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.

Opening My Door; Letting You Inside

Sometimes the internet is an awful place, but it can also be amazing. It can be a place to release the worst, darkest shadows in your heart, and have someone take them from you and say "These don't need to scare you. Let me help." From here on out this blog contains triggers. Please read with caution, and I promise *SPOILER* the end is very happy.

http://www.take5tosavelives.org/

I woke up this morning, and read this on The Bloggess. She's very inspiring to me, and it helps to know that someone as awesome as she is can suffer anxiety, and depression. It means that I can still be awesome too.

In honor of today, I'm going to share a deeply personal story. One that only a handful of people know, and that handful doesn't include many of my family members. So I'm sort of grateful they're unaware of the existence of this blog lol. This is a rather painful story, and it will be very hard for me to tell it. I'm changing the name of the other person involved in this story, because though I was just speaking to him in our usual morning ritual way, I was too nervous to ask him if he minded me using his real name. Plus he's ever so proper, and would probably be embarrassed by the showering of praise.

So for this we have to go back to 2004. I had, on a hunch, gone through my then husband's computer while he was out. I found email after email, and all sorts of instant message conversations with another woman who he professed to love. He told her he hated me, was leaving me, all the things you never want to hear from the man you've said "I Do" to. When he returned, I confronted him. He was so very angry at my prying, refused to discuss his online infidelity. When I wouldn't back down, he choked me, beat me, threw me into a wall, and then left. My son was (thankfully!) with his step-grandparents, and witnessed none of this. I sat on the swing outside the house until dawn. I couldn't think. I didn't think about why I wanted him back, or even if I wanted him back. I was just waiting.

He returned about two weeks later. I'll skip over the insanity that filled the two weeks before his return, because it's still uncomfortable even now. We'll just sum up with: Some people supported me, but others actually told me I'd gotten what I'd asked for. I no longer speak to the latter group of people.

When he returned, my husband told me he was sorry, that he never meant any of it, and that he loved me. Then he told me he'd decided to get us away from all of it, the poverty, the drugs. He said he was going to go to Minnesota and stay with a friend of ours, and get a job. Then he'd send for me. Now I know that you all following at home are shouting "Don't believe him!" I assure you, I knew very well what was going on. I happened to know that the woman he'd been talking to online lived 3 hours from our friend in Minnesota. I knew exactly what he was going to do. I bought the airline ticket however, I packed his bags, and I went with him to the airport. I've always hoped that he eventually understood that I had done all of these things fully aware that he was going to her. I would hate to think he felt he'd tricked me.

After he'd been gone a week, I got the instant message I was expecting. He informed me he was with her, and wasn't coming back to me. I don't remember what I said, but I do remember signing off before he'd finished explaining why he'd left. I didn't care. The why of it didn't matter to me. Just the fact of it. After seven years of marriage he was gone. They weren't even good years to be honest, and I was aware of that. He'd been abusive towards me, he was an addict. The only good thing I can say about him is that he never interacted with my son much, so my baby was spared any violence. (I feel I should clarify here that my husband was not my son's father. My son's father is a good man, and a good father. No one had any clue what my marriage was like behind closed doors, or they would have helped me escape.)

I sleepwalked through life for a few days, trying to figure out what the next step was. He'd been so controlling that I had defined my entire life by his desires and whims. Without his presence all I could figure out to do was dress my son, take him to school, then sit there while he was away until it was time to go get him. I was broken. So, on a Friday afternoon I decided to take my life. My son deserved better than a broken woman as his mother, I thought. His step-mother's parents were coming to pick my son up for the weekend, so I decided to wait until he'd left. He was so little, he didn't need to see this. My mom would have found me before he returned, and as sad as she would be it was better than my baby being the one.

I gathered up a massive handful of pills; Codine, valium and paxil. I put them in my nightstand drawer, and then waited. To keep myself busy while I waited for the school day to be over, I went to deviantART and decided to look at the chatrooms. There was one room I'd been in once before called "dAPensioners" and it was for people over the age of 21. It had seemed nice, so I went back in. The owner of the chat (the person who'd created the chatroom) was inside, and he greeted me cheerfully. From here on out we shall refer to him as Doodles, because it's what he does.

Doodles and I talked about nothing important for a long time, and then he offered to switch to instant messenger. It suited me, so when I returned from picking up my son from school, we talked privately for a while longer. We traded stories from our lives, while I packed a bag for my son and tried to not let him know that this would be the last time my C-monster would see me. I kissed and hugged my son hard, and told him I loved him more than anything else in the world. Then he left for the weekend.

Doodles and I talked some more, and I decided to wait until after dark to do this. I'd go to sleep and just not awaken. I smoked my cigarettes hanging out my window so that I didn't have to leave the conversation for even a moment. We had much in common, and much that was different. He lived in London, had a good job, never married and no kids but a long time girlfriend. We both loved music, talked about films, were passionate about art. He never seemed to tire of talking, even though he was eight hours ahead of me.

