Getting Better

After an interesting day yesterday  (full disclosure: this just means nothing went according to plan), I feel… Normal.

I feel.. Hopeful. 

I feel like going outside, with people. 

Okay, since that kind of gave me a twang of anxiety writing about it, I should come clean… I feel like facing my fears in small quantities. 

I feel like testing myself. 

And being OK if I don’t make the mark I set for myself.

As more time passes and I have less anxiety that used to take up all my thinking room, I now have time to reflect and find clarity. 

I get it. I get that it’s not all or nothing and if sometimes I fall back into that thinking, that’s OKAY too. 

I get there’s going to be good days and bad days, and today’s a good day so I’m going to make the most of what I’ve got. 


Don’t Look Under the Bed

After yesterday and my mope-fest I’ve made it my mission to get over myself and… You know, follow instruction and do something called “stream of consciousness” journaling. Basically a way to get me out of my head and just “feel”. Except 5 minutes went something like this:

I don’t get what the point of this is.. WTF am I supposed to do with these when I’m done with this… I don’t want to keep this extra crap anymore.. I just want a clean slate and no stuff… No less stuff I don’t want to be homeless… I already know all this shit 

So, I dunno. Maybe it was helpful? It’s only the first day blah blah blah and I’m using blank 3×5 notecards I can just chuck afterwards. Mainly because I couldn’t find a good notebook and I honestly didn’t want to spend the energy and time MAKING another notebook (although I’ve caught that bug fiercely). Besides, I have too much knitting to do! 

Emerged look at that!! I’m almost done with the front part! 

Anyway, after this journaling I got so riled up that I’ve made it my mission to clean under my bed. This is what it looks like (warning it’s gross and very scary):

I’ve been avoiding this project for YEEEEEEEEAAAARRRRSS. It’s a festering home for trash and dust bunnies. I figure I can use it for blanket storage (vacuum sealed for dust protection) since otherwise it’s just a storage place for dirt and dust! 

I’m taking a break writing this post since, well, it’s proven to be a harder project than anticipated. 

Back to it! 

Senator out. 

High Anxiety Day

Today my anxiety/ perfectionism is being a bit of a mosquito today. See, I have this plan. 

This plan includes organizing the house room by room. 

I’ve kept my mother apprised of this since, well, she’s finally ready to let a lot of crap go. She’s still holding onto things that, in her mind “could be used for gifts” or “are super valuable” — and yet they are unused for over 5 years. 

Let’s just say that clashes with my, “oh my God it hasn’t been used in 6 months and I have zero attatchment ew, get it away” philosophy. 

Anyway, I had a plan but last night I was talking to my mom and she started throwing more ideas out there as if we were brainstorming. Any non anxious person would be all, “what great ideas! I’m so happy we’re on the same cleaning and organizing page, we’ll totally kick ass at this over the coming months/ years.”

Sadly, my brain heard: OMG THIS NEEDS TO BE DONE RIGHT NOW

Aaaaand that’s where I’m at right now. 

Writing about it helps, as if the critical thinking sane side of my brain can hold roots and become real. 

So, yeah, maybe I just need to write down my goals a little smaller and I’ll get this project done. And clean like a badass. 

Side note: Can I just say how infuriating it was to see 99% of pictures of WOMEN cleaning when I put in “cleaning” in the photo search?!? It wasn’t until I adjusted the term to be “superhero cleaning” that it suddenly became 90% MEN. 

Sexism, alive and well, folks. Grrrrr. 

Happier Times

You might think from all my posts that I’m sick, afraid, and totally consumed by OCD/ Panic Disorder.. Which don’t get me wrong, I am pretty sick — I couldn’t bring myself to going to my friend’s going away party and then spent.. An hour? (I think) in a Michael’s parking lot calming myself down because I had hit my limit on interacting / being around strangers. 


Basically I’m not ALWAYS how I seem on this blog. I write here when I need to get something out of my brain because I don’t know what else to do. 

Today was pretty good — I had brunch and ran a few errands with said friend who is moving to a cold place (this makes me very happy as I CAN KNIT HER WARM THINGS). Now, I did start to get way anxious when I couldn’t find my particular cleaning gloves from Costco at the Costco we went to. 

Said insanely hard to find (apparently) cleaning gloves. OH MY GAWD I AM SO ANNOYED GUYS. 

Anyway, I held it together while I was with aforementioned friend but holy craptasm did I really start getting INSANELY anxious when I then couldn’t find a good bullet journal. I mean, the stores acted like it was the craziest thing in the world to have GRAPH PAPER in a small notebook! Bad luck, I know, since I can think of 5 other establishments that would have had what I was looking for… 


Because I don’t just knit, y’all. I’m a fucking book binding genius (not really, it’s just tape and hot glue. I honestly don’t know how long it will last.)

And yes, I totally changed the quote to something way more positive. 

Of Dishes and Safety

Welp, it’s official. 

I’m on disability until the end of the year. 

On one hand I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders, and on the other I still feel as if I’ve failed myself and others for “copping out”. 

I have super high anxiety at the moment so let’s change the subject, yes? 

As I mentioned I’ve sort of let my rituals and compulsions take over this week because, well, no matter where the urge to clean is coming from… I’m actually cleaning? 

Except for the fact that I’m focusing on the kitchen and my bathroom sooooo… Really, not so helpful, yes? 

One thing that eases my anxiety TEMPORARILY is cleaning the kitchen every night. I’m talking the works — wash the dishes in the sink, sanitize the sink, wipe down the counters and cabinets, and finally treat the wood cabinets with whatever is in the 7th Generation wood cleaner to make it look shiny. 

I know I’m sick and I’ve really dug myself a deep one, but when almost everything makes you feel like you’re either causing danger or in danger… Well at least I’m not fucking shooting up heroin. 

Silver linings people, silver fucking linings. 




There was a lot of background writing that happened and now it’s over the end. 

So this past weekend was tough. Like panic attacks but not but yes? As therapy is progressing and the meds kick in, things are changing. For the better. I’m pretty sure for the better. 

Anyway, it’s pretty clear that Family is a HUGE MOTHER FUCKING TRIGGER. Like, I was in agony because I was taking my younger brothers to Universal Studios and I wasn’t so nervous about the actual experience with them, but more like my thought process was: 

I have to make this all go well or else I won’t be able to see my brothers again. 

Pretty fucked up, right? 

Hindsight is 20/20 and it helps to have a good therapist too. 


What my therapist has been stressing that I think I finally got — sort of — is that I have the power to say, “fuck that shit (thinking)”

As in, I’ve got the POWAH

Also, to stop beating myself up all the time? Like I think I should be using this whole I’m awake time to do laundry but I’m not and that’s OK? 

Still getting used to it. 

Also, I’ve decided I’m working out more. 

The end. No wait.. 

There. Now I’m done.