It has been with mounting excitement that I viewed the calendar over the last few weeks. Somehow, without really knowing HOW the year went so quickly, it was already April.
Teachers are quite tuned into the school calendar. Summer is usually met with relief, excitement, and exhaustion.
The last day of school, though? Ahhh. It is such a bittersweet day. A vulnerable day.
To me, anxiety has always been part of who I am. Nerves, worry, IBS…it’s been called different things, but I’ve always had it.
Managing it is a process. At times, it is terrible and affecting all parts of my life. At other times, it is in the background–there, but at a level that makes me more productive.
PANIC, on the other hand, is a totally different beast. Continue reading
When I first started this blog, my emotional health was at an all time low. I was a DISASTER (thus the blog name). But, bravely, I continued to pursue healing and therapy. Day after day, week after week, and month after month.
Progress occurred, but in my mind it was slow and hard. Therapy is hard work, man. It is deep, soul-wrenching, earth shattering, WORK.
Luckily, I was graced with the most amazing therapist to guide me through the process. Oooohhh, the patience this amazing woman had/has for me will never cease to blow my mind. I challenged her, I clung to her, I pushed her away…always so sure she would abandon me, too.
Through her steadfast faith in me, I grew. I, slowly, began to heal. I began to need her less and less, and gained faith in myself and my other relationships.
Healing work will never be done. That is something I learned the hard way. There will never be a magic day where I wake up and realize, “I am healed!”
No…life is a spectrum, and I will always have some struggles–but, I can say confidently that I am on the other side of the spectrum. Continue reading
I am not built for winter.
It is an incredibly difficult season for me. I don’t know if it is the lack of sunshine, the limited amount of time outdoors, or a combination of all of those factors–BUT, I struggle with it every. single. year.
Right now, I really need a beach. All of the sun and sand and the melody of seagulls squawking and waves crashing in the background. It is my ultimate relaxation.
…But, a beach is not to be; at least, not until summer vacation. Continue reading
I have been complaining of my lack of motivation for awhile now.
Honestly, I have felt pretty flat-lined–like I am just surviving my days. Not feeling too low, but never feeling too high, either. And, when I do feel, I tend to swing to depressed.
Last night, I went to my friend’s house to visit. I did not go over until about 7pm, and I really had to talk myself into doing it.
I AM ALWAYS TIRED.
Trauma is a funny thing.
As I have worked my way through the many, many layers of my own story, I have learned many interesting facts about childhood trauma and discovered many of the reasons why I behave the way I do.
Yet, I still find myself feeling surprised when the sub-conscious takes over and I revert back to those past, safe coping mechanisms.
I have been unmotivated for quite awhile.
I still do all of my usual things. I drag myself to the gym. I go to work. I cook and clean. I hang with the kids.
But, most of the time, I have so little desire for any of it.
Tonight, I am a mess.
A struggling, emotional, scared mess.
As a teacher, I recently had a few weeks off for the holidays. Days were busy–a combination of Christmas, traveling, and getting back on track with workouts. (Because, you know, I have somehow gained more weight than I want to admit). Somehow, in the chaos of it all, I began to forget to take my antidepressant.
Last Monday, I woke up and had to go back to work. As I went through my usual morning routine, I suddenly realized that it had been at least a week or a week and a half since I last swallowed that little pill.
I am a thirty something woman.
My whole life, I have struggled to please others–especially the bosses or influential people around me.
I crave their approval. I want their validation. I want to know I am good enough. Continue reading