All at once I realized that the sun had come up in California. It was a new day, and it struck me that I could change everything starting today. I could make a new life, and that I wanted to see what sort of man my son would become. That I wanted to see what sort of person I could become. I could make the changes I wanted. I did not have to define my life by anyone else, and I could survive this.

That feeling of power didn't last, but the desire to live did. A few years later, over drinks and face to face, I thanked Doodles everything he'd done for me without ever knowing he'd done so. He was probably a little embarrassed, so I dropped it right away. I am without a doubt his most loyal friend to this day though. I would drop almost anything if he asked for my assistance. Though he's terribly British and probably wouldn't ever want to impose upon me.

That awful first day, the one where I went through the computer and was beaten for my trouble, was eight years ago next month. Since then I've made mistakes, had my heart broken, and broken a heart or two. I never changed my mind about being alive though.I'm so happy now, married to a really good man, my son is becoming a wonderful adult, I'm still great friends with Doodles and we talk frequently even though we live many time zones apart still. It doesn't escape me though that it could have easily gone differently. I could have not found anyone to talk to, or run into someone who was cruel and sarcastic. I could have decided to watch mind-numbing television until my son had left. I don't know why I chose to speak to people online before I ended things, maybe I wanted to live secretly, deeply inside of me. I know that I made sure to give no sign of my intentions. Whatever it was, it made all the difference.

Everyone struggles, everyone hurts. I know. I know you hurt, and you struggle, I know sometimes it's too much to bear. But I love you. I want to tell you that I love you, and I don't know who you are. I want to tell you that I am here for you, that I struggle with you. Some days I want to hurt myself, some days all I want to do is cry in bed. It's okay if you feel the same. It makes us brothers and sisters. It makes us human, and real and perhaps a little more beautiful for all of our cracks, and flaws.

I'm not really sure how to end this one, it's so deeply personal.
If you're in the US and need to talk to someone please call: 1-800-273-8255
Outside the US, this website has links to the help lines for everywhere in the world: http://suicidehotlines.com/international.html

 

Depression Lies.

To quote the great sage Christopher Robin: "If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together, there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart, I'll always be with you."

 

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!

Five Things I'm Scared To Tell You... And a Video!

Five things I'm Afraid to Tell You

Lauren from "Filing Jointly... Finally" did a post about five secret things she doesn't like to admit to. She followed it up with a challenge of sorts for her followers with blogs to do the same. I'm always up for a challenge.. right?

I hope this doesn't loose me the few followers I have. *laughs* Alright, let's do this.

#1 I am terrified of loud noises

When I was a kid, we lived on the railroad tracks. And I mean almost literally. You could stand on my grandmother's front porch and throw a rock onto the tracks without that much effort. They're not very busy now, but in the 80's there were many trains travelling that length of track, and they would blow their whistle as they went through the area. I remember laying in bed, absolutely CERTAIN that there were awful things, possibly undead things, using the train's passing to cover their approach. I wouldn't know they were coming because the trains were too loud. It was terrible! So I'd lay very still, hoping that if I was still enough they wouldn't find me. To this day slamming doors, fire alarms, when the radio is up loud... anything above conversation level... is very alarming to me. I love live concerts, but I'm also very anxious during them.

#2 I grew up in the ghetto, very poor

And by ghetto, I mean the fucking ghetto. I grew up near Oakland California, and I saw my first shooting at the age of 14. I've seen people hurt, I've known people who've died. People I've gone to school with have over-dosed on drugs, or gone to jail. A sickeningly large portion of the girls I went to high school with have been sexually assaulted, sometimes brutally. And for a long time.. I accepted it as "normal". It's just what happened. Now that I no longer live there, I'm often embarrassed by where I came from. It never occurred to me for years that the home I grew up in would be considered unlivable to most people. Quite honestly it should probably be condemned. My in-laws have gorgeous homes, with huge manicured lawns, and nice jobs. Many of the friends I have online and in real life come from lovely homes, and families I would consider wealthy, and I often feel like any day now they will discover that I do not belong in their world. "Not Our Kind, Dear".

#3 My ex husband was abusive

And I don't mean he shouted at me a lot, although he did that too. Not that verbal abuse is any better... but yeah. My blog here is fairly anonymous, there isn't any connection from my Facebook to this blog on purpose. There are one or two people who are still in loose contact with him, and I'm scared of him finding this blog. It is my haven, my safe zone where I can rant all I want, about anything I want. In saying that, I'm not ready to share details, because I tried to talk about it in an online forum before, on another account, and he found it, and threatened my Gramma. His sister was (Still is? I dunno, I stay away from any and all contact) a psychopathic meth addict, and I totally believe she'd hurt my family. I think he would too. I hate him though. I feel anger for people, but he's the only one I hate. For years I felt like I must have deserved it, at least somewhat. He had a reason for it, every time. I finally broke down and told my husband why I'd felt I'd deserved it, and he hugged me, and loved me and told me there was never, ever an excuse for it, no matter what. And something in my chest loosened a little. It's better now, but I still fear him.

