Posts Tagged ‘anxiety’

I’m really slacking on keeping a journal (via blogging) to help with my anxiety.   Since I was down for the count for that week, and I feel better in that regard, it’s hard to take time to write about things when I don’t feel “bad.”  I don’t feel it creeping up, but there are times that I think to myself that I need to get something out of my head.  That alone is progress.  I don’t normally have rational thoughts about my feelings, I tend to just hold them in and make do, or portray that I’m making do.

In the last 2 days it’s hard not to feel like I’m slacking more because I was the one that prodded encouraged D to start blogging to help him get things on paper and allow him to sort through the things he kept going over in his head about B.  Needless to say, it’s been 48 hours since he started typing, and as I type this, he’s on his 8th blog post.  Talk about overachieving.  I’m kidding, he needs this, and we need this.  He needs it so he can allow things to come out of his head so he can work, sleep, eat and be functional.  The last week at our house was rough on all those things.  We need it because it’s allowing him to let things out and know that I encourage these thoughts and feelings because it’s good for him.  It’s also allowing him to work through things better when he sees it on “paper” because he knows he can come back and think about it whenever, so it’s not something he has to dwell on.

I’m off track, as awesome as he is, this was about me!  Settle in, you know I type a lot.

We have been talking for a few months, and D and I were both raised in private/Christian school, so we both agree that it would be a great opportunity for J.  We had found one school, through a neighbor that taught there, and to make the long story short, J’s dad shot that down because they aren’t accredited (which isn’t as important as most people think), and they aren’t doing 8th grade next year anyway.  So, we were fairly resolved to sending her back to her school and trying to find a private one for high school.  Last week while driving to Lowe’s hardware (an anxious time for me), we passed a small church about a mile from our house, and they had just put up a banner announcing sign ups for their private school!  We wrote down the website on the way home and I immediately went to it, read all about it, and the next day called and made an appointment for us to go talk with the administrators.   J got home last Thursday, and we told her about it, she was thrilled…ok, I’m lying.  She didn’t really care, her first questions were “what about my friends, do they have uniforms, how many boys go there?”  Once we told her to hush answered her valid questions she was content to go to the appointment (mostly because school is 4 days a week).

Now, we have all read about my anxiety (and if not click the “anxiety” category over here ——>), and we all know that it just comes when it wants.  After the Lowe’s trip last week, D made the statement that he has general anxiety (he has “off days” where he feels off balance and on edge), and I have situational anxiety (once I’m removed from the place/situation/emotion – I’m totally fine).  I don’t know which one is worse.  Most of his days he’s absolutely fine, I’m actually jealous that he can get in the car and go somewhere alone, without a second thought.  However he endures an entire day/days where he just feels like ass.  I am generally fine, at home, at friends houses, in public places that are easy to get out of.  If we go to a new place, or a big (Walmart, Lowe’s, mall) I am a hot mess sometimes DAYS before we go.  If I know we have to go to Lowes this weekend to get something, I think about it for days, and work myself into this panic.  Then I get there and I’m on autopilot waiting for the ok that we’ve done what we had to and we can go, and once we are done at checkout, and don’t HAVE to be there, I could literally walk around the entire store.  Stupid.  He’s calm cucumber through all this.  We are totally made for each other.

I’m getting closer to my point of this post…stay with me.

So, meeting with school people, Tuesday.  I have a full 5 days notice here…and not once was I anxious about it.  I know it’s a small church (no problem), it’s closed, we are meeting 1-3 people, not a huge crowd.  I’m thinking we’re going to talk for 5-10 minutes, get the packet and hit the road.  A psychic I am not.  For the last week, with the B deal we have been laying down for a few hours at night and closing our eyes.  Literally…we haven’t slept.  So, by Tuesday we’re both just a mess of tired.  J had her friend spend the night, so we have an extra in tow, which is good, it keeps J busy.

