Stress is a sneaky, tricky beast. We’re so used to living with a certain amount of stress that often when more gets heaped upon us we hardly notice. Or, if we do notice, we do our very best to go about our lives as usual. Bad move! (Let’s not get into the good versus bad stress discussion now, okay?) The more stress we’re carrying, without actually attending to it, the more difficult life becomes. It will wear you down and rob you of any joy in your life. You’ll eventually forget who you really are and what you truly want out of life. “How did I get here? This is not my beautiful wife! This is not my beautiful house!”

Anxiety is a sneaky, tricky beast. If you live with anxiety, you must work extra hard to avoid known triggers and be mindful of how you’re feeling at any given moment, because you don’t know when you might have a panic attack, but you do all you can to avoid it. There’s also that part about going about your life and living and all of that but you know what? It’s so much harder with anxiety. So much! It feels like having to be my own lookout, watchdog, bodyguard and therapist all at once always. Sometimes I take a tumble or get hit with an unexpected boulder (not literally, I mean could you imagine?!) and it’s like I never saw it coming. I was so careful and worked so hard and was hyper vigilant and it still blind sided me. I was so worried and busy keeping watch that I forgot to listen to my gut. I forgot to ask myself why I wanted something (or to do something). This was the unexpected boulder.

Depression is a sneaky, tricky beast. If you live with depression, it feels like you’re always assuring others that you’re fine, you’re okay, yeah I’ll call you back. UGH! Because everything is too much. You don’t really feel anything inside anymore (while depressed), it’s just sorta dead in there and part of you is okay with that. Part of you finds this calming and familiar. The part of you that is hurting maybe gets a break right? Not exactly. The dead inside part feels like relief at first but eventually it becomes it own burden. You forget how to act around loved ones. Are they staring at me? They think I’m nuts! Is this normal? *ShiftsInSeat* Is THIS normal?!?! Ultimately you just want to crawl back into your cave or hidey hole or whatever and pretend you don’t exist, hoping that soon everyone else will forget, too.

When you have PTSD your life is never truly your own. It will feel that way some times, you’ll feel so normal and your symptoms so far away you can almost forget that you have it. Something will always come up that will trigger you and you’ll feel as though you’re right back in the trauma zone, trapped and unable to ever escape, all over again. I don’t know that this ever truly can end.

My life has taken some interesting turns these last few years. More changes than I can count, that is for sure. I made decisions to create many of those changes in my life, it felt right and necessary and so I proceeded. What I took for granted was stability, or at least the illusion of stability. Living with my husband for fifteen years certainly felt stable, even if it was stressful for both of us at times. When I was laid off the first time, it was terrifying, but there was another income and so things would be okay. I would find other jobs and eventually start my own business. But my own personal stability was shaken and I don’t think I’ve been able to get it back since.

That first lay off was scary but soon after things were on the up and up. Not only that, a year later I found myself on a fast track career path and was loving every moment! I was making more money than I ever had before, constantly learning new skills and technology while also helping people learn new ways to make their jobs more fun and a lot easier. It was great! It was also in mortgage (though I was on the appraisal side) and when that bubble inevitably burst, it seems the trajectory of my life burst with it. Prior to that lay off, my second, we were trying to buy a house. We talked about getting a dog and eventually having a baby.

Things got harder and more stressful and we both began to exhibit signs of anxiety. We tried to support each other emotionally, but we were both survivors of abuse in some form and weren’t whole to begin with, we thought we could be or were whole together. We stopped talking, at least it felt that way. We no longer waxed poetic about our bright future or adventures we’d take or baby names or anything. He the consummate introvert, retreating into hobbies and games. Me, neither introvert or extrovert, but sick of being home alone all of the time, I soon sought out kindred spirits and found them.  They’re love, support and adoration of me felt fantastic and new and exciting and needed. I fell under it’s spell and let it lead me away from what needed to be dealt with.

You get to a certain point years later when you can look back and see the exact moment things broke loose. I know now that I never had control of my PTSD, but the illusion of stability and years of self work and a loving and supportive husband helped so much. Struggling together was better than struggling alone, less scary at least. Everything takes a toll in the end, though, and you don’t get to decide what that toll will be. That toll was my marriage, my stability, my business, my health, and my sanity. It felt so right, I was so confident and certain that leaving was the right thing to do. I still think that it was, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not so sure that my reasons were correct and true. And then everything happened so fast that there was no time to stop and think and look around.

