It’s scary how many times I’ve been here before. Bruised, bloody, beaten. Pieces of my heart scattered over the floor. Balancing the tightrope between life and death. “I can’t continue anymore.” Yet, something strange happens every time deep within my core. I crawl, stumble stagger and wobble until suddenly I soar. Older original art by … Continue reading Cycle


With an outward Varnish of sanity, the unknowing strangers I meet, don't know I'm part of the quarter of humanity, with a mental illness walking down the street. Image from Max Pixel


Calm Feeling calm but I continually question if this is the calm before the next set of fierce storm clouds come rolling in.   Perhaps instead the calm belies a tumult of trouble just beneath the surface like an invisible ripcurrent waiting to sweep me off my feet.   Or maybe, just maybe, the calm … Continue reading Calm


Da Vinci is known as a creative Genius. Most of us are familiar with his inventions or famous paintings. What some don't know is that it's suspected, through research into his innumerable writings and journals, that he was also suffering from Bipolar Disorder.  Was it the mania that fueled Da Vinci's brilliance? It's hard not … Continue reading Creativity


Morning Awake too soon yet again and I sit on my bed thoughtfully with my pencil trying to be profoundly witty with words reminiscent of my favorite writer, Mark Twain.   Instead, my early-morning one cup of coffee brain can only manage to ramble and skip across the surface of what I'd really like to … Continue reading Morning


Icarus I buzz with unspent energy sparking intermittently with bursts of psychological output like a shorted circuit. My body vibrates in tune with every ambient rhythm and my eyes sparkle with the shimmer of a silver disco ball.   Euphoric like a woman under the spell of cocaine, serotonin and dopamine soak my brain causing … Continue reading Icarus


I couldn't write anything other than academic papers for the longest time.  Antrhung else felt forced and stunted.  If I tried to write prose, I would end up with many balls of paper, but not one page I could live with completed. Until recently, I so judged myself that I hadn't even attempted to write … Continue reading Breaking


I titled this "Holding onto Hope." Artwork by me. The hands are coming out of the foggy depression and grasping for the light. It might be a trite metaphor but those hands are also the universal "helping" hands as well and I am comkttied to my life being about that and bringing liight into the … Continue reading Hope 


Warrior She trembles as her fingers work the laces on her armor, knowing that her shattered soul may only be strong enough for this last stand.   Wearily, she sighs and gazes out onto the battlefield, soon to be littered with the shrapnel of fighting yet another battle with The Beast.   The Beast is … Continue reading Warrior


My trumpet with two medals I won and one from my grandfather or father from when he was in band from the state.  I used to play trumpet pretty well. I was first chair solidly through middle school, and in the first trumpets even as a freshman in high school (I dropped out of everything … Continue reading Trumpet!