I’m going to tell the rest of this story as it happened, so you can experience what I was feeling (kinda).  People often don’t “get” what a panic attack is, yes, it’s in my head, but it’s very real.  We get up and I haven’t once had a bad feeling about this meeting so far.  I move around, and eat some late breakfast. I always eat before we head out, because I know I get jittery and feel “off” and I don’t want to have low blood sugar because it makes me more cranky and have more things to worry about – so eating helps curb that one bad thought pattern, I also go to the restroom before leaving the house because I hate public ones and it’s just something else that keeps me IN somewhere if I want to bolt. (Yes, it’s stupid) We head out at 12:45, to be there by 1.  I’m thinking in the car that I’m ok, there is no need to worry, nothing big is going on, say a prayer for calm. Park the car, and we head in the side door to find that there is a table, and another appointment going on, one lady comes out, says hi and says “we’re almost done, please have a seat and we’ll be right with you.”  OH CRAP, waiting, sitting to talk, I wanna go NOW, we’ll just say, we have something to get to and we were just coming by for information and we’ll call you later (Yes, I have lied to leave somewhere) We go to the vestibule and J and her friend sit on a bench and me and D sit on the other, it’s the one day so far this year that the heat index is 105, and the church is closed, and didn’t really leave the air on high, so it’s cooler, but HOT with the huge windows.  D is hot, I am hot…I am also now clenching my fists and fidgeting, both my pre-flight coping mechs.  I take a sip of water, which, I always have a drink (it distracts me, but with the bathroom thing I’m thinking it’s a dumb idea now).  D plays with his phone, J and her friend are laughing and being girls.  I’m not really listening. You know the sound of a muffled things when you are waking up or going to sleep…that’s what I’m hearing.  I just block things out instead of focusing on them, because listening to them makes me feel like telling everyone to stop making noise and CHILL OUT.  It’s really me that just needs to chill, so I block it.  I tell D, I’m not comfortable, and I wanna go.  He says “you’re fine” and holds my hand.  The lady comes out and says “we’re ready” (it’s been maybe 5 minute since we walked in).  J and her friend go waltzing in like it’s the J show, and D gets up, and I get up Stomach turning, eyes watering, heart racing and turn toward the big window and say “I can’t.” He says, “yes you can” and I look back and him with tears streaming and say “I can’t go in.”  Running seems like a good idea right now, straight out the door in front of me and to the car…not home, just OUT OF HERE.  Stop, pray, you’re in church. I’m about to have to sit and talk to people I don’t know, for God knows how long and I can’t just leave because I need this information, J is in there, these people are going to think I’m crazy.  Why am I crying?  I don’t cry? He can go in by himself and get the info while I regroup in the car.  D says “ok, just let me tell them it’ll be a minute.” I’m crying still, trying to stop, and figure out what my issue is. He returns, puts his hands on my shoulders from behind me and says “what can I do?”  I HAVE NO IDEA!!!!!!!!!!! GET ME OUT OF HERE? I tell him that I don’t know and that I don’t even know what my problem is.  He says to breathe and chill out, and that I’m ok.  I’m mad that I am crying, it’ll give me a headache and make me feel lightheaded, which adds to my biggest fear – fainting in public.  Why?  I picture people stepping over me looking down going “what the hell is her problem?” Totally unwarranted…yet still very much my thoughts.  Less than 1 minute has passed since my freak out, but to me it feels like 10 minutes.  I tell him that I need a tissue and then we’ll go in.  So I head to the bathroom and dry it up, and walk out, and he’s in the room sitting and saved me the chair by the door…my baby knows me.  At this point I don’t know if he’s told them, or if they just thought we were talking, or if they think I was on a phone call.  Knowing I look like I’ve been crying, I walk in, sit, and they are all nice and look at me and I just say “I’m sorry, I have an anxiety issue and had a small freak out…” Waiting for the WTF/she’s crazy looks…nothing.  One of them says “oh dear, are you ok? It’s fine, we understand.” Wow, nothing more?  No, really, this is a GREAT thing. I’ve told them my issue and now if I freak out again they’ll get it.  I then said if I have another moment I’ll handle it and be back and they should carry on.  We start the meeting, and maybe 2 times in the 15 minutes I thought “Oh crap, get me out,” but it passed quickly.  D is a talker…when we are in public it REALLY puts me on edge, this time it was fine.  We had the meeting, it went well, we were both very happy with the school, and J seems to be ok with it.  We’re still praying and waiting to be sure of things.



