I been thinking about

there has been alot on my mind. I dont know if I ever told you guys, but I am going to School to one day warp young minds LOL Just playing… But for real I am going to school with the intent on becoming a counselor. This is Something I feel very good about but it has its downside too.
I have 2 big papers where I have to diagnose a character from a movie with a mental disorder. It’s actually kinda a fun idea, but of course I have to order the big diagnostic manual and the first thing I do is look up my symptoms. Man, I am fucked up… I know without a doubt I am not the worst, but geez.
I think this has really been ongoing, but I have really been trying to take stock of my life just to try to remind myself of all the good and I can’t take my mind off the bad. It’s like when your driving along and you notice a bad accident. You know you shouldn’t look, shit if you were honest you could admit that you don’t even want to look. But of course, you get closer and as you drive by it is hard to look away.  So many things to look at, so many memories. I see a lot of places I could have done something different. It’s ok, I may not be perfect but there is a lot of me that is on the right path. Not all, you know. Just parts…
There are some major parts that I know I desperately need to change, I am so stuck in the how that I can’t move. I hate to admit it, but I just wish someone could tell me what to do. Like, no options. Come on, bitch. You’re comin with me! I am probably too old, but I really wish I had a friend like that.
I got nothin, man… Dude is at the end of his rope and when I want to talk about it, I can’t bring myself to offer encouragement or positive words or even actions, nope that shit is way too easy. Nothin has changed, we just continue each day pretending the crap we do to eachother is no big deal. We are both guilty, but so cold and shut off we don’t see it. Neither on if us can really say what we need to, I think he’s waiting for me to say it. I can’t, man. I just can’t do it again. I keep saying it, my actions are screaming and he just doesn’t hear it.
All of this shit on an every day basis just keeps me ao fucking down. This loneliness is goin nowhere. I feel lame, like no wonder no one wants to be my friend.
Maybe this is a learning lesson? Like maybe I need to learn to be my own damn friend, maybe I need to just be by myself… maybe I’m just feelin sorry for myself.
As always ❤

my 9/11

My 9/11 will never be about New York. It was for many years after that tragic event, don’t get me wrong I still hold today in respect for those who lost their lives.

If my life took a left instead of a right, I would have a 3 yr old today. I don’t talk about it too much, honestly I very rarely allow myself to even think about it for too long. When the big wave of depression hits sometimes it is all I can think about. I could have a son that looked like his daddy or a daughter that looks like me. It really hurts to not have known that child, we don’t usually say “child”, I choose idea or dream. I always wanted to have babies, I thought what a blessing it would be to create life. But 2 women can’t really create a baby, so I really think I lost my fertility somewhere during my rainbow flag waving years. Most of the time I am really happy to be a part of dude’s kids, but damn man… how heavy that stone is on my depressed head. Like the ONE major “job” I have as a woman, I fail. We haven’t tried after the dream died, I just couldn’t and still can’t handle the thought of losing another one. I always said what is meant to be will happen, and in my twisted mind that means I shouldn’t procreate. Maybe the mix of me plus him isn’t such a great mix. Idk… it never happened before him or in the years since so I figure if that isn’t a bullhorn screaming: “DON’T DO IT!” I dont know what else is, but for whatever reason I’m gonna go ahead and listen. I can stick to my kitties…

But some days, like today… and the date I found out it wasn’t viable (on my bday no less), and the day I actually lost it (while at work). These are the days I miss the dream.
Of course, can’t really allow myself to think too much, life must continue.
Today I miss my mom, I miss my Superman, I miss having someone, I miss too much I can’t put into words…

As always, thank you for reading!
❤ ❤

Anxiety2

** The song does not have much to do with my post other than it is called Anxiety. I am a die hard Technician (Tech N9ne) and Krizz Kaliko is also pretty damn awesome too, no pressure to listen or trust me and my music tastes lol**

Forgive me if I am repeating myself but I want to talk about anxiety again. I have been experiencing triggers that are getting stronger and kinda more irritating. I am just barely acknowledging that I am having a problem with anxiety. I am not sure why, but depression was easier to talk about, it felt “normal”, everyone experiences depression at some points. Anxiety feels different to me.

