Wow... Sorry for the radio silence!

I'm not even sure where to begin!

Hi guys! Well, things have certainly changed for me recently. I'm now living near San Francisco, and my whole life is different than it was last time I made an entry.

Back in May I had a terrible break down, and I was hospitalized for nearly two weeks. My mental health had deteriorated quite badly, and I was self harming. The people at the clinic were lovely, and helped me so much. I was given medication to help stabilize myself, as well as taught some wonderful Cognitive Behavioral Therapy techniques that have been incredibly useful.

Sadly, my marriage was unable to recover from the on going issues. In June my husband and I separated, and I moved back to California (where I'm from) and he stayed in Wisconsin. To put it mildly, that was very difficult for me.

Since then, I've been working very hard every day on being healthy, both physically and mentally, and I'm feeling pretty fabulous! I've lost quite a bit of weight, and though I'm no longer a vegetarian, I'm cooking healthy (most of the time) and really enjoying my life.

Work has been hard to find in California, but I had some savings, and I'm staying with my mother right now so I'm managing. I assist with taking care of my 96 year old grandmother, which gives me a small income, though not enough to afford an apartment.

My love life is rather nice. And I'm going to leave it at that, for now. :)

My ex has the cats, so no more photos of Data, or Seven. I still cry here and there for them, as they were my precious babies. I'm not completely petless however. I have a pet lizard who sports a diva sized personality inside a small cold-blooded heart. She's lovely, and adorable, so you can look forward to photos and videos of her in the future.

Another change that's occurred is getting back in touch with my father. I hadn't seen or heard from him in 30 years, and then one night I just started looking for him on Facebook. I found him, sent him a friend request, and BOOM! He was so happy to hear from me! I went with my best friend up to visit with him, and it was crazy, weird, and pretty cool at the same time. I'm still processing it weeks later. I'm his only child, still after all this time.

One upside of all of these changes has been a renewal in my poetry writing. I hadn't written anything in years, I think since I got married actually, and last night my muse returned. I'm so relieved to have that fire burning inside me again. It's a long lost friend, and I've missed it.

Downside is that I had started smoking cigarettes again, but I've switched to the e-cigs now, which are a bit cheaper actually, and I think a little less harmful. I'm trying to slowly cut them out as well by gradually shifting to lower and lower nicotine doses, with the idea of breaking the habit again. Why didn't anyone remind me that it's harder to quit the second time? >_<

Thanks for reading (if anyone does after all this time LOL) and so I'll give you some weight loss photos, because it makes me very happy.

Taken not long before I left Wisconsin

Taken in September, here in California

Where I've been hiding.

Hey guys, I'm alive...

Sorry for the long silence. It wasn't really intentional. I've been dealing with a massive amount of anxiety lately, and by lately I mean for months.

Things came to a crescendo in Mid-January when I was so depressed, and paranoid that I decided to end my life. I made all the preparations, and was writing out a letter to my husband. By some miracle, my husband came home hours earlier than he was supposed to have, and I was halted.

After much soul-searching, I went to my mother-in-law and spoke to her about all the issues I'd been having, and she lovingly encouraged me to seek help. I've been seeing a therapist for a few weeks now, and going to group therapy sessions. Eventually, I should be able to get on medication to assist me.

It seems I have been living with PTSD for many years, due to the abuses my ex put me through, and some other events from my past. I'm currently unable to answer the door if I'm home alone, unless I know who is there already, and I can't bring myself to answer the phone if I don't recognize the phone number. It was very hard to go to work for a while, but I've gotten to a point now where being at work is okay. It's hard to not feel safe from things in your own home though.

Quite honestly, I'm afraid of everything right now. Every knock on the door is our landlord coming to evict us (despite our rent being paid, and being completely compliant with our lease). Every phone call is someone calling to tell me my husband has died in a car wreck, or is divorcing me, or is calling because my son is gone (despite my husband being a safe driver, despite him being loving and loyal, and despite my son being too big to kidnap, and too well-behaved to consider running away). I shake all the time like a shelter-rescue Chihuahua.