You always think you have time, but that’s not so. Time is its own tricky beast but when it comes to making those huge life changes and decisions, time is exactly what you need. I never could have foreseen or predicted the turns my life’s journey has taken, for better or worse. I am beyond grateful that I still have so many lovely, close and supportive friends that have stuck by me all these ridiculous years. I often don’t feel worthy of their presence in my life but I do try to. They have proven to be my true guardians and watchdogs and protectors, even when I need to be protected from myself. I think it’s why I have such a hard time making new friends and trusting people, I know I’m not normal, but I don’t have a handbook to give either.  How do you forewarn someone that, while you seem and probably are pretty fucking awesome, you also have a brain that has been broken by trauma?

I have said many times that in the end we only have ourselves. I felt good about this as I have worked long and hard to become the person I wanted to. I have proven to myself time and again that I need only me and can figure out the rest. Oh ego! You’re the trickiest beast of all! It’s true that in the end we only have ourselves and this is why self work is so fucking vital! But we also need support, we need people in our lives that can ground us when we’re drifting too far out into the clouds or the into danger zone. I’m someone who will always push myself too hard, often to my own detriment. My chosen family is my life raft!

The events of the last few months have thrown everything I thought I knew, even about myself, into chaos. I thought my PTSD symptoms were a thing of the past. I never thought I would struggle with the weight and sickly veil of depression again. I had no idea that panic attacks would become more frequent in my life even as I was more aware of them and how they worked. Stress and anxiety are already too much for most folks to handle. Throw PTSD and depression and a heap of disappointment and struggle in a very short amount of time into the mix and you have a mental shit storm on your hands, metaphorically speaking.

I wish I had been a better caretaker for myself so that I wouldn’t have put myself in the position to become so overwhelmed. I feel like I should have known better, but I was just trying so hard to appear normal and be there for people and show up when it mattered. I didn’t think about what was best for me or what I could handle. I wanted to be there this last weekend for the right reasons, but for all of the right reasons I see now that I shouldn’t have gone. While I am bolstered by the fact that I was surrounded by loved ones who were willing and able to take care of me when I couldn’t, I feel awful for having put them in that position to begin with. They just keep telling me how amazing I am and I’m over here losing my actual mind and not understanding at all what they see in me. I’ll just have to believe them.

*****************

I share my story because it helps me work through it and it has helped others in their journeys in the past. Sometimes writing it is very painful, other times it is a balm on my soul. I never know until the words come forth on the screen what will become a post, but the process usually feels necessary to do so.

<3
S

We are expected to always put on a brave face, a happy-smiling face for the world to see. We are supposed to keep our pain inside and talk only of pleasantries. As a femme with PTSD, anxiety and depression, this means that I pretty much always have to “fake it” on some level at all times when in public. This makes being in public when I’m not feeling my best especially difficult. So I occasionally go a bit overboard with my femme-amour in an attempt to protect myself and others from what I know is always boiling beneath the surface. Pain. Mental pain can and does cause physical pain. I am living with this everyday. Unfortunately, the last three days have been so devastating that I am buckled over in tears most of the time because of the amount of mental pain I’m in. It comes in waves of hysterical crying, to the point of hyperventilation, then a moment of my trying to gain control or attempt to ground myself, then another wave of tears (though less severe), then a sort of gross calmness where I just feel nothing for awhile. I can’t recall the last time I have felt as low as I do today (and yesterday). One disappointment after another, stress, anxiety, more disappointment and devastation and then a really big overwhelming thing with another dash of letdown and my brain switches into panic mode.

I had a panic attack at my ex-husband’s wedding reception party. I tried with every fiber of my being to smile even as I felt the first waves of panic wash over me. Surrounded by friends I was certain I could shake it off somehow. NOPE. That is not how PTSD works. That is not how panic attacks work. I went from dancing and cheering on the band to crying hysterically and uncontrollably and having to run out of the party. If not for my incredible friends, my real family to be honest, and my amazing puggo, I don’t know that I would be sitting here writing this today. I believe now that it was merely sensory overload with the noise of the cheering and the band playing and the fog machine and the immense heat in the restaurant and too much Cabernet.

I am in a very bad place. Everything is terrifying. Everything makes me feel sick. My stomach is a wreck. I am so stressed out that doing anything takes so much effort and pain and I’m just exhausted. Anything and nothing can trigger a spell of loud sobs, heavy breathing and I have to lie down to feel any sense of relief, no matter how fleeting. I have never felt more lonely in my entire life. Yes, I have friends and they are an amazing support system. But they have their own lives and obligations and can’t just drop everything because I can’t stop crying and need to be held (plus I live so far from everyone now). My bf doesn’t understand, though he tries. I fear we’re on the outs because of my sick brain. I try so hard to explain my boundaries and what I need to feel safe and secure. Miscommunication ensues and I don’t know what tomorrow let alone the next few hours will bring. I am living second to second because more than that hurts too much. I can’t hide behind a mask this time. I can’t fake anything, I’ve no energy left. I vibrate with anxiety even as I sit completely still.

