Sunday, January 31, 2016 -- 9 Simple Ways to Help a Mental Illness Sufferer

In case you missed it, yesterday I was featured on the blog with my post titled 9 Simple Ways to Help a Mental Illness Sufferer.

I shared some very personal--not so technical--ways you can help someone who's hurting.

Click on over and give it a read.

Please share it while you're at it.

Most people are dumbfounded when it comes to helping someone suffering with mental illness. The truth is, all it really takes is a lasagna and a movie.

Friday, January 29, 2016

Mental Illness & Your Menstrual Cycle

Having to deal with menstruation for forty plus years is a kick to any woman's front butt. 

The cramps, shifts in mood, headaches, backaches, bloating, extreme exhaustion, the need for more food, tender breasts, the fucking bleeding...

It seems like even my hair hurts when it's time.

Being a woman who has a mental illness, menstruation does more to me (personally) than what I've noted above. 

A few days prior (I'm every 28 days like clockwork--because TMI here is what works) no matter the current state I'm in, the depression either begins (again) or it deepens. This isn't the kind of depression that screams, "Oh woe is me, I am woman--hear me roar as I sit here and bleed for the next 3-5 days!" 


This depression spins me into the planning phase of suicide. (Side note: This isn't the only time this takes place. I'm merely pointing out that it exacerbates things.)

I live with suicidal ideation every day of my existence. This is different than actually being suicidal. For me, it's thinking things like...My family would be better off without me...My family deserves to be happy without my illness dragging them down...I'm not worthy of living...Would anyone notice if I just disappear?

But when PMS comes into play, I begin to look around me. I take in the objects within reach that could actually cause me to carry out the act. It's a strand of thought in my head that begins to think things like...I have that bottle of pills in the pantry (and then Google--would it be "enough")...I could mix the pills with alcohol and just go to sleep...Nobody will be home tonight...I'll get a hotel room.

Laura Miller, MD, Professor at Harvard Medical School and Director of the Women's Mental Health Division in the Department of Psychiatry at Brigham and Women's Hospital, stated in an article at The Psychiatric Times in 2012 on the topic:

"In a study of 2,524 women, 65.1% of women with bipolar type I and 70.5% with bipolar type II reported increased premenstrual mood symptoms. Only 33.7% of women without BD reported increased mood symptoms." 
She goes on to say:
"Not only is it possible for the hormonal changes to impact mood, but the hormones can also impact pharmacokinetics of the mood stabilizing medications."
Dr. Miller ran a test of a woman's lithium level prior to menstruating and noted in the same article the level was 0.6 just before menstruation and 1.1 after menstruation. That's a huge impact. 
Why do I bring this up?
Because over the years, I've heard people actually respond to me (when I tell them I have bipolar disorder) that all women suffer with mental illness in some way. And prior to wanting to throat punch them, I share the above information. 
Education is part of erasing stigma. 

Yesterday, the person on the other end of this text line reminded me that I don't, in fact, want to die. I just want to feel better. Some of us feel better typing our feelings than talking about them. This is the first time I was made to think before disconnecting.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

this isn't how a mother should feel

This morning I was running late to get out the door, drop my son off at school and get to the office. It's so cold out there today. It's usually a brisk wake up when I breathe in that cold mountain air. Today I wanted to punch it in its face.

I look half put together. I always make sure I'm well represented when I leave the apartment. Nobody could guess, on the surface, that my brain is broken. After dropping off my son I called to make myself an appointment. Self-care and shit. I don't normally have a problem getting in to see my psychiatrist. I've always counted on that. Today that blew up in my face.

I have a cold.

My head hasn't stopped aching for months.

I'm in the last week of tapering off my medication. There's nothing therapeutic in my system to help with any of my symptoms.

This paranoia I'm dealing with is making me feel like I'm losing touch with reality.

I could sleep for weeks.

I cannot focus.

Am I hearing shit? I'm not sure.

I'm snapping on my family who doesn't deserve it.

Today doesn't seem doable.