As for the freak out…I don’t know what it was.  I mentioned to a friend that maybe this school is where J needs to be and where we needed to be and Satan didn’t like it.  I’m very easy to attack in moments like those.  Yes, we were in a church, and yes, I prayed before, and during, and after, but when there is the opening for fear and things are as severe as they are with my panic I think it’s very possible.  I don’t know what that says about me, I feel that I am a strong Christian and I’m very close to God, and I know that those are the ones that are attacked the most because it’s a huge game to him.  Some might argue that Satan can’t be present in church, I’d agree, and no I don’t feel he is “in me,” but I do think that thoughts are placed to come up at the most opportune/worst times when he needs them to work the most.

Bottom line is, I made it.  I didn’t run, I didn’t bolt, I didn’t faint, didn’t make a fool of myself, I really don’t even think those ladies noticed.  I did close the meeting letting them know that if we had something like a meeting or something and they saw me hanging out acting weird, gimme a minute and I’d be just fine.  D has proven time and time again that he can fully handle my issues.  He is the perfect balance of letting me freak out and being supportive, and not letting me give up or knowing when I’ve had enough and need to be removed.  So, for the millionth time, I’m thankful for my amazing husband, and happy that he and God helped me prove to myself that I don’t have to bolt…every time.

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Disclaimer: The following is part of my “getting things out of my head and on paper” to help with what I’m going through.  Depression, anxiety and an overall feeling of not giving a crap are serious, they are more common than even I realized, and if you are in need of someone to talk to, or you find yourself unable to voice how you feel, please get help.  I am only sharing my thoughts and feelings and this is not meant as a “works for everyone” post.  I had no idea until I shared a prayer request with about 15 friends that anyone else felt like I do, or had felt it, or had been treated or was in treatment for it.  Out of 15 people I know, 12 of them separately responded with their own stories.  I was humbled, comforted and saddened that of these women I had no idea that this was a common issue.  I am sad for everyone who feels alone, and clueless and like no one understands.  Please speak up, and be heard, you are not alone.

After a rough month, I’m here, still breathing, still wondering what happened, and how to get past where I still am.  I’m not a whiner, but I am me, and I don’t like being “down” or unsure of myself.   I’m not even sure how I got to where I am.  Not talking about in life, but in looking into myself, it turns out where I am feeling wise, is a direct result of where I am life wise. Yes, I know that’s no epiphany and I haven’t discovered the new world, but when you are moving through life and trying to just “do” you often forget how it is you got to where you are until something makes you stop and recognize how well off…or not well off you truly are.

Two weeks ago I voiced to Big Daddy that I felt “blah.”  This was  the actual word I used.  I had no other description.  He had been dealing with me, making a few observations here and there about my “lack of giving a crap” or how I seemed like he was bugging me, or how I just seemed short with everyone.  I, of course, dismissed him and told him I was fine.  That’s always the answer you give…”hey, how are you?” “Fine, you?”  We never really answer that, because, as I’ve pointed out before “No one wants to hear your whining.”  After writing a post like that how am I supposed to be taken seriously if I’m whining about something I can’t even describe.  So, you just grin (or stew in your own miserableness) and bear it.  Until you can’t.

The fear of…fear? *facepalm*

I’ve mentioned before that I have anxiety, to the degree that it interferes with normal life, however I’ve learned to live with that, as uncomfortable as it is sometimes.  I’ve also recently learned that it makes other people way more uncomfortable than it makes me…but I’ll skip that for now.  Back to the story.  I had been feeling just off, like not me, no “joy,” struggling to get out of bed, or care about anything.  Conversations in the weeks leading up to my doctor visit last Monday went like this:

D – So what do you want for dinner?  Do you want to cook, or want me to make something?

