A Letter To My Badass Friend

Dear Morgue,

You sent me a text asking to remind you why you are such a badass, and I couldn’t just send a text back. I had to do one better.

You struggled for years wrongly dismissed and diagnosed trying to do everything you were fed to “get better” (aka “normal”). You were given all the wrong medications and therapies and had a near death because of one of those medications and you still persisted on getting better.

You have a beautiful-albeit emotionally draining for you-daughter that you have fought tooth and nail to provide for. You have given up so much for yourself to see that Spook has food and clothes and a roof over y’all’s head-despite the slumlord taking advantage of everyone in the park.

You went to court and fought to get what she deserves despite your severe anxiety of the donor (aka Albatross) and his constant web of lies.

You were dealt a shit mental health hand in life, along with a shit family. You selflessly created a GoFundMe and gathered funds for the momster and her merry band of idjits when there was a fire in their home-even donating when you don’t have the extra money to spare. Your family used your mental health against you because you are stronger then they are by making sure Spook has what she needs first not what she wants, by making sure your bills are paid, food on the table and gas in the shitty car you were cornered into getting.

You have constantly and consistently shown others how hard it is for you as a single parent-with multiple mental health disorders/illnesses!-with no real support financially or from family, who does not all for help unless absolutely necessary.

I am so amazed and impressed at how you fight every damn day to not fall completely down the rabbit hole, to recognize the days the rabbit hole is inevitable, and to still fight enough to give Spook what she needs.

We have had rides down the streets with Camelaffes and I.V. drips of our favorite booze, smacked people in the face with fish and shoved barbed wire dildos with ghost pepper sauce lube in unmentionable places. We have dined on orgasmic chocolate hand rolled on the legs on lesbians while huddling in Fort Blankie coloring, listening to Wednesday, and seeing if we can really commit the perfect crime from Investigation Discovery. Clown shoes.

You, my dear friend, are a Badass.

Lurve- Your Friendly Neighborhood Sass

Ps-If you can’t find a place there, you can always move here where you’ll have support in so many ways 💖💖

New Home Here!


Letting Go


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These past months have been so very hard on me, and for me.  Today, I watched as someone I truly care for in ways I never knew I could, pack up and leave on a journey that is much needed for them.  And it fucking sucked to do it.  I helped finish the packing by labeling cords and putting them in Ziploc baggies, then arranged the electronics in a box so that they would all fit.  The time came for them to leave, and with sweaty kisses and hugs, bid farewell until we meet again.

I imposed a 2 week no-contact order, not because I need time for myself, but because they need to know that the path they chose means to come face to face with the demons and decions of the past.  And that can’t happen while talking to me, because it means delaying the inevitable.  That was even harder to do.  Because I wish someone had done that with me, to me, and I honestly don’t think I would have done 3/4 of the shit I did had that conversation took place.  Hindsight.

So now while they are taking a much needed spiritual, emotional and mental journey in their life to move forward in a positive way, I am here alone.  Don’t take it the wrong way, I am okay being alone.  I am in the quiet of these living quarters that aren’t really home, and I have the chance to finally hear my thoughts…which may be a bad thing once or twice this upcoming week alone.  At least I can make peace with them in silence that had been needed…but at the cost of something that means the world to me.  Letting go is always hard thing to do…but letting go of someone because they need to travel a path in order to grow is harder-especially when they say the grass is dead on the other side.

I Am…


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Life has been hell.  There’s been some good sprinkled in, but not alot.  

I’m struggling.  Badly.  I think I’m becoming med resistant, and that’s fucking scary.  I’ve been battling a MONTHS long mixed episode, in top of medication issues, living arrangements, divorce, work, my kids, and now reoccurring possible endo pain…Guys, I’m tired.

The kids, Florida and I moved into our own place.  It was much needed.  Only now I’m the only one working. My job has been difficult.  The state granted a new company the medical contract for the IDOC, and the switch over has been a nightmare.  My boss was like working for my ex husband.  I did so much over there, and yet someone was more concerned about my 2 minutes tardies.  Petty.  I was able to transfer next door and get a raise, but no shift differential.  Win some, lose some.  All the bills are coming due and I have to pay them.  Alone.  And I’m a bitch because I want to relax when I come home, not make dinner and clean up.everyone else’s shit after doing that at work.

