I did it again. I wrote an essay maybe two months ago and then disappeared for a bit. I really do want to start writing weekly again, but my schedule has been out of wack.

I decided I wanted to take a hiatus from painting murals sometime last year and get a job at a bakery. I started working at a bakery last October and stayed through the end of January. Meantime, in October 2023 I was contacted by a previous client that requested my services again. They were opening a second location for their bagel shop and wanted me to paint the same mural in the new location. Initially I told him that I would have to think about it because I wasn’t creating any murals at the time and I was starting a new job with varying hours. I considered how easy the mural would be, the money I would make, realized working around my bakery schedule really wouldn’t be that bad, and decided to move forward with the project.

The client was great and easy to work with during both mural applications, so I asked if they would be hiring at the second location. I was already thinking about getting a second part time job and this seemed perfect. I began working at the first location in early January and began training as a baker in late January. I really enjoyed the job at first and was excited about becoming a full time baker. The hours working the front of house were generally 6am-1:30pm and 4am or 4:30 am -12pm for baking. The shop was thirty minutes from my home so I awoke at either 4:15am or 2:15am. Needless to say, I had a hard time adjusting to my new sleep schedule and middle-of-the-night-mornings. I would nap often after work, attempt to keep up with laundry and chores, and try to make time to train my dog for twenty minutes twice a day. This proved to be a lot to handle for awhile. Lastly, I found out about a month ago that I would have an art show in early July, so now all my free time is going towards creating new art. However, today I made it happen! Today I decided that priority number one after work would be writing this. So there you go. That’s the story. That’s my excuse.

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When I started working at the bakery last year I tried to get on a schedule and I was excited about getting healthier and continuing to cut down on drinking. For awhile I still drank some everyday and to go to bed. Slowly the drinking waned and when I began working at the bagel shop I basically stopped. I didn’t have it in my night time schedule to drink and I couldn’t risk being more tired when I woke up as a result of drinking the night before. I realized that I had barely been drinking, except in social situations or date nights with the hubby sometime in April. I wasn’t drinking to get wasted anymore. I was controlled and only having a few to enjoy. I was really proud of myself as I realized I didn’t even think about it daily anymore or feel like I needed it to make it through the day and deal with my emotions and anxiety.

At the beginning of May, Brandon and I attended an event with my family. Normally I would have a beer while I was getting ready, take one to go, and possibly make Brandon stop to pick up something from a convenient store, BUT I didn’t drink at all. It didn’t even cross my mind. I didn’t even have an alcohol beverage at the event where they were serving free wine and beer. I realized this is what happens when you aren’t drinking all the time, which allows your anxiety medication to actually work and produce the affect it’s supposed to. If only I would have figured out this magic trick years ago, my life would have been so much calmer and fear free. But now I know so I can keep this almost-sober lifestyle up and do better all the time.

Now you’re caught up with my life and the conclusion to my sober-ish life journey. What a beautiful realization to have. I’m in the moment, not in my head. I’m so grateful I’m out of the cyclical cycle of drinking to escape how I feel, while the alcohol I consume to escape is only making it worse causing more anxiety and lower depression forcing me to continue to drink and want to drink more. Thank goodness I never have to live like that again.

If you’re reading this, remember:

• You can change your life or career at any time

• It’s never too late to learn something new.

• A change of pace can really do wonders if your day to day life revolves around abusing your body and mind.

• Self medicating is never the answer.

• Love yourself most, so you can give yourself grace, a space to grow, and the freedom to learn simple magic tricks to change your life.

  Thanks for reading CB’s Life in Writing! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

I’m back! It’s been a long while since I posted anything and I honestly don’t know what has kept me away or from writing, but I’m here now…so let’s GO!

Recently, I’ve been doing a lot of research about ADHD and I am amazed I never dove into this information before or knew how much it was affecting my life. When I was 32 I was diagnosed with adult ADHD. I was really surprised because I did really well in high school, so well in fact that I graduated number 10 in my class with highest honors and was awarded an academic scholarship to a private university.

College on the other hand, proved to be very tough for me and rough at times. I always attributed that to my bipolar disorder diagnosis, but now I think it was a combination of ADHD symptoms and suffering with bipolar symptoms that weren’t properly treated.

The day I asked my new psychiatrist to test me for ADHD I had gotten lost in the office building and wound up being later than I already was. I kept forgetting his office number even though I looked at it several times while walking to his office. I was nervous for my first visit and my mind was continually wandering as I was overthinking how the first visit would go. I kept going down different halls, turning corners, going upstairs and downstairs because I kept looking for the wrong number and the office numbering system didn’t make sense to me.

When I finally found his office I was about ten to fifteen minutes late. I was embarrassed as I explained that I kept forgetting the office number and wandered around aimlessly before I found it. The receptionist told me not to worry about it and asked if I had ADHD. I told her no. Then she suggested that I get evaluated for it, so that’s what I did.

After the psychiatrist and I went over my history and talked about my bipolar diagnosis, medication, and therapy, I asked if he would test me for ADHD. He asked me a list of questions that I guess tested my working memory and distractibility and asked about everyday occurrences. He then diagnosed me with ADHD, but I sort of didn’t believe it, but at the same time wasn’t surprised.

There have been people in my adult life that have commented that I may have ADHD after I was spacey or was being a “dumb blond”, asked a question that had just been answered, or had flight of ideas. At that time I thought that ADHD was just those things; getting distracted easily and not being able to focus. I did have trouble with those things, but I didn’t think it was a big deal.

My doctor prescribed me a medication to help with the symptoms but I never really felt like they did anything. I realize now that they probably were working, I just didn’t know how or how much my ADHD manifested and effected everyday tasks and my behaviors and situations in every day life.

I didn’t do any research when I got the diagnosis about ADHD or the symptoms or how it can effect your life. I thought I knew what it impacted based on what I heard about as a child and somewhat as an adult.

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Recently, I was talking to my therapist and mentioned a few things I was always struggling with.

I explained that I had trouble with laundry, specifically actually doing any before I had at least 5 loads to do, remembering to switch wet clothes to the dryer, remembering to take the clothes out when the dryer goes off, and following through with putting up the clothes for weeks at a time. I also mentioned that there was clutter all over my house and I always had about 5 glasses or soda cans sitting next to my bed. I also told her how frustrated I was that I couldn’t stick to a schedule.

She said this was all due to my ADHD.

I told her I had no idea this was because of ADHD. She offered to send me some instagram posts and accounts I could follow to help implement some hacks to make things more manageable, which I have implemented and have helped and/worked for the last coupe of weeks.

I was so surprised that these things I thought I just couldn’t do because I was lazy, unfocused, and lacked motivation were actually not my fault. This started me on a journey to read, watch videos, and research everything associated with ADHD.

I have now identified a plethora of things I do because of this disorder and realized that so many of my behaviors, thought processes, quirks, and the things that make me, me, are caused by ADHD.

My mind was blown, y’all.

I basically feel that my entire personality and all my behaviors are ADHD symptoms manifested infinitely. I can explain myself with four words. Who am I? Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. This is who I am and what I am.

Okay, I know that’s pushing it and that is not fully true, but so much of what made me “weird” my whole life and different from others are the quirks and struggles that I contain within myself.

I don’t feel so alone now.

And I’m glad other people who have been called weird and lazy and messy their whole lives also have an explanation proving that these things aren’t entirely true.

(Okay, I probably am a “weird-artist-lady”despite these ADHD manifestations, but that’s another essay for another day.)

Things make so much sense now and a lot of things I thought were normal are not.

I realize that not everyone loses track of time on a regular basis or forgets to eat and drink water throughout the day.

I realize that most people don’t get distracted and jump from task to task.

I realize that not everyone starts multiple projects at once, but soon loses motivation or gets bored and doesn’t finish them.

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Now I know. I’ve learned a lot about myself recently and I’m excited to share some of my discoveries with you.

The following are some things I relate to because of ADHD:

• “Zoomies”- Let me explain what this term means. It’s starting one task, such as cleaning your bedroom, and you pick up a cup and take it back to the kitchen. Once you’re in the kitchen you notice the pile of mail you haven’t opened in two weeks and decide to go through it. At some point before all the mail has been opened, you look up and notice all the dog hair on your couch, so you switch to taking care of that mess. Then you remember you were cleaning the bedroom and return to that, but every time you have to put something away in another room or try to put pajama bottoms in a dresser drawer, you realize you need to go through your dresser drawers and get rid of things because the pajamas bottoms won’t fit so you start that or you take deodorant to the bathroom and see that the vanity needs to be cleaned, so you decide to start that. Eventually you may finish all the tasks, but if it’s me I’ll compete a few things or at least finish cleaning my room, then sit down to take a break and won’t be able to get going again to finish anything else I’ve started.

You see, this is the zoomies.

You zoom around in chaos trying to get things done and be productive while you’re motivated to tidy up, but you zoom around and get distracted by other cleaning or tidying tasks that need to be completed as your surroundings change.

• Poor hygiene- Such as forgetting to brush your teeth twice a day or at all, not taking a lot of showers and not consistently washing your hair at least once a week. You might be totally grossed out right now, but this is my life if I don’t make a concerted effort to take care of my hygiene. Luckily, both my husband and I manifest this symptom, so we don’t get grossed out. We do; however, nudge each other to shower when it’s been too long or we want to get close and be naked. We aren’t heathens after all.

• Hyperfocus- According to the National Institute of Health, hyperfocus is described as “a phenomenon that reflects one's complete absorption in a task, to a point where a person appears to completely ignore or 'tune out' everything else.” This happens when you become intensely fixated and completely engrossed while working on something or engaging in something that you find fascinating and interesting .

  ADHD brains are dopamine deficient so your brain is constantly searching for more dopamine and whatever holds your focus and concentration this intently is providing an increase in dopamine which makes you feel good.

Dopamine is a neurotransmitter that impacts areas of the brain that make you feel satisfaction, pleasure, and motivation. So when you’re hyperfocused, you’re motivated to continue to remain engrossed in the activity that grips and holds your attention so much that you tune out the surrounding world because it feels really good.

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Dopamine also impacts concentration, learning, sleep, mood, movement and plays a role in controlling memory, as well as other functions in the body. This is why I love to research things that interest me or I find curios.

I can research things for hours, just like when I get lost in my own world while I paint or write about things that I find compelling, which I am experiencing as at this very moment. (side note: it’s currently 9:36 pm and I should already be asleep but, I don’t want to stop working on this. You might say I am hyperfocused right now.)