I have talked about my depression as in terms of a person, I even named her. Ileana is who I see when my depression is bad. I don’t why I do this, but I think to some extent naming my illness has taken some of it’s power away. When I am having a problem with anxiety I am not seeing someone as calm and quietly beautiful as Ileana. I don’t have a name yet or even a full picture of anxiety, but Anxiety looks a lot like a troll. Or something short and kinda ugly, unattractive, icky. He usually starts at my feet and crawls up my body until he rests heavily on my shoulders.

When I think back, I was always a tiny bit shy. Nothing serious, nothing to worry about. Normal little girl shyness. I have noticed a change in myself over the last year, some things have been longer than a year. For the most part it starts small. I’m nervous to answer my phone, I refuse to call you first. I will pick up my phone and freeze, I just cannot do it. Texts aren’t much better, I am overwhelmed with shyness and fear of rejection. I am so scared that I am going to call and the person on the other end sends me to voicemail, or that text won’t be replied to. I am nervous if I call the right person I will start talking and not stop. There is so much inside my head right now, I am long overdue for a purge but I just can’t let this shit go.

Right now I am a matter of weeks until I start school, I am nervous. I think it is normal nerves, but I know it will increase as the date gets closer. One bonus about University is included in my tuition is medical and that means mental health. I am very much looking forward to talking to a female doctor. I really like my doctor, don’t get me wrong but I just can not talk lady problems to him lol. I am looking forward to hopefully finding a counselor. I need that very very much.

Anxiety feels so much different from depression. While I have a medical history of depression, anxiety is something I share with only one sister. I feel like no one believes me, I feel like they think I am making it up. The only time I really feel “safe” is in my bedroom, but it feels like I should be able to just shake it off. Anxiety and depression together makes me feel really fucked up, man.

I had a little problem last night. I actually brought dude out of bed because I was scared to be alone with my thoughts. I kept trying to calm myself down and focus for a second, but I felt like I was mentally pacing. I know I am not saying that right, but I was sitting on the couch, but my mind was racing. I was holding onto my pipe but I could not focus to smoke, I couldn’t turn on the TV, I just felt so lost. And I could not stop crying. I missed my mom so much.

As you may know yesterday was the one year anniversary of Robin Williams passing. When the news broke out that we lost him, and then soon later why we lost him I felt it as deeply as I do about my mother. It was a day of many many triggers for me. Every time I opened Facebook I got nervous. I may not have known the man personally, but I grew up watching him. Mork and Mindy was something I watched on tv long before Nick at Night. Losing him in that way was such an eye opener for me. Up to that point, I had a passive interest in mental health. I knew I was mental (haha), but I hadn’t yet dealt with it. There was a teenager at my stepson’s school who took her life last year before Robin Williams, so by the time Mr Williams died I was a raw wound that was ready to start bleeding again.

Like most things for me, I don’t only want to help myself I feel more energized helping others. I don’t just want to save me, I want to save the world or more realistically as many as I can. I don’t quite know what I want to do with my degree once I have it, but I know for a fact I want to work with teenagers. I know for a fact that I am driven to join the fight to keep them alive. It may not be much, but that is the dream I have. Don’t tell anyone, but at some point I even want to foster. I just want to help them not feel the way I did/do. I want them to keep breathing, I want to help them more than survive.

So, there is my babble. I noticed that I have new followers and that makes me happy. I never thought that anyone would find me, and sure didn’t think people would read this. So, since I have an audience I will tell you as best as I can this passion to save our teens doesn’t end there. If you feel like you are alone and need a friend, if you need to babble to a living and breathing person reach out. I am here and I can be a friend. I don’t know much, but I know that there is strength in numbers. The more that I touch with my words, the stronger I feel. The more this desire to help burns brighter. And in a lot of ways it motivates me on the days I can’t get out of bed, so thank you.

