What Happens to a Depressed Brain at Night by Robert Vore.

When discussing addictions, the acronym HALT is used to describe states of being you should avoid.
Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired.
Studies (and a hefty dose of anecdotes) show these are states in which people are more susceptible to their addictions. While I’ve never had an addiction, I’ve found parts of this acronym apply pretty well to my mental and emotional well-being.
Hungry doesn’t bother me so much, and (barring about a year period in my very early 20s) I wouldn’t consider myself an angry person in general. The last two though, are where I run into trouble.
Being lonely or tired throws my depression into overdrive in an incredibly short amount of time.
I’ll start with tired, because it’s an easier explanation: I spend a portion of my energy most days fighting lies in my head with truth. The whole concept of “what you feel vs. what you know” is one I reference fairly often, but it goes something like this:

Brain: Wow, no one’s texted you in like an hour. You must have no friends.

Me: Hmm, that doesn’t seem quite right

Brain: Pretty sure it is. In fact, given how much you value relationships, your crippling lack of friends who care enough to communicate with you is a big deal. It’s just logic: you want relationships, but have literally none. No one cares about you. You’re worthless.

Me: No. Logically, I don’t have literally no friends. I have some really great friends who love me deeply, and I know that. And I know (regardless of temporary and misleading feelings) that I am loved. God loves me, my wife loves me, my family loves me, my friends love me and my dog sure as hell loves me.

Brain: OK, fine. I’ll come back in an hour when you’ve noticed you have no plans this weekend.

The problem with being tired is I have no more energy to fight these battles. It’s also when I’m least likely to go anywhere or do anything (because I’m tired, duh), which makes it worse because then I’m all alone and my dumb brain has more ammunition to point out how alone and worthless I am.

This happens more than I’d like, and I’m fully willing to admit that some of the times it happens, it’s because I suck at self-care. I have a propensity to jam a lot of things in my schedule and overcommit myself, because I’d rather be moving and doing than sitting still.
Which is actually a surprisingly nice segue into the other one: Lonely. Because when I don’t jam a lot of things into my schedule and overcommit, when I can’t be moving and doing and have to be sitting still, I tend to get lonely.
And loneliness is my kryptonite.
It’s why I hate the nighttime. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been awful at falling asleep. I remember getting in trouble consistently as a child for still being awake, reading Archie Comics when my parents went to bed. The thing is, it’s not like I was trying to stay up. I just can’t fall asleep because my brain won’t stop going.
Apart from making me tired the next day (see: the first half of this post), the problem with taking hours to fall asleep is it gives you an unprecedented amount of time to just lay there. Alone. In the dark. Thinking.
This is when my brain is at its worst
Even now, when I’m home alone I have this overbearing feeling I should be somewhere, doing something. I never know quite what to do when I have hours alone at the end of a day. I could watch a movie or some TV on Netflix (what’s cable?), but I can’t shake this feeling I should either be accomplishing something or have people who I’m hanging out with.
It makes me feel alone. It makes me feel worthless because no one’s around or talking to me or wanting anything to do with me (because of course they’re not, it’s the middle of the damn night.) It pulls me into the grey muck of my own head where I have the hardest time climbing out again because no one’s around to yell truth into my darkness.
It’s the reason why (after reading a study on veterans who were given dogs to take care of so they’d feel less alone) I got a dog in college, and it’s the reason I named him Nox (Latin for “night.”)
It’s the reason I fell asleep watching Futurama every night for years before I got married, and sometimes it’s the reason why I still fall asleep listening to podcasts.
It’s the reason I pack my schedule full and try to avoid having too much time to myself.
Because when I’m still, and alone, and without distractions, I get uncomfortable. I get lonely. I get sad.
And I don’t get sad in a normal, something-bummed-me-out way. I get sad in an I-can’t-breathe-and-my-body-feels-heavy-and-it’s-all-I-can-do-to-not-sink-into-myself kind of way.
And if you don’t understand that last sentence at all, I’m truly and honestly glad for you.
And if you do understand it, I’m deeply and desperately sorry.
I’m sorry there are times when it feels like it won’t stop raining no matter what, and there are times where you’re so desperate you would do anything but have no idea what that anything could even be, and I’m sorry you and I share this bond. This thing that feels like it’s a living breathing thing, but is really just a lie, a pack of lies, that fills your head and seeps downwards until every inch of you feels contaminated and terrible and worthless. I’m sorry. Words cannot express how sorry I am. I know you know that because I know you feel the same way back.
But I want to tell you to hold on.
Because as much as I hate the night, as much as the darkness weighs on me and maybe on you, as much as I rail against the quiet and the still and the loneliness, this remains fact:
The sun does rise.
The sun does rise tomorrow and the world sings with alarm clocks and morning news and cities burst to life and I am still here. Even when I haven’t wanted to be, I have managed to still be here, and that is no small feat. If that is you, if you feel like all you’ve managed today is to still be here through a night when you wanted otherwise, please know there is no small victory in that. There is large, loud, celebration-style victory.
You are alive and you are breathing and you are a miracle for the heart that beats in your chest.
So please stay. Please hold on. When it feels dark and quiet and lonely and you’re trying to figure out how to feel comfortable in your own skin but just can’t seem to get there, please stay anyway.
Because the sun does rise, in so many ways. I’ll hold off on clichés involving darkest nights and dawns, but I promise the sun does rise.
Please be here for it.
And in the meantime, know the things that make you heavy and the things that make you light.
Get sleep, eat good foods, read a book or spend a night watching your favorite movie. Talk to the people around you. Hug your dog even though he doesn’t like it (guilty).
There is no shame in doing what you need to be healthy, no disgrace in needing to keep yourself above water. You avoid foods that make you ill, this is no different.
Fight to stay healthy.
Fight to stay whole.
Fight to stay.
I’ll keep fighting if you will

