Why don’t you love me?

I used to long for the times I thought my mother was showing me unconditional love and joy during my pre-puberty years. She was my bestfriend, sharing her drama to my juvenile ears. She was my sidekick, picking me up early from elementary school whenever I pleased and treating us to facials, mani/pedis, and juicy gossip about her so called “friends”. She spoiled me rotten as I was her only daughter amongst 4 other brothers & she loved to show me off to all who would take notice. As I was her tall, skinny, beautiful, modelesque daughter.

Looking back now, I never had an option to have a personality of my own as a child. I was made to be an extention of her. & thats what made her happy. Deviating from what she wanted me to be like or look like ignighted verbal abuse and insidious hate because “she created me, therefore I am her”

What I never understood was that the older I got & the more I wanted to do what I liked, or make/hang out with friends my age the more she subconciously grew distant from me.

When middle school came around and puberty began to hit its peak our relationship almost instantly became sour & to this day never returned back to the love and happiness we once shared.

I gained weight in middle school, but I was still a normal size.

5’7, 130lbs (didnt realize until years later that I wasn’t fat) and she was my number one critique.

I developed acne and she was my number one bully.

It came to a point where she stopped acknowledging me with a normal salutation, but rather replying to my greetings with random, unsolicited advice on my body image, comparisons of accomplishments and looks from other girls in our familiy. Rude glare eyed stares, and overall bashingness of whatever self worth I had.

me: headed to school mom have a good day!
mom: take your phone out of your pocket it makes your hips look much wider than they already are!

Me: *doing hw*
*mom storms in my room*
Mom: look at how well dressed (insert name here) daughter is at her sisters wedding! *put phone on top of what im currently working on* you could look like that if you didnt buy so much jeans & tshirts.

Me: im busy right now doing hw so can you leave me alone.

Mom: thats what your problem is you never care you need to be more like so & so’s daughter if you want to get ahead in life!

As time flew by this style of communication became her nature and hearing “how was your day” or “hows school” or pretty much anything that had to do with me as a whole diminished.

She knew nothing about me, and didn’t care to know either. She only knew how to communicate to me by pointing out my flaws, comparing me to the next person, or demanding a task be done.

When I finally had enough I called her out on her negativity with tears in my eyes from the pain, she denied it. In front of my brothers and father she said how could she say those types of things or ever make me feel that type of way when she put me in any activity I wanted to be in as a kid… From modeling to cheerleading (before puberty). 

Then she went on a rant about the sacrifices it took for her to do all that for me. Don’t get me wrong I am grateful for all my mother did for me when I was a little girl, but all of this stopped when I hit puberty.
Im currently writing this as a 24 year old college student and my mom STILL uses “putting me in different activities as a child” to this day as a arguing point that shows she was an amazing mother when I try to question her about hurtful things she’s done to me recently.


When I finally went to college, I started reading up in more detail on narcissism, after briefly discussing cluster b personalities in one of my psych courses. Each article, list, video, blog I researched sounded as if they were writing about my mother. I couldnt believe there was an actual term that described my mom to the T.

Easily Noticeable Traits:

-Self centered
-Turns conversation back 2 self
-Never at fault
-Overly ambitious

Less Noticeable Traits:

-few/no close friends
-praise-worthy to her acquaintances
-picks fights when theres a crowd
– inability to apologize sincerely
-maintains perfectionism to outside world but those close would beg to differ

These are just a few traits I listed that describe my mom spot on.

As I continued my research I wanted to know the effects of a narcissist on someones well being. I ran into articles that were quite triggering to read, commenting on the daughters of narcissitic mothers. I cried as I read the similar stories as mine.

The pain ran deep as I was not the only one who suffered emotionally from what felt like a mother who never wanted to love me. There were other daughters out there just like me. I felt relieved knowing I wasn’t alone.

“I knew I wasn’t crazy” is what i repeated in my head as i read one too many similar stories by hundreds of different women.

Even though I was just reading these articles and not actually sharing my story, I felt heard for the first time ever in my life.

Since this is an actual issue that troubles some women I figured there must be a way to solve it.

I searched everywhere for articles on how to create a positive relationship with a narcissistic mother as I longed for my mothers love. No matter how bad she talked about me or treated me in the past, I just wanted a mother who would love me unconditionally.