• Doom Pile or Doom Room - A pile of random things that have accumulated in a big pile on the floor, in a chair, wherever there is free space, or has consumed an entire room. My husband and I both have ADHD and our bedroom is either cluttered with multiple Doom Piles or completely becomes a Doom Room. My husband’s “office” is his private Doom Room and Doom Closet that has been in disarray and complete chaos since we moved in two years ago.

• Floordrobe- A pile of clothes that have been worn a time or two (or three) that aren’t dirty enough to be put in the hamper but not clean enough to put away either. Clothes you have tried on and not had the energy or motivation to hang back up are also included in this pile. It’s a wardrobe on the floor.

Since we don’t have carpet in our bedroom, my laundry basket that is full of clean clothes that were never put away is piled high with these items, as well as the side of a hamper I don’t use and an area in my closet on top of some shelves. .At my old house I had a Chairdrobe.

• Laundry Problems- There are multiple things that ADHD brains struggle with when it comes to laundry. I struggled with laundry until I learned about a hack that has changed everything for me. Before I implemented the ADHD laundry hack, I struggled with doing the laundry on a regular basis and the follow through once it was started.

• Time Blindness- People with ADHD experience time differently. It can either zoom by or move as fast as hair grows. We often miscalculate how long tasks will take and we’re usually late to everything. I hate being late because someone once said that when you’re late it shows that you don’t respect other peoples time. This is not true when I am late. I just lose track of time or get distracted while getting ready or wait until the last second to get ready because I literally think I can shower, shave my legs, blow dry my hair and style it, get dressed, put on makeup, and brush my teeth in thirty minutes. It never works, but somehow I am convinced I can do it.

I have developed one hack for my time blindness. Since I struggle to be on time for work, I get up extra early to get ready in case I get distracted by something. I also developed a morning routine, so I know how much time it should take to get ready, but still I get up earlier to allot for more time. Then I set a time I need to leave with a ten minute buffer, so if I leave ten minutes late I still get to work a few minutes early.

• Impulsivity-This only gets worse when I experience hypomania or mania during a bipolar episode.

• Not being able to keep focus and pay attention when people are talking to me.

• Picking at my face all the time.

• Pulling out my eyebrows and obsessively plucking hair on occasion- Pulling out hair releases dopamine, so each time you pull a hair out it makes you feel good. Most often I pull my eyebrows out when I am anxious or overstimulated. Its compulsive.

• Leaving out the front door for work with slippers on.

• Overplaying Songs-When I find a new song I really like, I’ll listen to it on repeat. Just yesterday, I listened to “Stick Season” by Noah Kahan for an entire thirty minute drive, then when I got home for another thirty minutes and again this morning on my way to work.

  I freaking love this song right now. On Youtube I found an hour long loop of this single song and that’s what has made the continuous listening possible.

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There’s more but I feel like this post is already a tad bit long.

Individuals with ADHD struggle with things of this nature because of poor executive functioning. Executive functions are skills related to planning, self-control, self-monitoring, working memory, time management, paying attention, starting a task and staying focused on it until completion, organization, prioritizing, remembering what you just read or heard, and regulating emotions.

Executive dysfunction impacts so many things and areas of life every day.

Maybe now you’re wondering if you have ADHD or maybe you’ll understand a family member or loved one better and understand their struggles a little more.

I’m amazed at all the parts of my life that are impacted every hour of my existence. It’s really eye opening and I am glad I finally took the time to do this research.

Do you relate to any of these symptoms or manifestations? Do you have any hacks for making life more manageable with ADHD? If so, leave them in the comments.

Thanks for reading and for those of you with ADHD, try to remember to have a great morning or evening.

Until next time, remember:

• Your struggles don’t define you.

• It’s okay the sink is generally full of dishes.

• You can learn how to make tasks and life more manageable.

• You don’t have defaults and you aren’t broken.

• Love yourself most so negative criticism doesn’t define your self-worth.

• Love yourself most, quirks, struggles, and all.

  Thanks for reading CB’s Life in Writing! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Hello and welcome back to my life in writing.

Since my last post I’ve gone through an array of emotions from despair, disbelief, anger, worry, overwhelm, sadness, fear, and confusion. I had a hard time processing what was going on all over the world in relation to the Israel and Palestinian war and protests. I am in a better headspace now. I’ve realized that not everyone is inherently “good” in their hearts of hearts nor is everyone kind and loving. I’ve realized that some people can blindly hate and judge. I’ve seen rage and turmoil between people who only see things in black and white and are only trying to convince the other person that their perspective and opinion is the correct way to view the situation People are not willing to really listen to the other person and consider their point of view and why they feel the way they do. Whatever your view is on the issue at hand, know that we can have a conversation and my perspective is very nuanced and complex. News is misleading sometimes with propaganda on both sides. Not to mention the random people with no real knowledge or expertise on the matter giving TED Talks on TikTok and Instagram that spread misinformation and lies. But I digress let’s go ahead and switch subjects…

A few days ago we celebrated Thanksgiving. I was surrounded by my parents, my siblings and their respective partner and family, my mother-in-law, and my husband. It was a wonderful day. This is the first time the whole family has been together to celebrate a holiday and the second time to all be together in three years, so it seemed extra special.

This thanksgiving was a lot better for me than last year. Last year I was experiencing anxiety and a mild depression. I slept a lot and wasn’t really engaged with conversation, just existing and going through the motions. My sister called me a few days after and asked how I was doing because she was worried about me. I hadn’t even realized my melancholy mood and behavior was noticeable, but my sister can always tell when I am struggling. She noticed that I kept to myself, wasn’t as jolly as I usually am, slept in late, and took a lot of naps. I was indeed starting to suffer but I had no idea how off I was until this thanksgiving.

Last Thursday, I felt bright and happy. I was awake and wanted to enjoy everyone’s company. I was having a good day and feeling very happy and grateful. I told Brandon that I was so glad all my medications had finally been straightened out and I was stable again. I told him I never want to go off my meds again, which he has heard me exclaim the previous few weeks. It took almost a year for me to get back to baseline where I could function, be productive, and live almost anxiety free.

Over the last year and a half, I have learned first hand how important medication is for mental illness. I’m seriously a mess struggling each day to make it through without my meds. If I stay in control of managing my mental health, I will never go off of them again. It’s just not worth it.

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It’s interesting to me how different thanksgiving 2022 was compared to thanksgiving 2023. It’s like night and day. I also find it odd that I didn’t realize just how low I was even last November. The change was slow and insidious with me. My brain started functioning differently and my moods and thoughts went awry. I went into survival mode without even being aware. The low mood, high anxiety, and not being properly medicated led me to self medicate in order to self regulate. I didn’t succeed with either. The drinking continually increased as did the anxiety and sadness until I hit the wall of depression and stopped functioning. I laid in bed all day and couldn’t force myself to shower or brush my teeth. I was completely miserable and nothing seemed to matter. I knew my sadness would pass eventually because it always does, but I wasn’t sure how long it was going to hang around.

I didn’t even consider getting back on all my medication though. I had to be off of them to conceive and that was still the goal. I told Brandon my doctor asked if I thought I needed to add some medications for my depression and anxiety, but I told him it wasn’t necessary yet. I wasn’t feeling suicidal yet, so it couldn’t be that bad. Here I am unable to function as a human that engages in hygiene, basic chores, or life in general, but I didn’t think it was serious enough to get back on meds. Luckily, I have a very supportive and attentive husband who encouraged me to call the doctor back the next day and tell him I needed medication. Brandon told me my health was more important than a baby and I agreed.

Over the next 7 months I experienced rapid cycling mood episodes. I mostly noticed the lows because when you’re up you feel really good, like you can conquer the world. But when you’re down, medial tasks seem monumental and life itself can seem overwhelming. My doctor ended up adding an anti-depressant and a mood stabilizer to even me out. I never stopped taking my anti-psychotic, which is supposed to help with bipolar depression and hallucinations during mania. It was not really helping the year I only took that. I still take it and combined with other medications it does its job for me when the medication cocktail is complete for my specific brain biology. I did gain 10-15 pounds when I added the mood stabilizer, but I’d rather have a little more to love than have my thoughts, behavior, and moods out of control. Besides, Brandon tells me I’m beautiful and he loves my body at least once a day, so I have a hype man that helps with my body image.

I also started therapy again last April which has been very helpful dealing with all of this and working through past trauma. My therapist is kinda like my life coach. She gives me tools to use to deal with things and change my mindset, as well as setting goals for my recovery.

I’m grateful for my therapist and my doctor and for where I am today and how healthy I feel in my brain bones. It was a long road to get here, but I never gave up and learned the lesson that I’ll definitely need madication all my life to make it manageable.

If you are suffering with a mental health issue or mental illness, I highly encourage you to try medication if your doctor prescribes it and if it works for you, stick with it. It doesn’t fix everything. I still have my ups and downs, but they’re manageable. I’m able to keep going and work through them just like everyone else with a healthy brain. Also, a therapist is really helpful, too. Even when I am not going through an episode it’s still nice to talk through my fears, worries and situations I’m nervous about with a mental health professional. It’s nice to add one more person who is cheering for you and supporting you.

If you are reading this, remember:

• Healing takes time.

• Recovery is possible.

• There is no single road to betterment and health.

• Love yourself most, so you can conquer any obstacle by remaining prudent and not being fearful to try new methods for healing (like medication).

Suicide. It’s such a heavy word; dark, scary, final.

September was National Suicide Prevention Month and September 10th was World Suicide Prevention Day. I missed it. I meant to write this newsletter then, but I don’t know what happened. I just didn’t. I focused on more upbeat things, but now it’s time to get serious.

I completely dropped the ball and I’m sorry for that, but I am going to talk about suicide now. Perhaps it will still make a difference for someone.

Here are some reasons this is an important topic:

• Suicide is the 11th leading cause of death in the United States.

• It’s the 2nd leading cause of death in children 10-14 years of age and the 3rd leading cause of death in people aged 15-24.

• Middle-aged white men have the highest rate of suicide.

• Men are more likely to commit suicide than women.

• Lesbian, gay, and bisexual individuals are 4 times more likely to attempt suicide.

• Transgender people are 9 times more likely to attempt suicide at least once in their life as compared to the general population.

• Everyday twenty-two veterans lose their life to suicide.

