Before The Funny Farm, before the Pink Clouds, before I became a mental health advocate—
I was just a woman alone inside her own head.
Not in a therapist’s office.
Not in a support group.
But in the silent, locked room of my mind—where the echoes of trauma were louder than my own voice.
I’ve lived with PTSD, CPTSD, anxiety, and depression for decades.
I was a neurodivergent trauma survivor before I even knew the term existed.
And now, I also live with FLA (Frontal Lobe Atrophy).
Writing was my lifeline.
It was how I untangled my thoughts, pulled myself out of flashbacks, and processed the abuse, violence, and loss I endured.
I didn’t write for likes or sympathy.
I wrote because if I didn’t get the truth out, it was going to kill me.
This piece—Alone Inside My Head—was the first time I told it exactly as it was.
No filter. No polish. No permission.
This is the starting line of my self-healing journey and the moment my voice began to break the stigma.
Alone Inside My Head
(Living with Mental Illness and Internal Isolation)
By myself,
have no one else.
In times both past and present, there’s so much to tell,
About things I choose now not to quell.
Stuff that’s made my life a living hell!
Alone…
Inside my head…
Where I’ve lived with my deepest, darkest, secret thoughts.
Because, a long time ago, that’s where I got lost.
I cannot change how I think and feel,
These mixed emotions make me rather ill.
There are times I see through the haze,
Only to be disappointed and or amazed.
When once again I find I have been betrayed.
Alone…
Inside my head…
Where I’ve shed at least a zillion tears.
Because, nothing and no one is ever as it appears.
(Childhood Trauma and Family Rejection)
From the moment I was born, I was doomed,
To this life of despair, agony, and gloom.
I was always unloved and unwanted by my mother,
Belittled by my sister and shunned by my brother.
Laughed at or pitied by most all of the others.
Alone…
Inside my head…
Where I was free to play.
Because, all I really wanted was to fade away.
I grew up on harsh, bitter, mean, angry, hateful words,
All my cries for help went unheard.
Nobody saw the ways in which I had it rough,
I ran away when I’d finally had enough.
Life was unfair but it made me tough.
Alone…
Inside my head…
Where I felt like I belonged.
Because everyone around me did me wrong.
(Sexual Abuse and Betrayal)
One day I got a strange phone call,
I met my real father and he took me away from it all.
For just a moment life was good to me,
But then he got me drunk and stole my virginity.
I walked away full of pain and hostility.
Alone…
Inside my head…
Where I quickly retreated.
Because, I was hurt, confused, broken, and defeated.
(Addiction, Self-Destruction, and Numbness)
After that I struck out on my own,
I ventured into the great unknown.
I made plenty of friends in low places,
While desperately searching for traces.
Something to fill the hollow, empty spaces.
Alone…
Inside my head…
Where I could lose myself in the abyss.
Because, all I can hope to do is survive and exist.
I soon discovered the art of drinking,
It helped to keep me from thinking.
My life was meaningless and without a shred of hope,
I began experimenting with every kind of dope.
I gained a senseless inability to cope.
Alone…
Inside my head…
Where I would never be the same.
Because, there would always be something or someone else to blame.
(Motherhood and the Weight of Generational Trauma)
I drifted hopelessly from town to town,
Never intending to stop or even slow down.
I was free at last, living hard and running wild,
Always selfish, distrustful, self-destructive, and riled.
Until I found out I was going to have a child.
Alone…
Inside my head…
Where I had always yearned,
Because, I had no one who truly loved me in return.
I was surprised and delirious,
I settled down and began to take life more serious.
With bad examples and little or no advice,
My parental skills and knowledge did not suffice.
Sadly, my beautiful children continue to pay the price.
Alone…
Inside my head…
Where I am disgusted and so very sad,
Because, they deserved so much more than what they had.
(Violence, Trauma, and the Breaking Point)
Things have never worked out the way I wanted them to,
There’s so much abuse that I’ve suffered through.
I’ve been beaten, raped, stabbed, and left for dead,
So much has been done and said.
Of how I asked for this life of shame, worry, and dread.
Alone…
Inside my head…
Where my twisted thoughts swirl,
Because, I can’t find my way out of this cold, cruel world.
(Suicidal Thoughts and the Desire for Peace)
When at last this wretchedness is over,
I’ll be at peace under the grass and clover.
It is true that all wounds will heal with time,
But some of them leave lasting scars in the mind.
I can’t wait until I leave this miserable life behind.
Alone…
Inside my head…
Where there’s just me, myself, and I,
Because, that’s how I lived, and that’s how I will die.
From Survivor to Advocate
That was me—then.
Alone. Inside my head.
Convinced I would leave this world the same way I lived in it: unseen, unheard, and unloved.
But somewhere between the last line of that poem and today, I found the power of writing as therapy.
I learned that even the darkest stories of PTSD and CPTSD can help someone else breathe easier.
The Funny Farm wasn’t built to hide this truth—it was built to break the stigma of mental illness by sharing it.
It’s my mental health survivor blog, my blueprint for self-healing, and now a safe digital space for anyone who’s been through trauma and needs a place to be completely real.
This poem was one of many seeds.
The Funny Farm is the garden.
And the next post? That’s where I plant my Manifesto—the survivor’s blueprint I built when I realized I couldn’t wait for someone else to save me.
🔊 This Is Farm Fresh
It’s not curated.
It’s current.
It’s the now inside the never-ending.
It’s radical recovery.
It’s neurodivergent survival.
It’s sarcastic grief.
It’s digital resurrection.
It’s the audacity to still be here.
If I can scream it out loud and still hit “publish”—so can you.
Next: #7 – Surviving the Global Mental Health Crisis: My Trauma-Informed, Neurodivergent Manifesto