I feel unappreciated and not taken seriously.

I’m looking for another doc.  Again.  The last one flaked out when I didn’t get an email or phone call that my appointment was cancelled.  NOR did I get a call to reschedule.  I had to call her personal cell to set up an appointment, on a day I’d already taken off.  Because God forbid I miss work.  We we’re supposed to do a telehealth visit.  Didn’t happen.  I never got the email to do it.  So now I’ve been u medicated for 6 weeks or so, and I feel like shit.  I’m not even spiraling the drain.  I’m a fucking rock that’s sunk to the bottom of the lake.  And I’m fucking tired of being as proative as possible​ and still getting shafted.
I have to get all this paperwork together for my lawyer for my divorce.  At least I did ONE thing right when I got my settlement but hiring an attorney.  Please God, give me the strength to get through this…

I feel helpless during this.

I’m not looking forward to Mother’s Day.  Isn’t that sad?  Because I k know I won’t get any time to myself.  I will have to clean and cook and put things away and HOPEFULLY sleep before my shift.  I won’t be getting anything.  Monkey will make me something at school or here at home.  As much as people complain, she’s the only one that really does sweet things for everyone.  She wrote ” I ❤️ U MOM!” on my dry erase board so I could take it to work.  

I’m so lost.

I can’t feel anything-like I’ve been dipped in novicaine and wrapped in bubble wrap.  I don’t SEE anything-when I look at things I don’t see or feel anything.  I’m empty.  Again.  And I’m at this point where I don’t think any amount of doctors or therapists or programs will help me get better.  And I know that’s the depression distorting everything.  Sometimes, though…that voice wins the day.

I don’t feel like anything I do is ever good enough-except at work.  I work so hard to get things in order and keep them there.  It helps that my coworker and I work really well together and I can see what she sees when she talks about trying to make things better for us at work.  

Wish it was that way at home.  Florida isn’t working.  That’s for another (probably far off) post.  He said that he won’t be the ” house bitch”.  I tried to tell him it’s not being a house bitch, it’s about being a responsible adult and taking care and pride in your own space.  I’m the bitch because I have to still take care of the cleaning.  Picking up dishes that aren’t mine because I wasnt home.  Trying to vacuum up crushed styrofoam from packages.  Putting together furniture. So many loads of laundry.  Reminding the kids to clean up after themselves.  All while I’m working or sleeping, Florida is playing on his computer and talking to his friends.  Did I mention how this prevents me from sleeping?

I’m defeated.

I’ve been having ALOT more side pain.  I’m scared the endometriosis is growing back…and at an alaing rate.  I need to call me doctor and I need to get my records.  There is a facility in Atlanta that specializes in endometriosis care, and they offer a free records review.  If they feel I am a candidate, then I can come down.  I need this.

I feel hopeless.

I don’t​ know how to process all of these things and keep myself from loosing it.  Even more than I have.

Downward Dog


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You know, life can really kick the shit out of you.

This is the first year since the death of my Grampa that I give zero fucks about the holidays.  Well, “holidays” I should say.  And I know the reason.

As stable/baseline as I’ve been, it’s that time of year to cycle downward.  Those of you who know me well know I always cycle down this time of year.  Last year was an exception because I had the losses so close together.  Talk about an almost year long depression that I never thought I would get out of.  It’s not THAT bad, but it’s enough to make me very emotional, stress out easier, and want to throat punch stupid, whiny assholes who throw tantrums over bullshit.  Zero tolerance.  And it’s getting me into trouble at work.  I’ve been late to work more the last 6 weeks than the entire almost 6 months I’ve been working.  Bouncing back and forth between the facilities is taking its tole on me.  I’m always tired no matter how much sleep I get.  Thank you, fucking depression and refried brain.  You suck donkey balls.  

