The breakup letter I should have sent 6 years ago.

I want to state simply for the record. I hate you.

Three simple words…

I. Hate. You.

How I longed to say them…and have you know I really meant it. Over 6 years and you…no matter how many times you prove you are not worth my time. I allow you to be in my life.

You have no right. You took my heart time and time again and smashed it. Then. As if it was fun for you. You would allow me to put it back together again only to break it all over again.

You would think I would have learned. Cut you from my life six years ago when I let you break my heart for the third and last time. But I hold on. As if you being my friend truly matters.

At first. It only made me feel better. Watching your misery. Living at home. First the girl you left me for refused you time and time again. Then. In a stagnant relationship. Oh how it made me feel good. Watching you so unhappy. Finally you were starting to feel the pain you’d put me through.

The years of letting your friends use me as a verbal punching bag. I was after all just “taking it to personally” right? Leaving me hanging time and time again. Refusing to ever make plans.

Blowing me off…to now what I know was to go off and cheat with other girls.

But you were always unhappy, just enough to make me feel better.

And then there she was. Taking cute selfies with you…something you always made fun of me for wanting to do. You. Making plans. Going places you would never go with me. You. Making public declarations of your love…

You. Happy. It makes me burn with rage…it truly hurts it makes me so angry I want to scream.


Why do I have to feel this way??

I hate you.

That fact I am sure of.

What does any of this matter any way?

Because. You were the first boy I loved. I thought for so long…and you let me…that we would get married. Silly little girl I was…fooled by a boy.

You hurt me. And now I want you to hurt like I do. Still. The things you did. The things you said. They still hurt. They left wounds that will never heal.

I will never trust like I did before I met you.

You broke me. And I can never forgive you for that. Perhaps some day I will be strong enough to finally cut you from my life.

Please until then. Don’t forget. I hate you. For every thing you did. And everything you didn’t do.



Fear is my greatest enemy.


Yesterday was a very bad day. Super high anxiety, depression looming, I found myself often just sobbing for no reason.

Old wounds burned as my mind ran rampant in my old memories. Whispers in my ear that I’m not good enough…a burden on everyone…

I couldn’t focus. On anything. Even my excitement over the new season of Haven streaming on Netflix couldn’t break into the place my mind was in. I just couldn’t keep my mind on it.

So I sat down to write…but what about? I admit, I’ve been neglecting my blog,  I hardly wanted to moan away about another bad day, just allow myself to wallow.  Maybe it was because I didn’t want to admit yet another med…isn’t working.  Beyond all that my last two therapy sessions were canceled and the next one isn’t until the 28th.  Oh lets not forget my psychiatrist retiring to top things off in 2 days…so hopes for a follow up on meds is not in the near future.

Instead I turned to another topic…Piper. I almost didn’t even post it. I was scared. Scared of the negativity I could bring to my safe place….the place where I lay my heart and soul out for all to see.

I then did the unthinkable. I shared it. On Facebook with the Bring Piper Home Group.

Writing has been such a hard thing for me for so long. The fear of judgments on what I think.

What I got was such wonderful feedback…comments here and on Facebook that…I know no one knew just how much it all really means.

Out of one of my darker days recently there suddenly was a light. The darkness lifted a bit. Slowly I was able to take back the rest of my day.

Each day is a battle…that I will win.

COSR and a dog named Piper

About a year ago, the Other Half and I were on our way home from my Dad’s place, when we spotted a dog running loose on the streets.  We quickly pulled over, seeing a buff colored pit bull type dog, we were careful to approach her, but quickly realized she was VERY friendly and must belong to someone.  We looked around a bit, then decided we would take her home for the night, as the ASPCA had closed already.

We took a couple pictures and put them on Facebook, thinking maybe we would find her owners before having to take her to the shelter.

Although, we…and I’m ashamed to say it, had a brief moment where we thought…we could just keep her.  We’d been talking about getting a dog…she was there…and obviously loved and cared about by someone.  If it were me in their position I would want someone to do the right thing.

Within an hour we had people saying they knew the dog, then her owners girlfriend messaged me directly…which didn’t turn out so well.  As I just wanted to verify proof of ownership before giving the dog to someone, she then began to become very harsh…threats to call the cops on me.   All because we found her dog that had gotten loose with no collar, tags…anything.