#4 I was a drug addict

Yep! Oh boy is that a fun thing to talk about at parties. Actually no, it isn't. So I don't. I usually don't mention it at all. But yes, I was. The particular drug of choice is a rough one, and I'm one of the few I've heard of who were able to come off of it. Apparently, it's difficult. But I managed. I kept all my teeth, all my hair, no scars, and no (obvious) permanent damage. So I win! I'll be damned before I ever go down that road again though, and I have no time for addicts of any kind now. I understand that it is REALLY hard to kick addiction, and I know a few people who are doing awesome at it (alcohol, not anything rougher) but people who are not seeking help, or who keep failing, and letting themselves fail... No time at all. It's not a reflection on them, or their struggles. I do not, let me repeat DO NOT feel like I am better than them, or stronger than they are, or that they are not worth my time. I simply cannot allow that sort of behavior into my life. I've got shit where I need it to be, and messing it up would be detrimental to my well-being.

#5 I am an Atheist who wishes I had something to believe in

I was raised by my mom, and Gramma. My mom is Wiccan, and raised me amongst Tarot cards, and candles, and incense. I remember being really excited when she gave me my very own tarot deck at 7. As I got older though, I found it didn't answer things for me. I checked out Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, and even Christianity. None of them spoke to me of truth, none of them resonated in my soul. As a matter of fact I was extremely frustrated and appalled by the bible after I read it. Judges, Numbers, Deuteronomy (several places actually), Samuel, Exodus, and Zechariah all condone, and in some cases encourage, rape. As someone who has been raped, I felt nothing but disgust. There were those who tried to say that those were old, and didn't count, but if you're going to live your life by the rules of a book, you can't just cherry-pick whatever pleases you. I decided to live the best life I could, without a invisible Father-Figure looking down on me, judging me. I don't need a book to tell me what is, and is not right. So I donate to charity, help others, love my fellow people, do kind things for animals, help the elderly, and play with children. I am a good person, who does good things, and will leave a wonderful legacy behind me. I don't need religion to help me with that. But when things are hard, I secretly wish I did believe. Because then I could say "God has a plan" or "The universe has a plan for me" or even "Karma will come around, and things will be better". And I would be comforted. Also, I wish I believed that after I die, I would see all my loved ones again. But I don't.

So... there we go! I hope none of you hate me now, or find me creepy. I also hope I don't get hate mail for not liking Christianity. I have lovely, wonderful friends who are devout believers, and I don't think that they're awful for believing. >
Anyway, this was a pretty heavy blog post, so I should leave it with something to lighten it up a bit.
Here is a video of Seven, attacking a handmade stuffed toy that was made for me by one of my Gramma's coworkers at the hospital. I've had it since I was three years old. Watch all the way to the end. It's only a minute long!



Till next time!

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!

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.

Starting My Journey With You

So tonight I had my husband take some photos of me at my "Before" weight. I've been trying to watch what I eat for a week or two now, but I always end up discouraged, and then I think "Ah fuck it" and binge on ice cream.

It has to end.

So I'm going to post here, and hopefully it will help me to identify any binge triggers, and keep me focused on my goal. I currently weight (takes a deep breath) 220lbs. Ugh...... I hate it. Would you believe I used to model? It's true.

That's me at age 15. Here's another taken just after my 16th birthday.

Now I weighed about 110lbs there. I won't try to get down that far. I'd be happy at about 150-160. I'd be healthy at that weight, and that's really what I'm after. So, here goes the photo of me now.

Ugh... Not what I want to look like, at all. (btw, that's my son's room I'm standing in. I don't have Mario Bros. posters in MY room... I have like, Dragon Age and Portal... I have standards yanno. >_>)

For dinner tonight we grilled chicken breasts, in seasoning, and had rice. For lunch I had a green salad with a little chicken on it, and breakfast was yogurt and granola. I'm going to start keeping track of how big my portions are, but I'm already spending my days hungry. I ate dinner at 7pm, and now at 11pm my stomach is growling already.

My next step is to start doing more physical activity. As the weather is getting nicer, I will start walking home from work in the evenings, instead of catching the bus. Also, because I love to watch movies, I want to get a treadmill and I will be happy to walk, or jog on it while the tv is going. It will distract me from the fact that I hate to jog.

I want to wear something cute, and pretty. I want to dress fashionable. And it might sound shallow, but I want guys to stop me in the street and compliment me. It used to happen. It doesn't anymore.

I'm going to reward myself with an entirely new, and more expensive wardrobe when I have lost the weight. Also, I plan on having my entire back tattooed in poppies. Why poppies? Why not?

PS, I would cut you for a doughnut. I mean that.

<3 Till 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.