• There are usually signs before someone attempts suicide.

• Intervention can save lives.

If you or someone you know is in crisis or thinking about suicide call or text 988.

Maybe you know this about me, maybe you don’t, but I’ve been on the edge of a suicide attempt and it was very scary. It’s the most out of control my thoughts and actions have been that I’ve ever experienced. I was in a mixed manic and depressed state with logic trying so hard to find a voice within the war raging in my mind.

This is my personal experience and the most unstable I have been when dealing with suicidal ideation. I’ve dealt with being suicidal a number of times in my past, but this is the only time it felt like I was actually on the verge, minutes or seconds away from doing it.

This is when I almost lost the battle.

It was different than a depression progressing to suicidal ideation because I was experiencing a mixed state of bipolar disorder. It happened like the flip of a light switch.

Stick with me if you want to know what it was like and how I saved myself and got help. This is most of my story:

I was driving from my childhood home in Galveston to my current home in San Antonio when it happened. I fell off the cliff into overwhelming hopelessness, sadness, and despair. It was November 2016. I went home to celebrate my sister opening her new business, Flying Fortress CrossFit, and we celebrated a lot. I’d been trying not to drink because I’d been feeling a little off and having lots of mood swings. That year, when I started feeling down or like I wasn’t stable and things were getting out of sorts in my mind, I’d try not to drink because alcohol can make mental health worse over all. I’d been dealing with a lot that year: divorce, new job, sexual assault, not getting along with my parents, buried memories of molestation. But I did drink that weekend.

I drank champagne Friday night to celebrate the opening of my sister’s new facility. Saturday, I drank cocktails with liquor, which at the time I rarely drank because it made me tipsy so quickly and suffering from undiagnosed PTSD at the time, I didn’t like to feel out of control of my thoughts, actions, body or surroundings. This was a big mistake. I think I was drinking that weekend because I felt good. My mood was up. I think I was manic, so I wasn’t really thinking about what was best for me or of consequences. Bipolar disorder can make you a mess and make it hard to take care of yourself sometimes, especially when you’re unmedicated and handling a lot of stress, change, and trauma like I was.

For the past few weeks or so, I had been staying up late a lot and getting up very early to go to 5:30am yoga or just not sleeping at all, which is pretty unlike me because I really do love sleep. Some nights I’d only sleep 2 to 3 hours. I’d stay up organizing and reorganizing my apartment. I generally had so much energy, I really didn’t feel the need to sleep or even feel tired when I went a couple of days with no sleep. I felt like there was a fire burning within me made up of sparks of energy and excitement and everything good. For most of those weeks I felt really really overjoyed about myself and life and handling everything on my plate, with a few dips of days here and there. I would feel so low on those days I couldn’t be alone and had to call a friend to come sit with me for awhile or go stay the night with a friend so I wouldn’t feel so alone. It was confusing and aggravating.

Those sleepless nights when I was functioning on what felt like pure bliss, I’d bake a bunch of cookies and cobblers and pies and dog treats and make soap and paint and clean my apartment and do my hair and make-up exceptionally well and precise and go through things to give away. (I gave away about half of my wardrobe over a month, even after I got back on medication. This is one of the strange behavioral symptoms with mania and hypomanic states; getting rid of things and purging. Not everyone does it, but some of us do.)

For awhile I thought an invisible person lived in my bathroom. And that’s what we call paranoia, my friends! Except I didn’t know this was something strange to believe, so later when the doctor asked me if I had had any hallucinations or paranoia, I said only audible hallucinations, no paranoia. I didn’t even tell them about the person living in my bathroom because I thought it was real and not a problem. My reality in mania is a tad bit off. I knew the music and muffled conversations I would hear weren’t there most of the time, but sometimes I had to check with other people to see if they were hearing it too.

I knew that evening driving home that things were already going to be rough. I started crying on and off and felt panicky on the rest of the drive after my mood flipped and I was in the deep throws of darkness and pain. As I got closer to San Antonio I kept telling myself that this would pass and I just have to get through it, which is what I always tell myself when I start feeling low. I know it won’t last forever. Things will always get better and the darkness will always pass.

When I got home I unloaded my car and made myself go to the grocery store. While I was there I was wondering around forgetting what I was looking for, preoccupied with thoughts of “What’s the point to go grocery shopping, I’m going to kill myself anyway” and “This is all pointless” and “nothing matters, this doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.” These were on a loop in my head, but I got what I needed and went home to my apartment.

I started feeling up again. Like a flash, I was happy and on cloud 9. I started going through my closet again to get rid of things. Then, suddenly my mood would drop and I’d be on the floor crying. Then a few minutes later, I’d be excited about baking something, then back down with the crying, and up again. And then I felt like I was seriously losing my mind. I had never experienced anything like that and I haven’t ever again and I hope I never do. It was so scary. At one point it all started to mix and I felt happy and suicidal at the same time. I think part of my brain was actually suicidal so the thoughts and demands came loud and repeatedly. Another part of my brain was pleading that I didn’t want to die. And still another part was screaming just to make it stop, which suicide would also be an answer to.

Mixed states in bipolar disorder are very dangerous for this very reason. You have the dark thoughts about killing or hurting yourself and the energy to do it. It’s not a safe space to fill.

I called a friend and told her I wanted to kill myself and I was scared. She told me to hang up and call a crisis hotline, so that’s what I did. When I got through to the person at the other end of the crisis line, they asked me what was going on and I repeated that I wanted to kill myself; that I felt like I was losing my mind. He asked if I had a plan of how to do it. I answered “yes” as I held the pill bottle in my hand. He told me to take myself to the emergency room. I got mad and irate and yelled at him and told him that didn’t help. I think I was hoping he had some magic advice or words or a solution to share with me or just help me in that moment. But I guess there was nothing he could say, so he followed protocol. I called the crisis hotline back and hoped to get someone else to save the day and my life. I got the same person and he told me the same thing again. I was yelling at him through tears about needing help and begging him to help me. He remained calm and said I needed to call 911 or go to an emergency room. I hung up and I took myself to a crisis center instead.

I immediately felt better after I signed in and was waiting to be seen. I was in a safe place and I was going to get help. “They won’t let me hurt myself. They are going to make me okay,” I told myself. I figured I’d go to a crisis center because this is what they are for, people in crisis. I knew everything could be put back in order if I just got back on medication. Everything would be okay if someone could help me regulate these thoughts and emotions and chemicals going haywire in my brain. I didn’t want to go to the ER to be put on a 72 hr hold or put in the psych ward. I knew I wasn’t crazy.

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I finally was seen and told the man evaluating me what was going on and how scared I was, but how I felt better already being in a safe place around people. I texted my friend, Steven, while I was in the waiting room to let him know what was going on. He came and met me at the clinic and sat with me through the interview or whatever you want to call it with the crisis expert. Steven told me he was surprised I was there and that he had no idea it was that bad. I told him it had been bad, but I didn’t expect this either. The crisis intake man decided I was still a threat to myself and shouldn’t be alone or go home. He told me if I didn’t admit myself into treatment they would have to do it and I would have to stay as long as they thought best. I didn’t want that, so I admitted myself. Steven agreed to look after my dog while I was getting help. I called my best friend, Caroline, and told her what was going on, too.

They took my shoelaces and the string out of my hoodie so I couldn’t use them to harm myself and I was put into a bright room filled with fluorescent lights and cot after cot after cot. There were men and women of varying ages sleeping; some just laying and staring at the ceiling, floor, or wall; and some just sitting up on their cot. No one talked. This is where you were held if you were a threat to yourself. These were the other people in crisis like me. This is where I waited to be seen by a doctor to figure out what was causing this meltdown. The doctor agreed that I was bipolar and in a mixed state. I was put on an antipsychotic, some sleeping pills, and a mood stabilizer. I told her I probably wouldn’t take the sleeping pills because I didnt want to be on too much medication. She told me that was a bad idea, but I thought I knew better.

Flash forward a few hours and I was moved to a behavioral rehabilitation center as I was deemed out of immediate danger. There were a lot of mentally unstable people at this place and lots of recovering alcoholics and addicts. Some were there before they went to a halfway house to get their medication in order and see a doctor for awhile to make sure they were stable enough to re-enter the real world. It was in there, surrounded by severely bipolar individuals, a person with schizophrenia, and other people with odd behaviors and various mental health issues, that I realized I belonged with all these “crazy” people. I was one of them, too. I was pretty sick and needed to get better just like all of them. None of us were really crazy.

I got my medications in order at this facility and talked with a psychologist. I ate three times a day. We did group counseling. We had timed and regimented cigarette breaks, which at the time felt like they were saving me. (Yes, I use to be a smoker. Anxiety is a hard thing to handle and for me, cigarettes provided some relief. And yes, I know they are a stimulant so it probably made it worse, but I felt like I was alert and in control, so there!) We also had time to do art and yoga. I met a lot of interesting people in there with interesting and unique stories.

Anyway, I stayed there for a few days until I had to leave for my job. The grand opening of the brewery I was working for was a few days away and I needed to get some last minute things in order. I couldn’t miss it or I was afraid I’d get fired since I was the event organizer and everything was weighing on me for it to be perfect and flow seamlessly. I found out later I would not have been fired or even reprimanded. My boss understood what was going on and was extremely supportive, but I did what I thought was best for me at the time and left against the doctor’s, caretakers, and social workers advice.

I was not better.

I wasn’t sad or suicidal anymore. I was just a hyped-up, energy-frenzied, manic person. It worked out though because everything went well for the opening and I was able to keep my shit together. I just talked a lot and really fast and floated around the brewery constantly checking on things, until Steven came to check it out and I took time to focus on one thing for awhile. I probably should have stayed at the behavioral facility until I was back down to my baseline, but manic Corey thought she knew best. Luckily, I didn’t get any worse and was able to manage my mania without getting into trouble with the law or completely becoming psychotic. The drugs were working, it was just taking a while to go into full effect. I still thought someone was living in my bathroom for a few weeks more.

That’s the basis of my story. I got a tattoo a couple weeks after getting out of the behavioral facility to make my bipolar disorder and what I overcame with the suicide scare a mark, like a scar on my body, to start a conversation or show that I made it through. The writing is from a poem by Charles Bukowski. I’ve shared the entire meaning of what the quote represents for me and what the semi colon stands for in previous posts, but I’ll also do that again in a later newsletter.