Unfortunately the majority of the articles said the same things that I didn’t want to hear.

“Your mother will never change, look into therapy and reduce or go fully no contact if you want peace”

As much as I hate to say it, it’s true.

She didn’t care about my emotions when I was 10 and 15 years later she still doesn’t give a crap.

I am currently going through therapy and trying to figure out a happy medium with us. My therapist says avoiding her unless deemed necessary will be best in my emotional recovery, but I just can’t help but think one day she’ll change.

I been daydreaming of that one day for many years now, but a girl can only dream for so long…

Self-medicating love.

This post is dedicated to my amazing boyfriend.


Gave my psychiatrist the boot then put it back on to kick my therapist to the curb…
No hard feeling over here but I no longer need your meds or your words…

Sorta found a new way to self medicate…

My love is my drug, & he leaves me feeling euphoric & heavily sedate…

God hit the trap spot and told me he was gonna be a little late…

21 years later he whipped up my perfect soul mate…

I could tell this guy was different & was shipped directly from heavens gates…

I made the first move. Our first conversation went great…

You and I started off as wild friends, sharing bottles of svedka while watching bootlegs…

Preferring comforters on the floor over squeezing in my twin bed…

You made it your mission to make me cry….

sharing your jokes and dry humor often left me teary eyed…

I grew attached to you & dreaded those 5am goodbyes!

3 Years later I still can’t believe you stuck around in my life…

Even after exposing my demons you still held me tight…

Even when my uncle tried to diss our relationship you stood even closer by my side…

By now the honeymoon phase should of faded but each day I see you it’s like when we first dated…

You cure my bad days just by being able to see your face. I knew you were made for me by the sync of our thoughts & subtle cues that we’d make….

I still laugh inside when I think of the time you got Michael Jackson & Fantasia confused, but I’m sure you have an exhaustive list of all the crazy shit I say or do…

True happiness comes from self love,
but I can’t help but thank the man above for allowing us to produce this unconditional love.

I could never grow tired of your baby lungs. Or eating pizza and wings 3 days in a row just for fun!

I love you babe & I’m glad I finally was sent “the one” 🙂

Recognizing the difference: Am I happy or hypomanic?                     

Happiness, according to Psychology Today, “is more than simply a positive mood. It is a state that encompasses living a good life with a sense of well-being and deep satisfaction.”

Happiness is consistent & is simply not obtained by bouncing from one “feel good” thing to another. 

Hypomania, on the other hand, is what I like to call “pseudohappiness.” it’s like any other drug on earth that releases dopamine, but as we know what goes up must eventually come down (aka baseline/depression). 

It feels great but is flighty.

It’s fun but risky.

It’s temporary and inconsistent.(euphoric to dysmorphic)

Hypomania can subsequently lead to full blown mania, or more commonly for me right back down to depression if left untreated.

IMO if one is med compliant, seeking therapy, and has reached a comfortable baseline in which they can wake up and feel contentment and continuous peace it can be safe to say that they are genuinly happy.

Craving or consistently seeking out “pseudohappiness” through risk taking, grandiose thinking, racing thoughts, sexual acts, etc. lead me to believe that hypomania is the one at play.

Personal examples of hypomania:

  • Everything around me is in sync. The song on the radio mentions something that happened to me the previous day. The thoughts I have are mentioned in conversations with people who can’t read my mind. I can predict time without looking at a clock. & NO IM NOT PSYCHIC lol !!
  • I can give auctioneers a run for their money when it comes to my rate of speech. I talk fast and it’s your job to keep up. 
  • My confidence turns to cockiness and everyone around me is percieved to be less than. I become a self centered prick with a classic case of “me! me! me!” syndrome.
  • I know the dysmorphia is starting to kick in when it feels like everyone is moving sooooo slowwwww. I get so irratated and annoyed. This has led me to embarrassing road rage and easily preventable car accidents.

These are just a few examples. I could probably write a book about my hypomanic self, but I’ll leave that for when I’m actually hypomanic haha!

Later 🙂

Oh the irony! Oh the ignorance!


  ​I walked into class today excited to start our new course.

