Don't Eat the Daisies

Last night I had trouble pronouncing basic words; think “real” and “great.” At first I had a good laugh because I couldn’t carry on a conversation without sounding like a moron, but that all changed when I went to read in bed and had trouble there as well. I was able to make out a lot of words, but I did not retain any of the plot line and again, basic words were foreign to my brain. This was, undoubtedly, a withdrawal side effect from Zoloft. It was also the scariest I’ve dealt with so far. The inability to carry on an intelligible conversation caused me to have a really shitty panic attack. I couldn’t breathe, my heart was racing, and I legit thought I was going to die. Fortunately going outside and staring at the super moon while standing in the freezing cold helped. I also threw up, and I swear I was basically John Coffey from The Green Mile, spewing out the garbage of whatever is going on inside of me. I sound fucking insane. But that’s what happened. I woke up this morning st...

I attempted to do an online suicide prevention chat; I was number 49. Seriously? People are suicidal and have to be in a line to talk with someone? That is not right. It's been a rough night. It's been a rough few weeks. I'm having terrible withdrawals from Zoloft and I can't control my reactions. I am so quick to anger and rage. I am so sad and tired and can't sleep. I cry so much. I think about cutting myself. I've thought about driving my car into a tree at top speed. My brain is zapping me every time I move my eyes, which, as you know, people move their eyes all the time. The people in my house suck. I love them to death, but they suck. We've had conversations about this. I have point blank told them that I need help, and I wrote down the ways that I need them to do it. They said they understood. They apologized. They had conversations about how they could support me together because I am almost not in control of myself. And yet they went and did the s...

Christmas is such a bittersweet time for me. I love everything about the holiday, but it comes and goes so quickly and is a reminder of how much we’ve left behind. Lorelei is 8 and this very well be the last year she believes in Santa. That hurts my heart in a way I’ve never felt before. She is so intoxicated by the magic of the season. From her elf on the shelf to the naughty and nice list to leaving cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer, she is about it all. I am not sure how I will adapt to the loss of so much wonder and enchantment; it’s something we will never get back. Christmas is also an end to another year. I don’t handle the loss of time well and never have. 2017 has, for all intents and purposes, been garbage; it’s been tarnished by a sociopath who is dividing our country and leaves us wondering what we will awaken to each morning. It’s been filled with mass murder and natural disasters and the loss of loved ones who were taken far too soon. But 2017 was also wond...

I am sad and that's okay. I am broken and that's okay. I am a garbage person and for now, that is okay. I am struggling right now and that is okay. I am not where I want to be and that is okay. One would think that with all of these things that are okay in my life that I, myself, would be okay. But I'm not, and that's okay, because it's okay to not be okay. Now if I could only get myself to believe that.

I miss my long hair. I feel really sad and unattractive without it. The cut is cute and my stylist is amazing, but cutting my hair didn't fix anything. I don't know why I thought it would. I wish I was a different person. Someone who is confident in all areas of her life, or at least someone who is able to fake it. Someone who is energizing, fun, and uninhibited. Someone who can say no to people, who is okay just being herself without the desire for approval from those who don’t really matter. We allegedly get one life and on the surface mine is incredible. I wonder what kind of haircut I need to get in order to pull those feelings into the deep end?

My silence is suffocating but expressing myself is a fate with the potential for consequences much worse than that. What choice do I have but to live with the deafening screams that only I can hear?  I want so badly to not feel this way, yet it is the hand I was dealt and the house always wins. My head knows that the game is rigged but my heart refuses to fold and so I bet again. I never was any good at gambling.

I think we can all agree that I am not the self-help-book reading, mushy, love everyone type of person. I am actually the exact opposite. That said, I am just about through the book  Love Warrio r by Glennon Doyle, and never have I ever read something that has been a mirror reflection of myself, from the way I feel, to the way I think, to the way I behave. Love Warrior   is in no way a self help book. It's one woman's struggle with herself, her identity, how she interacts with the world, and how the world tells her she should interact with it. It is exactly everything that I feel and have ever felt, and I find myself saying "YES. YES!" on almost every page. I have always, always, always been a self conscious individual. I can remember being 4 years old and not knowing how to act, feeling inferior, incompetent, and painfully out of place. I retreated inside myself and put up this shy shell of an exterior that was "cute" when I was young, but as I aged preve...