Me – I don’t know.

D – Ok, well just tell me, I’m ok either way.

Me – (looking up from whatever I was mindlessly doing) I really don’t know, and I can’t make a decision.

I kid you not those exact words were my answer for everything.  Dinner, bed, what movie to watch, if we were going to go to the store, anything…it sucked.  I’m sure it sucked more for D.  So, after about 3 weeks of feeling like crud, I told D I needed to go to my doctor and get some help.   This was a huge step for me.  Some would think that I finally have realized how “bad off” I am (in reference to my anxiety), but in reality the huge step was admitting that I was unhappy.

You see, when you have been unhappy for years, you learn to pretend to be happy, and find the happiness around you.   I’ve mentioned how much I’ve changed over the years, from speaking my mind and not giving a crap, to eloquently expressing my disagreement with others and doing it with a loving, helpful heart, rather than a mean spirit.  What I didn’t realize was that in trying to see the good in life, as much as it sucked at the time, I’ve been taking on more than I could.  I’ve brought myself to this point.  In not expressing what is going through my mind, I’ve kept it only to myself.  By not wanting to put myself through the arguments/stress/pain of feeling what it is I don’t like, or don’t want to deal with from other people, I’ve taken it upon myself to stew about it, and push it to the back and just move on.  That’s how I deal (or don’t deal) with everything.  Move on.  It’s not going to help to cry, whine, be upset, yell, or anything else, so why do it?  Just move on.  Only it’s not that easy.  I take that back, it’s easy…it just comes back with a vengeance one day.  That day was last Monday.

We showed up at the doctor, I sat on the table and felt both relief and emotion finally about my state of mind.  I’ve never been “depressed” so I honestly had no clue what it felt like.  I can say now, after the last week, that I don’t think I was “depressed” – I think I was having a bad month and don’t know enough about how to handle things where I am now in life.  I’m not in the same place, relationship or mindset to deal with “life” as I have been previously.  I’ve always had no choice but to move on, so it would make sense that it’s my go to solution.  Only, I’m different now.  One and a half years with a good man will do that to a girl.  Back to the doc…more on Big Daddy’s amazingness (new word) in a moment.  So, on the table, I tell the doc that I think I’m depressed, I review my “odd” anxiety issues, spill my guts about mom, my divorce, moving, explain that I have no clue WHY I would be depressed since there is nothing major going on in my life and everything is pretty smooth sailing aside from normal daily crap.  I have no clue what my problem is, but I don’t give a crap about anything, and I’m snippy, and I don’t like to do anything I normally like to do.  He suggests exercise, therapy/counseling, and journaling.  I let him know that I’m game for all that, but I’m to the point (at that time) that I needed MORE help.  This is huge, Melissa doesn’t do medicine.  I don’t like pills, I chew them, can’t swallow them, prefer liquid, and prefer not to take medicine at all.  However, this is how bad I felt.  So, he decides on a good option that should help with the depression AND the anxiety.  We’re good to go…I feel better already, kinda.

We leave, head home to wait for J to get off the bus, and I do as I always do and start looking up the meds and side effects.  I know better, but I always do it anyways.  I’m allergic to 5 antibiotics and 2 other kinds of medicine, to the point that I’ve had to have epinephrine.  So, I always check things out.  Let me just say, when you are anxious…you should not do this.  It does nothing for your anxiety.  To be anxious to take anxiety medicine is both funny, and sad…more funny (but not when it’s you).  Ok, so as I’m sitting here looking at what all can happen to me (which is crazy since I take migraine medicine and one of the possible side effects is migraines – DOH!), I begin to tell D that I’m not sure I want to take the meds.  He tells me to stop it, and I’ll be fine, to which I start naming the things I’m reading and explaining that it’s not just ONE person with the same problem.  He then looks serious and says “so do you want to take the meds or not?  Are we going to get them or are you just going to sit here and read about it?”  Poor D, he had no idea that this was not the time for tough love…cut to me, on the couch, tears streaming, balled up, a hot mess.  I couldn’t answer (which is why we we’re in this place), I didn’t know, couldn’t decide, couldn’t even argue my point, it was bottom, rock bottom.  He came and held me, and for probably the third time since we’ve been married (in a year and a month) I cried…hard, sup-supping, runny nose, make-up running, can’t stop, crying.  I think he felt more bad than he did happy that I was actually letting something out.  It felt good, but then I had a headache and stuffy nose, and I was no further to figuring out what I wanted, so that pissed me off.  We’ve discussed, I’m not a cryer, which tells you more of where I was that day.  So, he held me till I couldn’t breathe due to the stuffy nose, we got up, he made the executive decision and we got the meds.