I also lost someone very dear to me when I was 21 to suicide. I’ll share about that and his life at another date. But part of my tattoo is for him, too.

If you are still reading or listening, thanks for sticking around. I know this was a longer one. And I even tried to keep it short and concise! It was a journey and I wanted you to be there for it and maybe understand what some people go through before a suicide attempt or sadly dying by suicide. The mind is a very strange place and we have to do our best to take proper care of our mental health and reach out when we are scared or need help. That is so vital for survival!

Remember, if you are reading this:

• Suicide prevention is a serious matter we should always pay attention to.

• There are usually signs of someone struggling with suicidal ideation.

• We have to be brave enough to have the hard or awkward conversations with the people we love and care about to make sure they are okay and surviving.

• Sometimes we have to pry.

• Love yourself most by reaching out when you need that helping hand, a hug, extra support, or someone to save your life. Your life is worth it and you matter.

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If you are thinking about suicide here are some resources for you:

Crisis Intervention Hotline: 832.416.1177

TEXT or CALL  988 if you’re in crisis or to chat- for the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline & Veteran Crisis Line 

NAMI HelpLine: 800-950-6264 or text "Helpline"to 62640. The Help

Line is available M-F 10 am–10 pm, ET.

If someone you know is struggling or even if you are worried, take a look at some of these websites. They have all the information you need to intervene and save a life. These are the national websites, but you should be able to find some crisis organizations and mental health organizations in your area. 

American Foundation for Suicide Prevention

National Alliance on Mental Illness

I love staying up late at night when the world is quiet and dark and everyone else is asleep. There’s something special that almost feels like a secret I am keeping from everyone else. There’s something seductive about it because I’m the only one up, still alert, and enjoying a very long day. There’s solitude, quiet at the end of the day, and alone time. I don’t know why I like it, but it’s one of my favorite times. Sometimes I also like to stay up all night and paint, but I rarely do that anymore.

I don’t get to stay up a lot because I am not supposed to. Bipolar disorder requires a good amount of sleep and schedules that you should adhere to if you want to stay healthy and in remission and keep mood swings at bay. I’m supposed to go to bed at the same time every night and get up at the same time everyday. I get into modes where I’ll do this for awhile but then I get distracted at night and stay up late, then sleep in. Followed by everything feeling off for awhile usually. I do my best to make it through the day even when I am feeling down some, but I have to admit it usually feels pretty good when I have had less sleep because it makes me a little hypomanic. This happens when I stay up really late and get up early. I try not to get too hypomanic to where it’s worrisome and interrupting my life, but just enough where I have some extra pep in my step and I feel a little more alive and alert to my surroundings. It’s appealing to go off sleep for awhile to get this feeling, but I never do it too much or too closely together because I don’t want to become manic.

For some people, they can become seriously manic after one night of missed sleep. Luckily, I am not that person. Also, for some people when they make big travel like I just did to Bali where you basically travel 13 hours into the future (that’s the way I like to think about it anyway) they might be in some trouble. It’s cumbersome to stay on your medication schedule when making big travel like this and it’s confusing to figure out when to take your meds. If you stay on your usual schedule, you’ll end up taking your night time pills in the morning, which for me aid with sleep, and your night time pills in the morning, which again aid in alertness for me. In that situation I feel like it’s a lose-lose, so I try to take my meds at the normal time of day in which they are prescribed so I stay in sync with when they are meant to be taken.

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It got tricky when we were in Qatar for our first layover on our way to Bali. I think I waited an extra 8 hours to take my morning meds. And went ahead and took my night meds at the same time since I never went to sleep the “night” before. It was something like that. Or maybe I took my nighttime meds late and the morning meds 4 hours early? I can’t recall and it’s too much of a hassle to stop right now and figure it out, so just know it was something like one of those two scenarios or somewhere in between. What I’m saying is that I did my best to not skip any doses and not take them too soon or too far apart. I must have done a good job because I didn’t notice any side effects or changes in my mood. Then again, my body was so confused about what time of the day it was when we finally arrived in Bali that maybe it didn’t even matter. It would have been the middle of the night when we finally landed in Bali, although it was afternoon there, which was a thirteen hour difference from Houston. Thirteen hours ahead to be exact, but we powered on and went to bed at 10 or 11pm, Bali time.

At that point I had no idea how much I had slept or when I had slept in the last 32 hours because the flight and the layover kinda ran together. Also we were 8 hours ahead in one country, then suddenly 13 hours ahead at our final destination. So how much time did I gain or lose? It’s like springing forward or falling back on speed. Your body just has to adjust and stay awake and sleep when you should. Even though usually I just want to pass out during the day or I’m feeling very up because of the lack of sleep and messed up schedule, I have to keep going so I can get on the right schedule and not have jet-lag too bad at the final destination.

No one wants to ruin their trip where they sleep all day and are up at night laying in bed doing nothing or scrolling instagram looking at stupid reel after stupid reel. Or I don’t know, maybe that’s your thing. Travel how you want. I just have my own opinions and the way that works for me.

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About 10 years ago, I traveled to Germany and had jet-lag extremely bad. I couldn’t flip my nights and days. I was up at night watching weird television in German with subtitles and I slept most of the day or was barely keeping my eyes open while exploring different cities by myself.

I try to do it the best way for us bipolar folks who’s circadian rhythm makes a big difference with our functioning and mood regulation. It’s all science and body and brain biology which I really don’t get or have taken the time to read about in great depth to fully understand, but that’s what the doctors say, so I listen.

I’ve been in the San Francisco area this week and it’s been a very different experience changing the mere two hour time zones. The first part of our trip we spent 3 nights camping north of San Francisco in a camper van going on hikes and just enjoying being surrounded by nature. Time only mattered the first day when we had to be at a shuttle stop to go to Muir Woods at 8:30am and catch the shuttle back to our van at 12:30pm. Checking in to the campsites was easy because they were always at 2pm or later, so we didn’t have to worry about rushing each day, we just got up and went with the flow, exploring some and hanging out at the van.

Being in nature is everything to me. I like these surroundings more than the beautiful, lush, tropical beach scenes of Bali. It makes me happy. It makes me feel whole. I absolutely love being surrounded by trees and forest and getting out of the busy every day life of the city or even the suburbs. There’s something about it that brings me back to the center of myself and I love it.

Traveling around the city and seeing and doing new things by myself or with my travel gnome, Brandon, is reinvigorating. I also really enjoy that, too. It sparks my wanderlust bug. Meeting new people is also cool. I’ve had a few experiences the past couple of days connecting with strangers, but there’s another time and space for those anecdotes. It’s a more familiar and eye opening experience when you speak the same language and have the same culture to connect with new acquaintances.

All that being said, I’ve stayed up late and got up early the past few nights. I feel great today. I’m sitting in a brewery trying a flight of new beers (mostly IPAs) and trying their fried cauliflower with a mint sauce while working on this blog. I’ve had good banter and a nice encounter with the man behind the bar serving me. I haven’t asked his name yet, but I will. All that to say that I might be a little hypomanic or just in a really great mood because I’m on vacation and feel alive.

I’ll never not love (yes-double negative all the way! -it just hits differently) staying up late and burning the midnight oil alone to work on a project or just read. I’ll always probably play on the edge of a scheduled sleep regimen because it’s my favorite time of day. Travel or not, I’ll always be struggling to do what I need to do to stay sane.

Sometimes I feel like it’s not fair I can’t do exactly what I want all the time. Then I remember the hell I’ve gone through when my moods aren’t stable and I’d much rather have my shit together and make it through each day without spending a shit ton of money on things I don’t need or laying in bed staring at the wall with a hoodie over my head, unable to make myself move, or eat, or go to the bathroom. But tonight, I’ll try to go to bed at a decent time because I need to be up and alert at 8:30am for an online info session.

Who knows what will happen the rest of the nights and mornings on this trip, but here’s a “cheers” to all you people who love the late, still nights of no one else that bring productivity and enjoying your complete alone time. I see you. I know you. To those of you with bipolar disorder, stay on top of your shit. Only do what you know you can handle safely in a healthy manner. That’s all we can do as we hope for the best.

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Sorry I missed another week! I was on the other side of the world in Bali, Indonesia last week celebrating a friends 40th birthday.

It was a great trip jam-packed with excursions and adventures and a couple of jaunts to the spa. It was just the three of us girls, the birthday girl, Kita, her college friend, Ashli, and me. I’ve known Kita since I went back to school in 2010 to study Fine Art. She was also back in school finishing her art degree. We became fast friends when we were in the same printmaking class. We’ve been close ever since.

Kita is one of those people you feel lucky to know. She’s a hard worker, determined, motivated, a great listener, and genuinely kind. She has been a single mom since her early 20s and just celebrated her daughters 18th birthday. She did a fine job raising her daughter as she concurrently finished her undergraduate degree, attained her Masters degree, accomplished getting her Doctorate, worked as an educator as both a middle school teacher and professor at the university level, successfully started and runs a business, been featured in national and international art galleries and exhibits, and managed to make time for her friends and loved ones. She’s a true gem and I am always in awe of all her accomplishments and flawless character. She’s genuine and down to Earth and a little bit goofy. I am so lucky to have her as a dear friend and lucky I got to celebrate with her on her 40th birthday.

Kita and I both agree that traveling always makes us feel more grounded. We both felt this when in Bali. It’s a different culture and different pace of life. Things are simpler and slower. There never seemed to be a sense of urgency. Time is understood differently there and you go with how things feel, rather than what you’re supposed to be doing at a set time. A lot of businesses don’t have a hard time to shut down. There may be a general time they usually close for the night, but it isn’t set in stone. Sometimes they close right at 10, sometimes they’ll stay open a little later depending on how busy it is. I like that. You just go with the flow.

We had three days of planned excursions with a driver and a private tour guide. I noticed that a lot of the tourist destinations are driven by Western culture’s need to capture every moment, whether it’s to share on facebook and document your entire trip or get the perfect instagram-able moment that makes your life look exciting and cooler than others. Our guide became our instagram wife with all her knowledge and experience getting just the right pose, unique angle, or interesting video. I definitely took advantage of this, although really worrying about getting the perfect picture to show off on social media isn’t usually a focus of mine, but this is where our culture is at. We’re more worried about capturing what looks like the funnest experience or luxurious moment rather than actually being in the moment and truly soaking up the experience. I gave into this when in Bali on our excursions, although it felt a little forced. Many of the experiences and places to see are even designed to fit this need of getting the most eye-catching and envy inducing photo. It is kind of sad in my opinion that this is what travel and doing new things has come to. But it is what it is, so I just stayed quiet and went along for the ride.