Tomorrow doesn't feel like it's going to arrive.

I keep seeing my little boy's face flash in my mind and his infectious smile brings tears to my eyes.

This isn't how a mother should feel.

Friday, January 22, 2016

Tomorrow will come if I make it through today...

Is it off the wall that when my doctor finally got on the phone with me to review my full lab work up and told me everything is in "normal" range, I broke down sobbing because I wanted something to be wrong so it could actually be fixed?

I'm filled with more anger than I've ever experienced in the last 7 years suffering with mental fucking illness.

I started doing (more) research yesterday on the medications at my disposal to present to my psychiatrist. I don't swallow pills because some dude with a degree tells me I should. I take an active part in my mental healthcare.

I came across one I hadn't heard about before so I emailed him. Within hours I got...Nah! Cognitive behavior side effects. That one's not for you!

Why do medications have so many fucking side effects? Leave it to me to land the rare ones.

I actually got a little excited about that stupid pill too. By dinnertime I was flipping grilled cheese sandwiches in a pan wishing I could just stop breathing for good (again).

It's been 3 weeks since I've been able to write creatively. I watched that being taken away from me from within my own body. I won't get that part of me back until I'm stabilized again. If ever.

Today I was asked how I continue to show up for work and get through day to day bullshit with all of the intrusive thoughts going on in my head. The truth is, I really don't know. When my alarm goes off, I just get the fuck out of bed and move like a robot. There's no feeling in here anymore. I'm numb to the core. I need time off to recover but I can only sneak 2 days here and there.

I look in the mirror as I'm getting ready...not to make sure my mascara makes it to my lashes, but to remind myself that I'm alive. I look hollow, even with the makeup, but there's skin over my bones. The dark circles under my eyes remind me that I made it to today. I make a point of not thinking about tomorrow. Tomorrow will come if I make it through today. That's as far as I can project.

There's a few things I would love to have happen for me. Such simple things that would take minimal effort on another person's part. I want a warm, home-cooked meal brought to me unannounced with a bottle of cheap wine. I want this person to bring a serving to me while I sit on my couch, wrapped in a blanket. My hair will be a mess and I'll be wearing last Thursday's pajamas. My feet will be stuffed into slippers and my eyes will bulge from all the crying I've done. I want this person to sit next to me to tell me that she's sorry I'm feeling like this, but everything is going to be okay for today because she's here and she's going to take care of me. No talk of tomorrow. No talk of what my plan is. Then we'll sit there and stare at the TV for hours on end watching Criminal Minds because getting into someone else's head is all the medicine I need for the afternoon.

It won't happen though. People are too self-centered to think outside of the box. People are too worried about tomorrow instead of living in the now. Minute to minute. Hour to hour. People don't think of the tiniest things they could do to help make a person feel better. It's like they're fucking dumbfounded.

It's just not that hard.

It's really not.

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Lamictal - Tapering Off

I've been really careful not to name my medication here because it works different from person to person.

I'm in the process of tapering off Lamictal and want the opinion of others who have gone through it themselves. I made it through severe withdrawal symptoms from tapering off an antidepressant recently and do not want to endure that hell again.

I've only been on Lamictal (this round) for about four months. I've gone from 200mg down to 25mg (as of today) quite safely and with minimal effects so far. My doctor thinks it's okay to go from 25mg to zero in one swoop but I'm considering going to 12.5mg for a week before making the jump to zero.


Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Someone Else's Last Thought

I hoped to have my blood test results back last Friday. I knew I was pushing it.

By Monday I was anxious to get the call.

At noon I grew impatient and left a message for my doctor's assistant. She called back not long after to say yes, they had in fact gotten the results. The doctor was going to review it and get back to me.

I watched the clock until 5:30pm and got nothing.

I thought, surely they'll call first thing on Tuesday.

By 11:30am my anxiety skyrocketed again. I left another message. I'll catch her before lunch.