Monday night, took a pill – not too bad, went to sleep, slept like a baby (I hadn’t for weeks), woke up and felt like I had a hangover.

Tuesday – all day, dizzy – even sitting still, moving my eyes fast was an issue, no appetite, I ate applesauce, cheerios and soup, and I had to MAKE myself eat that.  I had no desire to eat anything, nothing sounded good, there was zero appetite (had I been trying to lose weight this drug would have done it).  I spent all of Tuesday in a ball on the couch, by Tuesday night, I could not walk myself to the restroom 10 steps away from the couch.  I also had 1 anxiety attack.  Slept like crap, woke up with my heart racing and noticed that I was asleep and normally I’d wake up freaking out, but I simply woke up enough to notice my heart racing and went back to sleep.  It was nice, however with the other side effects, it wasn’t worth it.

Wednesday – day 2 of the same, couldn’t move myself, couldn’t eat, couldn’t talk/didn’t want to because it took effort.  Slept off and on all day.  Not feeling like myself, not even feeling anything.  Dizzy – SO dizzy.  Feel more off than I did, but no anxiety, hell I didn’t have the energy to be anxious about anything.  Wednesday night D decided I should drop down dose and see if it was just too high…skipped Wed night dose.  Slept finally, woke myself up 3 times jerking my arm or leg around, had VERY vivid dreams, colors, conversations, smells – kinda cool, but not worth it.

Thursday – feel like eating finally!  Took the morning dose and we ventured out of the house but I was still dizzy and not feeling well and then the meds from the morning dose kicked in.  D got a call from the doc and was told that I needed to stay on the meds because “my reaction was totally normal.”  He disagreed and informed the nurse that I had not eaten and couldn’t get myself to the restroom…she then said “oh, that’s not normal.”  Duh.  I was advised to cut the dose (which we had already done).  On Thursday night I didn’t take the dose, we planned to call my normal doc and see what he had to say.

Friday morning – FINALLY, I can eat, go pee by myself, laugh, I even knitted (which made me dizzy, but it was nice to WANT to).  Doc called and wanted to switch me to another med.  I am not a fan of this. This is now a conversation D and I are disagreeing on because he thinks I still need something.

Let me say this – as far as my experience goes, you don’t realize how much you actually feel ok, until you feel like complete shit.  If the tagline/description of this medicine had read “Feeling down? Think your life sucks?  Want to know what uncomfortable is?  Boy, have we got a pill for you!”  I truly feel like I had no clue what miserable was until I took that medicine.  I know, you aren’t supposed to stop meds, change meds, everything works differently for everyone, etc, etc.  I am completely happy knowing that I tried something, I’m also more content knowing that I was healthy, and probably not happy, but I was healthy, and for 4 days felt like I was roadkill, and would have given anything to just walk myself to the kitchen and eat.  So, with that said, I think the meds worked.

I am not a painter (so I can’t paint a picture of how I feel now), but in one week, my attitude, and spirit have changed tremendously.   I never felt that I was depressed enough to need medicine all the time for depression, and I now know I wasn’t.  I may have been down, but I think we all get that way sometimes.  Some of us are more used to it, some of us shop, cry, talk, journal, fight, eat ice cream, shop…we all deal differently.