To All the Brave Kids Who Broke up with Their Toxic Dads -100K Shares

One of the simplest ways to stay happy is.. Letting go of the things that makes you sad.


I don’t know really know where I should start with this. This past weekend was a tell all. I was just waiting for it to Blow up. And it did. With a Bang.

I’ve heard thru the grapevine that some people don’t think I should be writing about this, about My TRUTH. That this should be Private. WELL LADIES and Gentlemen, I accept your voiced concerns. But you also don’t know who I am. Or what I’ve endured in this life. But it’s not just me who I’m writing this for. I had a family. And now, It broken. This is not just about me. It’s about the waves of this vas ocean of life. Where sometime people loose their ways. You get divided and sometimes it’s easier to just, cut the rope to that anchor. And just float away into the abyss.

I’m sorry if some may not like what is being told. But you have the choice to not read. And i’m asking as politely as possible to respect me and my CHOICE to write.

Please Read this Blog by Anna Bashkova “ http://annabash.com/new-blog/bravekids#sthash.teiKvksE.dpuf. Maybe then you’ll understand a little more.

I’ve come along way. With all the trauma and turmoil. I’d really like to think that I will be more than okay. It was the most incredibly hardest heart break I’ve had in this life. Even as I write this I have tears that are leaving marks down my face. But I have been brave, and I will continue and try to be better. A better person then I was yesterday.

That man isn’t the person who raised me. As he referred to me once, and won’t forget the words ever, “ Don’t forget who took you in. And raise you”.

Yes, I was accepted into a family of 3 already when I was 2-ish. He wasn’t my biological father. But I didn’t know the difference until now. The nurture that a dad is suppose to give you, was very much forced. We had a relationship because I pushed it. Always join in and had the willingness to learn new things. I learned from watching him. His strength and the constant drive for hard work. I am proud of what I can do. Living the life style that me and my Fiancé do, I need to know house thing, how to fix things, to take care of a home. And I’ve had the knowledge ever since I was young, because I did it around our home, while he was away for 4 weeks at a time working. But thats all that mattered, was the work. Not the family.

I’ve realized that you can’t change people or help people that don’t want it. I’ve reached that breaking point. My axis has finally split. It’s been a life lesson learnt. I should not be keeping a toxic relationship going. And I’m not going to accept that as my future. It’s not my fault.

