Unsaved Changes

I’ve been absent for a little while, yes? 

I don’t want to talk about it. 

Every time I open the WordPress app I see that nasty little box that taunts me with the simple words, “unsaved changes”. 

To me, what I let my brain tell me it says is, “you big fat failure, why can’t you get your thoughts out and say something?!?” Which I must admit is super harsh and is exactly what I’ve been working on — the whole mega judgement of myself. 

It’s almost still too raw for me to think or write about it even right now, but I promised myself that I would pause when that judgement and anxiety come up and breathe. 

I don’t have to prove to anyone who I am or what I am except myself and, believe it or not, IM ONE MAGNIFICENT FUCKING FLOWER. 

Nay Sir, I am a mother-flipping honey badger ready for high tea. 


Yeah, that imagery works for me. 


All Over the Damn Place

Because I am emotionally all over the place, this post will be broken up by pictures of pugs. 

I am getting to the point where there are good days and if there is an anxiety flare up I can identify and talk through what going on, or  recognize I just need a break and give myself the space to have feelings. 

Basically my brain is changing. 

For the better. 

I feel alive. 

And then there’s the anger part of it. 

The getting annoyed at every little thing because … well, my habits haven’t quite caught up with my new attitude. I think. 

See, I find myself needing to run, pace, move

So honestly, I’m not really sure why I’m writing this post except to kick myself in the ass and actually fucking get out there. For realsies. 

Workout, Workout Workout Workout

There’s a “wake-up” song that my mom used to sing when I was a kid except I now only know the tune and the beginning  (“wake-up”, repeated 4 times).  

I seriously just wasted like, 15 minutes trying to find it, but no such luck. That’s super annoying. 


There. I saved myself with pictures of kittens. And this one has a duck, isn’t it adorable? 



The point? 

Ah. Yes. That. Good times we have, don’t we? 

So I weighed myself and it would appear in the week that I’ve holed myself up in the house knitting and cleaning and avoiding doing anything of responsibility I’ve gained 3 pounds. 

Three! Ack! Yes, yes, healthy weight fluctuation blah blah blah. Point is, 


(I’ve been watching Murdoch Mysteries heeheeheehee)

So, yeah. How do the wake-up and the workout thing connect? Well! I’m already conditioned to hop along to the tune of  that “wake-up” song, so I figure I can Pavlov myself into a workout song. 

I’ve got a few minutes while the water boils? SQUATS AND DEAD LEG LIFTS BABY!

It’s finally an adequate temperature to walk the dogs? GET THEE OUTSIDE YAH SAUCY LADY! 

Mom’s watching tv, but you really don’t care about the show? USE THAT ELIPTICAL QUINCY! 

(Full disclosure, I’m not really sure where that last one came from, but I was excited and I still have detectives on my mind and then I thought of adventure and Quincy sounds like a super great detective name)

Now that that’s out there, I want to make a promise to myself and be all accountable and that good stuff so, what? How do I make myself accountable? I dunno. I need ideas. 

HALP. I’m not good with these things. 

Facebook Makes Me Anxious and Other Stupid Things

Sooooooo… I’ve kinda been peeking back on Facebook lately because I’m apparently dumb as rocks in this department. SURPRISE! 

I still hate going on there. I’m fine for like … I dunno 5-10 posts and then NOPE. NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE

My throat closes up, my heart starts racing and BOOM! I’ve got breathing exercises to do. And a window to close. (Seriously though, is just “window” the correct term or should it be something like, “internet browsing window”? That last one is a mouthful. Techies, help me out)

Also, I now feel very old. Anyhow, those with anxiety know the symptoms and we all know WE LIKE TO SHUT THAT SHIT DOOOOOOOWN, as fast as possible, if you please. 

Right, I feel like I’m getting away from myself my brain is kind of firing a lot of thoughts at once. 

Basically full disability is a full on bitch and holy crap I have got to figure this shit out fast or I’ll be … I dunno my mind just went blank. 

And yes, I’m totally working out. 

(Actually, that’s kind of a lie, I only did squats today) 

(Hi again, that’s a lie too. I did a single squat. Baby steps?) 

It’s Time To Get Serious

I’m feeling pretty optimistic about this week. 

I’ve just started AN EPIC SWEATER EXPLOIT (#epicsweaterexploit) wherein I knit & complete not one, but TWO SWEATERS BY OCTOBER

Demented? Yes, possibly, but the good adrenaline junkie in me is fueled by the challenge and pressure. Also, I’m totally crazy and WTF have I gotten myself into?!

Wait, no. I meant to say I’m a fucking badass who will grumble from time to time. 


(I mean, jeez rant much?!)

Right, okay. So I’ve decided to take a week off of therapy because OH MY GAWD DID YOU KNOW THERAPY IS FUCKING HARD?!?!?The past two weeks have been so exhausting! 

So yeah, I’m giving myself a break from triggers and panic attacks and shit because screw those bananas with a razor. 

Instead, along with my lofty knitting goal I’ve decided it’s time to get serious about my physical health. I’ve always been active and it’s time to lace up those shoes and hit the dirt… More often… Like everyday. 

I’m not going to be doing P90x or some hardcore thing like that, but, you know. Get active for 15 minutes extra a day. No biggie. 




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. 



I have been struggling to even put a label on what I have been going through, because for me once I have a name I can start to dissect and “fix”.

But this isn’t a “fixing” situation.

This is a “darling, you have to ride through it all” situation.


Like I’ve said in previous posts, I’m all over the freaking place getting used to the med adjustment and the shit-storm of hormones that comes with being female during a certain time of terrifying expulsion.¬†Between the two, let’s just say my self-care regime has gone pretty far down the toilet.

I’m forgetful, and now have to set alarms on my phone to remind me when I need to take a Xanax because OH MY GOD THE ANXIETY ATTACKS ARE BACK. It’s coming out as social anxiety presently. My normal coping methods of going out and pampering myself at my usual places are normally just the ticket to get me out the door and tip toe into civilization.

BUT OH MY GOD I CAN’T EVEN BRING MYSELF TO GET MY NAILS DONE. And holy shit they need some love. A pedicure is also in order, but that’s a tad lower on the scale of “GET THEE OUT OF THE HOUSE”

Does this post have a point? I feel like I’m rambling more than usual lately and I don’t really care.

Just, I dunno. Lemme know when this ends so I can get back to normal?