My deal – as I mentioned, was always to move on.  Unfortunately, as I mentioned, that won’t work anymore.  It’s impossible to move on when there is no where better to move to.  I am not the person I was when I came to NC.  I had been pushed to a place, through a previous relationship, life, and my own actions of how I don’t deal, where it was best to not deal, as it didn’t help anyways.  It was my own fault for being where I was, but it was the best way to keep happy and function, pretend.  It worked for a while, and I made it to where I am because of how I’ve handled life before D.  Each chapter in life deserves it’s own care and rules, and I have been living this chapter as I’ve lived the rest.  Only it’s not working anymore.

This weekend D and I had a 3 hour conversation about the meds, my anxiety, our lives together, our love, and our plan for the future.  Out of all the things I’ve felt in the last few weeks, the outcome has been that we are closer, more understanding of where the other is, and more resolved than ever to get me (and us) through this.  In trying to be a “good wife” I try to keep some things to myself, dealing with ex’s, kids, etc.  We talk, D knows everything about who’s saying what, but I tend to show my disdain for someone’s point of view and say how “stupid” it is and then just leave it.  He handles lots of things for me, because we both know how mad I get, and how in my quest to be grown up and not tell people off like I used to, I don’t want to be spouting off at the mouth, when I should just shut up and let people dig their own holes – which they always do. (That was a run-on sentence)  D has stepped up and taken on things that I would have normally handled alone, he’s been here to say “I’ve got this” – which is nice, and different.  It allows me to still stew, silently, or tell him what I think and saves me that “bad girl” image of replying to emails with “You suck, go screw yourself.”  (Only I’d say it much more colorful)

We’ve come up with these lessons from what’s going on.

  1. I would not be here, physically, in NC, if I didn’t have my anxiety issues.  We would not be together if I was not who I am, or who I’ve been for the last 8-9 years (it took years to get this good messed up).  We are both ecstatic that we are together, and no matter how crazy some things are, God has a plan, and so far, even when we had no clue what was going on, He did.  We’ve made it through 3 kids, a grandkid, moving, 2 ex’s (with custody issues), a new car, changing jobs, learning all about each other, and loving each other.  Had ANY of our circumstances or our personalities not been where they were, we would not be here.  My anxiety has been a curse, and the silver lining is that we have been given an entire year to get to know each other.  We have spent 24 hours together since we were married.  There is nothing I don’t know about him, and he knows all about me.  I know couples that couldn’t say that and they’ve been married for years.
  2. I am finally in a place in life (that is new to me) where I don’t have to pretend.  Life is good.  We are healthy, happy, cared for, financially sound (and getting better with hard work), we have great friends, family and above all I am more loved than I have ever been in my marriage.  I simply have not experienced this enough to know how to deal with feelings I’ve always had in life.  I’ve been down, and I would deal by focusing on something else and getting over it because I had to…I didn’t have the luxury of being “depressed.”  So, when the “honeymoon” endorphins have slacked off and we have settled in a year later to our life, it’s comforting and different, and I didn’t know how to deal.  How do you entertain yourself when there is nothing bad to focus on?  That is part of my problem, but it’s a good problem I think.

I still feel like there is something I can do, that I’m not, to help me move past upsetting feelings, but for me, medicine will not be one of them.  We are going to explore natural remedies, and counseling, and maybe just a better understanding that this is where I am in life, and there is a reason for everything.

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I’m going to use these as topics when I’m clueless but want to write.  I’m talking to myself again.

Casting on the first stiches and 3 rows of knitting on my first night.

If you’re on my FB you’ve seen my knitting album.  For those that aren’t on my FB, I started knitting on Dec 11…I remember it because it was the night of my Daughter-in-law(to be)’s birthday.  My Mother-in-law was knitting as she always does – she claims it relaxes her and gets rid of her nervous energy, so she makes dishcloths and scarves.  Anywho, I’m a sucker for crafty things, and new things, and I used to watch my mom crochet (I can crochet a chain!), so I picked up MIL’s extra needles and a ball of yarn and sat next to her and she showed me a few stitches.