Friends keep telling me, “You’re amazing!” and I don’t understand why. How did they get this opinion of me? “You’re so strong/brave!” they say and I just don’t get it. I’m merely a survivor. That’s all I know how to do is survive. They encourage me and love me unconditionally and that is truly what keeps me going. I don’t have it in me to love myself today. I don’t have that spark that I used to, the one that let me walk confidently in the world. Everything is a sharp reminder that I’m not like others. My brain is broken. I know it’s not my fault at least, that’s something.

I feel like even writing this, on my own blog, is taboo. Oh sure, we all tell each other it’s okay to not be okay sometimes. But when you actually aren’t okay and actually feel worse than you ever could have imagined, it feels dangerous to tell people. It feels like more could be taken away if the outside world finds out. PTSD? Societal pressures to conform? *Shrugs* I dunno. I just know that I feel really sick, mentally and physically. It feels like the outside world wants to take everything from me and it’s nearly got it. So I am hiding out in my tiny cottage hoping beyond hope, because I really don’t feel even a tinge of hope left, that somehow this will all pass. I will just go to sleep and wake up and feel normal again. Right?! Please?!

There is a great battle within me, fighting to both destroy and embolden me. My demons rage and charge as my logical mind insists upon things like eating (ugh) and hydration (trying) and reminders that needing a break from the world is okay even when it feels scary and wrong. Thank the stars for my sweet little puggyman. He really is the most amazing creature. Saturday night after the boys dropped me off, I was inconsolable. I was choking and unable to breath, my sobs were stabbing so hard in my chest. That sweet babyman wouldn’t leave my side and kept licking my arms rapidly (he’s never done that before) until I calmed down. He even sat beside me in the bathroom that night as I tried to pee but had trouble because I couldn’t stop crying. Finally after I took a shower I was able to calm down. It was terrifying. I felt trapped in my own head and unable to help myself.

I used to say that I have no regrets. I don’t believe that I will ever say that again. I do have regrets. I regret every time I have bent over backwards to please someone without their knowledge or without my own best interests in mind.  I regret forcing myself to fit into something when I know it’s wrong for me to do so. I regret not asking for help until it’s too late, so many damned times. I do know this though, even regrets evolve. Regrets can change and no longer feel like a regret at all. Our bumps and mistakes lead us to where we need to be on our journey. I have to believe that or there really is no hope. As I sit here in a calmer moment feeling nothing inside but my churning guts, but knowing another sobbing spell is surely moments away, I have to believe that there is hope left somewhere.

Writing this feels dangerous and like a betrayal to myself and to those who love and support me. Like keeping this inside is helping them, but that’s not real and that’s not for me to decide. If my mental illness is too much, it’s too much and there’s nothing I can do to make someone see things differently. I don’t know how to bounce back from this. I’m certain I will because let’s face it I’ve been through worse. I’ve also never had to truly go through it all alone until now. That might be the hardest of all.

How people see or think of me is none of my business. When they tell me I am always surprised. I know who I have been and what I have accomplished. I am proud of those accomplishments. I don’t know who I am or what I am capable of now. Just breathing seems especially difficult today. Idle moments and thoughts feel the worst. When I think too far ahead into what might be sends me straight back into panic mode, and that is what brought on the first wave of nausea last night that’s not let up since. Ugh! I believe I will get through this. I just wish I knew when that would be. I’m ready for it to be over.

<3
S

Being fat and being confident in western society will often be met with, “Um…that’s not a thing!” or “Aw, how brave!” or the all too familiar, “How dare you!” Yeah because how dare I not fit into the stereotype of the sloppy, smelly, sad fatty who only leaves the house to buy alltehfoodz! *RageFace* Being confident in a fat body makes many things in life easier, but it also makes some things harder. For me it’s job hunting and being perceived as both over and under-qualified for the same job, older and younger and thus not taken seriously. WTF?! I cannot control how others view me, but it sure sticks in my craw when they don’t make a lick of sense! The other thing that is harder as a confident fatty is dating, surprisingly. Yeah, you might think it would make it easier, but men aren’t used to dealing with confident women, let alone fat confident women! (I wish I could comment on my experiences with other queer women but my experiences have been very limited and not exactly noteworthy, unfortunately.)