As Always…

Anxiety

anxiety

/æŋˈzaɪɪtɪ/
noun (pl) -ties

1. a state of uneasiness or tension caused by apprehension of possiblefuture misfortune, danger, etc; worry
2. intense desire; eagerness
3. (psychol) a state of intense apprehension or worry often accompanied by physical symptoms such as shaking, intense feelings in the gut, etc, common in mental illness or after a very distressing experience See also angst
Let’s talk for a little bit about anxiety. First off it is important to point out that some apprehension is normal. That “spidey sense” is what reminds you to look both ways before you cross the street. This is a very good evolutionary trait to have, however when that normal and good knowledge of your intuition and a crippling sense of impending doom. People are made in so many different ways that it is completely normal that we experience differing degrees of anxiety. Some of us have “issues” (forgive the word, just feeling a little loss for words today) that shape us and push us into a heightened sense of anxiety, this is where I live.
The unfortunate part about wanting to help others in the way that I do is that it becomes too easy to self diagnose. I think that is why psychology is so interesting to me, I can see myself and others in ways that help me to understand and better empathize. I thought for a long time it was “normal” to be sad, “normal” to have days where getting out of bed is impossible, and “normal” to cry for no reason. I have problems in crowds, I don’t like to answer the phone, I often feel uncomfortable meeting new people, I have serious bouts of shyness, I can’t call or text someone first. No matter how badly I have to talk to them, it is really hard for me to work up the courage to do it.
I miss my sister. I can tell a bunch of faceless people through this blog, but can I pick up the phone? can I use social network and reach out? Nope… It has been too long and I feel so bitter, I feel so just sad and I can’t for the life of me let it go. I see posts that she makes with our other sister and I feel so sad and jealous, I can’t get over it. I feel so invisible. I can’t walk away from my blood, I really can’t. In all honesty I want my sister back, I feel like this whiny ass kid who doesn’t want to share. It’s not that I don’t want to share, but for the life of me I can’t figure out why I am never included. There are all these pictures of the two of them hanging out, getting nails done, new hair do’s, just chillin… whatever. My phone never fuckin rings. She’s down the street with the other sister or our brother and does anyone stop by to say hello? nope… I just see the pics on facebook and my heart breaks a little bit. I honestly feel like there is no way I can do what needs to be done with out my sis, I just can’t be the one. I sit here and silently will her to call me, text me, whatever and yea… I got nothing. The scariest part is I am so fucking scared I lost my sisters all the way. I honestly feel like I have no family, no one calls me. I just wish if I was being punished for something that someone would open their fucking mouth and say something. This silent treatment has already gone on too long and there is just no end in sight. I really hate stuff like this.
As much as I want to be the one to pick up the phone of send off that text, I just can’t do it. I am so scared of the rejection, I am so scared of feeling like a fool and being told it’s all in my head. I feel like I have tried to have this conversation with her before, that I feel dis-included and she tried to talked me out of my feelings. Every time I think about commenting on a stupid facebook post, or sending a text I get the shakes and I just sit here and cry.
Putting it out here doesn’t make me want to pick up the phone. I just miss my sister.

My thoughts on stigma

This morning I read a post that really moved me to a point where I want to share my thoughts.

stigma-fighters-stephanie-paige

Please take a moment to read her post, I will be making references to it.

The year was 1986 when my mother lost her battle with depression and took her life, I was 6 years old.

I have flash-bulb memories from the last days spent with my mom. I remember her introducing me to my real father for the first time, I remember her telling me she would see me in a week as she packed me off to spend my first over nights with this stranger I was supposed to call dad. She kept her word, I had one week with him and then that Saturday morning I woke up to her voice. I was so excited to see her I ran from my dad’s bedroom to jump into her arms. I remember when she left to go back home on Sunday afternoon and she didn’t take me with her, I couldn’t understand why she was crying so hard. I remember the next morning when I woke up to go to the babysitter’s and my dad was having a very heated discussion on the phone, it was really super early so I didn’t pay too much attention to it. I remember after he got off work and picked me up. The most brightest and worst memories are the ones where he told me she was gone. To this day there is a hole in my chest from that moment. What I can’t remember is him telling me how she died, I don’t even remember if I asked.