I won’t let it destroy me. I rather stand at the top of the hill, watching the blaze die out. As you sweep the ashes away and already new life is growing. I need to love myself. To embrace all of life’s gifts. I won’t let the past haunt me anymore. To make its comfortable bed within my bones. I’ve been closed off for a long time, and shedding light to my vulnerable moments in life. My heart has been living in a cage. To protect from all the pain and hurt I might suffer. To shut off my emotions. I don’t need anyones pity. I’m doing fine. And thats probably because my Fiancé, Kris, has my back always. Who pushes me to be more.

He may have said to not even think of inviting him to my wedding, and to think again about walking me down the aisle. That was when I knew my heart had to let go, even tho I wasn’t ready.

But I’ve been lucky enough to have my biological father walk back into my life and he hasn’t left. I am thankful that I am getting to know this man. A life and relationship that had been denied to me. I’m learning so much. We talk at least once a week; some times even more. Our conversations are always over an hour long. I could talk to him forever, about anything and everything. I deserve so much more credit then I’ve been given. But that just my opinion. This man even accepts my 2 sisters as kids he cares about. How many other dads do you know that cares about 2 other children that aren’t his? They are rare. And they are important, because they are the people, out there, who are the real hero’s. And they should be recognized even more then they already are.

I am learning to open up, and to love myself, to achieve the ability to love others as well. “Without the toxicity, there is nothing stopping you to be fearless, embrace life, and embrace yourself. Let yourself be with people who support and make you feel safe – who are worthy of your effort and love. And don’t ever be frustrated if you still love him, just be sure to love him from afar.”- http://annabash.com/new-blog/bravekids


I hope that by sharing this, it will give you the light to shine threw the darkness with me. It’s been dark for a long time.




Source: To All the Brave Kids Who Broke up with Their Toxic Dads -100K Shares


Childhood trauma leads to lifelong chronic illness — so why isn’t the medical community helping patients?

Deficiently a good read and very important. Childhood trauma can potentially result in ill health as an adult. Trauma that can make us shut down and push others away. To never talk or deal with the trauma. To move on and leave it in the past. Only to have it creep up and show itself when you least expect it. To scare you, and cause increase risk of inflammation on the brain for an over extend period of time, which then can manifests later into cancer, heart disease, and autoimmune diseases. Remember everyone has a story that you don’t know about. It wouldn’t hurt for someone to ask, “Hey. What’s your story?”. Maybe you’ll get their whole life story. Just a way to better understand. To understand life, and its struggle threw someone else’s eyes.

Childhood trauma leads to lifelong chronic illness—

When I was twelve, I was coming home from swimming at my neighbor’s dock when I saw an ambulance’s flashing lights in our driveway. I still remember the asphalt burning my feet as I stood, paralyzed, and watched the paramedics take away my father. It was as if I knew those flashing lights were a harbinger that my childhood was over.

At the hospital, a surgeon performed “minor” elective bowel surgery on my young dad. The surgeon made an error, and instead of my father coming home to the “welcome home” banners we’d painted, he died.

The medical care system failed my father miserably. Then the medical care system began to fail me.

At fourteen, I started fainting. The doctors implied I was trying to garner attention. In college I began having full seizures. I kept them to myself, fearful of seeming a modern Camille. I’d awaken on the floor drenched in sweat, with strangers standing quizzically over me. Then, I had a seizure in front of my aunt, a nurse, and forty-eight hours later awoke in the hospital with a pacemaker in my chest.

In my early forties I developed Guillain Barre Syndrome, a neurological autoimmune disorder that causes paralysis from the neck down. I found myself in Johns Hopkins Hospital, on the exact anniversary of my father’s death, in the same hospital wing where he had died, unable to move. I was a few days shy of turning forty-two, the very age at which my dad had passed away.

I recovered, only to relapse, falling paralyzed again. Many of my children’s early memories revolve around my bed, where we played board games and read books.