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I will not lie. One of the places we visited was called Swing Heaven and it’s basically a spot designed to get cool pictures and capture instagram reels. It’s not about getting to swing on these big swings or climbing up to sit on a big rock or sculpture, it’s about renting the gown that flows in the wind when you swing and looks elegant as it dangles off your legs and the heart shaped sculpture your sitting in just for the photograph that you can share on your social media. I hadn’t heard about it, but my friends had seen pictures and videos on instagram of the swings in Bali and wanted to get one, too. I didn’t think I was going to pay to rent the gown because it seemed absurd to me to waste money to wear a dress that does not belong to me for some silly pictures that everyone has, but when we got there, I gave in! I paid to put on that dang red dress with a long flowing train and felt like a freaking model. I let an attendant make a video of me from behind as I ran down stairs and a small path, then turned around to look at the camera at the end. And I actually really liked the video. I haven’t done it yet, but I have plans to make a reel to share on instagram because I think it looks cool. The trend got me!

Here is where I am not lying. I gave in to this fad of creating what looks like the perfect moment while not actually being in the moment. I climbed up to sit in a bunch of cool looking sculptures and a decorated swing to smile and pose as an attendant directed me how to move my arms and head, while another worker took my photos. I looked back at the camera when I was told to as I swung out and high above the earth and its beautifully lush greenery. I leaned back and took my hands off the ropes and spread my arms out wide so it would look cool in the picture taken. We all set on a swing facing forward and posed for at least 15 pictures. We all swung with one leg straight and one leg bent because that’s what the guy holding the camera said to do. We all loved our photos. They turned out great! It looks like we all did a damn professional photo shoot and I love all the pictures, so maybe giving into fads isn’t all bad sometimes.

At some point, Kita disappeared to go change out of her dress. She just wanted to swing and be in the moment and stop taking pictures. She was over the whole picture thing. Ashli and I both followed suit. It was more enjoyable to swing without worrying about how some pictures would turn out.

I wouldn’t pay to get the dress again, but I’d swing again. That was fun and some what scary since heights kinda freak me out. I am glad I gave in and stopped judging so hard because originally I thought the whole thing was kind of lame and stupid, but the photos proved me wrong. They turned out awesome.

There were a few other stops that seemed to really be focused around getting the perfect pictures, but I think our first stop was the worst. The first day we went on an excursion we were picked up at 4am. We had to drive one and a half to two hours to get to Pura Lempuyang, which is a cluster of some of the oldest and most sacred temples in Bali located on Mount Lempuyang in Eastern Bali. This is a big tourist trap. I didn’t know what I was getting into this day, but I soon discovered that people arrive before 5am to get in the queue for pictures. Everyone comes to get photos standing between the Gates of Heaven, which is one of the most iconic and instagram-able spots in Bali and maybe even all of Indonesia. I thought we were going to get to tour some temples and really get an experience, but boy was I wrong.

We arrived around 6am and hopped on a bus to the highest point on the mountain that buses can manage. Then we borrowed a sarong and wrapped it around our bodies. Everyone has to wear a sarong to enter the temple even if you have long pants or a long skirt on. Then we walked up the very steep hill to get into the temple. It is beautiful and we got some great photos of the stairway up to the top of the temple. Tourists aren’t allowed to go all the way to the top, only Balinese people can do that. It was a very misty morning, so it looked eerie and mystical at the same time. We got some pictures and sat in awe looking at this structure for some time while we waited to take our pictures in the Gates of Heaven, which is what the queue is for. We were number 107. Yes, that is correct, one hundred and six groups of people were ahead of us, even though we got there right around 6am.

It took 3 and a half hours for our turn to come around. While we waited, I took a couple of naps under the covered structure and we went across the street to a little outdoor restaurant to get a snack. I couldn’t believe we were wasting all this time to get a photo. I’m glad we still had the whole day afterwards, otherwise I would have been very irritated. Luckily we were done by about 9:35am or sooner.

You get very little time to take the photos. There is a man that takes the pictures and uses a reflective sheet to create the illusion that the gates are on a lake or a body of water. It does look really cool, but it’s fake. You only get about 4 individual pictures per person and maybe two with your group. You have a few seconds to get into another pose every time the man yells, “next.” We had plenty of time to figure out what poses we were going to do while we waited so we were prepared for our turn. In all, we only got a few minutes to get this done. I hated that this whole stop felt like it was just for a few instagram photos. The only part of the temple that we really got to explore were the stairs and this gate. To be honest, it was a let down even though I didn’t really have big expectations going in. I had no idea we were being taken to get instagram photos captured at a tourist trap, but that was what we did. The pictures are really cool and I am glad I have them or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. We managed to get a regular photo of the Gates of Heaven in between groups of people taking photos, but we had to be quick.

Both of these experiences were solely focused around getting the best shots. Spending money and time to get pictures that look really cool and unique, but hundreds of people get everyday. If you don’t care about getting photos for the sake of getting photos, then you should add these stops to your trip. The art of these photographs is created in masses and is engineered through the eyes and tricks of others. None of it is organic and it’s all staged. I guess it’s cool to say I went there and I have proof of it, but I don’t know if I would have gone to Lempuyang if I knew what I was in for. It seems like its only purpose now is to exist for Westerners who want to impress their followers, which I just can’t get behind.

Don’t get me wrong or think I have a list of complaints about our excursions or our trip to Bali, these are just things I noticed about the planned excursion stops. I really did enjoy almost all of the stops. Going on planned trips with a tour guid all day is not something I have ever done before in my travels, so this was new for me. I can say that I definitely prefer the way that Brandon and I travel with a few must see things or to do’s on our list, but otherwise keeping the days open to explore and just see where we end up. We don’t have photo spots planned so we can get that perfect shot to share, we’re just going to these places to get the experience and do it. I saw a part of culture that I try to stay away from in my everyday life. Working to get more followers and fame on social media by tracking down the most instagram-able places or experiences isn’t for me, but I’ll give in once in a while. I guess it’s not that bad as long as it doesn’t take away from you enjoying the moment.

If you’re reading this, remember:

• You only have one life to live.

• You need to soak up all the beautiful moments that you possibly can.

• You must make memories with those you cherish.

• I hope you love yourself most by staying open to new experiences and different ways of thinking or doing things in order to grow and thrive.

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I love camping and backpacking. I have only done 3 or 4 actual backpacking trips in my life. That’s definitely one of the cool things I’m grateful for from my first marriage. From here on out, we will refer to my ex husband as Jack. Jack loved camping, the outdoors, exploring and pushing the limits. He pushed me to do things out of my comfort zone like backpacking. I had grown up going on camping trips with my family and my Girl Scout troop, so I already knew I really enjoyed camping, not just “glamping” but actual camping in a tent with a sleeping bag and a fire to keep you warm. I am always up for a camping trip. However, camping looks different these days with my partner, Brandon. We usually just sleep in the Jeep. It’s easy to do and comfortable, but I think I’d sometimes pick sleeping in a tent over the back of the Jeep. Unless it’s really cold or raining, then Jeep sleeping all the way, all day. It’s also really easy to just pack up and go when you don’t have to take down the tent.

Brandon and I bought a nice big tent when we were driving back from Vermont in 2020. It was an anniversary gift to ourselves, which might be why I want to sleep in that tent sometimes. I hate feeling like I’ve wasted money. I always want to make sure I get my moneys worth! We used that tent on our drive through the Northeast back home. We camped right outside of Portland, Maine and then stayed on a small island near Salem, Massachusetts. It was a fantastic time and so much fun! I’d love to do a roadtrip like that again. We didn’t have the choice but to sleep in the tent because we took my car across the country and not the Jeep. We have a plan to buy a camper van in the next few years to be vagabonds working on the road, driving from state and national park to state and national park. We are really looking forward to the adventures we’ll have and I’m excited about taking Brandon back to some of the places I’ve already explored.

In 2015, two of my friends had a wonderful and beautiful wedding in the valley of Yosemite. It was wonderful. A day or two after the ceremony, Jack and I, and the newly weds, and two other couples embarked on a 5 day through hike in Yosemite. It was absolutely amazing. Over the years, this same group of friends have taken some fantastic backpacking trips, which I had to miss out on, but I’ll always be grateful I was there for Yosemite. We stayed in Curry Village in a big canvas tent and then tent camped one night before departing on our almost 40 mile journey. We averaged about 8 miles a day. Every night we found a stellar place to set up our tents and make a fire. The newly weds had an amazing water filtration system, so as long as we made camp near water, we were set with everything we needed. At that time I was meditating daily, so I always made sure to find some beautiful places to clear my mind and come back to myself. All of our campsites were really nice. Hiking was really enjoyable, too. Yosemite is gorgeous. I will definitely go back with Brandon at some point to experience the beauty with him.

A few days into the hike, we marched up Clouds Rest one by one in a line with our big backpacks on. This made me nervous because the spine of Clouds Rest is the opposite of wide. As we climbed higher and higher I became more aware of how a person could tumble off the side if they lost their balance or tripped. Once we got to the top, adrenaline was streaming through my body and I began to cry. I was overcome with emotions, adrenaline, fear, and the realization that I am afraid of heights. Clouds Rest is high and steep down the sides. we all stood and marveled out at the vast forest we could see from all sides. We took a bunch of pictures and ate lunch. Some of them stood on the edge, but I wouldn’t go near it. Half Dome could be seen in the distance and it was obviously one of the biggest climbs we were looking forward to. I didn’t do any research before this trip and had no idea how steep and tall Half Dome actually was. I looked through a pair of binoculars and the tears started again. It’s an almost vertical climb up the side with cables lining the way up to hold on to. People die falling off of that climb. It’s been documented that 20 people have died climbing Half Dome and the number of fatalities jumps to 60 if you include the trails leading to Half Dome. It was serious climbing the last leg up the side, not hiking. I was very afraid when I saw it through the binoculars and was overcome with fear.