Slowly I am getting better, but it's a long process. Every day I am glad that Husband came home early. I keep a letter to myself in my back pocket now, with a list of everything that is good about myself, and the people who would miss me terribly if I were gone. With it I have a mantra that I use as a shield when I become afraid. Some of you who are more literary may recognize it.

I must not fear.Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

I repeat it to myself whenever I feel anxious, and it does seem to help. I am also taking up knitting because apparently it is very good for those suffering from PTSD. Something about the back and forth repetition. I am also starting to jog, and go to the gym with friends. For weeks I couldn't keep much food down, so I lost 9lbs a little too fast. I'm trying to keep that weight off, but do it a healthy way. 

Please feel free to ask questions, I'm trying to be open about any struggles just in case someone randomly stumbles across this blog at a time when they are in need. If you are in a desperate situation, please email me. I will listen, and I will tell you as many times as you need to hear that you are not alone.

The Art of Failing

The Hardest Day Is Here

Today is the day that my son flies out. I dread this day every year. I'll spend the rest of tonight after he leaves either completely immersed in a distraction, such as a video game or book, and quite possibly drunk. Then I'll fall into a deep depression for about two or three weeks, and weep inconsolably at random moments. Actually, I have tears on my face now, but I can still see to type, so I'll just continue. Where it gets rough is the feeling that I did the right thing by him, sending him to live with his father, because here I can barely keep a roof over my head. Then I wonder where the fuck I went wrong in my life choices that THAT is the best option I have.

I'm not any of the stereotypes of mother who doesn't have custody of her kids. Don't think for a moment that I lost custody, I didn't. My son begged me to live with his dad because his dad had, at the time, just returned from a tour in Iraq and my son hadn't seen him in nearly two years. There were other factors, such as the fact that I was leaving North Carolina to go back to California and the area I was moving to had shitty public schools, but that was the main factor. I still wonder what I could have done differently.

I want him to stay with us so badly. My husband is fully supportive of that too, they get along great. The problems is money. This Summer has served to illustrate that point painfully well. With the extra person in our household things have been tough. We've had to sell things precious to us to pay bills, and we're looking to sell more. All of this so that my husband can complete his schooling, and have a job that pays well, so that we can drown in student loan debt. I feel like we're on a merry-go-round that is moving too quickly, and we wanted to get off hours ago, but the operator is insane and won't let us go.

For all that, it was a good Summer. My boss has been great about allowing me time whenever I asked for it. We have been able to do some fun things, with kind assistance from friends. I haven't taken as many photos as I would have liked this year, and there will be even less now. One of the precious things we sold was my dSLR. The power bill needs to be paid however, and with the heat we've had this year, it was higher than normal.

Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning, failing so badly I will die. I think to myself that maybe wading out into a lake and taking a deep breath would be better... But then I think of my son, my husband, and I know I can't do that.

Not the best photo, but we were hiking.

I keep telling myself that it will get better, that I'm doing what I can, with what I've got... It's just so hard. I must remind myself that I'm better off than many people right now. I have a stable job, there is food on my table, and I have friends who love me. I'd like to say I'm not concerned about the roof over my head, but that's a lie. I should be alright there, but I worry.

Sorry this post has been so depressing. I just can't shake the feeling that I somehow failed my son, while I was trying to do the right thing by him. Maybe I should have kept him with me? Maybe I should never have left NC (not that I would have had anywhere to live if I hadn't...)? They say hindsight is always 20/20, but that's not true. I still don't know what I should have done differently. I've had people looking at me like I must be a shitty mom because my son doesn't live with me for so long, I believe them now.



I could go on about this for hours, but you guys have got to be sick of my whining at this point. Let me lighten things up with Buttermilk the goat. She's a dwarf goat who seems to enjoy picking on her friends. (not my goat btw)

Moved in!

Some People Are Awful People...

We're into our new place now, and holy cow...