At 2:30pm I took a walk to run some work errands. On my way back to the office I saw a sign for a bakery called Big Fat Cupcake. Naturally I went inside and picked one out.

Yeah...Those are totally fucking pretzels!
The cute little lady asked me...Small or large?

I'll take the one as big as my head!

Now I'm a little more dizzy but at least I can blame the sugar for about an hour.

I'm trying to be understanding.

Maybe she's busy?

I'm fucking important though. Right?

When I break down in your exam room because...What the actual fuck is wrong with me? ....bitch better be calling me with results in a hurry.

I realize I'm just someone else's last thought.

Monday, January 18, 2016

Intrusive Thoughts -- Flash Backs of Postpartum Depression

I'm the passenger in this car. I don't care to have control of the radio but please, goddamn it, turn the fucking heat down. It's melting my black soul and I have motion sickness already. Stop jerking the car. I know you don't realize that you're jerking the car but stop anyway. Just stop. 

We're two hours late, but not really. I didn't make the dinner reservation you suggested I make because I knew we were going to be late. We're always late. So why would I make a reservation I'd have to reschedule? So technically, we're not late, except we are because I remember all of the stupid shit like...Let's leave at 4pm so we can be home at a decent hour and I won't go to bed filled with all the food I kept eating at the Japanese steakhouse because I just couldn't stop, and yes, I would like another whiskey please and thank you.

I'm angry but we finally make it to the highway, which means we'll just drive in a straight line. Maybe I won't feel like hurling as much now. We pick up speed and now we're cruising. You're trying to get there quick because you know I'm upset and don't feel well, but I know what you're thinking...You never fucking feel well anymore so what the fuck else is new...right?

I'm sitting here to your right wondering why you want to be seated to my left anymore because I don't talk to you the way I talk to other people and the main reason is because I know you're judging me even though you say you're not, but you are. Oh, you are. 

I sneak a look at the odometer, not because I care how fast you're going, but because the voice in my head is telling me to. Once we get up to 80 MPH it tells me...Now's your chance! Grab the handle and pull it. Yank it hard. Go ahead. Open that fucking door and jump you worthless piece of shit. 

And I'm scared and angry and feeling bullied all at the same time. That voice crept in on me seven years ago and told me to do the very same thing when my newborn was in the backseat, nestled between my other sons. Me, sitting to your right. That time, though, I told you to please lock the doors. If you didn't listen, I would have listened, and I wouldn't be in the very same fucking position today as I was back then. 

I didn't listen to the voice but I kept envisioning it happening over and over again. The door would open and fly off the car dramatically just like in those movies with the tornadoes. I'd leap out and hear the wind in my ears as if it were a steady, high pitched scream. When I land on the pavement it ends for me as the car behind yours runs me over and crashes into your car. 

That scene replays at least fifty times before you pull in front of the restaurant to let us all out. 


Over the weekend, I was brought back to a time in my life I wish was erased forever. I had a flashback from the days of postpartum depression. I was in the car with my family when it took place and I silently turned my head toward the window to breathe through it and never said a word. I only hoped none of you saw me crying.

Intrusive thoughts can control your every move. 

Friday, January 15, 2016

Are we really all too busy for one another?

I would give up just about everything to move back to my hometown in New Jersey. I know what you're going to say...New Jersey?

-The food

-Everyone let you know where you stood with them

-Knowing all the perfect places to go and the anticipation of your kids finding them as they grow

-Great friends

That's just touching on it. I could talk for hours about what's so great about it. 

I clawed my way out of that small town when I was 19. Not once did I ever believe I would want to return there for good. But oh, how I do!

I had the best friends. I will never have friends like that in my life again. I have an ungodly amount of friends on the interwebs who are dear to me but none in the flesh. I need that and I miss it. Making friends as an adult will never be easy. 

The exhaustion I carry with me is not describable. My body is shutting down physically and mentally I can't even explain. Having someone close to me would lift my spirits in the most tremendous way. 

What gets me the most is I relocated my family to Colorado to be closer to the people in our lives and it's nothing like I thought it would be. Not even remotely. 

