Anxiety is something I live with everyday, but I don't let it run my life or this blog...but sometimes I need to get it out.
Today our two year anniversary. Today is also the day I made our first marriage counseling appointment.
No one puts on their wedding dress and thinks, ‘In two years from today, I am going to be making an appointment for counseling.’
No one expects the “Happy Anniversary” email to be followed up with an email for a therapists.
I know, I’m suppose to be happy today. This day is suppose to mean something, be an accomplishment. It just feels sort of hollow. And this is where I pep talk myself into saying, “this is a journey and it’s a rough one and you have to work for it and life is hard…’ and all the other stereotypical expressions that have stuck to the wall all these years.
Thinking back to my first marriage and the final days of excepting the fact that it wasn’t going to work was the same phrase running over and over, “I’m going to be ‘divorced’. My kids are going to come from a ‘broken home’. My kids were going to say, “our parents are divorced.” and all those words felt so dirty and the thought of them saying them broke my heart into a billion pieces.
When I finally excepted the fact that I was going to ‘re-marry’, another ‘bad word’ in my vocabulary, I guess I figured it was going to be ‘right’. I mean, if I screwed up the first one so badly, maybe it wasn’t meant to be and the grand plan, big picture of things this one was my do-over and because I had walked through the fire and survived it, this one was going to be easy and right.
God, I am so young and naive. I figured people that got married the second time around really had all the answers and that marriage would last forever. Then of course you hear about second marriage ending and you rationalize those; ‘got married to soon.’, ‘got married for the wrong reason.’, ‘too much baggage’… they are damaged and should stay single then.
Yes, again…young, naive and let’s add stupid to the mix.
Are there people out there that don’t live in their head all the time? Do people not sit and get so twisted in the responsibility of being themselves that they want to vomit?
You know those commercials for like, Tide or Bounce when they have the white sheets hanging on the line and the wind is blowing through them and there is that woman standing in the middle? She’s probably wearing white capri’s and a bright yellow shirt. She’s a perfect size 10 and she’s holding up her arms and spinning around in circles with a big smile on her face?
To understand what it’s like to be in my head take that scene, make the woman not so svelte, hair in a pony tail, voices of children yelling at dogs and each other and instead of standing there spinning with a smile on her face, she’s caught in the sheets and thrashing around. She knows in order to be able to get out she’s going to have to slowly unwind from the sheets, but the more she turns and pulls, the more one sheet overlaps with another. At the end of the day, when the sun has gone down and instead of the sheets nicely folded in a wicker basket by the door… The backyard is a cold mess of sheets, dog prints and a very exhausted woman still caught in there somewhere…sobbing.
And why did I stop taking medication?
I’ve now got to call my ex-husband and tell him to quit telling the children about our finances because Shea came in and informed me that Dad should get a break on child support because he has them more than when the court ordered. SHE IS TEN.
“No one said it would be easy, but no one said it would be this hard “- Sheryl Crow
This week Stuff Portrait Friday is Hero. I had several days to think on it and as the hours came down to minutes, I realized that if you have been reading this blog for anytime, you know who my heroes are.
1. My Mother: You know that saying, “you’ve come a long way,baby.”? I’m pretty sure that was made up for her. Her road isn’t a road I would wish on anyone. I wish over and over she could see how proud of her that I am. To see her at rock bottom and not only pull herself up, but bring those around up with her is awesome.
2. My sister: I get googled, kid you not, EVERY SINGLE DAY for this entry. I’m not sure if someone just likes reading it, or if there are people out there that are writing letters to their sisters and need a little help. I’m pretty sure they can’t say the same things about their sister as I can say about mine. She’s special. I’m her only sister and she makes sure that means something.
3. Martin Luther King Jr.: His words. My world changed when I began reading his words. The way he looked at people and their actions made all the sense in the world to me. How could we not all live in THAT world he describes with such passion? To live your life with drive and ambition for GOOD and love.
These are the people you know are my heroes.
There are other people in my life that are too. My brother, Barry. (dorky one in the back) My brother, Jerry (dorky one to my right) and my dorky brother, Michael (not in picture) and the people that love them. Today my brother Michael turns 41. To me, he’s still 10. He’s still that mean ass brother that picked on me and also made sure that my first day of school I wasn’t crying the whole time. He would peak through the window of my class on his recess break to make sure I was okay. My husbands; Ex and Current. Shit, they put up with me. Do you know how much restraint that must take them?
My friends; Really, come on…you think you have to hear me bitch? You get the Cambells soup version of what they have to hear. My husband’s ex-wife; We take turns being the evil one. I think today was my day. Sorry, Tabitha. Old friends that no matter what I did or said to them STILL love me. You have no idea what your forgiveness means to me.