A day or two later we did a day hike to Half Dome without our packs to make the big climb. Sub dome is the rock you climb to get to the start of the steep climb up Half Dome. Sub Dome was steep, too and I got nervous climbing up. I started feeling panicky and the tears started again so I sat down so I could compose myself and give myself a pep talk. Jack was still nearby at that time, so he stopped to check on me but then became very agitated that I was having a hard time making this climb. That’s when he decided to continue up Sub Dome without me. I was left behind. Luckily, my friend Laura and her partner at the time, Kevin were nearby. We slowly made our way up together and they encouraged me the whole way. It was reassuring having their support and encouragement.

When we got to the top everyone else in our group had started climbing Half Dome, including Jack. I was pretty upset that he left me behind when he knew I was struggling with the height of the climb, but I wasn’t surprised. Laura started the climb first and was making her way up. I wasn’t going to try because I was so anxious and afraid, but Kevin convinced me to try with him right behind me talking me through it. I made it maybe a fourth of the way up, then did something stupid; I looked down and that was it for me. Back down I went with Kevin below me all the way down. Then Kevin continued on. I sat on a small rock on the top of Sub Dome as I watched my friends sit on the edge at the top with thier legs dangling off. At that moment I realized I was totally fine that I tried, but couldn’t get over the fear and panic and made the decision to sit that adventure out. I was really proud of myself for even making it up Sub Dome because that was a challenge for me. I never knew I had a fear of heights until we hiked Clouds Rest a couple days before. It was strange to learn that about myself at 29 years old. I was also proud of myself for trying to do the almost vertical climb. I never felt any regret that I couldn’t do it and don‘t feel like I missed out on the experience. I would have been terrified at the top anyway. And Holy Shit! I literally just thought about the climb down. That would have sucked, too! I made the right decision that day. I don’t remember what the encounter was with Jack when he came back down, but I remember him trying to make me feel ashamed that I didn’t do it. We all walked back to our campsite together with everyone else proud and excited they had conquered Half Dome, the main climbing attraction of the trip.

Fast forward to 2018, I’d been dating Brandon for about 7 months when we traveled to Ireland to attend a wedding. The day after the wedding we had a hike up Skellig Michael, also known as the Star Wars island, scheduled. It was a dreary day and we were worried it was going to rain and our trip to the island and hike would be canceled. Fortunately that didn’t happen and we made it to Skellig Michael for the hike up to the ruins. Going up the side of the island there are a bunch of small rocky steps. There’s no railing, which made me nervous as we ascended the side. A few times I had to stop to compose myself because I was nervous and my heart rate was increasing, which made me feel like I was going to have a panic attack. Brandon was so gracious and assured me I could stop and take as much time as I needed to make my way up. I was so thankful for him in those moments. He was being such a wonderful partner and friend. I remember asking him, “Won’t you just marry me already!?” We finally made it up to the spot where we recreated a scene from Star Wars: The Last Jedi. This was also where Brandon dropped to one knee and surprised the poop out of me with a proposal. After that I was ecstatic and floating on cloud 9 and the height didn’t bother me so much until we started back down, but again Brandon was by my side the whole time cheering me on when I got nervous.

In November of 2022, Brandon and I were again traveling abroad and set to hike Masada in Israel. We started the hike near the middle of our 40 person cohort, but quickly found our way in the back. I was already getting nervous thinking about hiking quickly and needing to keep up with the group and not being able to stop if I needed. Every time my heart started beating a little faster I’d start taking big breathes and thought I was going to hyperventilate and have a panic attack because that’s what it feels like when I start to have one. I know this might sound silly, but when we got to the first stop up the mountain and it was our last chance to turn back and take the cable car to the top, I knew I had to go with the cable car option. Brandon again was very accommodating and of course took my hand and turned back down the mountain with me towards the cable cars. I have zero regrets about not hiking that mountain. I guess it would have been cool to say I did it, but I don’t feel like I missed out. If we would have had the option to take all the time we needed to make it up Masada, I would definitely have done that; however, on our tour through Israel we were always on a tight time schedule. Anyways, these days I’m more worried about comfort and avoiding anxiety if possible, especially when I have an anxiety free option. I would have felt bad that Brandon missed out on the experience, but luckily he had hiked to the top of Masada during his first visit to Israel for Birth Right.

I know I am blessed or lucky or something because I have such an amazing and understanding partner now, but I’ll always be grateful for Kevin and how much he supported me and showed me kindness that day at Half Dome. He was a really good friend for trying to help me up the side of that big rock and I’ll never forget that. He showed me compassion and sympathy, which is what we all need when we’re in situations that are scary or take us out of our comfort zone. We just want to know someone is behind us, cheering us on, and is there to catch us if we fall, and share encouraging words when we need them most. Laura was also amazing that day and a big help, too. I am so glad I had friends to support me that day.

Sometimes the people closest to us will let us down and let us fall, but it’s the friends and family that hold our hands as we get back up from the ground that matter the most. I’ve learned a couple of times in my life that I have amazing friends and people surrounding me and I feel very lucky. Make sure you never take for granted the people that will help you overcome a big obstacle or task that is overwhelming and frightening. You learn a lot when you’re struggling about who really has your back, will show you kindness, and provide a helping hand. I am so grateful that I found a husband who will constantly support my needs, even if he can’t relate to them fully. I wonder what hiking up Sub Dome will be like next time when I’m with Brandon. It will surely be a much better experience with a partner that will show me kindness and compassion and wait for me no matter how much time it takes.

If you’re reading this remember:

• Showing kindness is one of the greatest gifts we have to share.

• It’s okay to listen to your gut, even if it’s telling you you’ve reached your limit.

• It’s okay to ignore your gut, if you want to do the opposite it says and push pass your limits.

• Your journey is your own.

• Pay attention to the company you keep; will they have your back?

• Love yourself most, so you always surround yourself with people who will help you, no questions asked.

You probably haven’t noticed, or maybe you have, but I haven’t been writing my newsletter once a week and publishing it on Wednesdays like I said I would. I have shared one post in the past three weeks, so I am making myself write this newsletter. I had another dip in depression. I’ve been spending days in bed, not doing chores, thinking about all the things I need to be doing to get to my goals, but having zero motivation to actually do them.

This week was pretty cool though. I got to see my sister give birth to her son. It was so special and magical. I don’t really know how to put my emotions into words because I haven’t experienced anything else like it. It was so cool seeing the baby take his first breathes and hear his big cry for the first time. Plus seeing my sister get to immediately love and hug on him and experience a range of emotions was really touching and moving.

I had a tough and honest conversation with my therapist and we both agreed that something is off with my medication. I’ve gone through this process multiple times where it takes months to get back to feeling stable with the correct medication cocktail. It sucks and is very frustrating. I was experiencing hypomanic symptoms for a couple weeks or maybe even over a month in June and July. This realization sucks because I can look back and see what I was doing, but I felt so good and I wish I always felt that way. It sucks that I can’t always feel that happy, confident, enthusiastic, and motivated to achieve a bunch of big goals. It sucks that it wasn’t my normal baseline. I talked to Brandon about my behavior and symptoms and he said he noticed I was extra talkative, signing up for a bunch of online classes which I have never done before, and on the verge to impulsively spend a lot of money. Luckily with the money part, I wasn’t too far gone to question my intention and checked myself with Brandon before signing up for the expensive class about how to publish a book. I did impulsively sign up for my private mindset group course, but I am extremely glad I did even though it was a little bit pricey for me and I normally wouldn’t spend that much money on it.

I’ve been drinking socially over the last 4 weeks or so and been doing pretty good with how much I consume at a time. Except this week I had at least a beer almost everyday to battle the melancholy feeling. Like I mentioned before this only makes depression and anxiety worse. According to my therapist it also counteracts my medication so they don’t work as well as they should, which also messes with my mood stability. It’s a big vicious cycle that I have to stop. I need to stay sober for at least 30 days when my medication is adjusted to make sure it is the right combo and working properly for me. I can definitely do that because I want to be better and in remission badly. Depression sucks. I’m not in a major depressive episode thankfully. I’m just moderately depressed according to the test my therapist gave me.

I started noticing a week or two ago that I was feeling down again and all my motivation and high energy was gone. I felt so vibrant and confident. I was thrilled about the new goals I decided to conquer. I felt like I could do anything. I was extremely productive and was even somewhat sticking to that challenge I created for myself. Then that all went away. I am still excited about my new goals, but I had to let go of one of them because it isn’t exactly realistic at the moment and I can clearly see that now.

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On Wednesday night at about 10 pm, I received a text from my sister, Kara, informing me that she was at the hospital having contractions waiting to get checked out. Brandon and I were outside watching some show for a late night pool party when we found out she was dilated to 4-5 centimeters. They were going to wait an hour or two and check her again. Around 11:30 pm we found out that she was dilated to 6 centimeters. I decided it was time to head to the hospital, so I got out of the pool and got my things together. I was at the hospital by 1 am.

At the hospital, I entered a dark and quiet room where I found my brother-in-law, dad, and niece sleeping. My mom was seated next to the sleepers and my sister was laying down, silent but awake. They needed to give Kara some medications before they could break her water to move the labor along so we had some time to kill. My Mom, Kara, and I quietly shared some conversation, before Kara decided she was going to try to sleep.

Around 3:30 am, the doctor came in and broke her water. He estimated that she would be ready to push in an hour or so. We thought we had some more time to sit in the dark, but almost immediately my sister starting feeling the pressure she wasn’t supposed to feel for another hour. She called the nurse into the room and a few minutes later it was decided that it was time to get that baby out! As everyone started moving and gathering their things to move to the waiting room, Kara told me I could stay in the room for the birth. I was completely surprised but only had a few seconds to think it over. I checked with my brother-in-law to make sure I wasn’t imposing on their special family experience, which I wasn’t, so I chose to stay.

It only took two contractions for that baby to enter the world. Kara did one big push then the doctor coached her to do short breaths and smaller pushes, as he guided the baby’s head out. The doctor checked the position of the neck and body, then there was one more push and out came his shoulders and upper body. The doctor pulled out his left arm then lifted him up toward my sister and instructed her to bend down and grab the baby. Then that was it! He was out! I watched him take his first breath, then a short time later the big cry escaped from his throat as my sister held him upon her chest, loving and hugging him as she went through an array of emotions. It was truly beautiful. I am super lucky that the labor was very quick and easy. I had told myself that if I saw any blood I would turn away, but I never did. The female body is truly astonishing. The birth of a baby really is a miracle. I was so nervous for the labor of my nephew, but everything was perfect. My sister did such an amazing job, as well as the doctor.