Now that I look back on my first sample it looks awful!  My MIL said I would be surprised how much I learned just by doing that first project and being able to look back and see what I did wrong.

Getting used to the knit stitch (4 hours in).

The first few hours of doing this was NOT relaxing, not fun and did not make me feel crafty.  It takes patience, math skills, and the ability to multitask to truly get into knitting.  After that first night, I got the main stitch down and now can do it while talking, watching a movie, or a number of other things.  It has become my FAVORITE hobby out of scrapbooking, making jewelry, sewing and every other crafty thing I like to do.

Knitting is cheap, easy, non-messy, can travel, and keep you entertained when you wish to be otherwise entertained from life.  I am an anxious person, so to keep my focus OFF of waiting, being anxious or something I don’t want to be doing, knitting is a lifesaver.

All good things…I stopped on my sample after one day and I felt I had the stitch down.

I’ve shown J, my daughter how to do it, and she picked it up immediately, so we now have a common thread. (HA!)  I also have knitted 3 scarves, learned how to make a ribbed pattern, I’m working on cables and studying hats and socks for my next projects.
So, to answer the question, I can stay busy by knitting.  Even when it’s not snowing.  When the snow comes Monday night, I’ll be knitting, just like I am every other night.

On a side note, knitting relaxes me immensely now that I can do it without thought…which makes me much more pleasant to be around – I think.  At least I feel more relaxed, we’ll have to ask Big Daddy what he thinks.

Here are some of the “finished products” now that I know what I’m doing.

Big Daddy’s unfinished “manly, soft black” scarf – ran out of yarn, must get more!

My first scarf, in garter stitch (basic) pattern. This took 1 week.

MY scarf, 3rd one, ribbed pattern, very soft, took a week (but I was sick and didn’t do it often).

It’s really long so I can wrap it!

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I’m already behind on this.  So let’s not waste anymore time on pointing out what I hate about myself.  I swear, they aren’t playing with this “truth” crap.

Here’s the thoughts going through my head right now (I’m about to prove how ADD I am):

  • What do I hate about me
  • This is going to kill the self confidence I try to convey
  • My “I don’t give a crap what you think” attitude is gone
  • That Eminem picture D just showed me is hot
  • I hate the headache I’ve had for 4 days
  • I hate folding laundry (Thank God D folds it most of the time), I also hate putting it away…I bet he’s noticed
  • He’s amazing
  • I hate that I have lots of cute clothes and I usually end up in Pj’s or jeans
  • Shrek is perfect for Fiona
  • I hate that I just sat here after typing “I hate” and watched 5 minutes of Shrek

Alright.  I don’t really hate too much about myself.  I mean, yes, I whine about cellulite, of which I’m told I have none, but I know what it looks like and it’s creepin’ up on me.  I hate that I have black hair and the greys are taking over.  I hate that my skin is doing weird things that it’s never done before I lived in NC.  I hate that I am more “Roseanne” than “Rachel Ray/Martha Stewart/Betty Crocker.”  But those are all things that I just deal with, I’m not in a deep depression or trying to actively change those.  I’m also not a person that sits around thinking about what I hate about myself.  I’m more on the “this sucks” and then moving on track.  I also have the support of someone that dismisses my insecurities the moment they are voiced by telling me how crazy I am to even mention something like the dimple on my thigh…he loves everything about me, so there is no need for me to be down on myself.  I also have pretty good self esteem, and always have.

Which brings me to what I really do hate about myself.   It’s also going to be the first time I really have put it out there to people other than those that know me well.  So, here goes, I’m not perfect – and here’s why.