It’s true! While I have nothing but good things to say about most of my experiences while dating as a confident fatty, the truth for many is a bit darker. If you’re a fat, cis-gendered, heterosexual or bisexual woman and okay with that and say so in your online dating profile, you can expect to get a variety of messages from doodz. I have no other words to describe them without an endless string of curse words. They find it appalling, offensive, wrong, illegal somehow that someone who is a woman and fat could possibly be confident in this world. And they have a point, because they and much of our society do not want us to be confident. It’s so much harder to profit from people who actually like who they are in the world. Oh you thought dieting was about health?! Ha-ha! It’s NOT!

We’re supposed to be the grateful fatty that just cayunt beleeev that a mayun would be paying attenshun to us! Wheweee and my oh my! *FansSelf* Except NO! We needn’t settle for such idiots, nor do we owe them our time, attention, replies or energy. NOPE! Back off jackasses, we ain’t got time for you! Not happening! I refuse to respond to those kinds of messages. If anyone in my dating pool (age, location, interests) wants to pique my interest they better start by trying to have an actual conversation. Insults and flattery will get you nowhere and/or blocked. And we’ve all had some rando-dood hit on us only to turn on us when rejected, “Baby, you’re so fiiiiine! Let me get a better look at ya! Give me your number! Take me to your place!”  “What do you mean no?! You’re a fat, ugly-ass bitch anyway!” Riiiight! *Chuckles* So fat and ugly that you were begging me to take you home?!

They want to give us fashion rules, labels, shame us towards “improvement” (or so they claim but none of us believe that shit anyway) and of course make us the butt of every lazy-comic’s joke. Uhhh…NOPE! Not cool, not okay and just plain stupid, thanks. Don’t you love it when folks who know nothing about you, your life, or your anything also feel entirely entitled to tell you all about you and what you need to do? Yeah, no, me neither! Ugh! Shut the fuck up and mind your beeswax already! I find that the people who do this aren’t exactly happy with themselves. Or the women who tear other women down. Stop that! Who is that helping? You? It’s not! I promise it’s not.

People get real mad when others don’t follow the nonsensical rules they’ve chosen to live by. Hearing a certain idiot’s “dear fat people” shit and hearing more than enough people saying under their breath, “I wish I could eat whatever I want…” yeah well you can! You choose to live by made up rules with zero logic behind them. You choose to be an asshole to others and bully people you have deemed it necessary to attack when you could be working on your damned self! Yeah! Self work is a thing! Fatties have had to do this work their entire lives in order to appease the assholes! All that time what were you doing? Oh yeah that’s right, being a bullying jackass. Way to be. NOT! All of the assholes in the world are so busy congratulating themselves for bullying people somehow different from them that they’ve never actually had to reflect on their lives, actions, development, consequences and contributions to the world. This is my opinion, mind you, but it seems pretty obvious by how they choose to speak to us.

There have always been fat bodied people in the world and there always will be. We didn’t choose to be fat anymore than we got to choose our parents, eye color or sexuality! What is a choice is how we carry ourselves in the world, how we treat others and how we allow others to treat us. You don’t have to fight back directly, you don’t have any obligation to defend others or speak up when it’s not safe for you to do so. You are not the asshole whisperer! You fight back by living your life without listening to the assholes and bullies of the world. You fight back by living the life you want to live, by leaving the house with your head held high and wearing whatever the hell you want! You don’t owe anyone a damned thing! You are worthy of all of the love and happiness this world has to offer!

Live your life, dear fatty. Live it and live it well! Live your life in any way that you see fit. Find fulfillment in it and in yourself. You deserve to decide what you want in your life and what you don’t. You don’t have to put up with the bullies and the assholes, even and especially if they are related to you. Anyone who truly loves you will show it! Anyone truly concerned about your health will ASK YOU how you are feeling! People who care will show it. Don’t waste your time and energy on people who will deplete, use and shame you. That is not your purpose in life. What is your purpose? Well, that is entirely up to you!

Rad Fatty Love,
<3
S

You know how I talk about pushing myself out of my comfort zone a lot? Well, I do that shit! But sometimes, it’s extra hard to do that shit! Even when it’s something I really wanna do. Even when it’s something I’ve done hundreds of times. We change so much over time but we don’t realize it until we hit that comfort zone wall. Like, “Oh! I didn’t see you there. I’m sorry….wait!” That’s pretty much what happened when the day came for me to go to a concert I’d been dying to go to for 22 years! What?! I know, that IS a long time! I’d missed seeing L7 in concert so many times over the years it’s embarrassing!

