I'm at that age where losing weight isn't necessary a good thing.  Yeah, I'm getting the middle age flat ass.

Journal Entries

A Selection of Journal Entries...


                       Dated July 22, 1997:

Who knows when the kitchen floor had been mopped last?  The ever-shine linoleum was dulled by dirt and sticky with kid-droppings.  My husband said he'd rather walk barefoot across an alley than approach the kitchen without slippers.

                         Dated December 12, 1999:

Don't say you're sorry
To bring the silence to an end.
Don't say you're sorry
To make my heart bend.
Don't say you're sorry,
Just to do it again.

                        Dated October 11, 2011

Bless little Delilah's heart.  She had surgery on her skull today.  Brie, Seth and I stayed at the hospital, but then I went home after Delilah was stable in the recovery room.  Today was such a difficult day.  Delilah is the happiest baby.  Thinking of her in pain is unbearable.  And then poor Brie and Seth.  They love her so.  It was hard to see their pain as they met Delilah in the recovery room.  Her head was completely bandaged and her little eyes were black and blue and swollen shut.  She looked like a little cherub, but not like Delilah. The doctors an nurses are very nice and considerate.  What a difference it makes.  It was supposed to be in the 80's today.  Yet, all it's done is rain.  Thank you, God, for watching over Delilah, Brie and Seth.  I've learned a grandmother's heart breaks twice, once for her child and again for her grandchild.

                       Dated July 9, 2006

Today, my darling granddaughter [Scarlett], I felt you move.  You got the hiccoughs and I felt those, too.
Mommy teases me when I cry.  But, I know she would be surprised if I didn't.  My tears are just my love for you spilling over.

What I've Survived Helps Define Me

I was hospitalized for 6 days, with acute, paralyzing depression in Jan. 1999. On discharge, I was diagnosed as having bipolar disorder and later I was diagnosed bipolar I. I was prescribed Klonopin at the time of hospitalization and I took it for 14 years.  I attended a weekly support group whose mantra was “Always Take Your Medication--even when you feel better…”  So I did.  But, I kept getting worse.

Two months ago, a new psychiatrist told me how bad Klonopin was for me and took me off of it. I am still going through withdrawals. No longer trusting psychiatry, I went online to try and heal myself with diet and supplements. I took myself off the Wellbutrin and Lithium, too. While recovering, I've been reading about the side-effects of Klonopin. I honestly believe I was misdiagnosed.  I believe my depressions and rages, over the last 14 years, were caused by the Klonopin. I had five different psychiatrists over 14 years. They did not ask why I was prescribed Klonopin or how long I had been on it. They just renewed it.  My mood has been totally stable since I stopped my medication, though I've been physically as sick as a dog.

I am a wife, mother and grandmother. I have been an R.N. for 30 years. I lost my career (and 6-figure salary) and most of my friends. I now have panic attacks, one after another, as a result of brain damage, which I’m hoping is not permanent. It is an ordeal for me to leave just my house.

Is it possible I was misdiagnosed and mistreated for 14 years?! I think so. I believe Klonopin tarnished 14 years of my life. I don't want anyone else to suffer as I have.  I’d like to keep telling my story in a responsible manner.

Please be patient. I'm making memories...