Category Archives: Self Discovery

Where were you? (14 years ago)

It’s almost 14 years ago, my first time. I was scared and it was dark. I had been given a tour but I still didn’t know what the hell I was doing. A virginal experience, great…and I was on my own. I could tell this was going to be unlike anything I had done before. I heard a noise in the dark…I began to run; little did I know that noise in the dark, the path I started running on would lead me to where I am today.


That first night of my very first LARP would lead me to find out what the bond of family meant, how friendships can stand the test of time, what loving with your whole heart feels like and how home isn’t where you rest your head but where your soul feels the safest. I also learned how power can corrupt, what a real bad guy really is, how drama is never really left in high school and how believing what everyone says can not only hurt you but hurt those around you.

I sit here watching the rain almost 14 years later, marveling at how life has changed. Back then life was about having fun, raising hell, flirting, messy relationships and being too naive to realize how much people cared and how drama would follow you for years to come. It was before kids, marriage, illness. Before real responsibility and life really set in. I was so innocent minded, naive hearted and optimistic. I thought life was so hard. I was a gypsy soul with a faerie spirit. There were only two things I knew for sure…That I knew who would be around for the rest of my life and that I had fallen in love hard with someone who would change my world forever (even though I hadn’t told him).


Now those people who I called family only see each other at funerals and promise to see each other more often. We’ve drifted apart and we try to stick together when we can but we know IF we are NEEDED we show up en mass. There are people that have drifted away to find their own new adventures. There has been marriage and divorce, lots of little ones along the way. Drama has dwindled although give us too many bottles of wine and we will bring it up and laugh about it now.

I listen to my sprites chatter away as they are falling asleep and I smile because so much of my life has changed. I have planted roots in a place I never thought I would. I have lived in more places than I ever thought I would and I am in school to help others in ways I should have been helped as a teenager. I spend my days running to appointments for the countless things that are broken with my body and my nights editing for independent authors, writing in at least one of my novels and doing schoolwork.


I have bills and I can drive a car. I know what real life and responsibility are. I know why I can’t just move with a change in the winds. Life has taken me on a hard path and I have stumbled and fallen so many times I can’t even tell you how many scars I have but I keep moving forward. My mind isn’t innocent anymore but my heart is still pure and loving and I can still be way too optimistic for maybe anybody’s good. I’ve been told I should be jaded but I can’t be. I’ve been told I am a lot stronger than I was but I don’t see it. I guess I am glad other people can see it in me. Life is still sometimes flirty and full of raising hell (and by hell I mean the sprites of course). Messy relationships are still happening every so often but by now I know when to walk away.


I still have that person who I knew would remain in my life forever. I have found ou that if you’re good friends with someone for over 7 years you will be friends with them forever. Thinking about my closest friends, I met the ones that are there and have been there through all the ups and downs of life through nights int he woods. We still share the laughter and tears, the inside jokes, the secrets and the boozy nights of going “why did we think our shit was that hard?!?!???”. That guy that I felt hard in love with, I still am and I don’t know how not to be, he knows now though. Although he is not in my life in the capacity I wish he was, he is in my life and I know he always will be, that is the stuff that matters.

Life changes around you all the time, 14 years ago I found the place I needed to start finding the path to my destiny. To the woman, I was to become. Be it in Avalon or Ravenna, I always knew that I had family, laughter and a place to escape for a while when life got to be too much. For that I am thankful






I’m here for you. For as long as you need me.

I was going to go into detail, tell you of my story but right now I can’t. I can’t because you don’t need to hear my story right now, you need to hear that I will understand yours. If I can’t understand you, I will listen and empathize. I will give you my hand, lend you my shoulder and certainly be a sounding board. I chose these pictures for you because in them I saw my past, I saw my friends, I saw my struggles and I saw the messages I needed so long ago. The reason I became who I am today, I wanted to be the person that I never found so long ago. So these are for you and me.

I am here for you. For as long as you need me.





