In the Meantime…

In the meantime, he continues his downward spiral and the world pretends that up is down.

In the meantime, I am stagnate because he makes demands and endless calls that I am far to weak to resist.

This is supposed to be my time to find myself, insert midlife crisis cliche here. I haven’t s clue what the next phase of my life holds and I need to figure it out before I can imagine reuniting with him. 

He does not understand my needs, his family may but they simply do not care. I am not their main concern, they care but he is theirs, I am learning to be just me.

In the meantime…


In Sickness…

Vows were taken and I’ve abided by them as law. 

In sickness and in health…


When does it end? Become too much for one human to handle? Or is it alright to give up despite a promise, a vow?

His mental illness cannot be controlled any longer. It has engulfed our entire lives. There is nothing and nobody but “him” and “it“. 

All consuming, I cease to exist.

It’s my sickness now…

Inside Outside

My life has been turned inside out and I have allowed it. 

There is nobody to blame except me for this messy life. 

Me, the ultimate planner, did not account for the future. 

Foolishly, I had an image inside outside which would cripple my resolve. 

Now what? 

I’m on hold inside outside of myself until I can get him to budge. 


I plan, research and find a way to save myself and my dogs from being eternally inside outside.

“Sweet freedom whispered in my ear, you’re a butterfly – and butterflies are free to fly. Fly away, fly…” – Elton John


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: the Paranoia

My Confession, the Paranoia
Schizoaffective disorder is accompanied by the gift the never ends: paranoia. It is with him at all times, sometimes just a small buzzing and other times a loud siren. Today the siren is low but very present. 
At lunch he proclaimed; “if anything happens to me, you have to sue the hospital, my doctor and my dentist“. When I asked the obvious question: “what am I suing for?” – he was frustrated and retorted “you know“.  
I do not know.

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.