It wasn’t until I was fifty-one-years old that a physician sat me down and asked me the most important question of my life – one that would lead me to better health than I’d had for decades: “Were there any childhood traumas or stressors that might have contributed to the extreme level of inflammation you’re experiencing as an adult?”

My physician explained that ongoing adversity in childhood leads to a chronic state of “fight, flight or freeze.” Researchers at Yale had recently shown that when inflammatory stress hormones flood a child’s body and brain, they alter the genes that oversee our stress reactivity, re-setting the stress response to “high” for life. This increases the risk of inflammation, which manifests later in cancer, heart disease, and autoimmune diseases like mine.

As a science reporter I was shocked to discover that research linking childhood stress to adult illness began in 1996 with the Kaiser Permanente-CDC Adverse Childhood Experiences Study (ACE Study). Since then, over 1500 peer-reviewed studies have replicated these findings.

The research was stunning. Two-thirds of Americans report experiencing Adverse Childhood Experiences. These include obvious sexual and physical abuse, but also stressors that many consider to be normal — growing up with divorced parents, living with a depressed or alcoholic mom or dad, having a parent who belittled or humiliated you – or simply not feeling as if your family had your back. People who’d experienced four such categories of childhood adversity were twice as likely to be diagnosed with cancer and depression as adults.

One statistic struck home with me: women who’d faced three types of childhood adversity had a sixty percent greater risk of being hospitalized with an autoimmune disease as an adult. Similar links existed between childhood stressors and adult heart disease, diabetes, migraines and irritable bowel disease. Suffering six categories of early life stress shortened one’s lifespan by twenty years.

However, one study of 125,000 patients showed that when physicians acknowledged and discussed patients’ childhood trauma openly, patients enjoyed a thirty-five percent reduction in doctor visits. Validating patient suffering invites patients to address it at last.

Yet, despite twenty years of research linking childhood stress to adult disease, the majority of the medical community acts as if these findings don’t exist.

This August, students will begin training in medical schools across the country. They will be expected to emerge with deep-rooted knowledge about how to help patients heal. But shockingly, only a few medical schools teach students about how childhood suffering influences adult disease. The majority of medical schools leave this science out. Perhaps they fear teaching it will open the door to bringing psychiatry into the exam room.

But shouldn’t physicians consider the whole patient – body and mind – so that they can suggest behavioral health tools that will alleviate both the root causes and the symptoms of disease? When physicians help patients come to the profound revelation that childhood adversity plays a role in the chronic illnesses they face now, they help them to heal physically and emotionally at last.

All disease is multifactorial. Past trauma is one of those factors. I can’t help but think of how my own story might have been different if the medical community had been trauma-aware. What if, after my father’s sudden death, the emotional cost of such a traumatic loss had been validated, and our medical system had offered therapeutic interventions?

It’s been two decades since the research linking childhood adversity to adult illness began. But think of how much money we might have saved in our health care system since then if we considered the role that past trauma plays in one’s current medical condition, instead of waiting a lifetime for it to show up in devastating and difficult to treat diseases that ruin lives for a second time.

According to the CDC, the annual health care cost of adult patients who have a history of early trauma is $124 billion a year. Validating patients’ past trauma isn’t only beneficial for their well being, it translates into fewer tests, procedures, and health care dollars spent.

Statistics tell us that two-thirds of Americans reading these words, including physicians, will recognize that experiences in their childhood still trail after them today, like small ghosts. Fortunately, medical science now recognizes many proven interventions for recovering from trauma, even decades after events have occurred.

We are long overdue for a national awareness campaign — similar to public health initiatives on how seat belts save lives, smoking causes cancer, and hand washing prevents flu — to educate physicians and families on how childhood trauma begets adult illness. Only then can we help those who feel paralyzed by their pasts to achieve the healthy lives they deserve.


This article first appeared in the Huffington Post. Donna Jackson Nakazawa is the author of Childhood Disrupted: How Your Biography Becomes Your Biology and How you Can Heal. You can follow her on Twitter at @DonnaJackNak, or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/donnajacksonnakazawaauthor.

Source: Childhood trauma leads to lifelong chronic illness — so why isn’t the medical community helping patients?

