Streams of Consciousness: Family Edition

When all the thought’s in my head refuse to come together in a rational working order and the blank page taunts me, I like to dump all the clutter in my brain. Clearing my mind of the clutter with the streams of consciousness technique is something I have used for years to break through writer’s block, most of the time I keep these rambling thoughts to myself in one of my journals but decided tonight that dumping here could be fun.

We shall see..enjoy!


I pulled Hayley from public school at the end of first grade because she was miserable in school and I knew homeschooling would benefit her.  Then life turned upside down. Depression took over and I let any form of schooling fall away. But everyone I know who has homeschooled says a year of deschooling is needed anyways.


The cat ears are are a daily accessory.
The cat ears are are a daily accessory.

So okay. We deschooled then this year starts and I start college. Oy! Now she’s a grade behind and wanting to go back to public school next year because she wants friends. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I am failing her but I really believe public school is the worst thing for her.  Hoping to find some local co-ops to balance out everything.


Picked up a few new learning materials today. Stuff like paper money and workbooks more in line with how the school system teaches.I have a year to catch her up and maybe convince her to stay home.


My oldest angel is doing amazing this year. Public school suits her thank God because we butt heads like two rams. Homeschooling her would be a nightmare. She’s finally maturing enough to where she is studying on her own. Something I never thought I would see.

She goes back to her dad’s and stepmom’s Friday until Christmas day. I am going to miss having her around the house. She’s turned into a real joy to have around now that the hormones have settled down and she’s no longer a scary demon child (although the nickname has stuck)

Yes that's my oldest dressed up as a creepy doll in front of our Christmas tree.
Yes that’s my oldest dressed up as a creepy doll in front of our Christmas tree.

In other news, she broke up with her boyfriend last week. I can’t believe I just typed those words. She was seeing this little boy for over a year, ah middle school love, which was worrisome but he was an okay kid. I was proud to learn that she broke up with him because he decided to not take his failing grades seriously and she had tired of his teasing. She is growing up on me.


Latest work project for him is done and his stress levels are back down, thank goodness. The man does not handle stress well at all and when he gets stressed we all suffer for it.


Wearing glasses after years of not everything slowly becoming fuzzier is amazing. I was even brave enough to post a makeupless-zero sleep-non filtered selfie on Instagram the day I picked them up. Not only do I see a million times better (did you know that signs aren’t normally fuzzy around the edges?) but they give me a strange sort of confidence. I love the way I look in them and am slightly aggravated I don’t have to wear them all the time. Swapping back and forth is giving me headaches.


I am on week three of Lexapro now and the difference is amazing. Every day I feel more like my old self. I’m coming back out of my shell and learning the world isn’t as scary as I thought.

That is it for tonight, my brain is all tired out and it’s past my bedtime.

Broken and Pieced Back Together

This past year has been hard and full of many battles.

The most notable of which was battling a heavy depression that settled over me like those storm clouds you see in cartoons. No matter how much sunshine I got, how much I exercised, partook in favorite activities, and countless other things I could not shake the dark hovering cloud. For the first time in my life, I experienced anxiety attacks and let me tell you I would not wish that on my worst enemy. I did not have social anxiety attacks instead I had crippling attacks driven by my depression. I started to believe the nagging voice in my head who was always saying I was not good enough, not loved, not wanted, that I was messing everything up and the most damaging… that if I did not do something drastic I would never again be happy.

I almost let that voice win.

The view from our room, it’s beauty was marred by the ugliness I was letting ruin my life.

In June on the first night of our summer vacation, I told Mike I wanted a divorce. I told him, very calmly, how broken I was and how broken I felt our marriage was. I told him there was no way I could fix myself and our marriage; I told him for my own health I chose me. I then proceeded to give my father a heart attack at three o’clock in the morning when I called him bawling. I was a broken woman breaking the man who has stood beside me through a lot of things and I could not see a way out.

That was the longest night of my life.

Finally exhausted from the tears I crawled into bed the two of clinging to opposite sides of the bed with Hayley in between us. My  marriage was saved that night and not by anything Mike or I did but by the sweet angel sleeping next to me. I realized I as lay there that I couldn’t in good conscious walk out on my children. The next morning Mike was ever so gentle with me as he worked to convince me to stay. Y’all I don’t deserve this man I am married to. Where most men would have been angry, loud and even violent he was gentle, calm and supportive. Even though he was hurt he showed more concern for me than himself.