Isn’t it ironic?…


I start this with the classic words of a song known to most 90’s kids. Yet I look up the definition of irony and unless she was going for the synonym of sarcasm…this song miserably failed…


And if you can follow my thinking (which most people can’t , it’s ok) I think about the Leo and Claire version of Romeo and Juliet. Now it was two houses devided, I would envision myself as the fabulous Mercutio, but I’m more than like Paul Rudd in the astronaut costume (yes it was him, imdb it if you don’t believe).


So a love fast and true being split by two house trouble (now I’m the houses). Only, death shall bring together, but neither shall take the poison or dagger because the houses miraculously come to some conclusion because they were raised up with Jewish guilt. (Yes I totally changed the ending).


I am torn my lovlies. Part of me loves him so much to break my steadfast rule (which I’ve learned in group, it’s ok to set boundaries and say no),the snarky part of me wants to walk up and say “Shoes on the other foot now Cinderella, how does it feel?!”.


I am trying to be mindful and let the snarky parts float away like balloons. (I loathe minfulness). But both are now feeling the agony I have felt for weeks (insert Chris Pine singing Agony…makes it better)


It’s a double edged blade really. Either way it cuts. And in the long term who knows what’s going to happpen. So do I bite my thumb at thee? Or do I go out in full glamourus style?

Good night and sweet dreams my lovlies


What I Want For You


There have been arguments and tears. There have been hurt feelings on both sides. It was a rocky road that I thought we could make it over together and come out stronger. Fate had a different plan. I could be snarky, I could be angry,& I could be sad.

Sometimes I am all of those things, as I pick up the pieces of my shattered heart, I feel emotions that I have never felt before. I feel betrayed, I feel manipulated, I feel like I want to go out and scream till my voice is raw and I have no more tears left in my eyes.

But I have to swallow my emotions because I have to be strong. I have to be strong for our children, I have to be strong for me and I have to be strong for you. The reason I have to be strong for you is because I know this is hard and being just friends is hard, but as you said we will get there one day.

I want for you happiness and joy. I want to see you smile
I want for you relaxation and a simple life. No complications or drama.
I want for you to honor Mom and be a simple man. To find that kind of love.
I want for you a child of your own. For you deserve to have that experiance.

I wish I could give you these things. I wish I hadn’t done what I had done and screwed up our chances of forever. I wish I could simplify myself for you. Right now I’m just trying to understand me. But all will work itself out in the end. It is what it is right? I want for you to be happy. I want that for our children and myself too.

This is NOT a Love Story

The first of many books I stated, let me know what you think


This is NOT a love story! And what I mean by that is that this is some mushy gushy story about love triangles, about some guy or girl shaped my world or any of that nonsense. Though if I really think about it those aspects are in there. However, this is NOT a love story. I will not let you categorize it as such, much like Disney categorized Frozen as a sisters story when it WAS a love story. This, at least I think is more of a suspense thriller, but most people would disagree…Granted most people can’t see inside my brain. Hell I can’t even see inside my brain. Ok off track here a little bit. Anyway, now that we are clear what this isn’t, let me tell you what this is.
This is MY story; yeah get your chuckles out now. I know what most of you think of me, even some hell probably some of those who I’ve chatted up in the grocery store line. I know what you’re thinking. And no, I am not a conspiracy theorist or any of that nonsense, I just know what mask I where when and how people judge me in relation t such. Hell, I’ve burned some of those masks years ago and people still remember them. They are seared so hotly into people’s brains that I will never be who I am today but always who I used to be. So, this is a story without the mask, or at least I hope I can be brilliant honest and make it through. This is the story I should have typed a thousand times in a thousand different ways and I didn’t…
I have a lot of good excuses why I didn’t, but nothing that really gets me out of it. I have 5 fucking stories on my computer, 5! And they each have at least 2 chapters…One of them even had a PROLIGUE! And they are genuine stories that I hope to finish someday, but I can’t put my heart back in the place it was when I was writing them, does that make sense? Ok so by now you know that in person I have many masks, I make a lot of excuses and totally judge books (and movies) by their cover (and tag lines…see first paragraph). Let’s add to the stack shall we? I often go off on tangents that no one can follow (be prepared), I can be very sexual and potty mouthed, and sometimes I just out and out lie…Granted I think it’s more of a retelling of the story in a more fanciful fashion but when push comes to shove, I lie. If you have to ask why at this point I would tell you because I like to. See I told you a suspense thriller would be more my story.
So here I am baring my soul, to the world. Or at least I hope to. In this story that is not about love, though there is love in it. A story full of stories, full of unheard truths and confessions. Maybe I’m repenting for some bad shit I did in a past life, but all I got from all the oogie boogies down in New Orleans where that something really bad happened in a past life but they couldn’t tell me. I think I am writing my story because it is time, or that I am running out of time. No I am not suicidal, I am literally running out of time, I was supposed to write 50,000 words by the month of December and as of right now my word count is 607. I think if I can pound out 50,000 words in two days I would be incredible proud of myself but incredibly worn out. But I made a promise to someone in New Orleans that I would finish a book by the beginning of this year and I broke that promise. I hate breaking promises. So now it’s time to promise myself I will finally finish what I have started. For once in my life have something to look back on and say hey you…look at that, not only do you make beautiful kids, bake a mean apple pies and have a gay harem that puts the world to shame…but you wrote a fucken book. Go team you.
Now that I have gotten a minor introduction out of the way I guess we should start with my childhood right? I don’t have a lot of memories as a kid, but I have flashes of them, if that makes sense. I look through photo albums and I know faces and names and not a lot of details. Every once in a while a very clear memory will pop up in there and I will blurt it out, but those memories are so sporadic, sometimes I wish they would either stay or go away completely.
©S.R.Gray 2016


