Hello

Weekly Recap; for pretty much June

Uhm, hai.

It’s been awhile since I’ve done a weekly recap. Mostly because nothing really interesting happened besides a whole lot of bullshit, stress, packing and trying to figure shit out. I was hoping to make a documented vlog and blog series of the moving process and packing process but then I figured I’m setting myself up for people to see how laggy I can be and like I said I was going through a bunch of bullshit and stress that were making me sick and giving me migraines so half the time I wasn’t really in the mood to even talk.

Which sucks.

I should stop letting other people and their crap bother or impact me and my energy simply because they’re not worth my time or energy.

You live and learn. And build walls. Lots of walls. And never let anyone in. Ever.

Continue reading “Weekly Recap; for pretty much June”

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Reflecting

It’s National Suicide Prevention Day….

And I naturally felt like I should say something.

WordPress recently told me I’ve hit my 3 year mark here and that’s amazing to think about. Considering 3 years ago I was in Cali and it feels like a lifetime ago. The last few months have sucked really hard and the last few weeks have sort of made up for it.

Marriage, I believe, is a very strange thing. It’s everything changes, and nothing changes all at the same time. But you don’t know where that line begins and where it ends and what if you’re both not on the same page? Then what? I haven’t figured out the answer to that yet.

Maybe we should talk about what today is.

I had my first suicidal thought when I was 13. I was sitting on the floor during lunch with my friends, my head rested on the wall behind me and I remember saying, “what would happen if I killed myself?” and my friends at the time were like, “you would die, obviously.”

But as I got older and as things got harder and as I was exposed to abuse, suicide was something that was always heavily on my mind. And the things I would do to kill or silence the pain were things that at the end of the day only made it worse.

When I was 19 I somehow ended up with OCD. I wish I could describe what the feeling is like when OCD and depression team up and feed each other. It’s an intense pain in both your chest and mind that damn near destroys you. And when I finally got help at 21 I decided to take medication, determined to beat both my OCD and my depression.

But that’s not how it really works. Clearly I was no expert on OCD and at the time there wasn’t much that would pop up on Google about it and still to this day no one really knows how it happens. It’s like a silent invisible killer. Creeping around in your brain, hiding and taunting you. Making you believe things that aren’t real and don’t make sense. Making you do things you’re not even aware you’re doing and making you fear life in general. And 21 year old me thought I could heal myself? Shit. I must had had a lot of confidence in myself because I sure did not have a plan.

Now at 29 I finally gave in and got the help I needed. I love my doctor back home for all his understanding and for being such a huge support to me all the years I was in therapy and never pushing medication on me after I declined it all those years ago. And I honestly, would love to pay him a visit when I visit home this year so he can see how much I’ve changed.

For the first time in my life I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I feel almost like a brand new person. My mind isn’t so foggy anymore and my demons aren’t so loud. I can think for myself, decide for myself and stop myself if I wanted to. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. My mind doesn’t betray me every single day.

There is such a stigma for mental illnesses and there is an even bigger stigma for people who take medication for mental illnesses. Still to this day it’s always, “don’t tell anyone, they’ll think you’re crazy.” “keep it to yourself” talked in hushed voices and in fear someone might look at me differently.

But I’m here to say yes I spent the majority of my life suffering from depression and yes I spent the majority of my adulthood suffering from OCD and intrusive thoughts and yes I am on medication and you know what? I feel more alive and more me than I’ve EVER felt and I’m really excited to get to know the 29 year old me who is really just me. I’m excited to see where my life is going from here. I’m excited every morning I wake up. And it’s such a weird feeling but it’s amazing and strange too, all at the same time.

If you’re suffering from depression, from OCD, from anxiety, from anything. You’re not alone. I know it’s so easy to feel like you are and no one would care enough to listen, but you’re wrong. People care. But you have to reach out to them, people can’t read your mind and they don’t know if you’re suffering or not. Talk to a friend, a parent, a trusted older cousin or make an appointment to see a doctor. I won’t lie, it’ll take awhile to find the right one for you but once you do, it’ll change your life. Everything, no matter how dark things are now and how hopeless everything feels, will be okay. If you’ve spent this long suffering from something, think of how easy it’ll be to let it go.

If you need someone to talk to, I’m here too. I might not know you and you might not know me but I do know that I will be here to talk to you and help you out as much as I can. I know it’s not easy and I know it’s scary and dark.

