles out of the bedroom. He has been awake on and off today, albeit mostly off

He chose to double one of his medicines last night because he had not drank alcohol in three days. There is a correlation somewhere but I don’t even begin to inquire.

My day and mood has been, best described as “manic anxiety“. Hours on the Internet, shopping, straightening the clean house…

Despite my prescribed Valium, I still have not slept since the night before last. This cannot continue tonight, my body is cold and shaking, weak from lack of rest yet fueled by the compulsion to “fix and finish everything“. 

I am such a good codependent! 

It’s a trait that others adore and I despise. 

Being the spouse of a man with a severe mental illness is never easy. I am forever waiting, anticipating and doing my best to enjoy what is tossed my way.

The Woman They Knew

The woman that they once knew has been gone for longer than anyone has noticed.  

As long as they are cared for, given proper attention and feel loved; the image of her does not have to match the reality.  

Ten thousand times the voices in her head are screaming her truth, but are silenced when they reach her bitter tongue.

Existing on a high wire of a magic and mirrors, desperate to be seen and discovered, far too many lean on her shattered shoulders.  

Dreaming of being held quietly and feeling safe are what keep her standing, when she can manage.

Someday there must be retribution or absolution.  

Arms that are strong enough to love her as she so deeply needs.  

Remembering the exact day: a Friday in October over six years ago, when she was hugged and felt real pure love.  

Since that day, heart in a million shards, she has never felt safe.

Lost, all those that were true and pure of heart.  

Angels waiting for her, watching her, a life of pain and loneliness.  

All around her, the woman they know is whomever they choose to see.  

Morphing when necessary.  

Still, knowing the desperation of being all alone in the world. 

A little girl, woman, waiting and wanting a fairytale for just “that hug” that will set her free of just some of the sadness. 

She smiles and listens to their veiled barbs and word attacks.

Nothing shakes her iron walls, quietly she weeps tears that nobody can possibly hear.

Songs fill the room of pain and empty words.

Eyes closed, heart broken and wishing the days away – the woman they know never existed.


2010 was the worst year of my life. That was the year that I lost my father. 

In many ways we died together.

2015 is coming to a close as a strong number two. 

I lost my soulmate and my heart remains heavy. 

Then his sickness exploded: my husband has been paranoid and psychotic for the past nine months, with no end in sight.

My depression and misery, coupled with bone-chilling anxiety are impossible to hide.  Living with a man who can, and does, turn on me verbally at any moment is crippling. 

Resolutions for 2016 are futile. 

If I were to dare to have one, my resolution would be: freedom.

Disappear 2015 and pray that 2016 will be silent.



The pack slowly descends upon its prey

Watching, waiting for any show of weakness

And they will attack


There are members of the pack that use the prey to their advantage

They can only hold back the younger and more dominant, strong wolves for a short while longer

Eventually, descending upon the prey will morph into an attack

One against too many to count

The frightened animal’s own companion turns his face

A scream

He is one of them, those that devour and destroy