 Psych nursing

   This course is what I live for since mental illness effects me personally. I have done countless amounts of research on the subject, different illnesses, coping strategies, etc. I knew this course would be a cakewalk. What I didn’t know was the ignorance of my classmates & even my professor would trigger me into depressive state for the remainder of class. 

“Those who have mental illness aren’t allowed to be licensed nurses or hold any other professional license. Public safety is #1 and you can put patients at risk under the care of someone who is mentally ill”

    I sat there in shock. I couldn’t believe the misinformation that just came out of my professor mouth.

 To add insult to injury a student blurted out…

“That’s good, I wouldn’t want a crazy person taking care of me, they might kill me!” 

   The majority of the class laughed and agreed. I sat there holding back tears of anger, sadness, and disbelief seeing first hand how the world views me. 

A disabled killer

How ironic, the class that I was ready to actively participate in has pushed me into complete silence. 


Doesn’t hurt to try!

I withdrew from college in 2013 due to the stressors of life living with bipolar disorder. Now that I’m emotional stable, happy, and mature I decided to apply to a major university. My brother proposed the idea to start a go fund me account to help with the increasing cost of education. I guess it doesn’t hurt to try to seek additional help as the funds will help me continue my education and  be that authentic mental health/bipolar disorder advocate.

Please feel free to help support my life mission, and I thank you in advance for any donations. 


The final stage-Acceptance

The grieving process starts with denial, and ends with acceptance

   The process is pretty much the same for all types of loss. From the death of a loved one, to the end of a dream career, grief takes place using the following 5 stages (indentified by psychologist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross) : denial, anger, bargaining, depression & lastly acceptance.

   Getting  diagnosed with a mental illness is like losing a loved one, but that loved one is you. 

  1. Denial – I knew I was different from my peers at an early age, but that didn’t stop me from trying my very best to fit in. I would get in trouble alot as a teen because of my impulsive behavior and constant need for attention, good or bad. I shifted the blame on everyone else but myself  until that got old. I had anxiety/depression  issues to begin with which led to me being prescribed xanax, klonopins, and every antidepressant under the sun at 18. Even after popping a handful of pills just to stay afloat, you wouldn’t dare call me looney. After being hospitalized & going to treatment centers, I still felt like the doctors read me all wrong………
  2. Anger – Once I accepted my flaws I stopped giving a damn about myself and everyone around me. I turned my back on God and I hated him for punishing me. I grew cold and bitter, and everyday I woke up I cursed at God for giving me another day. What did I do to deserve this burden?
  3. Bargaining –  Maybe if I quit smoking weed (more like slow down), go to a non denominational church, & start working out more all of this bs will fade and I will feel better. I wouldnt need to take any pills and could live a happy life. Boy was I in for a wake up call!
  4. Depression – I stopped caring about who I was as a person, any morale I once had, and what my future had to offer. I felt stuck. I stopped taking my meds & my drug use increased. I didn’t care if I lived or died because I didnt ask to be bipolar, I never requested PTSD from the menu & histionic personality disorder was a slap in the face to the amazing girl I once thought I was. I wanted out! (Led me to my 3rd hospitalization in January 2017)
  5. Acceptance – I packed my bags and drove to the hospital sick & tired of being sick & tired. I had enough! I was ready listen to what others had to say & digest it into every fiber or my being. What I have been doing in the past ceased to work so it only made sense to try something new. I learned so much about myself and my disorders during my stay at the hospital I started this blog! I came to terms with my illness and found peace. 

I see the world through a different set of lenses now. I’m learning more & more each day about my authentic self. Finding new strategies on being the best I can be is enticing to me. 

Even though I grieved over my old self, finding that strength to accept the truth brings me a sense of happiness I can’t even put into words 🙂


    Denial vs Self Awareness

    I was diagnosed with Histrionic personality disorder in December of 2015 and didn’t understand how the symptoms correlated with me.(commom amongst personality disorders)
    Here’s a forum post from a while ago in which I ponder on which is worse. Denial or Self-Awareness.

    In Aug 2013 I was diagnosed with BP-NOS at a behavioral hospital less than 24hrs after being admitted. The time frame raised my suspicions of accuracy, so I mentally labeled the facility a joke and shrugged it off…

    2 years later, Dec 2015 I was diagnosed with BP1 /HPD at a 30 day addiction treatment center. I agreed on the bp diagnosis this time, but hpd? You gotta be kidding me!