22 years ago I went to a Benefit Concert (link to MTV News segment about the benefit concert with Nirvana interview and L7 performance clips: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MsxQ2d6Ctpo) to see headliner Nirvana. That night before Nirvana took the stage my mind was blown so many times by bands I’d never heard of: The Breeders & L7 (funny ’cause I wouldn’t hear of the Pixies until years later! Ha-ha!). The day after this show I went to my local Warehouse Music and asked for those two bands’ albums. They handed me L7’s “Bricks Are Heavy” on cassette and insisted that “The Breeders aren‘t even a band. You must have their name wrong.” Ummm…NO! August 28t, 2015: I finally got to see L7 again and I just can’t believe it! My life is so different now and I couldn’t be happier for that, but I’m living in my hometown again and that on it’s own is blowing my mind daily. The picture below was how I looked at the time of the concert. “I think I’ll do my hair like that for the show tonight.”

I was sixteen years old and suffering some of the worst violence my abuser ever provided, but music was my life and savior then. I went to so many concerts from the age of twelve on. I’ve been to hundreds. I have seen more bands play live than I could ever recall. I used to love it so much! The excitement before the show, getting in and finding your seat or claiming your spot near the stage. The headbanging, the moshing, the crowd surfing. Good times! Those concerts provided temporary escape from the hell that was my regular life back then.

Later when I worked for a music magazine promoting new artists and managing a music store I would get tons of free concert tickets. Sometimes for bands I didn’t even care about, other times awesome ones like getting great seats to a sold out show from the record label/company out of the blue. I just never knew when or where but I was always somehow going to shows. I never had anxiety back then. I guess you could say that it was the real life shit I was dealing with that caused me more harm than the demons in my head.

I particularly loved L7 because they were loud, angry ladies from Los Angeles who knew how to shred and write a damn good song and guitar riff! Hey, it was the 90’s and while it wasn’t so rare, it’s pretty fucking rare to see women thrashing on guitar like them nowadays. Just sayin’! But I would blast their album so much and so loud and it would drive my abuser up the wall! There was a specific song he hated most, it soon became my favorite because it was awesome and because it would make him so irritated he would often leave the house! Score! That song was “Slide” and it’s about kicking out some loser-asshole who is fucking up your life and your shit and he just needs to fucking GO! Ha-ha!

Every time I would hear about an L7 show it would be too late to get a ticket or it would be the day after a local show. Ugh! All of these years later I still follow them and their careers and music and what do ya know, they decided to do a reunion tour and I nearly shit a brick! AND they were going to play San Francisco. AND it was at one of my favorite venues! AND it was (relatively) cheap to get a ticket! YES!!! So I did! I got my ticket and while I would have loved to go with someone else, I didn’t have anyone else to go with. So I got my ticket and said fuck it!

Cut to the day of the concert and I’m having some low grade anxiety about going alone. I hadn’t been to a concert in years. I’d grown sick and tired of the bullshit of parking, ticket prices, crowds and assholes on the cell phones. I decided after the last concert I went to solo (Madonna Hard Candy Tour) that I’d never go to an arena show again and that I’d only go show that I felt the absolute need to go! Thus, L7 was a must! I kept trying to psych myself up for the show but ended up just sort of procrastinating the entire day in an attempt to avoid my anxiety hitting full blast. I did okay with that but then time got away from me and I had to scramble a bit to get ready. Well, I did my hair earlier in the day since it was hot out…

I tried to recreate the ‘do of yesteryear but only had little red rose clips. No idea what happened to those cute sunflower ones, but hey, in a pinch?! Ha-ha! But then I didn’t know what to wear! I must have changed outfits four times before finally deciding comfort must reign supreme! Which resulted in this fine outfit…

This pic was taken after the show, but you get the idea (can’t see my awesome limited edition Dia de los Muertos Doc Martens, but they are still my go-to boots). The Bow belt is from Torrid four years ago. The top is also Torrid from two years ago, size 4. The jeans, Torrid curvy-skinny jeans size 26.

I left my house a bit later than I’d intended, I had to really give myself a pep talk the whole drive there, but ended up finding parking just two blocks away (golden!). The opening band, Fright Wig, was kick ass! But my left knee kept popping in and out of it’s place and causing me more pain that I care to think about and standing on the general admission floor for L7 just wasn’t going to cut it! People were shifting away from me because I couldn’t keep still and I’m sure made some horrific faces from the pain of it. So I decided to see if I could get up into the balcony without having a reserved ticket. But that meant navigating a very intimidating white marble staircase that seemed to go straight up into oblivion! Hey, when your knee is fucked that shit seems impossible! But going up was doable, I just had to try!

