Confessions of an Insomniac.
February 15, 2018, 10:38 pm
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It’s 2 am and I am just waking up for the first time. I’ll wake up again at 4. Then 6. Then my alarm will go off at 8 am.

The only reason I am able to even fall asleep is because I take medication for it. Trazodone. I take a lot of Trazodone. Sometimes, it doesn’t work. Some nights I lie awake straight up until 4 am, where I’ll usually just pass out into a weird dream; where the vale between subconscious and reality is a little too thing for my liking. Dinosaurs chasing me. Being on a sinking ship. People in my life dying. Awful, horrible dreams that only pause and then resume if I manage to go back to sleep.

Sometimes my brain won’t turn off.

I think about money.

I think about how my tummy sticks out a little too much.

I think about how I’m scared to take my daughter to school.

I think about what needs to be done. Why didn’t I fold the laundry? I’ll just have twice as much to do tomorrow.

What was that noise? Are we being broken into?

Will these outlet wax melter things start a fire in the house?

What would I do if we got broken into?

Grab Mia. Go into master bedroom. Lock door. Master bathroom. Lock door. Walk in closet in bathroom. Hold door closed.


and over

and over again I will think of that sequence and wait was that another noise?

I lavender to help calm myself down for sleep. I anoint my body with other oils and potions and creams to help soothe my mind.

I drink weird things. The latest weird thing is water that a whole banana–with peel–has been steeped in.

It actually helps.

I also have pills to quiet my mind but I’ve been on them for so long that I have to take more than I used to and that makes me nervous.

Sometimes I lay awake and start to feel sanity dip and I understand, in that moment, how people–these celebrities–accidentally overdose on sleeping pills. When it’s night three of no sleep and it’s 3 am and all you’ve been doing is imagining what to do if someone were to break into your house, you find yourself in the bathroom; knocking over pill containers and drinking NiteQuil and looking in the mirror and thinking you can see all the bones in your face because of your sunken in eyes from the lack of rest.

It’s not the best moment. It’s not living my best life.

But it’s what I deal with.

I am fairly open about my struggles with bipolar disorder and anxiety but I tend to not mention my insomnia to people because people always always always say me too and I have to tell them all of this and they just stare back and me and say oh god Carrie how do you function and I tell them the truth and the truth is I don’t know.

I’ve tried apps to lull me to sleep; they play nice clinky music or quietly read me a story about lavender fields in provincial France. I got an eye mask to block out all light. I’ve tried not having any electronics on. These things all work when I first do them and I get hope that maybe these normal things will solve my issues.

But then I find myself back where I started from.

Watching Friends at 2 am, drinking cold banana water.


Reminders from a Small Voice
February 4, 2018, 10:05 pm
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Sometimes life is a flash of annoyances and reasons to hide in bed for days at a time. Cashiers that don’t make eye contact. Feeling invisible at a restaurant. People who walk down the middle of the street even though they know you are there in your car, flailing and screaming at the top of your lungs because what is the fuck is wrong with people?

Sometimes life is staring at your grey wall in silence long after the Netflix movie has gone off. Long bouts of silence. Hours, even.

Sometimes life is wandering down to the kitchen and vacantly looking through all the food you should be eating but can’t bring yourself to. You choke down some oatmeal. Eat room temperature Spaghettios.  Drink some water. Just enough to stay on this side of the line.





Sometimes life is sobbing in your car while waiting to drop your child off at school. Hearing the seat belt unbuckle in the back. Feeling two thin arms wrap around your neck and hearing your own, very small, child coo to you “Please don’t cry. I just want you to have a good life, mommy.”

Sometimes I feel like I am forcing her to grow up too soon by letting her see me like this. What about her good life?


Sometimes I go off my meds for four days for no good reason and all this happens. In one day.

Sometimes I need to be reminded that I deserve a good life. Even if it is from the smallest voice, from the smallest lovely little thing, with the absolutely biggest heart.

The Light of the World
January 29, 2018, 11:10 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Last night my seven year old Tiny Human kept giving me hugs. “What’s with all the love, dude?”, I asked. Seven year olds are cool people who usually can’t be bothered to hug their mom that much. They have street cred to maintain, you see.

“Mom. I’ve got Jesus in my heart. I want to share it all with you. It makes me happy.”

I blinked at the response. A few times.

We, as a family, don’t go to church. Not for lack of spirituality but just lack of options and time, really. Time. Laziness, really. There it is.

My in-laws take my Tiny Human with them to church when she visits with them on some weekends and it has never bothered me. I grew up in a church and, though I may not directly agree with certain aspects of certain religions, I am a very open hearted person when it comes to beliefs.

I was not shaken to my core in disgust in this small statement.

I was humbled by it.

This very Tiny Human was telling me that she had Jesus in her heart and I believed her, you know. Seven year olds have no reason to lie about such things.

What does it mean to have Jesus in your heart?

She feels loved. Safe. Happy. Carefree with an overwhelming sense that everything is going to be okay because everything is going right to plan.