Don't be fooled...I'm not alone:)


When my mom passed away 3.5 years ago I was go, go, go, working, picking up kids, going to the hospital to be with mom, cooking dinner, and sleeping for 4 hours and getting up and doing it all over.  I did that for about a month.  The day she died, I got sick, double ear infection, bronchitis, and strep.  It was not fun.  I think I just ran myself into the ground because, she was the one in the hospital bed sick, and what right did I have to say I was tired, or I wasn’t feeling well, or I needed rest?  So, she was gone, and I lost my job because I took off an extra day to “grieve” which was actually a doctor ordered day because I was still sick.  That was the beginning of my finding a way to work entirely from home.

After about a month, things started to take a weird turn.  I had no desire to be in the corporate world, I didn’t miss the cute clothes and shoes.  I was very happy staying at home, seeing the kids off to the bus, hanging out with my dogs, having coffee (tea) with the neighbors and being home when the kids got off the bus, cooking dinner etc.  It was nice.  It was calm, and different and what I needed.  I had lost my desire to make lots of money and found the desire to be a mommy again – not that I lost it, it was just overshadowed by the desire to “contribute” to the household.

About  month later, I got sick and was put on an antibiotic, which after years of wondering where this all started, I think the medicine has a tad to do with it.  The antibiotic has numerous warnings for those that are predisposed to anxiety, depression, and abnormal fears and phobias (I found this out AFTER taking it)…enter me.  I’ve had Anxiety attacks/Panic attacks for years.  They started when my youngest was a baby, I’d wake up shaking and zooming around the house at 3 am unable to relax or sit, thinking I was cold and I’d put on more clothes and get back in bed…and sleep through the rest of it.  It wasn’t until I told my sister what was going on and she said “yeah, that’s an anxiety attack” – thanks, I was doing good not knowing.  So, here I am, totally moving along in life for 8 years dealing with the occasional anxiety attack, and then mom dies, and then I’m on this medicine that basically kick starts you into these things.  Day 2 of meds, I was driving and felt dizzy…pulled over and called my then husband and said “I’m a mile from home, I can’t drive, and I don’t know what’s wrong” – his answer “I can’t do anything, I have to pick up a game.”  Gee, thanks asshole.  So, I sat there, freaking out, 1 mile from home, for about 20 minutes.  I called my neighbor and begged her to come get me.  She was there in 1.5 minutes.  Since that day, I have driven alone 3 times.  Once 2 months later to pick Cody up from school, and you can ask my sister, I sat in the driveway crying, begging her on the phone to tell me I could just go inside and not have to be in my car.  She talked to me the entire 3 mile drive and I stayed quiet, crying and driving.  The second time was driving home from Wed night youth group where I dropped Cody and his friends off, that was a 2 mile trip, and on the way home I called my sister again and told her how proud I was of myself.  These trips were over 3 years ago.  The last time was February this year when D called and said he had arrived from NC and had pulled into my sisters subdivision…that motivation is self-explanatory.  Every time we pass the spot I still remember me stepping out of the car, and him stepping out of the truck.   Grrrrr baby.

So, as you can see…it’s a huge impact on my life.  I hate it. With a passion.  I can’t drive alone.  Surprised?  Eh, it’s not a huge deal.  I’m thankful I have found a man who can live with it.  I feel like one day I might drive alone again.  I might not.  I hate it enough that I’ve read books, prayed HARD, begged, searched online, told myself it’s stupid, told myself it’s normal.  It’s not going anywhere.  Just as easily as that switch was turned on, one day it will turn off.  In the meantime, I’ve adjusted life to fit what I can and cannot do.  Sometimes it’s a pain in the ass, but sometimes it’s not even an issue.  Lots of people don’t like things, can’t do things, freak out at things.  This just happens to be mine.  I’ve also learned that the driving alone thing has spawned the not being alone at all thing, which is a whole other post.  I don’t know which one started which.  I think it was the driving thing first.

So, what I hate about myself is that I can’t drive alone and I don’t know how to make the paralyzing fear go away.

When I read some of the other things people have posted for this “Day 1” deal, I’m happy that mine is something that isn’t physical.  It’s not my hips, or my chest, or my nose…all of which I would have altered a little if it were free, safe and not against my husband’s wishes.  He prefers me the way I am, which is another reason I love him.


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