Try I did and I succeeded! Then I talked to the kind butch at the top of the stairs to ask about the seating. It was hard to hear each other but she explained that only seats with signs on them were reserved, the rest were up for grabs. Hell yeah!!! I was saved! I found some empty seats to the right side of the stage and sat on an aisle to let my knee stretch if need be. Luckily for me the seats next to me were only occupied temporarily as the seats themselves were broken. So I didn’t have to get bumped into or harassed or just annoyed by jerks. Nope! I had it made in the balcony shade! Woooot!

And you know what? I had a fucking blast! L7 puts on a fantastic show, y’all! Ohmigosh! And being there and feeling the music vibrate through my skeleton (it’s in there, I swear, under my protective layer of fat! Ha!) and when the aroma of all of that patchouli and weed and beer and sweat hit me…I swear it’s like a time machine! It was the 90’s in the Regency Ballroom that night! At first it seemed a regular audience but soon a mosh pit formed and the moshing and crowd surfing commenced and it was allllllll good! There is one image I just can’t shake though, man buns in the mosh pit! Just swirling around with everybody else…man buns. Weird.

Then, just as they finished their last song, I popped up out of my seat and made a bee line for that terrible white marble staircase again. This time it was worse than I could have expected. Going down stairs is already so much harder for me and a lot of knee pain sufferers, but now someone had spilled their beer down the entire thing and folk were already visibly slipping and screaming trying to get down to the bottom. I took a deep breath, grabbed the handrail and went for it! My boots gripped the wet marble with a squeak and grabbed that handrail for dear life. With great focus and resignation I fucking made it to the bottom without injury! I made it back to my car within a few minutes and ended up catching my dear friend and dance partner Tigress at her job at the end of her shift where she bought me a drink and an ice cream cone. She knows how to treat a lady! Good times!

I not only survived my anxiety and fears and worries and being in “the big city all alone” and everything and had a killer time at the show as well as a great nightcap with a close friend! I couldn’t have asked for more! But then I did have some trouble getting home when the shut down the highway, but I managed on surface streets since I grew up on the peninsula and even made it to McDonald’s drive thru to find that they had after midnight breakfast! Y’all don’t even know! I only like one thing at McDonald’s and that’s their sausage McMuffin! I’ll eat a McChicken in a pinch, but I don’t really like anything else on their menu. So I lucked out and felt like a winner over all when I got home at about 3am! Ha-ha!

I slept like a rock but woke up only a bit sore from my knee stuffs. I am so glad I went! I am so happy that I got to see such a legendary band that has influenced me and helped shape me into the radical fat feminist that I am today. And if I hear that they’re coming back to the bay I will be sure to go again! 😉

<3
S

Hi. *Waves* How’s it going? *Smiles*

I just wanted to provide a bit of an update, assure folks that I’m alive and well and honestly doing much better than my previous post would lead one to believe.  (Referring to this and even more so this post.)

Somewhere in SoCal, across the street from a gas station…I just love this!!!

I am doing and feeling MUCH BETTER! Thank you all for reaching out, checking in, sharing your stories with me and just being fantastic readers and people, too! Please keep reaching out and doing all your good things! Write to me directly here: notblueatall@notblueatall.com if you’d rather not comment on a particular post. I don’t share the emails I get from my readers with anyone ever. Your confidentiality is important to me. I do believe that human connection is a necessity of life and the world often feels like a very isolating place, especially when you don’t have anyone close to trust or lean on. Hugs! <3

When someone lives with PTSD as a result of extensive and traumatic events, it becomes difficult to relate to others. When the demons you’re battling 24/7 are in your own head, you begin to wonder if there can even be a winner. You question who you are, what you want and why you choose to persist in your existing-ness. You wonder what will be left if you ever break out of the cycle of badness in your head. It had been so long since I had had to live with my PTSD symptoms and having so much happen in my life in such a short amount of time certainly triggered more than I could ever have imagined. Moving back to where I suffered the abuses I did so long ago was more than my brain could handle.

It’s hard to explain because intellectually I knew the who what when where and why, but I couldn’t stop the flood of terror that was my special version of reality for awhile. I never let on to my loved ones how bad things were. That’s part of being a survivor, I think. You learn real quick how to act and how to act like everything is normal so well that even those nearest to you can’t tell that anything is amiss. Sad, but true. I am so grateful to the people in my life who do and can support me in ways that I need to be. I am lucky and know this and do all I can to never take these amazing people for granted. Myself included! I wondered how much worse it would have gotten had I not intellectually known what was going on with me suddenly.