1992- Yellowknife

Lets jump back in time. Back as far as I can remember. I’ve met quite a lot of people who surprisingly can’t remember to much about their childhood. I, on the other hand remember very very much. Get ready for the good and the ugly.

In 1992, my family and I moved to Yellowknife, NWT. The reason for this move… yes you guessed it! My father is a miner. The Giant mine located in Yellowknife was going on strike. My father worked for a contracting company and was hired basically to cross the picket line and work. During this year in September, at the height of labour dispute also with the declining price of gold led to major pay cuts. The dispute lasted 18 long months with the Canadian Association of Smelter and Allied Workers union (CASAW) Local 4, with refused negations, arguing that the company was also lax on safety. Men were being replaced by men who needed the work. And Yes, my family classified as one of those people who needed to work.


Now before there is any comments on that last sentence I will say, Fact everyone is capable of working, and fact when your work place decides to strike, even when you are against it, in the real word… we’re all replaceable.  The company locked out the union and flew in strikebreakers. Yes. That what we were.. strikebreakers. (It not a nice sounding word.) 

On September 18, 1992, an explosion in a drift of the mine, 750 ft (230 m) underground, killed nine strikebreakers/replacement workers riding in a man-car. For 13 months after the blast, the RCMP interrogated hundreds of strikers, their families, and supporters, wiretapping their telephones and searching their houses. Owner of the mine, Margaret Witte said that there would be no negotiations with the union unless an arrest was made.

The strike ended the following year, 1993.

Mine employee Roger Warren was later convicted of placing the bomb. He was convicted of 9 counts of 2nd murder. Warren was convicted in 1995 after a confession with the RCMP. In 2003 Warren again confessed to the bombing, saying that he acted alone. This second confession followed the decision by the Association in Defence of the Wrongly Convicted, to drop their investigation of the case.

In Warren’s testimony in 2004 in the lawsuit filed against him by the widows of the 9 men. Warren placed blame on poor security, the union, and the mine (Royal Oak Mines Incorporated) for provoking him. Stating, he was only capable of the bombing because strikebreaker’s were dehumanized by the union. And expressed that his termination resulted in the 9 deaths. In 2008 the nine Giant Mine widows lost their $10-million civil suite when the Northwest Territories Supreme Court overturned an earlier ruling. The Court found that although the security firm and the government owed a duty of care to the replacement workers, that duty was not breached.

He became eligible for parole in 2010, applied for day parole in mid March 2014 and was granted after a hearing on June 17, 2014. At the hearing he expressed regret for the murders.


Now, I’ve done my research many years ago about what happened at Giant Mine. And why my father was crossing the picket line. My father is a hard worker, and is extremely loyal to his company. I’ve had a huge respect for what my dad does for a living, and always wanted to follow in his footsteps. But that didn’t happen obviously. That job, is what probably broke our family apart to be honest. Either you become the mine or the mine will become you. If you don’t understand that when you first read it. That’s okay. Just follow along and hopefully the puzzle pieces will fit together. 

When we moved to Yellowknife, I was 2 years old. My older sister would have been 7-ish, roughly. We lived in a 2 bedroom apartment building. There was a playground just in front of the apartment and my sister school was just around the corner. My mom worked at the local shell gas station. I can remember riding on my dad’s snow machine to visit her. That thing ran forever. Even after all the crap it got. I’m sure there will be other stories to tell that will include the Enticer. As shown below, I swear it’s the exact same one.


Yellowknife is when I saw my first violent fight between 2 people whom I called mom and dad. And it’s probably what set a course for things to change in my life, my family. The first sign. But it didn’t end there.

From the outside looking in, we had a picture perfect family. But no one knew what happened behind closed doors, or in the late night. I can in fact still close my eyes and replay moments from then. Like I’m standing in the corner watching it all transpire. And before I get into detail, I should probably speak with my mom about this. Since it would be to expose all.

So lets just end this post as a Part 1.

Stay tuned for Part 2. Never know what might be told.

– ♥- P


Paralyzing Nightmares.