I was on a natural high for the rest of the night and the entire next day. I’ve been telling anyone that will listen that I got to watch my sister give birth to my new nephew. It has to be one of the most amazing moments I have ever experienced. I am so grateful Kara let me be part of it. When she asked me I thought, “Well, I’ll never know what this is like if I don’t stay,” which is what made my mind up. I was curious about the whole experience. Now, even though I won’t have my own children, I have experienced a labor and the birth of someone very dear to me and that can never be taken away.

The next morning, it was just Kara, sweet baby John William, and me. We had a nice loving conversation. A while ago when I told Kara we were not having kids, she really didn’t have much to say. I think she was surprised to learn this, but she may have heard it before from my mom. I can’t be sure. While we were sitting there, tired from being awake all night, and my sister exhausted from what her body just went through and what she did, she brought up the topic of me, pregnancy, and having a child. She pointed out that sometimes when things don’t go our way, we convince ourselves that the way it works out, is what we really want. I won’t lie. I have wondered about this before. I wondered if maybe I actually did want to be a mom, but I was convincing myself otherwise so I would be okay making the decision that it wasn’t the best thing for me or a future fetus or that it was okay that I never got pregnant with Brandon. I don’t think that’s what I’m doing though. If I am it’s really working because when I hold that baby and just stare at him and all the small movements his little face makes, there is no part of me that thinks, “I want this. I want my own tiny baby.” I just want to love on her baby as much as I possibly can then get to go home and concentrate on being okay. I know it would be the neatest thing if I did have a kid so her kids would have cousins and they’d get to grow up together and be close, but I really just don’t think it’s in the cards. Brandon and I talk about all the things we’re going to do with her kids as they get older, so hopefully that will be special enough. I’ll be spending as much time as I can with John William over the next few weeks, so hopefully the endorphins and oxytocin I get from snuggling him and playing with my niece will help ease some of my despair.

If you’re reading this, remember:

• We are always surrounded by small miracles.

• Never take anything for granted.

• Family is a beautiful gift, even if you create your own with friends.

• Love yourself most, so you can always be honest with yourself and ask for the care you need.

  Thanks for reading CB’s Life in Writing! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

A picture from Instagram of me with my ex looking mighty happy. Circa 2013

When I left my previous marriage, most people were very surprised. Only a few people knew that there had been any issues going on, but in reality it was a long time coming.

I left sooner than I had anticipated. You see, I had a plan on escaping that life, but circumstances suddenly changed and waiting wasn’t an option anymore. That’s when I abruptly left one day with zero intentions of going back. I was even surprised by my sudden departure because it happened more so out of necessity than out of the timeline I had set forth for such a change.

Most people don’t know this story, but I’ll share a brief outline and some of what led up to the end. I’m keeping most of the details private because it is really no one’s business. (Perhaps I’ll save all of that for my book.) But I do feel like I should at least share part of it. My ex-husband got to share his warped side of the story divulging many personal things about our relationship and me in an email he sent out to all of our shared friends and acquaintances, but that is not what that is for. This is for those of you in a relationship that is unhealthy or abusive or toxic or a relationship in which you settled or if you’re unhappy or miserable or can’t imagine having the other person be a parent to your future child or you’re being held back or maybe you’ve just outgrown the other person. Whatever the reason you need to get free of the relationship, let this story inspire you to make a change.

About 9 months before we separated, I had delivered an ultimatum: either we go to counseling together and he does therapy on his own or I wouldn’t be able to stay in the marriage. He never took me seriously. I am not one to really argue, especially about small or petty things. I didn’t get overly angry or really speak up much because my husband had me mostly convinced that he was always right or knew better than I did or my opinion didn’t matter, Whatever the reasoning, he always got the last word. I also avoid confrontation as it is and try to talk things out logically and calmly rather than getting overly emotional. I left the emotional shenanigans mainly to my husband. He had a bad temper, was very sensitive, and was overly critical of others and himself. I just tried to keep quiet and keep the peace most of the time.

I’m not perfect. Sometimes I would lash out at him if he yelled at me or told me I was doing something wrong. We would get in screaming matches from time to time, which I hated. And even still, sometimes it would escalate. Almost all couples argue and disagree and get into fights, but not all of ours were safe or normal.

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There’s so many reasons, big and small, that made me create the ultimatum. One example, is that he wouldn’t let me work. When I did get a job teaching painting classes at a sip-and-paint boutique, he got a job as a bartender at the same establishment. He had his own high level career in aerospace engineering and didn’t need a second job. It took me getting out of the relationship to see him getting the job with me as a red flag instead of seeing him as a doting husband. After I left that job, I wanted to do something else so I was searching for some sort of career path. He liked to remind me that I only had an art degree and wasn’t qualified for anything else so I shouldn’t even try to get a job. He belittled me and tried to hold me back. He made my bachelors degree seem trivial. To be honest, I thought it was funny that he tried so hard to demean me in that way because I knew deep down that I was smart and was very much qualified for an array of work.

Now, I will say that it wasn’t all bad that I didn’t have a job. I got to focus on art full time, which gave me a lot of opportunities to create and participate in a bunch of shows and exhibits. But I know I would have been much happier if I was also working at that same time because I missed interacting with people. Plus, I would have had my own money.

One of the bigger reasons I needed something to change was that he was most likely clinically depressed with pretty notable anxiety and was holding me solely responsible for his happiness. I didn’t want that job nor was I equipped to handle his great sadness. The year prior to me leaving, my grandmother passed away in April, followed by the death of his grandfather in May or June. Neither of these deaths were a surprise. We had time to prepare. We did, however, lose our friend, James, age 31, unexpectedly in April. Although I was still grieving my grandmother and James, I put on my big girl panties so he could lean on me for support when his grandfather died. A few months later my final living grandparent, Papa, died unexpectedly in September. I had a very close relationship with my grandfather, so I thought I was going to get to grieve him fully like I needed to and maybe fall a part a little, but I didn’t get that chance. When he died my husband made it all about himself and about how sad he was. I begged him to go to a therapist to talk about his sadness and anxiety that always seemed to be mounting. He went once, and he said the lady told him he needed to talk to his wife more, which I thought was total BS . (whether if she said it or not or he made it up, I do not know, but it doesn’t matter because it was horrible advice.) It just didn’t make sense. I didn’t have the answers to cure his darkness or aid his anxiety.

He would wake me up in the middle of the night to talk about all of his worries and I would listen, but I knew a therapist would know better ways to help. He would tell me that I was the only thing that made him happy or gave life meaning, and it would make me want to run away. That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person, especially when half of the time he was tearing me down or yelling at me and the other half he was putting me up on a pedestal. It was exhausting and overwhelming.

This all may not seem like a lot or it might seem monumental to you, but for me it got to be too much with everything else going on in our relationship. The day before I left we had been fighting all day via text about why I deactivated my Facebook account, how I didn’t ask for permission, and how it would look like he was married to a ghost. This all seemed to be a very big overreaction. After I deactivated my Facebook account, I decided to go running with a mutual friend and left my phone at her house while we ran, so I stopped answering angry texts. After we ran and I went home, he was there on a break from work and was absolutely livid. I knew he was under a lot of stress at work and I had a commission deadline to hit in the next day or two, so I decided I’d go stay at my parents house for the night. I also knew this would give him some time to calm down, so later when he was back at work I started packing my car.

He came home as I was getting ready to leave and all hell broke loose. What happened in the following hour was sheer chaos and terror. I should have called the cops, but instead we called our parents to come over. After what happened that night, I knew I had to leave. There was no way I was staying any longer, so the next morning after he went to work, my mom and I gathered a few of my things and I left.

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A few people tried to talk me into giving him another chance after we had been separated for a while, since he finally agreed to therapy and wanted to do couple’s therapy, but I politely told them that would not be happening and that they needed to mind their own business. I had had enough.

No one ever knows what goes on inside a relationship except the two people that are in it, and if they have kids, the kids probably know a little about it all, too. On social media it always looked like we were so happy and had a great relationship, but that wasn’t reality. It wasn’t all bad all the time, but the little things that should have been red flags at the beginning of the relationship turned out to be huge issues down the road. I try to keep things real on my social media now and with my writing. We all have struggles. Sometimes it’s nice to share when you’re struggling so you can find support. I always find that helpful anyway.

If you’re reading this, remember:

• You’re never truly stuck because there’s always a way out.

• Social media isn’t real life.

• There’s always another road to be traveled.

• Love yourself most, so you know when enough is enough.

As July is coming to a close, I’d like to catch you up on how my challenge went.

It didn’t go as planned and there is a lot of room for improvement. The first half of the month I did pretty good with some of the tasks, like the morning routine, getting in bed at a decent time, brushing my teeth, and writing. I also read a ton. I did yoga here and there and walked the dogs a couple of times but that was basically it for that. A lot of other stuff kinda went out the window and I told myself that the last full week of July I’d be back on it full force. Then Monday this week showed up and I forgot to set an alarm and slept in late and then I didn’t stick to any of those tasks all day. I did try for the rest of the week, but I consider it a failure.

The third week of July was filled with a couple of nights in Galveston, lunches with friends, going into the city, doctor appointments and online classes. I was very busy. It was nice, but I didn’t stick to my challenge. I didn’t try as hard as I could have.

I am going to try the challenge again in August and be stricter with myself . I might have a project at the end of the month, but I’ll move things around accordingly. I want to get grounded and centered in August in preparation for my trip to Bali. Yes, I am making the long journey to Bali with two other women at the beginning of September.

I want to feel centered and meditate everyday while I’m there and do yoga at least once, but hopefully more if my ladies are down. I am going with one of my dearest friends to celebrate her 40th birthday. She wants to get a traditional ceremonial blessing on her birthday. I am very excited. I need to get more positive about the travel there and back because I am kind of dreading the long 16 hr flight then 8 hr lay-over then another flight. I need to be zen for all that.

Other than my challenge, in July I did do a book writing boot camp, a 7 day manifesting challenge, and started a 6-week private group coaching course with mind set coach, Laura St John. All of that stuff was very helpful and I am feeling very grateful and excited about the future. I have set some new goals for myself and I’ve been taking advantage of free classes online this week to gain as much knowledge as I can. I have to figure out how to bring these goals to fruition.

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I’ve decided I am going to focus on writing my book. I am really excited about this. I’ve already sort of started, but I haven’t really set aside time yet to just do that. In August I will try to do that. I have the structure, chapters, and audience figured out. Now, I have to figure out how I want to lay out the chapters.