My kids have been….kids.  NSLM is failing every class and gives zero fucks.  Monkey is doing very well IN class, but once she’s home….she doesn’t stop.  She’s also grounded for lying about something petty, and so is NSLM for not doing as he was told.  In their defense, we weren’t supposed to be gone 5 fucking hours.  

Things with Florida are difficult for him, adjusting to the climate, living with people that actually talk face to face, having dinner at the table and going to be around 10.  Not too mention sharing a smaller bed with someone when you’re used to a king sized bed to yourself.  It’s hard for me too.  I’ve basically been alone for two and a half years, doing my own thing, sleeping when and how I want and not having someone take me places or telling them I’m going somewhere.  I’d like to think I’m doing better, but I’m sure I’m not really.  

There’s so much that I’ve compromised on, though to others it seems I haven’t at all.  I’ve stopped trying to talk to most people because they don’t listen.  No one notices when I don’t talk or even when I do.  It hurts, really bad.  But you know how it is…you gotta keep it to yourself and just keep on every day.  I do what you’re supposed to do-go to work, come home and cook, clean, laundry, shower, dishes.  No one notices what I’m doing until they need or want something…then they get angry when I’m not right there when they want me to be.  I’m to stop, drop and roll.  It happens at work, it happens at home.  It happens when I go out in public…which I’ve now become to loathe being in groups of people because they’re all assholes.  

I’m so tired of getting yelled at and accused of things I did or didn’t do-ESPECIALLY at work.  Like why the fuck can’t people talk to me like I’m going fucking human being and ASK ME IN A CALM TONE!  This week at work was hard, but I did my best.  To some, it wasn’t enough.  To others, I didn’t do a thing.  Some people just like to bitch and be dramatic for zero reason other than to be attention seekers.  I can look attention to myself in the mirror today and say I did a damn good job with what I had, and for doing 3 people’s jobs.  I even caught a major flag Friday, went to my boss and the DON and let them know.  Went and check things out and got things moving with them to get the issue resolved and we did.  You deserve a fucking drink and an uninterrupted bath.

I’m not as stressed as I have been, but my anxiety is up enough to make me irritable and have very little patience.  People still want to treat me like a child, ride my ass about things I have zero control over, and make me feel like shit.  Like it’s all my fault my dog has fleas. After more than half a dozen baths, taking her to the groomer and constant vacuuming and homemade remedies they are still traipsing all over her backside.  She’s chewed herself until she bleeds and has licked herself bald in places.  It didn’t help I tried a different food brand.  “Simple Ingredients” my ass.  Poor May was allergic to it.  That’s when alot of the itching and chewing and loosing her fur git worse.  She lost the weight she put on, and her coat lost the beautiful softness and glossy back color.  So that makes me feel like a shitty pet parent.

I just generally feel like a shitty person, and not in the ‘I know I could have done better’ way, the the ‘It’s never enough and it’s mostly wrong’ way.  Having those feelings as a muggle is one thing.  Throw in a disorder that has already hindered your emotional state, you will always feel defeated.  And even more so when you can’t explain it because there aren’t enough of the right words to do so, or those people just don’t listen.  Ever.  So how can I  (we) really “get better” enough to function?

I think I need an Emergency Plan in writing kept on the fridge.  With a number system on the calendar to let everyone know when I need them to step up.  That’s the shitty part-that I have to have that kind of thing visibly in place because no one else really gives me the time, effort and compassion I give to them.  You guys though, my blog “friends” offer more encouragement than “real life” people.  Maybe because y’all are there and know and fucking get it and aren’t self-centered about it.  Good Lort this turned into a jumbled mess.  Y’all know, it happens with stress and cycles and meds.  And I figured out why I was so emotional.  Who would have thought too much of their antidepressant (unintentional, I might add) would make them want to shank someone and cry while eating chocolate?  Fucking bullshit.

It’s Saturday night, I’m in bed and the most exciting thing I’m looking forward to is sleeping.  I try to read Y’alls post and like them when I do.  Sorry, I just don’t have much encouragement for those whom are struggling, or witty and funny things on other posts. My words escape me alot.  I’m still here, struggling along.  It’s all any of us can do, right?

