I’ve been in Bakersfield, which is in southern California, for the last three weeks now, organizing my storage unit. Boxes and boxes of all my stuff from prior to the fire and after the fire that destroyed everything.

Prior to the Bear Fire of 2017, which I will eventually write about, I had stored some of my belongings in another storage unit. I had more stuff, too, but had brought the stuff back to my house to pack into boxes whereas I should have brought the boxes to the unit and just packed the stuff there… but my ex thought it’d be better to bring everything back. I was going to bring all of the boxed up items to the storage unit the next day, Tuesday October 17th… but the fire happened the night before…

So, anyways after the fire destroyed my home of thirteen years, I had to move. I moved from the Bay Area to SoCal. This move wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t trust my now ex. I moved into a rental with him, and he didn’t have his share of the rent money… we had three says to move out of a three bedroom house. Did he help me pack? Nope. He said it wasn’t his stuff.

Hmm 🤔 didn’t he use my dishes, pots, and pans to help prepare his meals? Didn’t he sleep in my bed? Didn’t he sit in my chairs? Use my table? Use my computer? Didn’t he use my washer and dryer to launder his clothes? But yes, it’s my stuff. Grr 😖

So, as I didn’t have any help from him. I literally started throwing stuff in boxes and if there were fragile items in the boxes, I marked them as such and that was that. Everything was pretty much thrown together.

So now, fast forward 19 months later… I’m now dealing with that aftermath and when organizing these boxes, I came across my book of poetry…

These poems are a collection from my youth up until 2017. Many of them are not happy. They are about depression, sadness, despair. Some are about my divorce. Some are about lust and love. Some are corny and funny, some are about pets that died when I worked at the veterinary hospital as a technician in the ICU. Before I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I definitely had my manic and depressive states and you can definitely read that in my poetry.

I wanted to get these written down so I don’t lose them, but also to share them.


The images I use in my poetry are found on Google, but the collages are my own. Sometimes they take 30 minutes to create, sometimes they take hours. It’s my new expressive outlet as I cannot make jewelry at this time. But I’m hoping soon that I’ll be able to create my jewelry again because I sure do miss making it.


Have a blessed day. Off I go to work on my storage unit again. Sigh.