So who’s my hero? Me.
It’s who all those people that I love SO much and look up to would want me to call my hero. Myself.
It’s who I want my daughters to call their hero. Themselves.
Noooooo, they certainly didn’t have it as bad as that group of people in the picture that share a last name. NOT EVEN CLOSE. If not getting to go on the ‘East Coast Trip’ or getting your cell phone taken away is as bad as it gets, count yourself lucky.
I’m a survivor. I didn’t do it alone. I’ve had hundreds of hands (my family…and YOURS) pick me up and dust me off. At the end of the day, I have to live this life the best way I know how. I think I might be doing okay.
Now, I am going to force myself to go to sleep because tomorrow I am going with Dan and the kids to Redding to watch my step son in his last play of his high school career. Ryan hasn’t been my ‘official’ step son for the last 8 years, but that doesn’t change my love for him and how I will always support him in no matter what he does in life. It also means I will need to take about 6 xanax to be able to sit with his mother who thinks I am satan in a pair of flip flops.
So, who’s your hero? You picked me huh? Yeah…I thought so. DID YOU PLAY???
There is this song by Alanis Morisette that I heard one night while sitting in my garage trying to piece together what was left of my sanity.
Every time I hear the song, I remember that moment in time (2003) and how confused and scared I was. The song actually allowed me to get up and move again.
I have been wanting to post it and give what I am ’thankful’ for.
how bout getting off these antibiotics
For me, this meant…there were things I was trying to do to ’heal’ myself and it was all the wrong things.
how bout stopping eating when I’m full up
Or how about stopping eating before I am so full I am sick.
how bout them transparent dangling carrots
I kept doing things, thinking that if I did it thier way, everyone would be happy. I kept falling for that trick. I still do.
how bout that ever elusive kudo
How many times do I have to keep doing those same things thinking people will notice and say, “Wow Kristine, great job.” No matter what it was, personal or business.
thank you india
thank you terror
Remember to be prepared.
thank you disillusionment
Nothing is what it seems. NOTHING.
thank you frailty
I too can get hurt.
thank you consequence
Do unto others and you would have done unto you.
thank you thank you silence
These moments alone in my garage is exactly what I need.
how bout me not blaming you for everything
It’s not all your fault. I take blame.
how bout me enjoying the moment for once
The next moment when I get up and leave is always what was I was thinking, with anyone.
how bout how good it feels to finally forgive you
We couldn’t be where we are today if I didn’t.
how bout grieving it all one at a time
I was spending days, months and years grieving for something that didn’t need to be grieved for anymore.
thank you india
It’s okay to dance, chant and sing for no reason.
thank you terror
Be grateful for the safety you have RIGHT NOW.
thank you disillusionment
My parents had their own problems, they weren’t mine. They weren’t my fault.
thank you frailty
Being knocked down makes you look at being able to stand on your feet in a whole new light.
thank you consequence
There is a bed and you will make it and you will ’lie’ in it.
thank you thank you silence
Don’t talk, just listen.
the moment I let go of it was the moment
I got more than I could handle
the moment I jumped off of it
was the moment I touched down
This was the part that reached in and shook me. I knew I was holding on to something bigger than I was. If I could just get past that and let go, I would be given something healthy to replace it.
Being able to ’jump off of it’ allowed me to open up to not being in control of the situation and that allowed me to feel like I was standing on my own two feet.
how bout no longer being masochistic
I beat the living shit out of myself, mentally.
how bout remembering your divinity
Find that little girl who could talk to God and listen back.
how bout unabashedly bawling your eyes out
Yes, hearing this let me know that it was okay to just let it out for no reason.
how bout not equating death with stopping (i heard starving)
The use of words here. How often do we say ’starving’ and there is a chance that no one will ever know what it truly means to ’starve’ even close to death. Show respect with the words you use.
What a strange time in my life. I am so grateful to have this memory so vivid. It’s a reminder of who I am and how I got ’here’.
I no longer have dangling carrots. I am working on the other ones…
You know when you say, “How can it get any worse?” DON’T.
I’m going to leave out the doozies of why today sucked kiwis…because I can’t even talk about it without wanting to vomit.
Mortgage/lender company: I googled them. OMG…everything I am going through has been a complaint by someone else going all the way back to 2005! I counted 18 people that had the same problem before I had to stop reading.