They say that old habits die hard. And that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. I bought into these theories until I realized that…Well they weren’t true.


Thinking about it now, it’s 6am-ish, the whole house is sleeping except me. I went to bed around 2am. I am, for the most part, alert and able to function semi normally. On 4 hours of sleep, which if I looked at my fitbit app would probably tell most of it was restless, I am of sound mind and body to do things normal people do at normal times.(ie. Pick up meds, head to work, go for a jog). But if I were to lay my head down right now and fall back asleep, if I woke with Charming ‘ alarm in an hour, I would not be able to function for quite a few.

Now that I’ve gotten through that train of thought let’s try another one, shall we? The whole point of this blog was to get me on the path to actually putting out my book, now granted I have  started 4 different projects, came up with a bunch of creative ventures I think would be write up my ally, I still struggle with this book thing. And I think it had all to do with my habits.


I love to start projects, but if I can’t see where they are going I can’t finish them,  for example I wrote a piece on depression I want to submit to elephant journal. I got some great tips from a gal who writes for them. Incorporated those changes in my brain (and may or may not have stick a quote from Cool Runnings in there) but have not physically changed it yet. I have a list of topics I would love to share but I just…haven’t gotten there. I finally found my muse with a story I believe in, one written in a notebook with a pencil but because of winter break and dealing with life…it’s sat at my tea table of writingness for days pouting at me.

Now, I can sit here and tell you I’m lazy and most people would agree that i have that streak. But others, ones that knoe me best will tell you I’m habitually scattered, derailed, manic even. Some will say it’s the depression and I will tell you it’s all of the above. But I’ll fill you in on something else. I am habitually the Cowardly Lion that lives in Oz. More often then not I don’t think I can do it as well or better that I should.


And a narcissist being a coward is more common than you think. Which brings me to my next point. I am NOT a habitual narcissist. I happen to be one everyday. It’s weird and screwed up and I have tons of things I will ok one day write about it, but just know that all you think or read about someone with that diagnosis isn’t always all true…and it fucking hurts.

I habitually hurt people and I don’t mean to. I’d blame the borderline, but Marcia Linehan would say that’s not very dialect of me….and for all you BPD out there that found that funny…you’re welcome.


This post took itself in places I am not sure I was going for, but it’s 650am and Charming has an alarm that will go off soon enough. I get to spend the day with the Yang to my Grey and the Pixie.

The great part is I get to just be me. No hiding, no mask, just me. But I have to leave the house….I don’t like doing that anymore….and that’s a habit I need to break.