In the end her boyfriend being of a cooler mind, sent us a photo and confirmed he was her owner.  Within 20 minuets we had her reunited with her family.

In the end.  Any pet owner hopes this is what will happen should their pet ever go missing.  They hope someone will be kind enough to take it in…and then take the correct steps to make sure it is returned to it’s person.

But what if that doesn’t happen?

For a dog named Piper, and her owner Veronica Covatch unfortunately this was not the case.

For those who don’t know the story lets back up a bit.  Piper is a 5 year old champion show dog, a Sheltie, and also a member of Veronica’s family.  In April 2014 Veronica left Piper in the care of a friend in Ohio (they reside in Pennsylvania), this was Easter weekend.  Piper unfortunately escaped  on Good Friday and was picked up by Franklin County Animal Control, who discovered that Piper had a microchip which indicated she belonged to someone.

Now here is where things get sticky, as accounts of what has happened differ greatly, I will attempt to give you the information as I understand it. I’ve heard that the micro chip was not registered but did have the Vet’s information, and a phone call may or may not have been made.  But, lets keep in mind this was a holiday weekend.  Before the attempt was truly made from the accounts I’ve heard, Piper was then handed over to the Central Ohio Sheltie Rescue or COSR that following Monday…3 days later.

Once Veronica became aware of the situation, she attempted to contact the rescue, with no luck, she left messages with no response.  She sent pictures, provided proof of being a co-owner of the dog, as well as her breeder.  She in fact offered to even pay to have Piper DNA tested to prove Piper was her dog.

Thats when Penny Sanderbeck, who runs COSR, made the claim that Veronica is no longer Pipers rightful owner.  The National Sheltie Rescue Network even attempted to step in and help mediate the situation with no luck.

Since then it’s been a battle, both legally and via social media.  There are claims from the COSR camp that Veronica had rehomed Piper last year, because she was sterile, or because she was killing puppies.  They claim that Veronica no longer wanted Piper and sent her to live with strangers, who then let her escape.  (They back these claims saying you can find this information easily online, a posting of her listing the dog for re-homing, but after many exhaustive searches I have yet to find this “proof”).

Ok.  But Veronica is also Pipers breeder, and most ethical breeders I know will have any new puppy owner sign a contract stating that if they can no longer keep the dog, it will be returned to the breeder.  So if its a case of new owners no longer wanting the dog, and Veronica wants her back…whats the big deal right?

Apparently its a VERY big deal.

The matter went before a judge who ruled in Veronica’s favor to have Piper returned to her, or Penny would have to pay a $10,000 bond to keep Piper, until the case went back to court.  So what did COSR do?  They posted the bond.  Which, to be fair apparently only had to put down $200 of the $10,000…which if they lose the upcoming case COSR will be forced to pay the remaining part of the bond.  Which brings in to question…if this RESCUE loses where will they be getting this $10,000 from?  Donations?

The worst part of all this is no one has seen Piper outside of the COSR inner circle it seems.  Which leads to more questions…WHERE IS PIPER??  Is she even safe?  Did they spay her out of spite?  Or worse?

What I find most disturbing is the blatant internet trolling of the COSR supporters of any articles written supporting Pipers return home.  Yet, they will not come out with any of the apparent massive amounts of “evidence” they have showing Veronica is not Pipers owner, and is unfit to have her back.

I say fight on Veronica and Piper.  We wont rest until you are home!

**These are personal opinions I have formed from following the Bring Piper Home Facebook group, as well as doing a vast amount of research regarding this topic.  Please understand no negative or harassing comments will be allowed or responded to.  This is my personal blog that I chose to write about a “hot” issue I feel strongly about, but I will not tolerate any type of trolling or negativity, this is my blog I use for healing.  Thank you.  **


A great loss to us all.


Last night as I sat sipping a glass of wine, intent on my BBC drama my phone buzzed, flipping it over it was an update from my local news station….

Breaking News: Robin Williams dead…

My heart stopped. It couldn’t be true. Not the funny man I had come to love over the years.

Frantically I searched the internet…finding an article that saddened me even more. He had apparently taken his own life.

I’m sad to say it wasn’t a huge shock. As I fumbled with my phone the thought raced he either did too many drugs and overdosed or it was suicide.