I want my group of friends back that I knew I could count on. As adults, I think we would rock this thing called life together and enjoy doing it. Our kids would grow up together as we watch on in the distance. 

I need people in my life I can depend on.

The only person I can depend on is myself and that's no way to be. 

When did we all become so wrapped up in our own shit that we became too busy for each other?

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Starting Over (again)

I'm going to keep this rather abrupt because I know I've been absent from social media and people are asking what's going on with me (the labels in this post can give you a better idea of where I'm at). I can't look at electronic devices right now for long due to the whirlwind of shit that I'm going through (think 24/7 motion sickness feeling).

With help from others, I was convinced that what I'm going through HAS TO BE more than mental illness related.

I just got back from visiting my PCP. She did a full exam including blood work and spent time with me as I had a nervous breakdown. I have a bacterial infection from the medication and will start antibiotics for that. I'll get the blood test results by Monday.

I honestly hope she finds something so it can be treated and I can feel better about myself. Does that sound like a double negative in a way?

The new short term goal is to get off the mood stabilizer. My psychiatrist isn't getting back to me right now so I'm working with her on reducing that slowly.

I'm doing it.

Starting over.

What the fuck choice do I have?

Sunday, January 10, 2016

I'm better than yesterday--Worse than tomorrow!

How are you?

Better than yesterday--Worse than tomorrow!

Pamela Gold--2016

I don't hear voices but my deep thoughts come as if someone or something is whispering to me while I'm in the shower. It's always the shower. I'm not sure if that's because the whisperer knows I'll forget most of these thoughts by the time I can get to a piece of paper or what. 

The above answer to that typical question came to me today. I'm not sure if it's because I've read it before or if it's original. It seems original to me so I'm going with that for now. If I've plagiarized, do let me know.

So...I was wrong. It happens a lot but I came to realize this yesterday on my drive to Target (dressed like I should have been heading to Walmart). 

A few years ago I stopped taking a well known drug called Seroquel. I refer to it more as a detox because HOLY SHIT

As soon as the brain zaps showed up this week, I realized what I'm experiencing now isn't the new anti-anxiety medication (DUH!) but the withdrawal from the antidepressant. I honestly didn't know the withdrawal from antidepressants could be as intense as coming off a mood stabilizer or anti-psychotic (DUH!). My dose was lowered for about two weeks prior to my coming off. I didn't even think to ask, or look it up myself, until I was struggling. 

Brain zaps are no fucking joke. You'll be moving along with typical tasks when this jolt takes over and you can't do anything with your life for at least a minute. I know that doesn't seem like much but it happens over and over again and you're never prepared. And it hurts. It has finally calmed down. I got lucky this time in that it was only for a few days. The headache is still throbbing but the nausea and dizziness are mostly gone. 

I'm drinking a ton of water and fueling my body with food in hopes to help it stay strong through all of this. I starting taking my anti-anxiety pills again yesterday and now I go from here.

I'm honestly glad I didn't call my doctor. Sometimes working through the problems on my own give me a sense of structure. 

I wrote a poem on Friday about myself. I usually write from another's perspective. An unnamed man or woman. But this is about me. When I heard it read today, in another's voice, I cried. I cried because the underlying feeling still exists but it's also because I can't believe I'm going through all of this. Nobody should have to wander through life waiting to die. 

a call from the other side--

in the middle of the night I wake
a compression on my chest
i make out the shape of a figure
blending into the darkness
he is straddling me
my senses heighten
but I am not alarmed
i recognize he has arrived for me
to pull me into the hollow
it is soothing
i prepare to speak but he clears his throat
his finger moves to his lips
muting me further
he shakes his head from side to side
he is informing me that it is not my time
his visitation is to disclose there is more to be done
his display is praise
though I am not appeased
i am further troubled
left stranded
my eyes seal shut
he will have vanished when i come to
his weight still alive on my chest  
i roll onto my side
he has communicated beyond words
it is not my time

Pamela Gold 2016

1 Hour 19 Minutes 30 Seconds

So, how am I doing? I'm better than yesterday--worse than tomorrow. Fingers crossed.