It’s Ok

Yes, I’m still around. Just had ALOT of upheaval the past few weeks, and some for the better. I’m not going to go into details, but DB damn near killed himself….and Florida moved up here. Pretty much on a whim. I’m happy. And peaceful. So are my heathens. I’m whole again. I’m so looking forward to what’s to come. It hasn’t been easy this past week. I was stabby. And cried. And threw things. (I started my period, so that didn’t help) My heathens are blooming like crazy with him here, ESPECIALLY NSLM. Monkey is crazy happy. Even May is happy. 

Now, I’m gonna go curl up under the blanket cuz it’s gonna be fucking 40° 

God I hate the cold.

Another Tribal Member Update 


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This one isn’t so disheartening.  Diane is still struggling, and her doc wants to see her back in about 3 weeks.  She started another med Vrylar (?) and the doc is hoping when she comes back she will be a little better.  She just wanted to let everyone know she’s still here,just really having a hard time and struggling, but she is reading posts just not commenting. 

So if y’all could stop by and just give her some encouraging words or just to let her know she is missed and loved, that would be amazeballs.  This tribe is so badass. Thank you thank you thank you!

Much love

Farewell, Tribal Leader


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It’s Sass’s turn to speak her piece.

I’ve had a rough week.  Nothing like sitting in your doctor’s office for your pre-surgery visit when you find out you’ve lost another friend to suicide.  You’ve got all kinds of questions banging around in your head. That’s 2 in less than 11 months.  It fucking sucks.  Though Ulla and I didn’t correspond like alot of you guys, I still consider her my friend, even if loosely based.  I have closer friendships here than out in the real world.  Anyway…

I read those sorrowful words and sat crying waiting to get registered for labs.  And I wasn’t crying so much for the fact that she made her decision, I was crying for the fact we lost our Tribal Leader.  Because, in essence, she was.  She was the one who we kind of all flocked too, like chicks to a mother hen, because she knew so much about so many things!  Once she told me she just knew a little bit about alot of things.  And that was her being modest.  Her linkdumps were informative, shocking, and funny at times.  She talked about putting the “Butch” into embroidery.  I often wonder if she pulled it off?

There were MANY inside jokes between us tribespeople.  There was orgasmic chocolate hand rolled on the legs of lesbians, syphilisporks, pegacorns, isporkacorns, riding giraffes through streets, and of course her dragon.  Her dragon wasn’t for used for transport, I found out.  He was quite testy.

Her love of art, poetry, Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit-Gandalf specifically, the beach with the sunrise and sunset and her beloved Solo.  She got me with a Mark Rothko post.  I became OBSESSED with learning about him, and he has a church in Texas-BEAUTIFUL place.  I should go there as a salute to her.   We talked about his work and how it can be seen as simplistic and complex, and you can even use it to explain bipolar with the way he uses the colors.  Let me point out-I am not an art person.  At. All.  But this work she shared, spoke VOLUMES to me.  And I’m fucking grateful she shared one of her favorite artists.  

Her heart was so big and golden even while she was deep in the dark.  She encouraged us when she had little encouragement herself.  Even with the single word Strongs she was able to help any of us know we aren’t ever alone.  Her dark, raw, real and true honesty made people sit back and really think about things from a different perspective.  She was never one to bullshit or sugarcoat, and I don’t think she expected us to do so in return.

Yes, she struggled with the darkness and yes she talked about not wanting to live in that place anymore.  It’s real and honest and part and parcel with Bipolar and depression, along with being treatment resistant and the medi-go-round and therapists and COUNTLESS asshole doctors.  It fucking sucks that she isn’t here anymore.  Am I angry?   No, because she’s finally at peace and back with her dear mother whom was her world.  Do I miss her?  Fuck yes I do.  Who wouldn’t miss her snappy comebacks and linkdumps and her honesty?  I think we all fucking miss her for a myriad of reasons, no more or less than the next person.

She showed us all a little piece of her, and together, we get the whole picture.  And today, we remember and love and honor her, and celebrate her life and her freedom.  Jill, I hope she had that cheese sandwich.

Peace and Love, Dear Ulla.  May you never have to smack anyone in the face with a barbed wired dildo. 💖