Betty Roxx!

My sister-in-law said I shouldn’t hide my writing in a box in the garage. That’s exactly what I’ve done with my journals, poetry, short stories, and unfinished novels. In a plastic tub, sitting in the garage, collecting dust. The pages of some of my notebooks are yellow, the ink, smeared and fading. I think it’s time to put my “stuff” out there for people to actually see, read and hopefully enjoy. I’m not saying I haven’t shown my writing to some people, but only close friends and family, not everyone. That’s why I decided, upon the advice of my sister-in-law, Maria, and my therapist…to start this blog. Why I waited until now is beyond me. I guess I’m a “late bloomer” or I was probably too preoccupied with my dysfunctional life…I’ll get to that later.

My name is Elizabeth, my friends and family call me Betty, Bett, or Betty Ann. I’m 46 years old. I’m a nurse, an LPN, I’ve been for 23 years. I specialize in long-term care and sub-acute rehab. I like the career path I’ve chosen. I never furthered my education to become an RN for financial reasons as well as being too preoccupied with my dysfunctional life once again. Besides, I’m a dreamer. I always thought I would write that best seller one day. Can’t do that when the only ambition you have is enough to get out of bed in the morning and go to work, nothing else. I try to have a positive outlook on life. I try to be uplifted. For me, every day is a struggle. I have Bi-Polar disorder. I’ve been in denial for years. I inherited it. I never wanted to use it as a crutch. I went through my entire adolescence and adulthood undiagnosed and improperly medicated.. It cost me jobs, relationships, money, and my health at times. Two years ago, I was finally diagnosed properly. I’m still trying to find the right medication combination to make me feel somewhat human. Living with the stigma of mental illness isn’t easy. How many times I’ve heard from lovers, friends, and coworkers, “you’re crazy”.  Rough, really rough to have that over your head. No one takes you seriously, no matter how much you have to offer. Oh, I could give up my career as a nurse, move in with one of my parents and collect disability, but I refuse to believe that i am handicapped and incapable of fighting this illness. I want to see my therapist and my doctor as much as I need to so I can somewhat tolerate myself and cope with, well, life. So this is the beginning of my blog, I hope it’s insightful and entertaining…