Wait, lemme me back up. So we got everything packed up (omg I know right? We did it!) and we moved the large stuff into the new garage, and boxes into the storage unit. Then we slept in our old apartment one last night, so we could wash walls, shampoo carpets,a nd give it one last real deep clean before moving our fish tank out.
All that went smoothly, and though it was hard work, it was all done by 2pm. Walked in to our new apartment annnnd....

What. The. Fuck. Carpets are stained and filthy, there is old food left in the cabinets, the bathtub has mildew under where they had their shower mat and the light-bulbs have been taken out of all the ceiling lights. I'm so tired, and we worked SO hard to clean our old place, and now I have to do it again. It's so awful. I'm a really clean person, and though I have occasionally allowed my home to become cluttered, but I never allow it to be filthy. I should have looked around harder, I guess. The fridge is brand new, and so is the stove, so that's good at least.
Husband had to go to work, so I got our bed set up, and sat the rest of the night alone, by the light of one lamp. I was able to find a usb cord for my phone, and connect it to my laptop so I could at least get online via my phone. After all the stress, and exhaustion and way too many energy drinks on top of not enough food... I had a full on panic attack. The "I can't breathe, and I'm dying" kind. I knew in the back of my mind I wasn't, that I was obviously breathing, but I was certain I couldn't. I gasped like a fish for I don't know how long. Eventually I passed out and when I awoke I felt a little better, though I was shaking. After I spoke with my friend Em for a while, I was calmed down. The next day at work I felt like someone had beaten me, and then dragged me behind a truck. I limped around like I was 90 years old, and I couldn't even keep water down. It didn't get much better the next day, when all of my misery was added to by a headache.
I gave in this morning and called in sick.

I totally slept ALL day. Husband went to work, and I woke up only long enough to drink water, then throw it back up. I slept until 6pm when Husband got home. I just ate a little bit, and now I'm mostly alright. Tomorrow, we're shampooing the carpets, and painting the walls, then we'll worry about moving furniture in.

I will take photos once I feel like the place is up to a passing grade.

Now I should try and rest some more, as I have to run in to work tomorrow to complete a few things that I should have finished yesterday.

G'night guys!

Mister Sandman, Bring Me A Dream

Just A Short Post

I had a bad dream last night. I woke up this morning very disturbed and uneasy. I dreamt that I had pet rabbits, and when I went to feed them I realised that they were out of water, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd filled their water bottles. They were so thirsty, and dehydrated. I cried in my dream because I felt so bad about it. These creatures depended on me, were members of my family, and I'd neglected them!
I awoke intensely disturbed, and upset.

Laugh all you like, you have your fears, I have mine. *chuckles* Mine happen to involve failing to protect animals, and loved ones. 


What kind of bad dreams do you guys have?


"-People think dreams aren't real just because they aren't made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes." -Neil Gaiman's The Sandman, Preludes and Nocturnes 

 

The Packing Starts Here

Hey guys!

I just got back from meeting with our new landlord, so the packing starts today! We're set to move memorial day weekend, and I haven't started any of my packing. So let me apologize in advance for not updating as frequently as I want to.
I'll keep today's post short as I can already hear the cats making a mess out of my linen closet.

Let's Pretend This Never Happened

Yes, I've been reading the new Bloggess book, and I love it. Unbelievably funny. Seriously, even funnier than she normally is on her blog, which is already hysterical. My husband does not appreciate my attempts to read passages out-loud to him. He says he already know what it's like to live with a crazy person, he doesn't need insight into what some other poor man is going through.
*tch*
Shocking.. really. He doesn't know what he's missing.

Alright guys, I'll try to post, but no promises! I have a huge two bedroom apartment to pack up, and only 8 days off to do it in.

See you soon!

Phoning It In

Damn I'm Busy

 Hey guys! I've been super caught up with things elsewhere on webspace, and just haven't had much to talk about right now. We did hear from the landlord, and yes it was nothing at all. He just wanted to know if we were happy here, and to let us know that he wasn't raising the rent this year. The strange part was that in an effort to soothe my panic, Husband found us a new apartment to move to that's two houses down from us, and $300 less. So I think we're moving anyway. Weird, huh? The new apartment has a basement (it's actually more of a house than an apartment, really), and a yard that I can plant in, rather than growing all of my flowers in pots on the deck. Oh! It also has a FIREPLACE! Which means I can totally decorate properly for Christmas this year. FUCK YAH!
Snow falling softly outside of our sliding glass doors, while a fireplace burns merrily in our hearth. OMFG I love this idea already and it's still Spring!