If you’ve ever experience waking up in the middle of the night, but for some reason your body won’t move. You try with all your might but all you can move is your eyes, and possibly even a small movement of your head. Ladies and Gentlemen, let me give you a little information about Paralyzing nightmares. And possibly find some pictures that will hopefully give you some inside to what I see and feel. And i’m sure, there are many others out there whom have experience this type of disturbed sleep.


What Is Sleep Paralysis?

According to Webmd, sleep paralysis is a state of consciousness where you are unable to move your body. It happens in between the 2nd and 3rd stages of your sleep cycle, just as you pass between your body getting ready for stage 3, REM sleep. The deep sleep stage, where dreams happen. In these moment there is a disruption, you may be unable to move or speak for a few seconds up to a few minutes, but your hearing and vision is hypersensitive. Some people have described the feeling as pressure of their chest or a sense of suffocating.



It’s been an exhausting 3 weeks.

But lets rewind to November 13th 2016, when I was attached by my neighbours dog.

I just came home from working in the community.

I let the pups inside to eat their supper, It’s a beautiful warm day so they spent the day outside in their pin, while I was working. Once they are all eating I went out to the car to get the groceries out of the back. (Honestly, probably the first time I’ve been outside alone without my dogs. You’ll learn that I do and take them everywhere possible.) Took the big bags out and placed them on the ground. As I closed the hatch to my 4Runner, I bent down to pick up my bags and there was the neighbours dog, Rex. He was crouched down in my face. I went to turn around, to back away, to give him his space. and As soon as I moved he lunged at me and bit me in the face. I grab my right side of my face a noticed all the blood.

The dog was still there.
I started yelling at him. He then left and walked back to his yard.
I grab my bags and ran inside. We have a mirror at the front door. Once I seen myself and all the blood. I went to the bathroom in a frantic mess. Tried cleaning up the blood on my face and neck. To see how bad it was.
The thoughts going threw my head was that I needed to get to the hospital.
Since this attack. Things haven’t been the same for me.

Life took a dramatic turn.

It’s been 5 months. And the nightmares feel real every night. I relive this day every time I look in the mirror. Every time I walk outside.

And to possibly answer your question… Yes Rex is still alive.

Now to fast forward to the present.

Sleep hasn’t been easy for me. I have been prescribed heavy sleep tranquilizers that even when I take them, I could still stay awake. Or better yet, it makes it that much hard to wake myself from a horrible nightmare.


For weeks after the attack, I was having recurring nightmares about the dog. Being attacked and bitten in the face, in many difference scenario’s. Multiple time I would wake up, just like clock work, every night between 3:30 am and 4:30 am. Unable to move, unable to call out for help. I was frozen. I could hear the growling, and see the shadow of a wolf like dog. [Rex is roughly 70-80lbs, dominant husky.] I could see the red eyes, and a figure on the wall crouched. All I wanted to do is scream but nothing would come out of my mouth. I would try with every ounce of my strengthen to move, to just wake up.


I was terrified to sleep, to go outside. I was afraid of my own dogs. And with help from my psychotherapist, I am no longer afraid of my own dogs. And I am able to go outside without having a panic attack, without alway looking over my shoulder.

But there are moments where I am no longer in control of my feelings, my emotions. Sometimes I have flash backs. Flash backs that are so real, like your eyes are playing tricks on you.

Try taking an Anxiety level test. These are my results at this time.

Your Current Anxiety Level:    image discription image description image description   image description image desription  image description image description  image description image desription  image descriptionimage description

It’s hard for you to enjoy life on any consistent level. You’re hardly ever experiencing a peace of mind. You’re often fearful, worrisome, and unhappy. You don’t like being this way but you don’t know what to do to change. Things are too much work and no one understands the way you feel. You wear yourself out with your thoughts and “What-if” thinking. You can be happy and confident again. You just need a clear plan of action and the right tools.



It’s like your body switches into a survival mode. The fight or flight response. The feeling that everyone is aware of. The purpose of the fight or flight response can lead to greater insights into our own behavior when we’re stressed. The feeling of bodily sensations of stress. The increase in heart rate and a quicken breath. The feel of pressure in your chest as if something is pressing down on you. The heightened sensation of sights and sounds that surround you, that make you more sensitive to the unknown. To ready yourself of a perceived threat.


