How we live


My dear

What is it you hear?

The end is near

Don’t listen to the thoughts

Realize what we’ve got

Hide away in my arms

Let the world disappear

Like falling bombs

The sounds of gongs


Silence inside our home

We’re all alone




And being

This is all there is

This is how we live



An update is in order. It seems like such a challenge to write lately. I have no good excuse, just a lack of divine inspiration. At different times I have felt compelled to write – I had no choice. Now – it seems difficult to type the words on the keys. Good things have been happening though. My biggest complaint for the last few months has been my soulless job. That is over. I have been given an unbelievable opportunity to do work that matters. When you ask the universe, it always delivers. No more bullshit marketing. I will be the communications director for a nonprofit. Not a lame one either. Helping women in Uganda, making a real difference. That’s my new gig. I start on Thursday. I cry just thinking that this is where life has taken me. I will get the opportunity to go to Uganda at some point and see the impact of our work. It’s a life changing event for me. A chance to do work that makes a difference – use my skills for good. Help people. It matters.

I’ve decided to stop volunteering at the mental health facility. It was no longer bringing me a sense of joy and I think my work there was done. I feel like I helped some people over the last year, but things seem different lately and I didn’t feel like I was needed anymore. It feels good to be done for now and I’m happy with the experiences I had there.

I have been feeling more joyful lately. Really feeling the music in the car, singing and feeling it in my soul. I laugh a great deal too. My love makes me smile. We are so silly together and I love it. I have never felt so at home. Laying in his arms, limbs intertwined, head on his chest. It is home. I never feel alone.

I’m excited to see what the next few months hold for me. Work will be challenging, but rewarding. My body continues to evolve and my capacity to exercise is improving. Spring will bring travel and a declaration of love and commitment. Summer will be filled with adventures and new experiences. Life will be a beautiful patchwork. I’m ready. I’m alive. I’m in love.


Fear. Is there anything more debilitating? I have let fear have far too much control of my life. It has caused me great pain. Lost opportunities. Potential untapped. It makes me yell. It makes me cry. It makes me shut down and not want to say a word. It makes me act like a control freak. It makes me appear to be a flake. Confused. Unsure. Sending mixed messages. It’s ruled much of my life. Right now I’m afraid I’ll never make a decent living doing anything worth a damn. I don’t like my career. It pays the bills, but I yearn for something more. Something far greater. I can get all manic sounding with it. I want to leave my mark on this world. Do something great. Be something great. Buddha? Just a man. Jesus? Just a man. Einstein. A man. Shayna. A man (well, a woman). I have never given up on my dreams of being absolutely memorable. Immortal. Leaving a legacy. Making an impact far greater than anyone could imagine. I still believe. When people poo poo me, or tell me I’m being unrealistic, I feel sorry for them. For letting dreams die, it’s a sad fate indeed. I’m not ready for my dreams to die. Last week I started down this road with my fiancé, and he suggested that perhaps I needed to see a psychiatrist. Maybe I need medication again. Fear. My god, the fear. Oh no – is he one of them??? I felt a tinge of insanity creep in. I remembered feeling like people were “the enemy” because they were part of this group of people trying to suppress my dreams, the beautiful mania, the endless possibilities of my life. They told me to give it up. To live in their world of sadness and despair. Be a victim of the world. Why? Why on earth would I want to be like everyone else? There are great people in this world, living impossible dreams. I want to be one of them. My fear is that if I express my desire for greatness I will be taken away, locked up, drugged and told I’m delusional. I’m scared. I’m afraid of voicing my truth and being told I’m insane. Is it crazy to believe in the beauty of the world? Is it crazy to think I could be one of the few that actually live their dreams and love their life? I think I’d rather not exist than exist in a world where dreams are dead, where paychecks are all that matter. Where fear thrives and it hurts to be alive. I want to live the life I’ve always dreamed of. Explore the world. Make a difference. Feel joy and love. Feed the creative energy. Make an impact. My mission is to help others awaken, but how can I wake them up if I’m asleep? I need to find a way to follow my dreams and speak my truth without being told I’m crazy and need medication. That is my biggest fear, my freedom being taken away from me because I have dreams. I’m not ready to give up on my dreams.


I lost it. I screamed. My throat still hurts. That was last night. I yelled at the person who is there for me the most. Feel ashamed. Worried the neighbors heard me. Guilty. So angry right now. I have interviewed for so many jobs I have lost count. Told I’m great, but they are going in another direction. Bad luck? I feel defeated. I am so mad at the world. Why does it have to be so damn hard? I just want a new job. Shouldn’t be so difficult. Makes me feel like a loser. The truth is I am happy with all of the other parts of my life. It’s just this damn job business. I actually don’t want a job at all. Wish I could find something I enjoyed doing that I could get paid for. Hate this 9-5 bullshit. How to escape. Must devise a plan….