When I was a kid, my dad had these friends he liked to get drunk with. Crazy part is, we didn’t even live near each other. We would pack up Friday afternoons and go on a road trip just so he could get drunk all weekend. Good thing they had kids around my age or my childhood would have been even more um… lame. His friends had this older daughter I was kinda close to, mostly I think she felt sorry for me. She liked to torment me when no one was around and for fun she liked to make fun of me because I didn’t have a mom. It’s funny what kids will use as ammo when they are too young for bullets, funnier that she wasn’t the only kid who liked to make fun of me for having a dead mother (there was even one kid who thought it was hilarious to taunt me with “Your mom killed herself” over and over until I was ready to fight, this was before I even knew how she died!). After all the times of her making fun, she didn’t me the truth until we were older and friendlier. Meaning, she didn’t tell me to spite or make fun of me. She told me because I kept asking and no one would answer, and she nominated herself to do the deed.

It took many more years to get up the courage to ask my dad directly. I remember that day clearly too. I was in therapy because I was going through some shit that was causing a mini break down. I was a sophomore in high school when my counselor decided it would be therapeutic for me to hear the truth. The problem is, after hearing it we all went about our lives like that was the end. We never talked about it, we didn’t continue therapy, I never had closure. Having your dad tell you your mom shot herself in one room and moving to the outer office 20 minutes later to ask what everyone wants for dinner kinda ruined the effect for me.

Reading this post brought up a lot of thoughts for me. The author’s daughter is 8 years old and asking about Whitney and Bobby’s daughter. No one ever told me, but I knew my mom didn’t die from natural causes at 8 years old. No one talked about my anxiety that my father would leave for work one day and not come home. Nobody ever talked to me about how sad I was that my mom was gone, that I wanted so badly to die so that I could be with her. I think about this woman and her daughter and the bond and trust they must have with each other that not only can this daughter ask these questions, but her mother can answer truthfully. She mentions that her daughter suffers with some anxiety that can be fierce and triggered by almost anything and her fear was that her daughter would be triggered by the suffering of Bobbi Kristina. Her daughter, at 8 years old was able to come to the conclusion after their discussion that this was a subject she needed to explore with her therapist. I wish someone had talked to me when I was 8 the way this mom talks to her daughter. Maybe I would have been better equipped to recognize the early signs that I was drowning.

The point of my post here is not so much to share my envy or even disappointment in how my own family handles trauma, but to show pride that people are learning from the mistakes of the past. I am so happy this young girl has a mom who can be open and honest with her and answer her questions in a way that allows her to make well informed decisions about her own mental health. I am so glad that mental illness is coming into the light and people are becoming more aware. Although I am not that old I remember growing up and having it not be okay to feel depressed.

I joke and say I was into cutting before it was cool. People never talked about their problems like they do now. I honestly think social media has paved the way for so many of us to talk about ourselves. In finding out that we are not alone in out idiosyncrasies I think we find a sort of relief. Every time I read a blog post from someone who is experiencing something I have been through I find myself breathing a sigh of relief. It is a very lonely feeling to think that you are the only person in the whole damn world going through what you are going through. I am finding more and more that we are all special in our own unique ways, but the same in so many others. So many of us are damaged or broken or lost or in pain, suffering and living, just trying to get through each and every damn day. I am so very glad our youth have this outlet, its way cheaper than therapy and there are no lines or co-pays lol.

So anyway… I hope every single person who so much as glances at this post knows they are not alone, I hope you know that you are loved. I hope someone tells you it is okay to be okay. I hope someone inspires you to keep swimming even for just one more day. We have come so very far as a society, my hope is that we will continue to grow. My hope is with more awesome moms like this author up there, kids will have it better than I did. Maybe if we can be honest with out 8 year olds they will grow up in ways we could only dream.