Friday, January 8, 2016


I can give mental health advice like a motherfucker. Am I really considered an advocate if I can't follow it myself?

I mentioned a few posts ago that I'm going through changes with my medication. Again.

Yesterday, right around lunch time the side-effects started to kick in from the new anti-anxiety pills I'm taking three times a day. I haven't felt nausea like that since I was pregnant seven years ago (and no, there's  no chance there is a human growing inside of me). I powered through that and the dizziness for the remainder of the work day. On my drive home, I had to pull over twice to vomit.

I'm so fucking done.

How can all of the side-effects hit me and others don't feel anything but better? There's definitely something in this world that is out to get me and I'm fucking sick of it.

I'm sitting here through blurred vision due to tears because I don't know what to do. I'm honestly too afraid to call or email my doctor because this change only took place three days ago and won't he just be like Give it a fucking chance?!

So I'm riding it out on my mood stabilizer alone and nothing more.

Last night I woke up in such a panic I didn't know what to do. I wanted someone to punch me in the face hard so I would see starts and pass out. The thoughts that arrive don't even make sense anymore. It's not a laundry list of shit to do it's gibberish and feels delusional but my doctor said that if I was having delusions I wouldn't know it, it would just happen. I popped a few Advil PMs and forced myself to lay still until sleep returned.

Do I consider Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT) again?

This post is going nowhere.

Have a good weekend.

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Know Your Medication

I've had some bad psychiatrists over the years. I've had a couple of good ones too. Some play a higher power (or wish they could do so on TV) and others sit back and write prescriptions to get through their shift. Many will (and should) work with you and not against you.

The first time I stepped foot in a psychiatrist's office, I didn't know what to expect. When I left his office, even in the state of mind I was in, I knew I was going to have to be involved in my mental health care. I was going to have to hit the interwebs (reputable sources) and study my illness as well as the medications that treat the illness.

Some individuals walk into any doctor's office and take their word because they went to med school. In my opinion, this isn't the way to take care of your well-being.

When it comes to psychotropics, you have to be informed.

There are different trial and errors for every medication but I'm going to focus on psychotropics today.

Many psychotropic medications require blood work before you can even begin taking them. Doctors are testing for things such as glucose levels, platelet counts and the thyroid hormone. Some of these medications can cause diabetes, hypothyroidism, a white blood cell count differential, impairment of kidney function, liver disease, and the list goes on...

It's obvious that the tests are completed before taking new medication to have a starting point of your blood levels, but if you have an existing condition that could worsen by taking these medications, you won't be written the prescription and a new plan will be thought up.

If you're in the clear to take the new medication, labs are tested again down the road (depending on what you're taking-the timing will vary) to recheck your levels. Doses may need to be adjusted accordingly. The tests don't stop there. Regular testing, especially during dose changes, will be a part of your life. Hopefully less often as it takes effect and you're on level ground again.

Not all medications require such lengths before you can take them. This week I was faced with making a decision of my own with my psychiatrist (because I don't let my doctors decide for me, they're there to hand me the info and we conclude together). Do I:

 A. Change no medications right away (except go off a few), get my labs drawn, wait up to two weeks then figure out what to do...

-- or

B. Change to something not requiring blood work so I can get to feeling less like death immediately and then move back to plan A should I need additional help.

I went with plan B. Why? I couldn't say for a fact that I'd still be around when the lab results arrived. My illness is that bad right now.

My point? Work with your doctor. Don't just do what he tells you to do. If you're being treated by a doctor that will only keep seeing you if you do everything he says, he's not a good doctor. Make decisions together. Do your research. Know what you have to do prior to swallowing something new. Know the common side-effects and the rare side-effects. You may be one in the small percentage who experiences these side-effects but it's important to have the information on hand. Researching after the fact can cause problems. In my personal experience this week, my doctor insisted that a good portion of the effects I'm feeling wasn't from the medications. He only said that it was possible, in quite a weary tone.