Till next time lovelies

Facebook –


Maybe Dumbledore Isn’t Always Right – Rebecca Ethington

One of my favorite authors and closest friends posted this on Facebook a few days ago. I found it so profound, and you don’t usually find stuff like that on FB anymore. It summed up so many things, what ifs and lonliness, bullying, and just not knowing when to reach out and help someone or when to ask for help for yourself.

Never be afraid to reach out and help those in need, never be quick to judge because you never know what that woman behind that mask or the man behind the curtain are really like. Sometimes it isn’t east to click your heels together three times, sometimes their is no faerie godmothers. But there is always you, and that is good enough for me.


“There is a scene in the final Harry Potter where Harry and Dumbledore meet at a place between life and death, and in that space they see a piece of Voldemort’s soul – this quivering, whimpering, ugly child, shoved underneath a bench.
And Harry, tries to go to it, convinced it needs help. And Dumbledore tells him not too.
I’ve always hated Dumbledore for that. Yes, Voldemort is evil, did he probably deserve what’s coming to him – yes. And I am in no way comparing myself to that quivering whimpering child, hidden away in pain.
But we have all been there.
We have all been so full of loss and heartbreak, and agonizing defeat, and sadness, and rejection. That we have all been there.
We have been that forgotten child in the corner, a deep part of us just shaking and crying and desperately hoping that someone would just come over and pull us out of the dark and hold us while we cry and comfort us until it all goes away.
I know I have.
And chances are, when you are there, you don’t know how to ask, or maybe you don’t have anyone to turn to anymore. You are alone, and you can hear people talking on a bench and your crying out for help, but they don’t come to find you.
So take this with a grain of salt. But you know those “whiny” posts everyone complains about on Facebook? Yes, some of them are just negative people. But what if some of them… just maybe… where people so lost and alone and scared and so desperate for help that they are asking for help the only way they know how. That maybe they just need that hug, or that phone call with a real voice.
I can’t believe I’m going to say this… but maybe sometimes we shouldn’t listen to Dumbledore. Because maybe sometimes they need our help, our compassion, our empathy and our love. Don’t be afraid to reach out – because people are people – but they are also human. And in this crazy world, we can’t do it all on our own.” – Rebecca Ethington


We Have Apples

So there is this wonderful mental illness blog that I follow by Rachel Griffin called We Have Apples. A little bit ago she had put up a post asking for pictures, both uplifting and at our times of trouble to put in a music video for a project she is doing. Let me give it to yo in her own words (it pasting it from her site)

“As a lot of you know, I’m a singer/songwriter in New York City with a fabulous life…. and a mental illness! (the two can go together! And errr.. it wasn’t always that way! LOL) I am so passionate about mental health awareness, ending the stigma, and connecting with other warriors like you! I am also writing a musical about these topics.More about the mental health musical I’m writing, We Have Apples, can be found on the website. You can also hear songs there. (But the song for this video is not released, yet- You’ll be the first to hear it, though!) If you want, you can sign up for the show’s mailing list to be kept posted on the development!:)

I was just selected as a Dramatists Guild Fellow, which means this year I will be working on developing We Have Apples with Broadway professionals!

More about my career as a singer/songwriter at: Rachel Griffin Website. This info I’m giving is not because I want to brag, but I want to tell you a little about my career so you know this song and video we are going to make will be high quality and could do very well! 🙂 I’ve won two National songwriting contests, recently wrote a song for an internal Macy’s campaign, and I have a publishing deal for a few of my pop songs.”

Well I participated in this as mental health is a very important subject to me….Obviously. I am keeping my fingers crossed that I will get to work it Rachel in the future. But here it is…..My debut in a music video….Pass and share it is so important!!!!

What am I fighting for?

Well whilst I can’t answer this directly on here just yet as it was a question posted for gishwhes.  I will say, things have not been peachy and there are days I feel like I am fighting for my life.

Had a Bad Day Again

Said he would not understand, I left a note and said I’m sorry I, had a bad day again.