Life is worth living as hard as it is to believe that. And I wish all of you out there who are in the dark find your light.

Reflecting

She, she ain’t real…

SPiNNiNG: Rumor Has It/Someone Like You — Glee

So between now and my last entry — things didn’t really get any better.

My lower back is freakin killing me.

I’m gonna blog this standing up, cause this is seriously insane.

But within the month that has passed, things, if anything got significantly worse. As if I didn’t think they could get any worse than they already were. But that’s the beauty of life, isn’t it? It can always get worse.

Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead…

So I had to step back. I had to calm down. I had to think. Which was hard when you’re sucked into a black vortex of straight up fury and depression. And I had to reevaluate what I wanted. What I deserved and how to get it. Revenge would had been sweet, but that’s not what we’re talking about.

So the last — in total — three months have been straight up crap. So much crap that I dropped ten pounds, that I barely went to work and I barely passed any of my classes. I barely slept. I barely did anything. I just… didn’t care. Why care. We were seeing just where caring was getting me. Nowhere. And nothing.

Thank goodness for my girl A for saving me and being there for me the last three months or I woulda lost my damn mind!

I probably already did, regardless.

I’m beating around the bush.

So my OCD was a primary focus in all of this, because my anxiety had significantly spiked up. And I do mean SPIKED. UP. Like I was constantly anxious. I was constantly on the edge. I was constantly angry and depressed and I felt like my emotions were going to consume me whole. So I did what I said I wouldn’t do because I can beat this naturally. Except it’s been ten years. I need a little help.

So I got a little bit of help and the little bit of help has been A LOT of help the last few days. I feel better already; I feel more clear minded, I’m not anxious anymore (thank goodness), I’m not wallowing in depression, I’m getting back to focusing on the things that made me happy and the things I like doing and I’m feeling good. I’m not happy just yet. But I’m feeling better than I have in the last three months — in the last ten years. That’s for sure. I see small changes with my OCD lately and I’m glad of the progress I’m making. They’re things I thought would never stop bothering me and now I can just ignore them like they’re not a big deal — because they’re not.

I actually had a bit of an argument with my OCD yesterday while doing the laundry. It’s not as dominant and strong or loud as it use to be. There are times when I’ll mindlessly give in to smaller things but this particular thing I figured the only reason why I’m even getting slightly anxious is because I keep thinking about it. So I went off to do something else. Needless to say, by the time I pulled the CLEAN laundry out of the dryer I had no desire to rewash it even though my OCD was trying to get me to and I survived just fine. It’s nice and it’s different to be able to separate the two. I mean I’ve always been aware of the OCD and my own rational thought but before it felt like the OCD was taking over my rational thought and turning it into what it wanted. But now I can step back, back enough that I can decide what I want to do.

And to have that control back after so many years.

It’s nice.

And I’m excited about this journey.

So to the people who made my life a living hell the last three months, thanks. You guys are still assholes but at least now I’m on a journey to a better, happier, healthier me and well… you guys are still stuck in your shithole.

Reflecting

We’re like two ships passing each other at sea…

I have a habit of washing my hands as soon as I get home, period.

Doesn’t matter if I just came home from shopping, from work, from school or if I just came back from checking the mail. If I leave the house for any reason and come back, I have to wash my hands before I touch anything.

I get that living with someone with an anxiety disorder sucks. Believe me, it sucks for us too, there are times I try to bite my tongue and it just doesn’t work. There are times when I say things before I even think them and it’s in those moments that my actions — my life, is snatched away from me because of whatever hold is going on in my head.

The other day I said to my husband, “why don’t you ever wash your hands when you get home?” and he responded with, “I don’t feel dirty.” I brushed it off.

I went to take the clean towels out of the dryer earlier (and clean towels or clean pj’s or home clothes — it’s IMPORTANT that my hands are clean when I take them out) and I didn’t feel like washing my hands because I didn’t feel dirty so I took them out and threw them on the bed (the bed is another place that needs to be CLEAN) and I was fine. So I go sit back down and remember that I was touching the mouse which hasn’t been disinfected yet and I thought back to all the what if germs living on it.

Then I told my mind to shut the fuck up. The clothes are already folded and put away and you know what, they’re just as clean now as they were before I took them out of the dryer. And OCD is strange like that; I can tell you where every single thing in my apartment has been, who has touched it and where it has been put down. You keep tabs on the strangest thing and it’s not like you want to, it’s that you just do.