Be armed. Be informed. Be ready to fight for what you know. Be ready to fight for what you want.

Your doctor is experienced and shouldn't brush you off because your time limit is up. He should stick by your side until you're comfortable enough moving forward with your health plan, and be at the ready if you have questions in the interim.

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

What's wrong? Everything...

It's no secret that I've been struggling extra hard with this round of depression. I'm entering week eight.

Just before Thanksgiving, my medication was tweaked. I emailed my doctor at some point to tell him I was feeling better (why don't I remember feeling better?) but to ask him about insomnia. Not long after I emailed to say I wasn't so okay (Tricked ya!). A week before Christmas we tweaked my doses again over the phone. I had a week from that day to get it right because he was leaving me going on vacation for a week.

I didn't get better while he was gone.

I was able to get an urgent appointment with him yesterday. I've never felt hopeless exiting his office until now.

We tweaked some more and switched out my anti-anxiety medication because I was taking too much of it and it was no longer working. Usually having a bottle of those pills on hand is enough to calm me down but I've been taking them lately. Oh how I have been taking them!

I'm off the antidepressant completely as of today. I'm counting down three days. That's how long he said it should take to get out of my system, which doesn't seem right to me.

I was down to an ineffective dose of my mood stabilizer and rather than switching that out, we're gradually moving up the dose from 50mg to 100mg in increments of 25mg. Before it was a rather quick transition from 50mg to 200mg when the side effects slammed into me like a bitch with her shopping cart at Walmart. His thought is now that the antidepressant was causing the effects, not the other. I still argue that issue.

We discussed moving to other medications but that meant doing nothing other than changing the anti-anxiety pills, coming off the antidepressants and doing nothing else for up to two weeks due to blood work. Certain labs needed to be checked before moving forward with that plan. I knew there was no way I could wait that long without hurting myself.

So the plan is set and I move forward. Hopeless. Depressed. Violently sad and angry and aggressive and tired and...and...and...

I fully admitted that I had a plan to off myself on 12/29/15. I fully admitted that I'm self-harming again, just about daily. I fully called his bluff when he and his partner shared thoughts that the medication can't possibly be causing all of the effects I'm experiencing. It was the first time I wanted to punch Jack in the face. I had a fucking list of the rare effects in my hand. I read them to him. I showed him the list, my effects highlighted in red, because I'm thorough as fuck.

Happy New was good seeing you again Pamela! 

I left his office, closed the door behind me and rushed into the bathroom down the hall to vomit.

Monday, January 4, 2016

What not to do when the depression might be lifting (trickery little fucker)

I have yet to read another person's experience on what not to do when you wake up one morning and feel a little bit better. Maybe the depression has lifted somewhat and the thought of not wanting to be on this Earth any longer isn't the first thing you think about when opening your eyes for the day.

I felt pretty okay on Saturday morning.

The day ahead was jammed full of errands that needed to be done whether or not I was feeling up for it.

It's my strong opinion that when the depression is making its way out, or at least lightening its load for now, your mind and body needs a recovery period. It needs time to re-acclimate and decompress. It's not time to jump back into real world needs. Those can wait.

Stay home. Watch TV. Read a book. Work on your hobby. Play board games. Drink coffee. Clean a little. Do some laundry. Veg the fuck out.