Suicidal ideation, thoughts of scratching and cutting and taking all the happy pills just to see if they would make me happy, or make me fall asleep and wake up in a land where I was happy again. But I couldn’t do that, or at least I wouldn’t. For various reasons, number one and always number one is the kids, I wouldn’t let Trip have them. He didn’t deserve them, in my eyes he donated his sperm to my miracles and that was that. He didn’t deserve the title of Dad let alone Father, he does nothing for them save for spoil them and make them think he loves them when I know the truth, they will know the truth one day too. A harsh reality when they are teens and they find out the kind of person he really is. But I won’t tell them, it isn’t my place, just as it wasn’t my mother’s place to tell us (even though she did). Number two, I was a wuss, always had been. I lined up pills one by one by one and took them all, over two hundred when I was 13 and they told my best friends best friend, who hated me that I was going to die. I took them in the lunchroom at breakfast, no one stopped me but I didn’t want to die I was just tired of being awake and when I woke up finally in a hospital bed, my mother took me home and berated me. And for the next 5 years of my life tossed a big bottle full of pills at me whenever I was sad asking me if it would make it hurt less. It only made it worse because I knew she wouldn’t understand. So last night, instead of doing those things.

I punch the cabinet. Hard.

I don’t hit things.

I have weak girly hands.

But I punched it hard, two or three times. I lost count. But my hand bled and I felt calmer.

Now my hand is swollen, my primary hand. The dominant one.

I can’t even get off because my hand is bruised and swollen. But I guess what does it matter right?

And then we fought again. Charming and I. We fought and fought and I don’t know why. Because I needed to take my anger out somewhere and though he wanted me to write a book, he doesn’t understand why the blog was a stepping stone.

He doesn’t read it – invalidating

He didn’t thank me for cooking a healthy dinner four nights in a row – invalidating

He didn’t day he was proud of me for finding lawyers for what I went through in the ER – invalidating

He didn’t say I did a good job cleaning the kitchen even though standing hurts o much after 5 minutes and it took nearly two hours to do it – invalidating

He said I need to grow up. Need to stop placing blame and making excuses. Need to take responsibilities for my own actions. Asked me if this was the point I would turn around and start finding people to mess around with like I warned him I would when I felt I was invalidated in the beginning of our relationship. I cried, I sobbed. I never even look at anyone anymore.

I tried to explain to him my last fling before I saw him again, he didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear that it was always him I wanted and how I felt lucky to have him. How I loved him and how I wanted to be with him and I was with him because he pushed me and made me believe in myself. How he got me through PTSD and my triggers and how I was finally writing because of him. We can’t even spend a date night alone without fighting about something. He says I hide in my computer. Well my friends live in here. They do all of you who have validated me during the abuse when I had nowhere else to turn to. He was the one that said I would write a best seller but doesn’t understand why it had to start here.

He said I didn’t know how to be a person anymore.

Is he right? Have I forgotten how to be a person? Have I forgotten the basic principles of being personable? My phone has been broken for almost two weeks and it is so freeing so I blog and I play with the kids and I cook and I clean. And yesterday was a bad day for so many reasons but I am not a person. I look at pictures and cry and try to figure out when the mental illness started. When I stopped being real and started being a mental case. When I stopped being all the colors and became black and white. When I just because borderline. When I became all about me. The narcissist that hates looking in mirrors. The one that understands why her friends hung themselves or took too many pills. The one that feels guilty for their grandmother dying or their babies making their way to heaven. The one that just wishes they could start over where no one knew their name.

But there are crises at home that are too big to bear. The one roll of toilet paper for 4 people that has to last at least a week. The lack of money for medication. The lingering eviction notice and nowhere to go. The fact that if Trip finds out any of this, then I am screwed because maybe just maybe he will take the one this that is keeping me grounded away from me again. A year ago I was happy, well a year and 6 months. I was 150lbs lighter. I looked amazing and I smiled. I was alive, I felt good I had a 3.0GPA. Now I can barely move, I am sick all the time. I can’t afford my medicine and I hide how poor we really are from my kids. There are no movies and no friends allowed at the house because I can’t afford to feed them. Welfare moms have nothing on me. They show up and they are fine and I am not. They have phones and I don’t. I have nothing.

I no longer know how to be a person.