So… I’ve returned!


So, two weeks ago I got surgery on my knee. It sucks and I’m sore and the pain pills make everything go wibbly wobbly. But I think I’ve been reinspired back to writing.  I’ve been writing more poems, mostly in my head but a few on paper. I’ve also been hobbling along trying to take care of my bouncing monster on one leg. My son really is the light of my life.

So, I’ve learned quite a few important things in the last few weeks. One thing that really hit me smack dab in the face, that I feel like does this about twice a year is that perfection doesn’t exist.  Now because this hits me really hard about twice a year it’s not for lack of a better term a new concept to me. It’s just something that I struggle with and sometimes oh to frequently becomes overwhelming. Even worse, I get into this place where I feel like can’t do anything because it’s not perfect. I can’t finish anything because it isn’t perfect.  Then I can’t start, finish, or fix anything because the conditions are perfect.

I tend to get stuck in this cycle that while knowing and understanding perfection is not obtainable, my never-ending quest for it leaves me petrified and paralyzed to move. When I actually do decide to start over, it always has to be at the beginning. or either a week, month, year. If I can actually convince myself, to shake off this immense feeling of dread it’s a disaster.  I feel like I’m struggling and playing catch up and it’s impossible.

So, I’m struggling to get out of this perfection phase.  It feels impossible. But what I can tell you is that no matter how far gone you are, don’t attempt to play catch up. Just start over, I promise the world won’t end.

Until next we meet

Bleed and Exist,

S. Hollisway

Because mental illness shouldn’t be romantized….


Mental illness gets such a bad reputation.  It is either demonized or glamourized, there is no in between. In reality, mental illness is nothing but a grey area and a large one at that.

Movies like Girl, Interrupted, and A Beautiful Mind are entertaining sure, but they fail to illuminate the complexities that come with mental illness.  I’m not going to criticize or tear the movies down by any means, but it’s frustrating.

Besides movies, mental illness isn’t talked about enough. Or the stigmas run rampant and ruin if for the rest of us. Here is a little background.

I suffer from mental illness and have been given multiple diagnoses. Been tossed from psychiatric institutions to psychiatric institution and am plagued by own demons. I have been through hell and back but I have survived and I am thriving. It bothers me that on paper, I can be perceived as dangerous or unstable because of a combination of fear and ignorance.

While we are on the topic, why is it that most illnesses aren’t explained clearly.

Some common misconceptions about mental illness:

Schizophrenia is not that same as multiple personality disorder or dissociative identity disorder.

Multiple personality disorder or dissociative identity disorder are in fact real.

Anxiety is not just nervousness. It can be a crippling, debilitating disorder.

Depression is not sadness, and it doesn’t go away.

All schizophrenics aren’t paranoid.

People with personality disorders aren’t evil.

But most importantly


Don’t promote the stigmas. Learn about this burden before you condemn us.

Until next we meet,

Bleed and Exist,

S. Hollisway

Pick up Scarred and Faceless Here

Storytelling is important sometimes because…


I feel as though storytelling is for the masses.  Certain stories just have a way of resonating with people in a way that benefits them. This is not a happy story.  It doesn’t have a happy ending. It has an ending that is typical because life is typical. Although every story is unique, no story is special in the sense of tragedies. Everyone goes through them. Everyone suffers.

“Life’s a bitch, and then you die.”

-Narrorator of 1000 Ways to Die

Being homeless in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania was an adventure, to say the least. I wouldn’t dare use any word synonymous with “enjoyable” nor would I recommend this experience to anyone. It’s almost like going to prison, an experience you would exchange for just about else.

I was one of the lucky ones. I never completely got engrossed in the lifestyle. I had a job, had meager funds to buy things, and wasn’t active in my drug addiction  (over 2 years clean and sober!)

There’s so much to know about being homeless. So many unspoken rules to follow. So many secrets you need to know.

Like I mention before, I had a job.  So I’d wake up, go to work and endure the nonsense of earning a paycheck. I loved my job. It was a break from all the craziness and the politics of being outside.

On days, when I didn’t work, I’d go to the local homeless shelter where you could sleep and eat lunch a noon.  It was like being in school. There were rules that had to be followed and monitored very carefully by staff. There were all sorts of things you could do there. Like take a shower, get clean clothes, get mail, get your hair cut, it was a homeless paradise.  There was also tones of trouble you could get into to, so they kicked us out at.

Then it was back to killing time til Dinner time.

There were always people coming to feed the homeless. Some people were forced to but the majority were just decent people. They’d bring huge spreads with a variety of foods for us too. Granted with the amount of us it wouldn’t last but it was, it was still delicious. After dinner, all there was left to do was kill time until nightfall. And nightfall was when all the drama began.

Nightfall was when the drugs and alcohol came out. It was when all the drama started. There was no shelter to it. The best you could do was stay out of it.  It helped to stay with people who had a sense of immunity to it. Or at least people who favored you enough to keep you out of it. I was lucky.  I ran with people who had jobs as well. People who could separate themselves from the drama. People who took care of themselves. When you are homeless, it’s important to remember to put yourself first and not get absorbed into the world around you.  Always remember, that you don’t want to make this temporary situation a permanent one.

Mine was temporary. After about 3 months, my father invited me to stay with him. Things worked out for a while, but not permanently. My point is every situation, however good or bad is not permanent. Things change in the blink of an eye. Stay ready, and be prepared.

Until next we meet

Breath and Exist,

S. Hollisway

Pick up Scarred and Faceless Here