Author: Jill L. Ware

Hello! I am a lot of things. First and foremost, I am me. Like it or leave it I believe God made me just as I am. That I need to go through these trials and tribulation to become who it is I am meant to be. does it suck? yes it does. I have two sons and three granddaughter and one on the way. I've been diagnosed with bipolar and borderline personality disorder for several years. This is a way to let my words out, get them out of my head. You are not alone in your struggle with these diseases, it's exhausting trying to be normal. Or what we percieve as normal.
Blog

Same Thoughts Different Reactions

Jill L. Ware
My mind is like a carnival ride

About this time last year I posted a very emotional and hysterical post about all the scary things taking place in the world. And at a later date after watching it again, I removed it.

I was embarassed by my tears and emotional video. What a difference a year makes. A year of the right phsychiatric meds. Today I feel all the things I did the day I recorded the video. My reaction to those thought is 100% different.

When I started this venture I promised I would post the good and the ugly. I wasn’t true to my word by deleting it. In the future I will do better at being honest and open about my behaviors. I hope that one day even just one of my post helps you in this very exhausting struggle to pretend to be normal.

Blog

Rosella The Cat Without Rear Paws

Jill L. Ware

Rosella was adopted from the humane society 7 years ago. She has no rear paws, and for a long time a angry bladder problem. Until recently she had never been outside. She started going to the door and meowing. I’ve been taking her on small outings. Not far because her nubs are tender and need to toughen up. She is a beautiful sweet kitty. I adopted her because her name is the same as my grandmothers.

Poetry

The Lighted Path

Jill L. Ware

The lights luminate for safeties sake, The gravel spilling over it’s walls.

Carefully making it to the dock on the lake, walk on me the lighted path calls.

The retaining wall with caps as white as snow, brighter than the path they glow.

The path marking which way to go, I get lost more than you know.

The baskets hang beautifully so, beside them birds on the feeders sit.

I take the path as far as I can go, The path not safe, not one bit.

The path leads to my slumbering place, where I desire to be.

I walk it with a bit of grace, the dock on the lake meant for me.