I have experience this feeling more times then anyone should.


So let conclude this post with some tip on what I use to wake from a Sleep paralysis.

1. Don’t Fight

The feeling of being held down and unable to move. Relax. Do not fight back. At this moment the experience will be intensified. Fighting back just increases the fear, panic, irritability. Triggering your emotions in the brain making the nightmare more vivd. Take control of the fear, it’s important. It will get better.

2. Focus on your Breath

An easy way to stop these nightmares is to do some controlled breathing.  Controlled breathing does several things at once.  For starters, it lessens the feelings of chest pain that sometimes accompany Sleep paralysis.

Breathing is autonomic like the heart’s beating or digestion, so it’s not paralyzed like the big muscles in our arms, chest and legs.  But breath can be controlled with attention or be affected by severe fear, which may be why SP sufferers “forget” to breathe when under attack.   If you can control your breath, you can control your fear.  Simply draw your breath in at a normal rate, and exhale fully, using all of your lung capacity.  Notice that you can breathe fully without obstruction. This technique will keep you calm as the SP runs its course and then you will wake up without any trouble.  A few moments of focused breathing with a strong intention to wake up is effective.


I hope that is gives you some insight. Maybe some more understanding. To make you more aware. Please educate your self if you haven’t already. This is an on-going problem in my everyday life, and potentially many others. And every night I will try to concur my nightmares, and to overcome this terrifying disturbance.

– ♥- P






You know I could spend hours on Google.ca looking up on How to Start a Blog, Or what topic’s to write about. And to be brutally honest none of what I’ve seen seem to be appealing.

This is where I’ll tell you a little bit of what is happening in my currently life. And reader be prepared for the roller coaster ride that is my life. Family, friends, relationships, passions, depression, social anxiety, PTSD, and goodness know what else.

Yes I am a Newfoundlander. I’ll apologize now for grammar, misuse of words, full on run on sentences, and what ever else of English class that I was suppose to absorb and obviously didn’t. I’m use to people making fun of the way I talk, or the way I use some words. So trust me i’ve heard it all.

The reason why I want to get into Blogging is because I have a lot to say. And Apparently to my doctors (all 4 of them) I have a lot of anger. And hopefully in my future post you’ll be able to understand why.

I have had a fortunate childhood, which I will talk about, but my childhood, teenage years, and to present would pretty much be a shitty dealt hand of cards in this game we call life.

I am thankful for my Fiancé Kris Tyler. To have a man that is so understanding, patient, kind, and who I can trust and rely on. Someone to lean on when things get dark. Someone who can bring me out of the darkness of my mind. The last 5 months have been the hardest. You’ll read why.

We have 3 rescue dogs. Bella, Benina, and Mac. They deserve their own post. To have their own stories told. I’m a huge advocate for rescue dogs. Adopt don’t Shop.

We bought our first home together in June 2015. Found the prefect place to set some roots, in Murillo. Just a 10 minute drive from the city. Just outside of City limits. We have 6 acres of land, with our own walking trail. Couldn’t have asked for a better home. But lets remember, we can’t choose our neighbours. Unfortunately. Again that story is for another time.

I work as a Nurse at our local Hospital. I graduated in 2013. Started my career working in Long term care, which gave me to confidence and passion in this field to further my career into Acute care. I have the passion and drive to want to help people. To help people in their time of need. To advocate for those who can’t. I am a Nurse. I put other peoples needs before my own. To make sure my patients are getting the best care that I can provide.

My Fiancé works in a small mining community, Marathon, Ont. Just 3.5 hours east of Thunder Bay. He works a 13/6 schedule. Which is not a preferred scheduled by all means. To only spend 6 days home a month… Completely blows! But I am thankful. He works hard to provide for us. For our family.

I’m hoping that in this Blog I can find peace. Work out some frustrations. To explore topics and to reach into the abyss and hopefully find what I am looking for.

What that is… We shall see.

– ♥- P