Looking back at the last two months I am astonished at all that has come to pass in my head. My new apartment is a tiny studio. It’s just me and my puggo, but my demons are always there, too, ya know? I have come to accept this rather than deny its existence. Just as depression is always waiting to tap me on the shoulder and creep back into my being, so is all of the memories and traumas I have survived and continue to process and struggle with. To my knowledge there is no cure for PTSD. It’s a journey of exploration, processing and healing. One I doubt will ever end so long as I live. But it is a journey that I am committed to taking in order to live the best life that I can live today.

After some really bad times, like a few weeks of absolute misery and fear, my bf very spontaneously insisted we go on a road trip with our pugs down to SoCal (southern California). I have famously said, “SoCal is No-Cal for me!” and typically hate pretty heavily upon that region of my home state. But you know what? SoCal ain’t so bad! (Ya hear that J?! :P) In fact, a road trip was exactly what I needed, though I fought it at first. I’m a planner and worrier and sudden and spontaneous travel is Stress City USA! But I said fuck it and laid all of my trust in my bf and my own ability to handle whatever situation I found myself in. I decided it had to be better than my own insanity (I was convinced I was truly losing my last hold onto sanity for a bit there) and packed very lightly and just went!

I am so fucking glad that I did! I needed to get the hell outta my home town and more so, out of my own fucked up head! It was hot but we had a great rental car with a fantastic air conditioner! The two of us and our two little pugs made our way down south and stopped at all kinds of ridiculous road side attractions along the way. It was an adventure for all of us! At the end of our first night I nearly had a panic attack. I was severely triggered by the visible drug abuse and other disgusting but apparent things happening at the hotel we ended up in (the very last room in the very last hotel in Oxnard – – fitting name, I’d say). I had to just go to the bathroom and cry and breathe it out and just deal. My bf was doing his absolute best but we were all exhausted and it was so hot and gross and what could ya do? But the next two days were bliss! I wouldn’t trade them or my boys (the pugs and my bf) for the world! We stayed in a wigwam the next night and had the best time! When we got back I felt more like myself than I had in months! (Pics at the end)

Being on the road and caring for the dogs and seeking fun-silly attractions and weirdness forced me to get out of my head and be in the present. It all could have gone horribly wrong, I realize that, but it didn’t and I always have an escape plan, I can’t help that (thanks PTSD!). I began to feel very ill halfway through our first day on the road and so I listened to what my body needed and spoke up as soon as I knew what that was. It took about an hour, but in the end I felt so much better and was able to make the rest of that day’s journey bearable.

Being present and mindful is easier said than done. It sounds so simple and yet it is so fucking hard!!! Living in the moment is not just carpe diem and all that jazz. It’s more about intent, compassion, impact and mindfulness. It’s about listening to your body and mind and doing what needs to be fulfilled in the moment. It’s sometimes having to sit through an entire day unable to move because anxiety won’t let you. It’s reminding yourself constantly, “It’s okay!” no matter what is happening in reality or in your head. It’s knowing that just because people tell you something “can’t hurt you anymore” or “you’re not the person you were when that happened so it can’t possibly happen to you again” doesn’t change your traumatized brain and neural pathways. It’s admitting you know this and yet you can’t leave the house. Why? Because it feels like the world is closing in on you and everyone knows you’re crazy or marked or wrong or trying to kill you…

No one told me I was a survivor of abuse. No one told me I was being abused or had to escape. No one told me a fucking thing! Friends dropped away one by one. Soon the world really did grow smaller for me and my abuser caused and took advantage of this to continue to control me. I used to wonder a lot about what might have been had someone intervened or insisted I get out or whatever. I can’t waste my time/energy/thoughts on what ifs now. What happened has already been done and cannot be undone. There was no knight in shining armor or prince charming or whatever the fuck ever! It was and is and always will just be me. I have my back! I can trust myself to survive! I have instincts that can get me out of danger. I will continue to survive. (This goes for you, too!)

I find myself often telling my friends who date, “If they’ve got you questioning your shit, that’s a red flag!” and seriously! If someone makes you question your own reality, sanity, memory or how you feel about yourself DROP THEM!!! I wish I had known about “Gaslighting” and it’s signs back when I was suffering at the hands (and mind) of my abuser.