I bet this is why I’m “forgetful”, my OCD is taking up all the space in my memory that could be used for something useful, like my studies.

I always want to talk about anxiety, but sometimes I just don’t know what to say. It’s had to explain it to people who don’t know what it’s like because I’m totally aware of how crazy it all sounds. But I also think that people have misunderstandings when it comes to OCD. But honestly not even doctors can give you a solid answer on where it comes from, why it happens or how to get rid of it. As of now there is no “cure”. All there is is exposure therapy (which doesn’t always work) or pills.

The last 9 years with it has been a pretty tough journey and it’s crazy to think it one year it’ll be ten years since it started. And I still haven’t figured it out.

Hello

WHERE IS THAT KEY?!

I am incredibly stressed out. I’ve lost the key to my luggage. My luggage that is locked. I kept it locked because my mom puts the smaller luggage in the bigger luggage and if she did that then I would have an anxiety attack and refuse to use that luggage again. Just in case she would forget, I kept the luggage locked. I have not seen or thought about that key in the last year and a half. How the heck am I going to remember where I put it? I’ve looked in all the obvious places it would be and it’s not there. I thought at the time if I lost it, ho hum, M has a key too. But apparently his is missing too. 

I have no idea where either key is!

And without the keys, I can’t pack. We have less than two weeks before we leave and I needed to pack that luggage like, 3 days ago. I’ve searched the hallway, the kitchen, my purses/bags and argh. I have no idea where it is. This is not how I imagined this would go and it’s making me very very anxious.

I have a feeling I won’t be going to sleep tonight until I find this damn key.

Literally.

Reflecting

OCD & Me — Part One

Can I just start off by saying that it is freezing effen cold tonight? It’s like 36 degrees and I live in Northern California. I mean, NorCal is significantly colder than SoCal but still. 36 degree’s is insane here. The next time I endure this much cold it’s going to be snowing, seriously.

Tonight is one of those nights where my OCD is acting up. For no reason. I didn’t feel stressed or anxious or anything. I feel fine. But I don’t feel like touching anything I don’t know FOR SURE is “clean” and I don’t want anyone touching me. My husband tried to rub my back after I got back from the shower (after shower time means extreme-clean-only time) and I freaked out because I didn’t know if his hands were “dirty” since I feel like he didn’t disinfect his phone right and he touched his phone.

I’m not going to go in depth into the mind of someone with OCD. I’m just going to introduce the topic since I haven’t yet.

Continue reading “OCD & Me — Part One”

Reflecting

Anxiety…

I hate the times when I think I have my anxiety under control and I realize that… I don’t. I feel like I’m crashing into the ground way too fast and I don’t know how to make it stop or slow down. I hate when it bubbles over and takes control. Of my feelings. Of my thoughts. Of my actions. And all I can do is sit back and watch because I’m curled up somewhere in the corner of my mind and I don’t know what to do.

I use to be okay with having too much to do at one time. It use to drive me. I use to live for this feeling. But that was before OCD. That was before everything changed.

And it feels like ever since OCD crept into my mind I haven’t been me. I feel like my mind is stuck in jello. The part that isn’t stuck in a blur are bits and pieces of who I use to be. The creative, the silly, the fearless, the carefree, the thinker, the writer, the daring… but it’s only very small pieces that manage to not be touched but not enough pieces to make a difference.

I still get sad sometimes, but it’s not the same. Instead of taking that and doing something with it — writing, graphic design, web design… instead of it being my drive… I just sit here. And sulk and feel fuckin sorry for myself. I can’t even grab it like I use to and use it to my advantage. It’s just… there. I still get angry, but I don’t flip shit. I don’t throw things and break things. I just sit here, and sulk, and feel sorry for myself. I haven’t been depressed in a long time, because it enhances my OCD and as soon as something threatens to depress me, I force it out of my memory. And over the last 8 years, I’ve gotten good at doing that. The old me would had loved to know how to do this. Even if it killed who she is. It’s not worth it.

I remember people, I remember bits and pieces of things, but I don’t remember anything else. I don’t remember how people made me feel. I don’t remember what people said. I just remember faces and places and events. And that’s it. Even when I read back to things I’ve long forgotten, I don’t feel anything.

And it kills me.

Zel is dead. I can’t make her come back. And I wish she would. Because the lack of being able to be creative? It makes life so much more empty than it ever was with all the pain I use to carry around with me.