So we'll be moving in June, which means I have a bunch of mad packing to do. Holy shit do I ever... it's only just hit me as I type this..
Sooooo, I might have another anxiety attack on the way. Fuck my life.

Nah, I'm kidding... fireplace.

Dieting... Like a Boss

 I weighed myself yesterday and I weighed.... are you ready?


I mean really ready? Because this is good.


Sure? You're ready now?


Okay....



I weigh 215lbs! I've lost 5lbs since I started this bullshit. And you know what, it has gotten easier. I'm using MyFitnessPal to track what I eat, and what exercise I do and it's starting to show. The other day I ordered a salad from McDonald's (shut up... It was my only option at that time. Unless I chose not to eat at all.) Before when I'd ordered the salads at fast food places, I'd eat it, and then still be hungry. But I got halfway through it and was uncomfortably full, so I just tossed the rest. And totally had guilt over it because you know there are starving kids out there who would have loved to have had that salad you thankless horrible person! Gah... Yes that actually went through my mind.
I totally should have been Catholic, I have a very well developed sense of guilt. I'd have fit in perfectly. I feel guilty for everything. Kill a spider? Guilt. Eat meat? Guilt. Squirt my cat with water for peeing in my plants? Guilt!
I'm totally rambling now. FOCUS!

So obviously this method of accountability is working for me, which is fantastic. I still need to get a treadmill, and I want one very badly because we're getting into the rainy part of the year here, and I don't want to lose any ground. I may just start jogging in place like a derpface with the blinds drawn so no one looks in and reports someone having a seizure in their apartment.

Copy & Paste!

So the rest of what follows is a re-post from my old blog. I stole the idea from Lauren, so if you hate it... well don't blame her because she's super adorable, and sweet. You can't hate her even if you try, and I don't know why you'd try.. you awful person. 

So, it has been a while since I've updated on here. But since very very few people are reading this, it's okay. :P Seven has fully recovered from her owie, and her claw has grown back in with no issues. There was some concern that it might curve into her paw when it grew back in, but no. It's perfectly normal.

The cats still steal our food, like tiny, fur-covered bandits. But there are added distractions now. Like birds. And fish. Oh yes, nothing is quite so amazing as the 50 gallon fish tank in our dining room. Especially Betty. Betty is a black moor goldfish. (Is she really a "gold"fish if she's black? Discuss.) And for some reason, Data and Seven are obsessed with her. Not that we don't have other fish in the tank mind you. But they only want to harass Betty.

When we first got the 50 gallon, Seven decided to throw herself into it. While it was full of water. I watched it happen, in slow motion. Time ground down slowly, like bullet-time, as I watched her put her tiny paws on the top, and heave herself up and over. Her little body slid over the lip, and into the water, where her head immediately dunked itself under the surface. I don't think she was expecting the water, for surely she'd have requested tiny water-wings if so. Her eyes bugged wide open and she flailed frantically for a mere half a second before surfacing and scrambling out of the tank of kitten doom. It seemed so much longer than it really was. I can still picture her face as she realised what had just happened. She blamed me for it too. I could tell in her eyes as she licked herself off. Why had I not warned her? Why had I not stopped her? I tried to explain that I would have, but it happened so fast... unfortunately I couldn't stop laughing long enough to make words.

Soon, we added an occupant to the tank, which was Betty. She must have thought that she'd won the fishy lotto, since she was the only occupant of the 50gal for a number of days. Seven and Data would both sit on the table in front of the tank, and watch her swim, like fans at the slooowest tennis match ever. Back and forth, back and forth. Eventually though, all good things end, and we moved Betty into her actual home, which was a 10gal "hospital tank". That's how she acquired her name btw. She's "Nurse Betty". Seven's obsession finds new heights with the move, while Data's shifts to the birds outside, as the weather has by this time warmed up some, and the birds have returned en masse to the feeder outside our window. (The fact that I bought peanuts for the chipmunks and squirrels may have also contributed...)