What an amazing feeling. If I ever felt even a glimpse of this feeling, I would walk around weeping happy tears for days, probably. Openly weeping. Maybe for even just one of those feelings.

My Tiny Human often shows tendencies that resemble my anxiety symptoms and I spend a lot of time beating myself up, imagining that I had passed off my horrible tendencies of anxiety and depression to this completely innocent soul.

But, maybe she’ll be alright.

Maybe, just maybe, she’ll be able to maintain that feeling in her heart her whole life. Maybe this is just who she is. God, I hope this is just who she is.

Dear Tiny Human,

I don’t care who you keep in your heart. Just make sure they make you feel loved, safe, and guided.


If people could get past religions and beliefs and stop arguing like it’s something you can just change and focus on the feelings that you get from whatever it is you hold in your heart to be true, maybe we could all be as happy as a seven year old with Jesus in her heart.

Sweatah Weathah
December 10, 2017, 5:03 pm
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There is along, prestigious history behind The Ugly Holiday Sweater, which used to be called Tacky Holiday Sweater, which used to be called The Sweater I Got My Mom From Kohls.

I can’t believe I’m about to say this sentence, but..

Back when I was in college we would have to go to a thrift store to find a tacky holiday sweater or literally just steal our mom’s. Now? You can buy them at the grocery store.

How did this happen? Why did this happen?

Let’s take a moment and trace the evolution of:

The Ugly Holiday Sweater.



First, there was Quacker Factory.

My mom used to buy these sweaters off of QVC back in the day. And she had one for EVERY HOLIDAY. Sweaters, sweatershirts, sometimes even SWEATER VESTS.


Ok this image won’t size correctly


but it’s covered in cats and dogs wearing little Santa hats and stuff. I think it’s called the Holiday Pets Cardigan which makes sense. BUT LOOK AT THIS GIRL. THIS GIRL IS DEAD SERIOUS ABOUT WEARING THAT SWEATER. She isn’t wearing it to a party to be ironic or win a contest. She isn’t going to drink her weight in Chardonnay while laughing at other people’s sweaters.

She’s probably going to the mall.

Wearing that sweater. With her holiday pets on them. THIS IS WEAR IT STARTED. THESE PEOPLE WERE SERIOUS.

Then, we moved on to Kohls.

Kohls was a great place to go if you really liked BIRDS. They had holiday birds on every kind of clothing they could get their little elf hands on. My mom had a full collection of FESTIVE HOLIDAY CARDINALS that she claimed she loved because CARDINALS ARE ALSO WINTER AND SHE WEAR THEM AFTER CHRISTMAS. Cardinals are also winter.



It was around the Kohls era that people started picking up on how ridiculous these sweaters are (unless you like them, then I mean beautiful and classy). People started wearing them to holiday parties ironically. Which is the best way to wear anything, I guess. But I also wear a winter hat with cat ears on it, so I may not be the best judge on this.

Soon, manufacturers took the hint and started making some intentionally SILLY holiday sweaters. Walmart,  of course, being one of the pack leaders.

Merry Foxmas Walmart

Honestly, I would wear this. Not seriously. But I would wear this. Too bad Walmart is always out of smalls; like wild packs of small people ravage the store at night and leave stupid mediums in their wake. NO ONE WANTS AN ILL FITTING TACKY HOLIDAY SWEATER, WALMART.

Next, we went a little deeper into the tacky and bordered on socially unacceptable.

This sweater doesn’t leave any room for your imagination.

It states your holiday greeting loud and clear and that greeting is HELLO I AM HERE TO GET WASTED GET OUT OF MY WAY AND I MAY NOT BE WEARING A BRA.

let's get blitzened amazon

Thanks, Amazon.

Last, and where we have arrived today, we have the final frontier where party goers boldly go where sweaters have not gone before.


Congratulations, you  have officially BECOME the holiday party. I would imagine this is also a good look for someone who likes to be the center of attention.




The Ugly Sweater trend has gone through a myriad of transformations over the years and part of me LONGS for the time where you still had to hunt for an actual ugly holiday sweater instead of just typing it into a search bar on any clothing website.

One thing is for certain, this trend is not going anywhere but up. I fear what comes next after being a party game, but hey let’s find out.

Something Weird Happened
December 4, 2017, 11:56 pm
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Hi. My name is Carrie and I suck at therapy.

I like to sit there in a chair or a couch and give one word answers and drive psychologists crazy. I like to close up, feel awkward, sometimes even lie if it can get us out of a certain topic fast.

(Hi, Carrie.)

I like to say “I’m not sure” and “maybe” when asked if what I just said was maybe related to this or that or maybe even this. I can’t connect thoughts or memories. I can’t open up.



This is why I have famously gone through therapists quicker than I go through seasons of Friends.

I got kind of tired of it. My psychiatrist said it was kind of fucked up and I should try something different. Hypnotherapy.