READ THIS ARTICLE: http://everydayfeminism.com/2015/06/gaslighting-is-an-abuse-tactic/ know the signs and watch for them!!!

I cannot reiterate this enough. It could be your life, or someone you love, who gets caught up in something they don’t want to be in. It’s something you think will or could never happen to you or nowadays. IT DOES! And don’t fool yourself into thinking that you know weather or not a friend is in an abusive relationship or not. This is a great article about a woman who didn’t tell anyone her husband was beating her and why: http://www.damemagazine.com/2014/10/29/why-i-didnt-tell-you-he-was-beating-me

Believe someone when they tell you things about their relationships, romantic or not. This extends to anyone you have a relationship with! It could be a boss or colleague or neighbor, someone who just fucks you up inside and you’re just not sure what is going on. Examine that shit! Be mindful of how that person’s mere presence makes you feel. Be mindful of the energy you’re bringing into a room with you as well. We all are responsible for our own underpants, as the saying goes, but it’s deeper than that. Our behavior is a choice, conscious or not! You can choose to be an asshole. You can choose to be friendly. You can choose to drop trou and do a jig in the middle of the food court at your local mall. The point is that it IS a choice. Know this when folks make you feel like shit, they do it by choice and will continue to do so until you create a boundary. (I realize that some behaviors are far from a choice, such as anxiety and depression, but I do believe that how we treat others is a choice.)

And fuck do I wish someone had told me about boundaries and how to set them in like KINDERGARTEN!!! Holy shit that would have saved me so much pain and anguish! But what’s done is done. I now know that it’s okay and perfectly reasonable to let someone know that their behavior is unacceptable and that you will not tolerate that type of behavior any further and it is up to them to do better or do away with themselves. This is a hot button issue in my world. I have had to learn (the hard way, always) that cutting assholes out of your life is the best thing you can do for yourself and your health! True facts! I didn’t say it was easy. But I can promise you that you will be a better person for having done it!

People who take, drain you, use you, you dread, belittle you or your accomplishments, say things about your body or your life, they may not know how their behavior is affecting you. I know this sounds ludicrous, but our society reinforces assholery, so it is possible that they truly have no idea that they are in fact being an asshole. It really is up to you to let them know that you will not tolerate this behavior. There in lies the problem. How do you tell someone they are being an asshole without making the situation worse? Well, you have some options. You can explain yourself, but chances are they will make you out to be the asshole. Gaslighting!!! Stick to your guns! If you tell them you will not tolerate their behavior towards you, it is up to you to create that boundary and stick to it. Meaning, drop them like a cold turd! You can only do so much, you are not the asshole whisperer. It is not up to you to win them over or retrain them to behave like a mature adult human person.

I have been made to feel like the biggest weirdo ever for having to do this in my life. People don’t understand that this is something that anyone can and probably should do at some point in their life. If a relationship isn’t mutually beneficial then what is the point of the relationship at all? YOU DON’T OWE ANYONE ANYTHING!!! You don’t owe anyone your time, attention, energy, love, kindness, money, support…You don’t owe anyone anything! REPEAT IT! YOU DON’T OWE ANYONE ANYTHING!!! I don’t care if it’s “family” or someone you’ve “known forever” where is that loyalty showing up in how that person is treating you? It may not be their intent to make you feel like crap, but once you make them aware of this fact, it really is up to them to change or  not. If they choose to continue, you don’t have to! You do not have to interact with anyone who treats you like garbage! If it is someone at work, talk to your human resources department. Talk to someone! We all need to talk more about this shit because, like I said, some people don’t know how terrible they are to others until they are told.

I used to hate that old saying about you can’t truly love someone until you love yourself. It sounds cheesy, but what it really means is, you won’t find fulfillment in others, you must find it within yourself. That’s hard! Especially when your brain is broken like mine. Seeking acceptance and validation from others will only hurt you. It takes a ton of work, but you can find acceptance and validation within yourself. It’s worth it because you are worth it. I wish someone had told me these things when I was fourteen! When we feel empty or broken or worthless we are more susceptible to abuse. I hate this but it’s true. When I hated myself I only met assholes. When I finally found that loving myself was the way to fulfillment I also started to attract some of the smartest and most incredible people into my life than I ever even knew existed!

Trust yourself, your instincts are there to protect you from harm. Only you know what you need and only you can live your life.

There is a Crisis Text line that you can DM for free directly to a trained therapist:

Crisis Text Line lets you DM a trained therapist—and it’s free

Thank you for witnessing my journey. Your love and support really does mean so much to me.
Rad Fatty Love,
<3
S