Here's Seven with Betty                                      

We added fish to the large tank, and everything was going swimmingly (hurr) until one day when I had the lid to Betty's tank off, to feed her. Seven had forgotten the very important lesson she'd learned while she was inside the water of the big tank. Namely that water is wet, and she doesn't like it when it's deep.

So once again, swimming cat.

Unfortunately, this time around, we had a minor casualty. Betty sustained an injury, and the water of the hospital tank was now really yucky with cat fur. So I had to put Betty in the larger tank to recover from her injury, which is the opposite of how that shit is supposed to work, for reasons I'm about to disclose.

Betty developed a serious infection in the wound, and contracted ich. Shortly thereafter, everyone else in our tank had it. It's like freeking herpes or something... jesus. It really spreads fast. The rainbows were just COVERED in it, and the pleco succumbed within days of infection. A quick eulogy and a burial at sea followed. (It was lovely, many kind words were spoken and tears shed. We had bad wine and lemon cake afterwards during the wake)

They're all fine now (except the plec, of course... though I suppose he's fine too now. In fishy heaven, or the vast nothingness of the tea-time of the soul) and once she was all healthy Betty showed her true colors.

She is a horrible, horrible vandal.

She methodically made a route around the tank, and chewed through all of the stems of the plants I had put in the tank. The real plants. No plastic things for my tank, no sir. She's eaten about $45 worth of plants at this point, I think. I'm not sure what to do about her now. I thought about trading her to the pet store I bought her at, in exchange for credit towards another fish, but Seven loves her so much. (Loves? Hates? Wants to eat?.. I don't know. We'll go with it.) So I'm considering putting her back in the 10gal, but then she'll be lonely. Am I putting too much thought into this? Probably.

In other news, Sean has a full time job as a bartender at a really awesome new restaurant. The downside of this was that Data was home alone, all day, for a few days. So last Sunday, he felt he needed to talk to me about this.

When Data "talks to me" about issues he has, it usually takes the form of peeing. Thankfully it's never on the carpets, or the walls like some male cats will do. But it's always very clear.

Like the last time he had an issue with me, he dragged a towel around the living room, until it was in front of his litter box. He then proceeded to pee all over the towel. When I tried to pick him up to stop him, he just looked at me and kept peeing.

"Do you see what I'm peeing mom? I'm peeing my anger."

Turns out I had forgotten to clean his litter box for a day or two. Unacceptable, mom. And he let me know it.

Well, he had issue with dad not being home, so while I was getting ready for work, he tried to pee in my potted palms. I caught him, and wrapped plastic over the tops, so he couldn't dig in the rocks. He watched me do this, and then when he was SURE I was paying attention, peed in his cat bed.

Not really sure what he was thinking, since it's HIS bed, but hell I'd rather he do that than pee all over mine!

It's better now, as Sean is going into work at around 4pm, and I'm home by 5:30, but he's watching us in case we shirk our duties to him again.

 Wrapping Up

If you guys are interested in fish as well as cats, I can do a post next time about the tank, and how it looks today. I really want to say "Leave a comment on what you'd like me to post about next" but my blog isn't big enough for that... 

Yet.

Till next time folks!  

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

Alone I Break

(Not a funny, or cute post today folks. Feel free to skip this one if you only come for cat photos, or laughter)

My anxiety is worse today. We recieved an email from our landlord saying he'd like to speak with us about our lease. Now, it's probably nothing. I mean, I think we're good tenants (if we're not, the other people here have said nothing) and we have always paid our rent on time. But I'm in a horrible panic over it now.
Of course, I also sometimes hide in the hallway when he mows the lawn, because that's the only place in our home besides our closet that doesn't have windows. So... Yeah.