I suppose that those of us who have suffered Major Depressive Disorder know that it’s those like Robin Williams who are hurting the most. Comedy most often comes from our darkest places our deepest insecurities and making others laugh hides our true feelings and insecurities.

I’m beyond saddened that he felt there was no way he could go on living in the world, even after all the joy and laughter he gave to all of us.


I will always remember sitting and watching Hook for the first time. Also I’m fairly sure my first of his movies I had ever seen. He captured my heart as genie in Aladdin. First seeing Dead Poets Society…

Even in my darkest hours you brought a smile to my face and warmed my heart. Without knowing you helped me through my own depression. For that Mr. Williams I am always thankful for what you did.


Rest well I hope you have found the peace you were unable to find.

I’d like to add that if you are feeling depressed or thinking of taking your own life there are other options. Please reach out to help. There are many wonderful suicide help lines as well as local crisis lines in your area. At the top of this post is the national suicide prevention hotline #.

I’d like to use the reset button now.


The Zoloft was a bust. Once I hit the 50mg I became more and more depressed. I could hardly stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. And just felt. Blah.

Since my psychiatrist is retiring next month, she at first didn’t want to change my meds again in case she couldn’t see me again before she’s gone. Who ever they are getting to replace her looks like won’t be starting until sometime in September. Awesome.

After explaining to her the extreme depression. Thoughts of suicide. In ability to stay awake or wake up in the mornings she felt it was best to make a change.

And here is where the fun begins. I have now tried just about every SSRI out there. Most make me feel like crap or just stopped working. I’ve taken Effexor XR previously with some results until it just stopped working. So my doctor decided to go down the SNRI route again. This time we are trying Pristiq.

I’m pretty nervous about it since the end results of being on Effexor resulted in checking myself into the psych ward for a week. Pristiq is supposed to be very similar to Effexor. Plus. My insurance is refusing to cover the new med because “there are plenty of other options”. Which I’ve tried. So now I must wait for my doctors office to tell them that it’s needed.

For now the Zoloft has been decreased and I feel like hell. Anxiety is super high. Depression is awful. Sometimes I’m not sure I know what it feels like to not feel this way anymore. I want a do-over. A reset button. Life was not supposed to be like this.

When you cut the ties don’t try and tie them back together again.


Awhile back I was unfortunately injured at work…fractured tibial plateau aka the tibia was fractured at the top near the knee.

I was taken out of work for 6 months and during that time I discovered the people I’d thought were my friends at work were truly not.

Not only was I treated poorly by one in particular whom I’d spent a lot of time with outside of work. But then flat out ignored.

She seemed to hold resentment for me because I was unable to work. Although I was injured on the job, and it hurt like hell I finished my 15.5 hour day.

She first told me how I was screwing them all over after being taken out of work. Then she stopped hanging out with me. And then just ignored me all together unless she needed something from me.


In the end I was left confused. Hurt. Wondering what I had done to make her hate me.

What did I do??

Nothing. I wasn’t of any use to her. So she dumped me. Nice right?

So when she sent me a text the other day asking why I no longer worked there.

The correct thing would have been to ignore her. MYOB lady.

But oooh no. I decided it would be a good idea to talk to her.

I explained the horrible situation I was placed in and I felt that I had been treated poorly and left.



She probably was looking for information about the girl who was causing me issues at work. Or dirt in general to start rumors.

Stupid. Oh so stupid. Once again I’m left feeling hurt.

Someday I will be strong enough to just cut these people out of my life for good.

Relief is not always a healthy thing.


I’m ashamed to admit I had a relapse into my self harm last week. It feels so stupid now. How I just wanted to feel something…anything from what I was feeling at that moment I lost control and let myself fall back on my old ways.

Oh the shame I feel as I tend to my burns. Not as bad as I used to do…I suppose my tolerance to the pain isn’t what it I used to be in the old days.

While they are almost healed already the shame remains. How weak I was in that moment. That others can see my weakness (I only burn myself on my left forearm).

Worst of all is the shame of letting down the Other Half.

A stupid promise I made. Not to do it again. As if I have that kind of self control when things get bad. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He of course was upset. Felt betrayed I suppose. All because I only I want to escape these feelings that overwhelm me to the point where suicide doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Oh the things I have to live for. So many of them. The biggest? My nephews and niece. Except…my oldest nephew of almost 6 the last time I saw him confused me with my sister in laws sister.