Introducing Ileana- AKA Lady Depression

Ileana

http://haphazardcoffee.com/2015/05/02/between-heartbeats-depression-living-one-more-day/

**Disclaimer before you read!!** The above link and picture are NOT mine. Picture was found from a Google Search (if you are reading this and you know who the picture belongs to, let me know and I will happily credit them), link is a wonderful article I will talk about in this post, feel free to read it first**

I should be working on a presentation for my Spanish class, but I keep seeing this lady’s face behind my eyes. It feels like she is just begging for me to let her out, so here goes…

The above article I read yesterday features the author doing this amazing job of describing his version (or idea?) of death as a lady, and I immediately thought of depression as a lady. As soon as the thought hit me, I saw her face. The picture above is pretty darn close to what she looks like in my head. Damn, she is beautiful isn’t she? She is almost like some dark version of a Siren calling the sailors of ancient times unknowingly to their death. The other day I wrote that depression is like a dark pit, to me this lady is the gatekeeper.

She tells me her name is Ileana, she is probably the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She is darkness and mystery all combined, I feel like I can get lost in her eyes because they hold all of my lost secrets that I didn’t really know searching for. When life is going well, she waits. In a dark corner in the back of my mind, she sits in the shadows and watches me. I see her sitting on this elaborate throne, maybe there is a animal in her lap that she just lazily strokes. She is patient, so much more patient than I am. She knows she doesn’t have to beg me, I will come willingly. She knows this and continues to wait.  When she speaks, it is never louder than a whisper. This is how she draws me in, not with force or angry harsh words, but with a whisper I can’t ignore. The words she uses aren’t important, it is about so much more than words.

When life is NOT going so well, I can barely make into her lap. I crawl on my hands and knees, crying until my eyes burn and my nose is leaking. When finally I reach her no words are needed, she knows this as well. She smiles a knowing smirk and opens to me. I crawl into her arms like I am her child and she is my mother. I guess in a lot of ways she is Mother, Lover, Sister, and Friend all wrapped into one. These are the times words get lost, she closes her arms around me and I can cry and I can sleep, and I can cry IN my sleep. When she takes me to bed I can get lost in her warm embrace. These are the times when death is more than a thought, so much more like a wish, these are the times it becomes hard to breathe. Do you understand? These are the times where it hurts to be touched by anyone but her. She doesn’t hold me down, I can stay in her embrace as long as I need.

These are the darkest times. I don’t talk about them with anyone, in fact this is probably the first time I have admitted to having them. I think about the end too often during this time, I WANT it to end. Want to know what keeps me here? Here is my truth, I lost my mother to her own version of Ileana. The article above talks about surviving for just one more day. We have made it this far, just breathe for one more day. What keeps me surviving one more day is my mother. I lost her when I was very young, somewhere around 6-7 yrs old. My mother, for me is the anti-Ileana. One day I will not need either of them, one day I will be able to breathe on my own and slay my demons alone. One day, the darkness and Ileana will not seem so inviting. She won’t be as beautiful, and I will be free.

The road to recovery from any traumatic situation is a long one. I can’t remember how Ileana came to me, or when. I feel like she may have come the day my mother died. I think the first step in MY recovery is acknowledging Ileana, naming her, introducing her to my friends and family, maybe even strangers because I have finally realized we all have our very own version of depression. That seems to be one of the biggest and most complicated parts of this stupid mental illness, it is different for everyone who has it. Rarely do two people experience it the same way. Sometimes, the going does get tough and all I want to do is languish in my own hell for awhile. However, I think the biggest show of strength is getting up and facing another day. Don’t think for one moment it isn’t hard and unfair and so unfun, it is all of those things. There is nothing fun, fair or easy about crying for no reason, but the fact is I do it. Constantly. And I know I am not the only one. Let this be me giving you and I permission to cry.

I feel like I could go on and on, but I will leave with this last thought. Life is forever changing. Things that effect us in any way one day, may effect us differently the next day. Something that wasn’t a trigger last month, may set you off this month. You and I may want to lay in bed for a whole day, and we may not even need to cry. All of this is okay, none of it is failure. We are not failures or broken or too damaged because we hurt. Me sharing MY story and MY feelings is all about reminding myself of just that. We are NOT alone. ❤