My hands are shaking, I'm sick to my stomach, and I barely slept last night. I burst into tears for no reason this morning. I hate this so much. I feel like a prisoner inside my head.
I understand this though. The anxiety will be followed by a crushing depression, or if I'm really lucky, I will have both at the same time. I'd say it's like a dear friend, whom you know well... But this is not my friend. A friend has warm connotations of comfort, and support. This is like the whip you know too well. You know the pain, you know the burning it leaves behind it. You remember the smell of your own fear, tears and blood that it leaves in its wake. You know it so well, that you forget to fear it sometimes. You forget that there were times when you were not subjected to its abuses. You forget that it doesn't have to be this way.

Honestly, though I know that it really DOESN'T have to be like this, I can barely remember a time when it wasn't. I can recall all the way back to Elementary school, waking up in the morning, and vomiting because I couldn't stand the idea of sitting in that classroom. I wasn't bullied, I was teased maybe a little, because I was shy, and awkward, and overweight. But for the most part, the other kids merely ignored me. And I ignored them, spending my recess period reading a book in the grass rather than playing.
High school was the same, despite the fact that I lost my baby chub, and was moderately popular, with many friends. I would just suddenly panic at the very idea of going to school. I wasn't even a bad student! I don't think my mom had ever heard of Generalized Anxiety Disorder, so no one knew how to help me. (By the way, that link was sort of alarming for me, as that laundry list of symptoms is basically a run down of my day to day existence) We sort of just thought I was a sick kid. I didn't realize.

It wasn't until after my son was born, and my fiancee left me that we realized there was anything wrong. I had an attack so severe that I was convinced I couldn't breathe. I thought I was dying. I was terrified, and... it was awful. I can remember the feeling of dying, of thinking I was dying.

*pauses for a deep breath and a sip of tea*

They put me on medication after that, which quite honestly made everything worse. I was given Paxil, and also Valium. Which seems to me in retrospect, a bad decision by the doctor. After a few months, I quit taking them, because while I didn't feel anxious about anything, I didn't feel anything at all. Not even when my little boy would cuddle me. Afterwards, I wasn't covered by any sort of health care, so I haven't been on medication for this for... *thinks* 14 years.
Wow. That's a long time.

I want to beat this demon. I want to be okay. I want to feel safe, without having to make my husband stop everything he's doing and hold me.
Did you know I don't drive? I don't. I want to, but I don't. Every time I get behind the wheel of a vehicle, I become certain that I am going to kill someone with the beast of steel that I have been put in charge of. Ironically, my husband says that when I forget to be afraid of driving, I'm an excellent driver, with no real bad habits to speak of.
Not driving limits my life in so many ways. There's so much I want to do, but I'm hampered by the limits of public transportation. I've been wanting to go to Chicago, and see the aquarium there, but I haven't because I would need to drive there, or make my husband drive me there.
I hate this.

Well, at least this has been cathartic for me. I feel a little better. I still have knots in my stomach, but the tightness in my chest has eased. I can't eat, but I can breathe now. *laughs*

Anyone who also deals with this, please know you're not alone. It's okay, you're not weak, and you're not "crazy". It doesn't have to beat you. We can walk this path together, and come out into the light.

I'm Getting Dirty

Out of the Zone

Oh man... I did something today that is WAY outside of my comfort zone.

I signed up for the Dirty Girl Mud Run.

I hate running, but this is more like an obstacle course plus it's for a good cause. Breast Cancer. Plus, I get to roll in the mud, which sounds kind of awesome.

http://www.godirtygirl.com/

I have such a hard time making friends right now though, and I don't get out much, so I felt like this was a chance to break out of my rut. Do something that's good for me, even if it makes me uncomfortable. I'm already regretting it, but that's probably a good sign as it means that I'm doing something besides video games. >.>

My blog readers can be my cheerleaders! I will keep you posted on here.

Diet News

My husband had left the house while I was typing up my last post, and just shortly after I finished it, he returned... With a red velvet cake. *sighs*
I was good though, and only took a small sliver of it. I've allowed myself a very small slice every day, but only one, and it has been VERY small. But it's enough. It tricks me into thinking I'm still not dieting, and makes me happy to have that to look forward to all day.