This man, he’s shown me more love and support than anyone I have ever known. I nearly lost him…

That gentleness coupled with the knowledge of not being able to leave my girls kept me from driving the eight-hour drive home alone.

It’s been a long six months full of ups and downs but the one thing that has never wavered is Mike’s support and genuine love for me. Every step of the way he has been with me, working to make not only us better but helping make me better.

I have a long way to go and there are times I still feel the urge to run when I feel broken beyond repair. Our marriage is better….it’s never ending work, but it’s getting there. We talk more argue less, the hurtful words have stopped, the sharp jabs to get reactions are gone.

Life is piecing itself back together, just hope the glue is strong enough to keep it that way.

Changing, Evolving, Growing

I have been so quiet over the last few months.

Life has been chaotic, I’ve just finished my second eight weeks of my first freshman semester back in college. I do not know which was harder Algebra 1 or English Comp 2. At this point I don’t much care they are both over with and I have a few weeks to breath before my Spring semester starts.

I am still trying to re-find my voice here. Which I guess is why I have been so quiet lately. It’s hard to write when you don’t know what to say. I have a million feelings pouring through me,mostly dealing with anger, depression and all of these nagging doubts which plague me daily. I went to the doctor recently and she changed my medication. It seems to be helping, I am only a  three weeks in of being off of my old medicine completely and on just the new. I was taking Vybriid, which worked well for three years, then it didn’t and upping my dosage made things so much worse.

So now I am taking Lexapro and things are getting better.

I can hear my voice again, not sure what it’s saying but I can hear it through the multitude of tumbling thoughts. I can’t wait for the day the words flow easier. I think it’s going to take practice to speak what is on my mind. I was raised as a proper southern lady and we do not spill our inner turmoil to the world.

But damn it y’all if I keep it bottled in much more I may implode. There’s this amazing lady I have been reading for about a year, Eden. She’s such an inspiration, in her fight against her depression and in the way she lays it all out for everyone. I told her recently I wished I had the courage to write like she did. And she responded this woman I admire for being so painfully authentic responded. edenresponse

I have always felt like letting my inner me, the cussing, sometimes twisted, other times morbid and even immaturely perverted self out for the world to see would drive everyone away.

But I don’t care anymore.  She right, I do (have the courage) and I can (write what I want).


For the very few of you left from Felicia’s Red Door Life days, I’m still me but more authentically me. I don’t know what I’ll post. There are so many things that I like to write and share that I find interesting. I like the idea of posting semi-weekly to do list or housewife things. I like posting about the random things we do and the food I cook but I also have this burning need to post the darker stuff.  The 3 am bawling and sobbing,the anger, the words I bottle up all the time that need to come screaming out of me.

I hope you bare with me but if it’s too much no hard feelings.

I’ll be working all night changing the look and feel of this blog, elvoving it from a translucent snapshot of who I am into a more full colored sharper image. I started with a domain name change. No more hiding behind cute urls and doors.

See y’all soon.. I have some growing to do.

Six Words and Semicolon’s… Say What?

Over the past month or so I have been doing a lot of focusing on me as I take back my life from the crippling depression of the last year. Part of this taking-care-of-me-project is fulfilling my dream of going back to college. I am thrilled to say that I start classes this week at a local university. I can’t begin to describe how excited I am to be taking this step after thirteen years of having to put it off.

In my English 1001, one of the assignments is to create a six-word memoir. Do y’all have any idea how hard that is for me? I love to talk, I love words, lots of words, as any reader of mine is sure to know. Oh, I was struggling with this, how do I put every bit of who I am into just six words? How could I convey to my teacher and my fellow students the complexities that make me, well me?

Then it hit me, the semicolon.

A semicolon is used in a sentence when instead of ending the thought the author decides to continue. It also has a larger meaning in the world of people suffering from a mental illness caused by depression and anxiety, for people who self-harm and think of suicide, for people like me. It’s a reminder that my story  isn’t over and you can bet your bottom I’m saving up my pennies to get it tattooed on my wrist. For now, I draw it on daily, it’s my affirmation every morning. My way of saying that my depression and anxiety don’t get to determine when my story ends.


I am not sure what my final six words will be, but I am closer and it’s all because of the power of a semicolon; who would have thought.