I straight up just said no the first 15 times she mentioned it to me. There was no way I was ever going to get relaxed enough for a STRANGER to enter whatever trance I was supposed to get into to answer questions FROM MY SUBCONSCIOUS. Do I even have one of those anymore? I don’t use it very often since it usually is associated with sleeping and yeah I don’t do that very well either.


I finally, FINALLY, tried hypnotherapy today to just say that I tried it.

Guys. Weird things happened. I’m not trying to sound like a special snowflake or whatever…but weird things happened.

First of all, I had to lie down on this lady’s couch, which usually skeeves me out. I don’t like other people’s couches very much because everyone’s stuff has a distinct smell and usually it puts me on edge for some reason that I’m sure has to do with why I need therapy.


I laid down on this couch and closed my eyes and could hear ALL THE NOISES IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. No way this was going to work, but I was going to go through with the whole thing for the whole time just to say that I tried. I closed my eyes and listened to my therapist tell me how to relax.


It totally worked.

I felt like I was sinking into the couch. I felt my head roll to the side and my hands went limp on my belly. I could hear her the whole time; I didn’t black out or anything, but things behind my eyelids kept getting darker and darker–like I was riding an open elevator and each floor was blacker than the one before. That sounds creepy as heck, I know, but it’s really what was happening. It was like curtain after curtain of blackness closed in around me.

I remember thinking, “Wow this might actually work.”

I remember waiting for her to ask me questions (she didn’t this session).

I remember waiting to fall deeper into some sort of trance where time and space fell away from me.

It never happened and as soon as I felt myself get completely relaxed…or as relaxed as I was going to get…I was being told to wake myself up and sit up when I was ready.

I found this strange since I had only just started to get into the full relaxation mode and it had only been about 10 minutes of listening to her talk.

I opened my eyes and sat up slowly.

“How much time has passed?” She asked me.

I told her 10 minutes by my count. She smiled and shook her head.

I had been on that couch for 30 minutes. The session was over.

She asked if I remember anything of what she said. I thought OF COURSE I DO THIS JUST HAPPENED.

But guys.

I couldn’t.

I could remember specific memories that she had asked me to conjure up while relaxing but everything else had slipped through my fingers like grains of sand.




I’m going back on Monday and she is going to ask me questions then and I have NO IDEA HOW THIS IS GOING TO GO AND I AM A LITTLE FREAKED OUT BECAUSE SOMETHING DEFINITELY HAPPENED.

Therapy-1; Carrie-0.

November 10, 2017, 9:32 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Mia London. She wanted a Justice League birthday party because she was awesome. Her mom drove the half an hour to Party City to get all of the over priced licensed paper goods to make this dream come true.

the justice league

So cool. These people are so cool.

LITTLE DID SHE KNOW that waiting in the aisle marked “Justice League” was this:

justice league plate

“Huh,” she said to herself while crouching down to look deeper into the shelves, “this can’t be right.” There was no Wonder Woman to be found.

Mother and child explored down the aisle on the girl side thinking maybe Wonder Woman had her own section full of awesome products. I mean, the movie really was that amazing.

But, this is what she found:

super hero girls

Superhero Girls? Or something.

Now listen. It’s not that she has anything against Superhero Girls but her daughter wanted a damn Justice League birthday party with the entire Justice League featured. She was in a predicament and could tell Mia London was getting a little upset, too.

The frazzled mother ended up getting half Superhero Girls and half sexist Justice League to at least have something. But, it’s going to look terrible and YES SHE CARES SORRY.



Also as a side note: The Avengers products had Black Widow on them. WHAT IS HAPPENING.



The Fighter Still Remains
October 15, 2017, 11:58 pm
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This is not a story about sexual harassment or assault. This is not my “me too” story.

This is me looking around and wondering why it takes celebrities being scum–just like normal people are scum–to provide a safe place for women to “come out” and admit that they were victims of the same actions.

What even is a safe place? Is Facebook a safe place? How many women will watch those brave statuses scroll by and wish they were at a place in their lives where they could hold up their quivering fist–rage or fear, it doesn’t matter–and shout “me too” along with their sisters.

It isn’t Facebook that’s the safe place. It isn’t our homes, towns. It isn’t this country that’s a safe place for women to admit that they have been taken advantage of in a horrific way. That safe place lies in our connections to one another. It’s not a location on Google Maps; it’s threads that run from one heart to another. Angry hearts. Incomplete hearts. Hearts that still feel guilty or ashamed.

So, my dear sisters

if you are not ready to write those two words as your status

if you are not ready to voice your “me too” and come clean as–not a victim–but a warrior

know that it is not in those statuses that women are mustering their strength. There is no club that you are missing out on by not being ready.

The strength for women has and will always be the slight nod to one another, sometimes silently, sometimes with bold and fiery righteousness. But the strength is there and it is the same. You are a fighter with your quiet nod just like the bold and unapologetic.

Grasp onto the threads that go from all of our hearts and keep fighting your own internal battle.

You are strong

You are a warrior

You are a fighter and the fighter will always remain

whether you say “me too” or quietly nod.

We hear you, sister.