I ended up doing too much:

  • Grocery shopping with the whole family when I normally either go alone or with just one of my kids. It's not to say they weren't helpful, but my system and routine were shaken up and anxiety was high. I won't even mention the fact that I ordered meat from the deli and got distracted with buying onions and forgot to go back to retrieve said meat afterward. Fucking idiot. 
  • We attended my son's best friend's birthday party who just turned 7. The atmosphere surrounding this amazing little boy is always calm. It's not like any other children's birthday party you would expect. Knowing all that we still had to do, we only stuck around for present opening and cake. Their family is going through a tough time right now so just being there felt off and uncomfortable. I hope things are on the up for them soon. They're in my thoughts. 
  • My son was in desperate need of shoes. We started at Famous Footwear because that's normally where we end up purchasing but this time it didn't work out. Don't retail stores know it's winter and shoes should be made out of more material than just mesh? 
  • The mall. I hate the fucking mall. We went upstairs, downstairs then repeated to find shoes. I think we were at our eighth store when we finally scored a pair for under $50 that were going to keep his feet warm when snow boots aren't necessary. All of this after exchanging some clothes that were given as holiday gifts and didn't fit. It was so exhausting that I didn't even want to get a pretzel. Who doesn't want a mall pretzel in ever? Or go to Bath & Body Works? Who doesn't want to spend $15 on a bottle of lotion that's going to make you smell like a tropical sunrise?
  • Buffalo Wild Wings ended the evening. I'm not into this whole Ultimate Fighting Championship garbage because...just give a motherfucker a knife and slice his throat. I mean, why not? There's blood and goo and just plain nastiness all over that ring. So yeah, Buffalo Wild Wings during UFC. That was a fucking hoot. was really hard to not look away between bites of fried pickles and wings. That shit is fucking whack!
So much stupid shit went on in between. There isn't a kind soul in the city of Denver right now. Everyone is in a hurry and pushing and shoving and I'm like CALM YOUR FUCKING TITS! I'm not a patient person, like at all, but seriously people, act like an adult. We're all out there battling the same errands. Can't we just not act like dicks to one another. Happy New Year and all that shit...?!

By the time we got home, and it wasn't late, I bathed my son and went straight to my bed. I did some reading and poking around on social media. I was fucking numb. I felt like I was back to square one. Completely defeated. 

Sunday...It's an unwritten rule that I don't leave the house on Sunday. Sunday is for housework and lounging and cooking and prepping for the week ahead and for dreading Monday by about 7pm because OH MY GOD IT'S THAT TIME OF THE MONTH AT THE OFFICE AGAIN! I broke the rule this time and ventured out. 

I won't dive into it but let's just say I had to go back out for that deli meat I forgot on Saturday and to purchase bus passes for my son (rates just went up too, motherfucker!) on top of having a late lunch with some family. 

My wish is that I stayed home in my comfy clothes, feet in my slippers, hair undone and for the love of all that can be amazing in my world WHO PUTS ON MAKE-UP ON SUNDAY?! It's like a law against gravity. 

It's time to say NO more often and YES to taking care of myself even if it means pissing other people off.

My well-being matters.

The end.

Sunday, January 3, 2016

Haunted Childhood | A Poem

she stood at three feet tall
with shoulder length glossy blonde locks
cherry colored lips & flushed cheeks
her teeth frosted white
a fraud
an absurd smile never to tarnish
when left alone she shifted
the slightest expressions
she’d whisper
“i know that you know”
muttering meant to terrify
arms up
arms down
plastic stature
nobody else took note
in my nightmares she preyed
creeping down the hall to my bedroom
hovering above my head
her face mangled
a reminder that she wasn’t a toy
freed from her packaging
i became her victim
i put her underground
in the damp basement
the next day she was in the livingroom
i climbed the ladder to the attic
dragging her by the hair
i threw her as far as my child sized arms would allow
the next day she was in my bed
her head resting on my pillow
eyes fixated on me
soaking in the shock
her smile grew wider
i smiled back
tomorrow was trash day
& i retrieved the box of thick black bags stored in the garage
i dismembered her
placed her inside
& sealed it with a double knot
at twilight i skipped to the curb with her remains
leaving her outside to perish
i went back to the warmth of my pink quilt
& waited for sleep to pull me under
yanked from a dream the next morning with a thump
arms where legs should be
legs slumped at her side
“i know that you know”

Pamela Gold 2015

To hear this poem read in my voice on the World Poetry Open Mic show CLICK HERE and go to the 47 minute mark! It was a blast to break through my comfort zone and own it.