Copyright: Somehow the copyright thing on this blog got mixed up with someone else. So that means the guy who designed this site isn’t getting credit. It was the people who the copyright it SAYS on here emailed me and said, ‘this isn’t ours’. Now I am at a loss to find the original designer. I googled the hell out of the name of the template and can’t find it. I remember going through hundreds of templates and pages before I found one that worked and it will take me a life time to try to remember what I googled to find it in the first place. Anyone know? I hate using a template that is owned by someone else and them not having credit for it. It sickens me.
SHE found ME!! I was so happy! After about 2 hours of talking, I made a great new friend! Anyone that has a wordpress theme and you want to spruce that sucker up (yes, I mean you!) PLEASE go check out her site: http://bloggingzone.info/
She’s just starting out and needs her name on YOUR blog. You really should try one of her templates. If you need help, I will do my best to help you! Of course, I screwed something up and she’s helping me fix it. She’s super nice, helpful, kind…and REAL. And helllllloooo the talent she has.
Tomorrow we should have the REAL link to her site on my blog…and possibly a button if I can sweet talk her.
Even if you’re not looking for a wordpress theme…go check her out.
I wrote an email to my sister that contained somewhere between 20 to 30 cuss words. Each one of those cuss words starting with “F” and ending in ‘ING’ or ‘ED’ or ‘ER’.
I hit send at around 7 am; meaning I had to get THAT worked up before 7 F*ing AM!
Come here, Phillip Morris…hold me.
After a phone call from my mortgage company informing me YET AGAIN they have screwed up my loan modification, Shaun insisted that I wasn’t going to crawl under the covers and cry like a baby.
It’s been four months of hell dealing with this company. I started out indignant that I was right and they were wrong. Then the letters saying, “Yo, chick…we own you…bend over and take it and like it.” I decided that I better just buy the bottle of KY and let it begin. After fire and hoops we came to an agreement. For the last month I have finally felt like things were on the right track. I spoke the lady that was the head honcho in charge of the deal. She said, “Whoops, we messed up. No worries, we will fix this.”
I then get a call a few days later from another guy saying, “No way, Jose chicky poo. You gotsta pay us MORE now. You didn’t fill out the paper work and send it to us.”
This is where I stop dead in my tracks and said, “Are you fucking kidding me? You have my testicles in your hands and all I have to do is sign a paper and mail it back and you’ll release the jewels and my house doesn’t get foreclosed on and you THINK FOR A SECOND I DIDN’T MAIL THAT SHIT BACK!?”
The part about my testicles might have thrown him off a bit, but he checked the records and low and behold, I WAS RIGHT. I did mail it in.
Now today I get YET ANOTHER CALL saying, “Yeah, well that didn’t go through because of an installment that wasn’t made.”
I then had to go into great detail of all the fire and all the hoops I had to jump through for the last few months. She tells me, “Yeah, that didn’t go through…we are going to need to do this all over again.”
I couldn’t even cry. I felt like I had been kicked over and over and it didn’t matter how much mental distress this company had caused me in the past few months…because they had me by the balls. I know, I don’t have balls, but damn it, it sure feels like I do.
They say, “Jump” and I say, “How High?” and no matter how high it is, it’s just not good enough.
My stress level right now is through the roof. How I managed to walk out of the house and find a smile for Shaun to take a picture of, is beyond me.
Michelle sent me a necklace for my birthday, it says, “BREATHE” I had to keep reminding myself to do just that today. And tomorrow when they call me back, I will have to remember it again. And for all the phone calls they will keep making to me, BREATHE.
Do they make a necklace that says, “Bend over, the mortgage company is calling” ?? I need one of those too.
I love visiting my mom and sister. I hate the drive home. No matter who is with me or if I’m alone, I fall into this strange place between where I am now and where I was when I lost my mind.
What song was on the radio, I don’t remember, but it triggered the thought of ‘who was there for me and who wasn’t there for me’. When I thought of all the people that turned their backs on me when I ‘lost my mind’ it made me start to cry. Just typing those words makes my throat start to constrict.
When asked the question, “Do you hold grudges? Do you forgive?” I always say ‘yes’. I do too. I don’t like that weird feeling between me and another person if we aren’t getting along. I guess so much that I will forgive people for saying and doing things that aren’t acceptable. Sometimes without even confronting them about what they did to me. That is what I call ‘an elephant’ in the room. The thing is, the longer I go without saying anything, it’s less likely that I will actually approach the subject.
It was an overall sad feeling I had, HAVE, and I know it’s far too late to broach the subject with the people that hurt me. I’m not going to go digging up old bones now. Those words that were said and written, hurt me then…and continue to hurt me.
For those of you that know someone that is going through a hard patch in their lives, and you feel like they must be just ‘crazy’ or ‘losing their minds’ or ‘being stupid’…or just not doing what YOU think they should be — Leave Them Alone. If you don’t agree with their actions, there is no need for you to tell them that they are stupid, wrong, need help and give your advice YOU think they should do.