The children who bring me the greatest joy don’t know me. How could they miss me?

Funny how the mind works. I know better than what it attempts to tell me. But it doesn’t change the thoughts that run through my head on a daily basis.

Everyone will be better off without me.

I don’t matter to anyone.

I’m not a productive member of society.

It goes on and on.

Each day I have to find my ways of telling myself it’s all worth it. Someday the meds will help again.

Needless to say the depression is at an all time high. Anxiety is a constant in my life. And the thoughts of doing things I shouldn’t run rampant in my head.

I will stay strong. I have lived 31 years with this I can manage awhile longer.

Body issues are body issues no matter what size you are.

Maybe its because its summer.  Maybe it’s because its bathing suite season.  Maybe its just because everyone is wearing far less clothing because its summer.  But I’ve seen a lot of these kinds of images popping up all over my Facebook feed.

Don’t get me wrong. Being confident in your body IS important.  I know no matter what size you may be you may still have body issues…

I am, in fact, floating between a size 0-1.  No I don’t have the body of a 12 year old boy either thank you.  I suppose in a lot of ways I have exactly what  a lot of girls wish they had.  I’m short but not too short, skinny, no issues with putting on weight, in fact I have the issues that I see a lot of people saying they hate when skinny girls say they have issues keeping on weight.  Well.  Guess what ladies.  It is not the glorious curse you think it is.

I am constantly making myself eat SOMETHING.  Even if I don’t really want food I need to eat.  If I don’t I lose weight.  I at one point not that long ago when I’d hardly been eating…and I was hardly 100lbs.  It’s scary shit.  I normally attempt to stay in the 110-115 range if I’m lucky I can usually manage it as long as I make sure I eat.  Not so easy when anxiety and depression are running rampant in your life.  Some days I really just don’t want to eat.  I want to stay in bed and sleep.

So when these little Meme’s pop up in my Facebook feed…I some days just feel like I’m being attacked because I’m skinny.  The logical part of my brain tells me it’s nothing of the sort.  They are not directing these images to me and only me.

Then my lovely brain of mine decides to pick myself apart.

 Why can’t I look like other girls do?

I never wear make up, not that my skills at applying it are lacking.  My hair.  Well.  It’s pretty simple.  It’s either down or pulled back into a quick bun.  I don’t know the first thing about actually styling hair.  God it looks so easy when I watch others do their hair.  Blow dryer in one hand a round brush in the other….and I end up with a rats nest of hair tangled around a brush…

I admit.  I have zero sense of style.  Not that I’ve bought myself more than a couple pairs of shorts and maybe a couple work friendly shirts in the past few years.  I am a t-shirt and jeans girl.  I hate going out of the house when College is in session.  The sorority girls everywhere makes me feel like I’m some ugly troll wandering the streets.

I mean.  I could go to the gym and tone up.  I could make more attempts at looking how I wish I looked.   But would it ever live up to the standards I have set for myself in my head?

What would you do if your Health Insurance said “No.”

What would you do?

Imagine wakening from a deep sleep to find yourself fully conscious but unable to move any voluntary muscles save for the muscles that control your vertical eye movements. You can see, hear, smell, taste, and even feel the bed sheets against your skin. However, you are unable to speak or make any vocalizations at all. You are totally disconnected from your external world in a real sense. You may appear to be in a coma to others although you are quite capable of understanding their speech and actions. You are, in essence, locked in your own body. This scenario is not a fantasy that Rod Sterling would have written for a Twilight Zone episode but a recognized, though rare, neuropsychological syndrome.

It is called Locked In Syndrome!

Brett Walls age 51 is kind and gentle man who is a husband, father, grandpa, uncle, brother and friend.   On Wednesday February 27, 2014 Brett had three strokes and two aneurisms which caused severe damage in the brain stem, in the “pons” area. The command center.  This has ultimately resulted in what is called Locked-in syndrome which is a rare neuropsychological disorder. Its primary features are quadriplegia and paralysis of the cranial nerves except for those responsible for vertical eye movements.

Right now Brett can see and hear, but his only way to communicate is to use his eye movements. He understands exactly what is going on around him but he is trapped inside his body.