    The facility pdoc started explaining hpd to me and following up with questions of what I would do in certain situations, what staff/counselors have witnessed and documented, etc. I could relate to most if not all he was saying, but cant we all? I felt like he was taking a major jab at my personality and was just grasping at straws… like the rest of the world was perfect.
    I left that session infuriated, insulted, confused, and destined to create and carry out an escape plan to leave rehab AMA! (don’t worry I stayed 8) )

    After countless research (how I found this forum!!) I gained a deeper understanding of the disorder, but still found it odd that a doctor can diagnose a pt with a personality disorder because they have a few quirks that make them unique. I didn’t feel like my persona did any harm in my life and justified that w/ the many compliments and obvious envy I received from peers throughout life. 

    It was like a slap in the face from the truth after I mentioned to my mother how inappropriately short a family members shorts were at a family function. She replied “You use to wear even shorter shorts then that! Don’t you remember the scantily clad dress you wore to mass Easter Sunday??*chuckles* glad you came back to your senses…”

    I couldn’t deny that fact and immediately became disgusted with myself. Suppressed memories of my youth to present day kept replaying over and over in my head. I couldn’t stop analyzing my past and seeing how it so obviously mirrored hpd traits. I was embarrassed of my ignorance and fell into a depressive state which lasted from February 2016 until about 2 weeks ago.

    To those who have been diagnosed w/ hpd, do you feel better now that you have “the answer” to your life? Do you feel a little less confident in your actions bc you know they are influenced by hpd? Was life better before diagnosis/self-awareness?

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    a life of bliss

    My #1 goal in life is to help those who want it, and raise awareness to those who need it.
    Giving back, offering a hand, providing a shoulder to lean/cry on, advising those who ask for it, and over all helping others overcome adversity. 

     Raising awareness for those communities in serious need of mental health education is what matters to me.

     I want to get to the root of why people form stigmas.

    I want to understand why ostracizing those who are confident enough to improve their mental health though acknowledgment and action is common law.

    I understand that these grandious life goals will not happen overnight & I am not superman and can’t save everybody and that is just okay.

    I plan on going to the University of Houston in the fall to FINALLY finish getting my bachelors in psychology. Getting my PHD or PsyD is what  I am aiming for.

    I want to research, educate, & learn more each day, as well as guide others to the path they truly want to be on.

    I’ve always been a big dreamer & now I’m at a point where I can take the steps to turn my dream goals into reality.

    Camera whore!

    Today was so much fun. I had a mini photoshoot with my close friend as my photographer.  

    I use to HATE when others would take my pictures because of my distorted sense of what I looked like which started when I hit puberty.

     I always thought every picture taken was horrendous and deserved to be deleted, or I would assume the person who took the photo had some alterior motives and purposely was trying to screw me over lol. (Especially if they took it a step further and posted one on social media)

    My prepubecent years on the other hand were filled with me being excited and in love with  being in beauty pageants, modeling, acting etc. I was definately a camera whore as a kid and being in the entertainment business use to be one of my dream goals.

    I find it amazing that stabilizing on my bp medication, therapy, and a great support system does help you get that motivation to do what you once loved & actually enjoy it! My photographer and I are actually working on putting together my composite & portfolio. 

    Starting to get to know yourself after past trauma is hard but I feel like today was a huge step in the right direction, and I can’t wait for our next shoot!!

    I love the way you lie.

    Real eyes realize real lies is a FACT because I can sense a lie before the question was even asked 

    It’s a prize I won for being through so much crap

     You tend to notice the difference between gold and yellow painted scraps

    Your words hold no weight when your body language is out of whack

    Your sorrys mean nothing when you stab me but swear you got my back

    Subconciously, I put myself in the shoes of everyone around me

    Its a blessings and curse to see the beauty in all things

    Which is why no lie is worth telling me

     good people dont get fooled we get smarter unwillingly

    A wise man once told me to trust everyone you see, and if they mess up still trust them to be true to who they really are to be

    Those words stuck with me

     my real eyes dont look past the subtle things 

    I realize that a liar could never fuck with me 

    because a real lie is an oxymoron and is only as real as you choose it to be