The wonderful bookkeeper I work for at the lab took me out to lunch yesterday, to Noodles & Company and I ordered the small Med Salad despite how much I love their pastas in cream sauces. I was pretty proud of myself. Jan told me I was doing such a great job at work, that she felt like getting me out of the store. Happy!

I've been good about my meals at home as well. Last night I had a half cup of cooked couscous with a teaspoon of olive oil and cracked pepper, and 6 oz of grilled chicken. And I made myself a smoothie to drink with half a mango, a cup of frozen blueberries and blackberries, a half cup of yoghurt, and cranberry crystal light instead of juice or milk. There was enough for three serving from that, I had a small glass of it (half a pint) and my husband drank the rest.
Was I good? I dunno, I forgot to weigh myself this morning. However I feel like I did better, so it's a start. I would have normally probably made burgers, or ordered a pizza, then had soda with it. Followed by chips later. So yeah, an improvement I think.

I want a baby, Husband says "NO!"

Not a real baby. A kitten. Or a puppy, I'm not picky. But my husband says that we "don't need another one. Two is enough."
Then he reminds me that I spoil the shit out of the cats we have, and that to share that attention at this point would probably break their hearts. Which makes me feel guilty.
I don't sleep well, so I suppose having a third cat to poke me all night would be even worse, but I can't help but stare at photos of tiny baby kittens in need of homes and my heart breaks because I cannot save all the animals in the whole world. If I am ever rich, I will donate all but what I need for basic survival to rescuing, and finding homes for all the sad, and abused animals in the world.

Because I'm a crazy cat lady.

Until next time!

I Have More Issues Than National Geographic

I have really good days, and I have bad days. And then I have REALLY bad days.

Today started out good, and feels like it's sliding into bad.

I'm reluctant to label whatever it is that I go through, but there are times where the world seems so awful, so dark, so malevolent that I feel anxiety. And I don't mean the butterflies you get before giving a speech (though those are nasty in their own right, no fooling) but deep panic. I remember one time when it hit, i became convinced I couldn't breathe. I thought I was going to die. I knew I was. It was the night before I was flying back to San Francisco from Glasgow, Scotland. I had to be on a 7am flight, which meant an stupidly early wake up. And around 10pm I became convinced I couldn't breathe. The whole thing is mostly a terrified blur to me now. I knew that it was "just a panic attack" and that I wasn't going to die from it. But I couldn't catch my breath. I remember that. The feeling like no matter how I struggled I couldn't breath in deeply.

Sometimes I feel like everyone looks at me, and hates me. Or they're laughing at me. Sometimes I think that everyone is looking at me like I'm the most ridiculous person they've ever met. They laugh behind their eyes. At the worst times I become certain that even people who I know love me, are really laughing behind their faces. It's hard. I try to make everyone happy, make everyone love me. I try so hard to be the best person I can be, so people will like me. And then I become stretched thin, exhausted, and I fail. And then the cycle starts all over again.

My husband, bless his heart, is a very patient man. He's come home to me crying, because I was convinced he was out cheating (top tip: He wasn't, and never has). And on my good days, I know he won't, he wouldn't. On my bad days...

I mean why would anyone love me, right? At least that what goes on in my head. My husband has said that the only person in the world who doesn't like me, is the one that stares at me in the mirror when I brush my teeth. And he might be right.

This is hard for me, writing this. I don't talk about it. I blow it off. I have attacks at work, and just stay in the bathroom until it's over, or if it doesn't pass quickly I will say I have a headache and go home. I used to be on medication, but I don't have health coverage, so... yeah I do what I can.

On a lighter note,(because I'm now uncomfortable and if I don't stop I will soon not have the nerve to post this) I promised I would share the conversation I had with the Husband last night.
I'm not even sure what started this "fight" mind you...

Husband: You're crazy, I hate you (laughing)
Me: No. You love me. You can't help it.
Husband: I do love you. But you're still fucking crazy.
Me: (singing) Yooou loooove me!
Husband: (sighs) I do. I probably need to see a psychologist to figure why I love you... But I do.