I am changed forever

A year I’ll forever hold dear. 2014. It was my shot at rebuilding my life following my psychosis/spiritual awakening/breakdown and subsequent confusion and loss of 2013. I had just started a new job and was ready to take on the world – but I was so lost. I was still taking heavy drugs – lithium, and Zyprexa. I was still unsure how to frame my experience and I was desperately trying to make sense of my experience. One day at a time. I left one therapist. I left my psychiatrist. In the spring I met a new psychiatrist and started with a new therapist. I struggled with my thoughts and felt misunderstood by my husband. I considered divorce in April, but decided to stay. In May my life changed drastically. I reached out to what seemed to be a beautiful soul in serious pain that I saw commenting on a few blogs I followed. I offered for him to email me as he seemed so alone and in need of a friend. What happened in the weeks following those emails is still hard for me to wrap my head around. One day he asked if I could call and talk to him. I said no, as my husband disapproved, but a day or two later I recanted and said we could talk – despite my husband’s wishes. On the other end of the phone was this adorable voice – younger sounding than I had imagined and with a southern accent I couldn’t get out of my mind. We began emailing all day long. I would read his words like I was in a movie – saying them aloud in my head in that accent I had become familiar with. We would plan phone calls and I would be terribly nervous waiting for the phone to ring. I would act so quiet and coy on the phone. Sighing. Breathing. Less than 3 weeks after that first email I realized I was madly in love with this stranger and I decided it was time to leave my husband. On May 24th I told my husband I was leaving. A few days later I saw my new love for the first time on Skype – hard to believe I hadn’t even seen this new man, but I knew he was the love of my life. The first time I saw his mannerisms and his facial expressions in real time I fell even more in love. I was elated. At the end of June he came to visit for a week or so and it was magical. July 19th he moved to Colorado and we began our life together. It’s a beautiful life. Perfectly imperfect. Filled with tears and laughter. Love and frustration. We’re making it work one day at a time and figuring out this big bad world together. I’m ending the year on a high note.  I’m not on medication anymore and I am out of therapy. I feel good. I’m on the cusp of landing a new job and I’m madly in love, more so than ever. I did not know I was capable of so much love and it feels amazing. I’m looking forward to the days and years ahead. Goodbye 2014. You have changed me.

Question Everything

Question everything. Labels useless. Anger. Sadness. Madness. I still surround myself with reminders of my mental health status in spring 2013. I volunteer at a mental health housing facility. Today I had to complete some training and there was information about involuntary holds and mandatory medications. It almost made me cry reading the words on the screen. I remembered my forced hospitalization. I remembered the hospital staff drugging me – injecting mind altering drugs into my ass. It hurt. I cried and screamed. I remember being drug off a toilet midstream and being taken to the bed and held down while someone stuck a needle in my ass. Humiliating. Degrading. And somehow – totally legal in 2013. This happened in Boulder, of all places. So much for patient rights and a progressive society. I know something wasn’t right with me – but my god – there has to be a better way to treat people. It’s hard for me to comprehend what my life was less than two years ago. Today I sit in a cubicle at a fairly respectable job I hate. I make $70k a year. I’m interviewing for jobs that pay $80k a year. I’m interviewing at “good jobs” in fancy offices. I’m educated, smart, and for the most part – well spoken. Most people would never guess I spent a month in a mental hospital, crying and screaming with drool running down my face. Running the halls naked and threatening to kill police. I was diagnosed as bipolar, but I can’t accept that. I tried to play along for a while and learn what I could, but it just doesn’t fit. I don’t take any medication these days, and I’m perfectly fine. If I did what I was told and what was recommended I would probably be a fat zombie by now. I probably wouldn’t have a full time job and I’d be depressed by the weight gain and foggy thoughts the medication causes. I’m becoming more and more skeptical of mental health diagnosis criteria and the drugs they force upon us. Do they really help? Do they cause more harm than good? I’m not sure – but I know for me, drugs were not the answer. I had an experience – marijuana induced psychosis and mania. It’s gone now and I don’t need drugs to keep it in check. I am just me. Drug fee.


Brain scattered

Mind shattered

Thoughts fleeting

Chance meeting



Self – neglected


Past pain – resumed

Trying to refocus

Cast a spell – hocus pocus

Fuck a career

It’s like living a life in fear

Unsure of tomorrow

Causes too much sorrow

Can’t seem to play along

Singing myself a pity song

Thought things would change

New place, same inner rage

Hiding in my cubicle

Picking at my cuticle

Counting down the hours

Losing my powers