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Hear You Me

A week ago something tragic happened in my life again. My sister died. Yep. My 24 year old sister died. I’ve been struggling for the right words to explain how I feel and on how to deal with and accept the fact that this happened. And honestly? I still don’t know. I was talking to my friends and finally found the words to describe the brokenness inside of me, and the lump in my throat. I’ve found the words that explain how I am barely holding my shit together long enough to go to work and come home. It feels like my heart was ripped out of my chest. Like every fiber of my being is being shot over and over again with buckshot. Like I am being pulled apart like taffy. I am riddled with holes and pulled too thin. I feel everything and nothing. I want to scream and yell but I also just want to sleep and never leave my bed again. When my sister died, a part of me did too. The part that was reserved for me. After my mom died I didn’t think I would ever feel this much pain. This much sorrow
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This is not a happy post.

How do you describe depression to someone who has never had it?  Do you say you’re sad and numb?  Or that sometimes it feels like there are a thousand and one voices in your head? That those thousand voices are telling you to chug that bottle, pick up that blade, or load that gun?  It’s more than that.  It’s crawling out of a hole so deep you can’t see the top, when in reality it’s only as deep as that puddle on the ground.  It’s the $150 office visits to say you’re not okay, that you’re shaking with every fiber of your being trying to hold your soul together.  Just... trying. It’s trying different medications but being Afraid you’ll truly feel nothing on them.  You see, I’d rather feel like my soul is on fire, like I’m screaming into an empty room, than to feel nothing.  I would rather be able to feel that longing to drag that glass across my wrist. That longing to see if there really are bugs crawling through my veins.  The longing to know if that’s what make
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Confessions

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              To say that I have had a rough life is a bit of an understatement. There are tons and tons of reasons that I could list, that no one would care about. People say that young people have no idea what a rough life is, because they are just that. Young. Well, as one of those young people, I say that that is absolute crap. You can't judge someones life based on how you may have handled that situation, because every body handles things differently. For example, someone who usually gets D's on a paper thinks that a C is the best thing that could ever happen to them. However, someone who gets A's could think that a D means their life is over. It's all about perspective, something not a lot of people are willing to have.                 Recently, I have been going to therapy and group classes because I realized that I was not okay. I was having nightmares, either not eating, or eating everything in sight, and just being in a really bad spot. I realized that if I d
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Anxiety 101

So I feel like there is something I need to talk about. And no, it isn’t something terribly exciting to most people. I have social anxiety. And not just a little bit. Like panic attacks, fears of large crowds, and avoiding the elevators at work during the day because there are too many people. It’s more than not knowing what to say, it’s something along the lines of knowing what to say but being so self-conscious that you don’t know how to get the words out without sounding like an idiot. I have been known to lie and say that I am sick or that my husband is (sometimes his ideas, sometimes mine) to get out of functions because I know that there will be a lot of people there. Sorry guys, it’s not like I don’t like you, I really do. It’s just that sometimes it is so exhausting to try to be everywhere at once, and to be what everyone wants you to be. With that said, let's talk about the most wonderful time of the year. At night. When there are hardly any people around. Yeah, y
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Mac and Cheese Anyone?

So as nothing interesting has happened since my last post, I decided I would tell you all about my cooking fails. This post is about something I should have known was going to end very badly. Crock-Pot Mac and Cheese sounded good when I was thinking about it. Then as we got the ingredients, it started sounding a little less good. By the time I ate it, the concrete of two cheeses and mushy pasta had made me realize how awful it was and that I should have just made it on the stove top like I usually do. We should have known that it was going to end up bad as I decided to make it on Friday the 13 th . First clue. Second clue should have been when we got the brick of off brand Velveeta cheese. Then came putting it all together. Everything was going great up until it came to put the pasta in. I cut up half of the cheese brick, put milk, seasonings, and a touch of water into the crock. As soon as I got down the pasta, I knew we were in trouble. I had a quarter of a bag of elbow
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Rainbow Wings

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Today I had a discussion with a friend of mine about something that I realized some people don’t know about me. In the video I did, I don’t believe I mentioned something that is a big part of me and my husband. In May, we helped with the Drama production and I was sitting in the cafeteria about to throw up because the smell of Adam’s salad was making me sick. For that entire week, all I could eat was saltine crackers, and drink water or peach tea. Come to find out, it was morning sickness. The night the play opened though, I got a slap in the face from Mother Nature. I figured it was just a stomach bug that I had, but I was concerned about how painful and, to be honest, disgusting my period was. I went to the doctor and we discussed it, and came to the conclusion that it was probably an early miscarriage. Adam and I walked out of that doctor’s appointment, and by the time I got to the car, I was numb. A week earlier we were sitting on stage talking to our friends about how we we
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