-Text taken from the Go Fund Me page for Brett Walls


This is sadly the Step-Father to a former co-worker and friend of mine.  I’ve watched her family fight through this only through Facebook.  While the outlook for most with Locked in Syndrome is not good, and recovery is unlikely, and little more than eye movements were expected.  But this man has fought with the help of his family, friends, and community and has beyond hope, begun to recover.  Imagine.  Having the trach removed, slowly regaining some ability to speak, even eat a little.

But what would you do if then your insurance decided you no longer needed intensive Hospital care and would be sent home.  This is what has happened to Brett.  The therapy he needs to recover…they don’t seem to think he needs.

He is fully aware of what’s happening around him but locked in his own body, paralyzed.  The therapy he needs to continue improving is within reach but his health insurance is refusing to cover it.  The family of Brett Walls got a letter Friday from United Health Care that said he was ready to be discharged from Drake Hospital and coverage would stop Saturday.  It said that level of care, acute care, was no longer needed.

The problem is the ‘what’s next’ is very uncertain.  Tuesday Brett Walls was able to move his right fingers and show arm resistance.  His family was told when he entered Drake Hospital in the spring after a series of strokes not to expect even that.  When Local 12 saw him a few weeks ago starting to breath on his own it was a good thing medically.  But United Health Care said  it now means he needs to be discharged.  If the family wants to get him more care they have to pay out of pocket.

Brett’s wife, Gayle Walls, said, “Although he’s made progress and beaten the odds and we’d love him home ASAP, he’s a long way from that point.”

Brett is fully aware of everything around him and communicates with eye blinks and a chart.  He still has limited mobility and needs a feeding tube for most of his nutrition.  Gayle thought she had the solution for the next step, taking him to a skilled nursing facility.  But their policy called for 60 days of coverage.  After several appeals she was denied this step.

“They deemed him custodial care, maintenance only.  He’s ready to go home,” Gayle said.

The insurance company has denied the skilled care saying he would not benefit. Gayle said a hospital and one specializing in locked-in syndrome in Chicago felt Brett was a good candidate for rehabilitation therapy.

Vicki Harris said that after recovering from locked in syndrome 25 years ago she was given six hours of rehab a day.

“He’s right there and I don’t understand why they are denying him therapy,” she said.

Harris had much less movement than Brett.  Gayle said her husband worked his whole life and paid for health insurance, “And he did so so if the ground would quake beneath him he wouldn’t fall into that hole.  I feel they’re pushing us deeper.”

United Health Care issued a statement that said, “We recognize the devastating nature of this diagnosis for Mr. Walls and his family and we are working closely with them to provide additional support and make sure his family is prepared to help care for him.”
Read More at:


I’m often scared of what my insurance will and will not cover when it comes to my own health needs.  Often times insurances are not always so accommodating mental health medications, and have often been left with either no coverage on a new medication, or insane co-pays.  I’ve paid out of pocket for medications, $150.00 for just one medication.  I couldn’t imagine being placed in this position by the insurance you’ve paid.  That’s supposed to be there for you when you do get sick, when you need the help.  It seems in truth United Health Care would much rather have money than actually help those they insure.

All I can do is hope that this post will reach others.  That maybe somehow if enough people know and share this story that it might help my friends family.

Do you remember?


Children are always asked…

“what do you want to be when you grow up??

Me. Oh no. I didn’t want to be a doctor. Or a firefighter. Nope not an astronaut either. I would declare.

“I want to be an artist!”

I’m not sure what that really meant at that age other than I could draw all day and get paid. Right??


Oh the cruel truths of adulthood. While I held on strong to my need to be an artist. I went to art school. Studied photography, and me the high school drop out walked away with a BFA in Fine Art Photography.

I attempted for a time to work as a photographer…ok I was the school picture day lady. No joke.

But I made nothing. I had one hell of a commute to work. The hours sucked and when it was the down season my pay checks paid for my gas to get to work.

Finally I just lost the passion.

Slowly. Oh so slowly it’s coming back.


I’m a little nervous and excited to share my in progress wall mural. Progress is slow. But so far I’m pleased.

Painting and drawing seem to fit my late night art moods a little easier than photography might. And I enjoy the tactile nature of it.


If only this depression would lift. I can feel the longing to work on something but the lack of motivation and inspiration thanks to the depression keeps me blocked.