The Story of LakeFront

What a crazy month. Two years ago Mike and I bought this gorgeous home with every intention of it becoming our forever home. Life likes to throw curveballs though and our plans had to change. Mike works from home as a computer programmer for Wal-Mart and I now homeschool Hayley. This means our three bedroom one level home can start to feel very crowded with three out of the four of us always present. The noise level alone can get high enough that Mike’s coworkers comment on it when he is on conference calls. After a lot of discussion and indecision, we finally settled on selling our current home to purchase a bigger one that fits our needs more. Four months ago we stuck a for sale sign in our front yard and prayed. CB_GoldM_Vector8

These four months have taught us patience and the common sense behind not getting ones hopes up. We fell in love with this gorgeous one story four bedroom home that a pool in the back yard. The fourth bedroom would have worked as an office for Mike, complete with its own bathroom. Then there was the pool. Y’all this pool was awesome,perfectly located so the kids and dogs had a yard to play in and long enough that I could do laps.

There was one problem, a large one, we had not sold our home yet.

Taking a leap of faith we put in an offer on the house with the contingency that ours had to sell first, then we waited. We waited for two months and not one single offer came in despite the fact that we had multiple showings a week. Mike and I joked that HGTV and all their house selling shows give false impressions on how fast this process actually takes. Our two-month deadline came and the couple who were selling the home we wanted decided to take their house off the market instead of letting us extend our contract.




We took a week to think things over and with encouragement from our realtor decided to leave our house on the market. We started looking around again and found our dream home. A wonderful two story, with four bedrooms, an upstairs family room, on a lake and plenty of room to add a pool and still have a yard for the girls and the dogs. Despite second thoughts and worries over losing another home, we had fallen in love with we once again put in an offer contingent on our home selling with yet another deadline of two months.

This time, we decided that if our home didn’t sell we would keep going and trust that when the right time came along plans would fall into place. By the end of July, we began to sweat a bit, our contract was coming up and there wasn’t anything comparable to the house we wanted on the market. With just a few weeks left until the deadline we chose to take a trip to Bentonville, AR so Mike could go into the office and I could unwind with the girls while visiting friends.  The second day there we got a call from our realtor company wanting to show the house,nothing unusual,up to this point we were still averaging three showings a week.

Flash forward a few days later.

We were saying our goodbyes to some great friends in preparation to head home when Mike’s cell started ringing. Low and behold it was our realtor but this time instead of setting up a showing she was calling to tell us we had an offer on our home, one week before our deadline was up. Y’all I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. See we had an offer but the young person had low-balled us on the price of the house and asked for way more than what we were willing to offer for closing costs. After a bit of back and forth on our part, we counter offered with a bit more reasonable amounts and started the waiting game. The lovely couple selling their home to us were gracious enough to extend our contract and ease our fears on losing yet another house. It took another four days of negotiating before we settled on a satisfactory selling price and closing costs.  That was July 28, here it is August 17 and I can officially say we are moving. My house is starting to look more like a warehouse than a home, I’m out of packing paper, and I can’t take the sound of tape ripping along boxes anymore, yet there is still more to pack. Ya know what,though? I don’t mind a bit because in two weeks this will be our forever home. I can’t wait to start our journey there.



The Mighty Moose

I go lost in zen-tangling last night and stayed up till dawn finishing up a moose skull. I’d forgotten how cathartic the repetitiveness of zen-tangling could be.

This my first try at zen-tangling in an animal silhouette and I’m just thrilled with how well it turned out. Definitely need to work on how stead my hand is as i draw the smaller lines but for the first time in over a year I couldn’t be happier with it.


Early Morning Ramblings

It’s nearly 3 am and I should be sleeping but my mind is racing in a hazy fog. There are so many thoughts pouring through that I can’t sleep.

Went to my mother-in-laws around 5 yesterday evening and spent my time there painting rooms until 1 am. I have to go back tomorrow to add a second coat to one room, paint the trim (because when they painted the rooms 11 years ago they screwed it up royally), and paint the kitchen cabinets and doors. Left her house feeling high from being stuck in two very small poorly ventilated rooms that took two to three coats a piece in paint. And of course not thinking about what I was doing I took a half of one of my muscle relaxers when I did get home and now I’m very floaty.

I’m 33, I have no business being this high but I am and I guess I’ll enjoy this fleeting feeling.

I keep thinking about how much my depression affected me this last year and how much I didn’t notice it until just a few days ago. I had a huge break down in June and I did start putting myself back together with help from my loved ones; however, I was focusing on day to day healing and not looking deep into the wounds I had create. Over the past few days though I have taken a long look at the bigger picture and realized how much of my life I let slip away.

I need to fix that. Blogging is one of the things that I let fall to the side along with my art. So starting this week I am going to focus more on the things I enjoyed before depression stole them from me.