If you know someone who’s going through one of the hardest things in the world; ending a marriage or relationship, please be there for them to talk. You don’t have to agree with them. If that is just too much for you, that you CAN’T just be there without putting in your two cents, just leave them alone to deal with their problems.
There is no text book perfect way of leaving your husband. I had a friend once who went out and rented an apartment, furnished it and moved her husband out. She went to the store and got all the things he would need; blender, cooking utensils and all that. When he came home she handed him the keys and gave him the apartment number.
Did he hurt any less? No, probably not.
Mine wasn’t as clean. It was the typical movie storyline. A really bad movie storyline.
Either way, it doesn’t matter how people go about ruining their lives, following their bliss, whatever you want to call it…they shouldn’t be judged.
I’m guilty of being the judge too. Looking back, it makes me SICK of the way I judged people. SICK. People say that they don’t have regrets. I do. It’s those times when I thought I had the right to say, ‘that’s wrong and i’m better than that.’.
Today I am sorting through all the emotions. I want to be angry and mad today about what happened to me. What I allowed other people to do to me. I want to hear, “You know what, I AM SORRY for what I said to you, what I wrote about you. It wasn’t true.”
Because it wasn’t true.
Since I went off the medication I hardly talk about what I have been going through with it. I keep telling myself every single day that I am alright. Everything is going to be alright. Much of what is going through my mind can be negotiated. Especially the attacks that use to rule my life. Telling myself that I am managing it, seems to make it sound like I am more in control of it.
I am blue though.
Blue sounds so much better than frustrated, overwhelmed, annoyed, depressed, and just plain ‘what the f*ck ever’
Ever wish you were rich and had a winter/summer cabin in the woods where you can go and it’s nice and quiet and it’s too far out so people can’t just pop in? You can go into your kitchen and know everything is right where you left it. You won’t open the cupboard and find THIS.
I don’t want this anymore. Why can’t people take me seriously?
Shaun watched over my shoulder as I changed my layout again.
“Why that picture?” he asked.
“It’s how I feel.”
All I can say, is that is how I am feeling right now.
Saying that I am ‘depressed’ isn’t easy for me. It’s taken me a long time to admit that I had anxiety. I think it’s going to be harder to admit that I have ‘depression’.
Tyler and I have been battling through this cough and cold. Yesterday when he got home from school we were both coughing. It was funny at first because I would cough, and then he would cough. For awhile I thought we were having a ‘coughing war’. Later that night I could hear him coughing in the living room and I was in the bedroom coughing.
Today I asked him if his neck was hurting. He told me no and I explained to him that my neck was in so much pain. He said to me, “Well, maybe it’s because your down..like..forever.”
You know that commercial where it says, “Who does depression hurt? Everyone.”? Yeah…He sees it and doesn’t know how to confront me about it.
Kara leaves me text messages telling me she loves me. Alyx crawls in bed with me and cuddles, trying to find a place in my world that she can connect with me.
And now I am going to say it; I need help. I need support. I can’t do this alone.
The battle with anxiety is at bay. The control I have over it is manageable and knowing I can go into a situation I wouldn’t normally be able to handle is a feeling I can’t explain. It’s not gone, but damn it…I got a grip.
This new thing; the feeling of despair and sadness is indescribable. If you have it, you could probably put it to words better than I can.
My dearest, sweetest, most loving husband…you can’t fix this. I know that is the most horrible thing to say to someone who spends 18 hours of his day making sure that at the end of the day, things are resolved or in the process of being fixed.
I swear, I believe there isn’t anything you can’t make all better because you are the voice of reason, everyone’s rock and the first person people come to when they need advice.
Just start with listening when I need talk. Don’t talk. Just listen.
When I say, “PINEAPPLE” just know it’s time to call the doctor and figure out what they can do STAT.
Until then, everyone just bear with me.
Back to the list of words. I’ve been stuck on Anxiety. You would think I would have a 5000 word essay on anxiety, but honestly, I’m so tired of it. I am tired of saying it. I’m tired of hearing it. I’m tired of having it.
I called the head doctor about it. “up the dosage.” I don’t WANT to up the dosage, I want to OFF the dosage. You would think they would remember that.
I went to the other doctor. She said, “You’re 35. Things are changing.” Why did that sound like a death sentence? I’ve always embraced my age. Now all the sudden it’s the kiss of death for my emotional stability?
I’ve got better things to write about. Like…like…*throwing hands up in the air* Maybe not. Maybe all the news I have for you today is that I got my coochie exam and my breasts fondled.
And that is all.