Earlier this year when I was in my depression, I thought that my dream of writing a book and becoming an author was dead. I just kind of figured it wasn’t going to happen because I wasn’t motivated to do it anymore. Now, I am so ready to do it!

After I wrote my last newsletter about being Childfree I couldn’t figure out if I was having feelings of guilt or shame. Then I realized I was feeling inadequate. I’m a nerd and I research everything, especially emotional and psychological things I don’t have an answer for. So I googled and googled and read article after article about inadequacy and what causes it. Then I finally found it. I was feeling weird that I knew I didn’t want to have kids and I was judging myself for not wanting kids.

The type of inadequacy I was feeling was caused by the fact that I was judging my own feelings. Essentially I was telling myself that the way I felt about not wanting to have kids was wrong because as a woman I should want kids. So I had the solid belief in what I wanted but I was telling myself I was wrong to have that belief. I wasn’t living up to my own constrained standards, which were brought on by societal expectations and growing up with what I learned a woman should want or be.

Once I realized that was going on, I quickly told the judging part of myself to shut up and I eventually felt fine about my decision and sharing it with others. I wasn’t accepting myself and loving myself fully. Now, I can because I’ve let go of those ideas that woman should have or want to have kids. There’s nothing wrong with me and there’s nothing lacking. I also figured out that at my core I don’t want kids because with my mental illness I wouldn’t be able to be the mother I wanted to be. It’s hard enough for me to take care of myself. How am I supposed to take care of a child 24/7. I’m just not equipped to do that with what I deal with on a daily basis. And that is perfectly fine.

I hope if you are struggling with any sense of inadequacy it isn’t because you feel that your feelings are wrong. Check yourself. Ask yourself why you are feeling like you’re not enough. Are you fully accepting yourself? Are you loving every piece of yourself?

If you’re reading this, remember:

• You can always try again tomorrow, so don’t give up.

• Perfection is unattainable.

• Give yourself grace to make mistakes.

• Even if you don’t do your best, at least you’re trying. Celebrate that.

• Practice self-compassion and ignore your inner critic.

• Love yourself most, so you can fully accept yourself and others.

  Thanks for reading CB’s Life in Writing! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

A little over a year ago, the process of weening off a few of my medications concluded. Brandon and I had decided it was time to start a family.

Some of my bipolar medications may cause birth defects, so I had to stop taking them in order to try to conceive.

I was fine until September or October of last year. Then I noticed I was having pretty bad anxiety. One night while I was working on a mural project, I called Brandon in a panic. I felt out of control like I was about to have a panic attack. Luckily, he was able to calm me down and talk me through my anxiety.

My anxiety continued to slowly and insidiously creep in until I was experiencing it all the time.

Around Thanksgiving I noticed I was starting to feel down.

This was around the time I started sleeping more and drinking more to regulate my melancholy mood and try to control the anxiety.

Alcohol is a depressant; however, so after I drank, my mood would feel lower and my anxiety would increase. I’d end up drinking again to try to combat the effects of the alcohol and it turned into a vicious cycle.

In January, the stress of trying to conceive really started getting to me. I felt like a failure every month I found out I wasn’t pregnant. I don’t know if it was because I actually wasn’t getting pregnant and I was disappointed or if I felt that way because I was letting other people down, like my mom and Brandon. I think it was more the latter because I would also feel terrified every time I thought I might actually be pregnant.

I had a conversation with Brandon about the stress I was feeling and asked him what would happen if I didn’t get pregnant. Would he be disappointed? How would he feel if we couldn’t or didn’t have children? Was he set on having a family including a child?Talking through these questions we realized that we were both kind of ambivalent about having a child and we each thought the other person really wanted to start a family. We were trying to conceive because I thought he needed a child to be fulfilled and he thought the same of me, which wasn’t accurate. That definitely took a lot of stress off my shoulders. I was immensely relieved that it was okay if I never got pregnant.

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Now, I needed to have a conversation with my mom about how I was feeling. All her well intentioned encouragement and reminders that she was praying for us made me feel guilty and stressed out that I was failing her as a daughter. I told her about the stress I was experiencing and she agreed to stop talking about it so much. I felt really bad having this conversation with her because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was just being supportive, but I also knew how badly she wanted us to get pregnant and I couldn’t handle letting her down.

My poor drinking habits continued and got worse through April when my depression really started becoming unmanageable. I didn’t think it was “that bad” yet because I wasn’t suicidal, but then Brandon encouraged me to talk to my doctor and get back on antidepressants because we didn’t need to wait for it to progress. We needed to start treating it so I could function again.

When I had to get back on an antidepressant we decided that my mental health was most important and decided we were going to stop trying to conceive and just see how things played out naturally. Then after thinking about it more, I realized I probably needed to get back on birth control because it would be risky if I got pregnant while taking these medications since they can cause harm to a developing baby.

I was trying to figure out how I was going to tell my mom we weren’t trying to get pregnant, but she brought up the conversation herself. Once she learned I was having trouble with depression again and needed to get back on some of my meds, she explained that she would rather me be okay before anything else. She said it was okay if we didn’t have kids. In that moment I knew that I was enough and I wasn’t going to let anyone down if I never had kids. What a relief!

Hearing that from my mom and knowing that Brandon was actually kind of excited about the idea of not having kids, gave me the courage to be honest with myself. I never pictured myself with children. I’ve always been terrified of the idea and I don’t think I would be able to handle it or be the mother I would want to be because of my mental illness.

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Some people think it’s selfish to decide not to have kids. but did I make this decision or am I being responsible and logical since I struggle to be okay without medication? Am I childless or childfree?

I think it would be more selfish of me to decide I really wanted to have my own children and go forth trying to conceive knowing that I may need to be on medication during my pregnancy that could cause birth defects. That to me would be selfish because I would be putting an innocent baby in harms way just because I wanted to be a mother. Luckily, there’s no part inside of me burning to be a mother.

If we decided to have children in the future, we could always adopt.

Part of me is so relieved we don’t have to have children. And this part of me is very big. It’s like I have permission now to live the life I think I’ve always secretly wanted, and that’s a life childfree without children. I’m very much looking forward to spoiling my niece more and my future nephew. We have plenty of friends with children that we enjoy being around. And that’s enough for me.

I always thought I wanted to have kids because it was what was expected of me and that was the next step. I always knew that was what you had to do. I never questioned it. I never thought there was another option. Now I know that’s not the only way.

Remember if you’re reading this:

• You are enough.

• There’s no one road map for how to live your life.

• You can trust in your own decisions.

• Listen to your body and mind.

• Love yourself most so you can be honest with yourself and others.

I messed up this week and failed myself as timekeeper.

I got blackout drunk on the July 4th Tuesday. (I must caveat and inform you that I hadn’t had anything to drink in over a week prior and I don’t have any plans to buy alcohol or drink for the foreseeable future, so drunken Tuesday debauchery aside, sobriety journey is going pretty good in my eyes.)

Wednesday, I woke up with a terrific shame-hangover, as well as an actual wicked hangover (c’mon! I never get hangovers!) and failed to get any writing done to share with you.

I was going to skip this week, but decided sharing something later on a Friday evening was better than nothing.

I was planning on writing about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and started doing some research to make sure I was going to be as accurate as possible. Then I went over to Google Docs to look for an old blog I wrote about Sexual Assault and I came across the following writing from 2016 or 2017 and it seemed perfect to share instead.

The PTSD newsletter is coming, but it was feeling really forced and I was second guessing how much I wanted to share personally, so suffice it to say it’s coming in the future when the time is right and I can sort out exactly what I want to share and how I want to share it.

Here’s what I uncovered:

“Having Bipolar Disorder is impossible to explain to the person who does not have this diagnosis. Trying to describe what it feels like is the equivalent of trying to describe the color chartreuse to a blind person.

To take it a step further, breaking down a manic episode, mixed episode, or a depressive episode is akin to describing the difference between pistachio green and mint green to this same blind person who has never experienced seeing anything but darkness.

There are no words to properly explain the experience of seeing these two colors nor are there words to properly break down the experience of living in a world so bright and exciting only to have it poisoned with the darkest dark imaginable. It’s even more unfathomable to explain the combination of those two worlds colliding at the same time.

I feel as though I am losing my mind, like my brain is a race car and I can’t slow it down. No matter what I do, the car goes faster and faster as the driving becomes more and more reckless.

My thoughts are frantic.

I can’t slow the thoughts down. Things are making perfect sense yet I comprehend nothing.

I’m crashing into a wall.

Something has to make this stop.

Transitioning from a manic state to a depressive state is like unexpectedly falling off a cliff. One minute you are great, on the highest mountain, then suddenly your footing has slipped and you have fallen to a bottomless depression.

For me, it’s a mixed state I [fell] into. This means I still experience the high energy that comes along with a manic or hypermanic state but the deep overwhelming negative depressive thoughts fly through my brain, making me very suicidal.

It’s a scary state to be in.

And scarier when you can feel the logical part of your mind quickly losing the battle with the irrational. 

When I started my [previous] blog, I started it with a purpose.

My writing had a purpose and I found that I would write in a certain light with the intent of my audience perceiving it a certain way. I realize now that I cannot write in that manner and still remain authentic.

I can’t dictate what someone will take away from my writing. Writing with that intent takes away from the authenticity of it.  Therefore I think my blog is going to be shifting to a more personal journal type blog.”

I completely relate to this right now. I start overthinking and I worry that my writing will be too depressing or heavy, but a lot of what I want to share is heavy. So I just need to let it be and let it be consumed in whatever way it’s processed by whoever takes their precious time to read my random thoughts. Thank you by the way! I treasure you!

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Now back to the old ramblings…

“I recently agreed to run a half marathon with a friend of mine. Accepting her invitation over more than a couple beers without asking how long of a race I would be running was the first mistake I made. I hate running. I despise it. I can never get my breathing down correctly and sometimes I feel as though I am having a panic attack, so I have to stop and let my body calm down form the symptoms of running that feel like the beginning of a panic attack.”

[Side note: I never ran that race. I bowed out and the only way I will ever complete a half marathon is by running some and walking a lot.]

“There are too many starting points to this story.

Everything that happened was a new beginning or a fucked up twist.

Let’s start with the basics. The first time I could recognize depression I was 14. This was the first time I ruminated and was stuck on the idea of not waking up. I just wanted to sleep and never awake. I hated everything. I wrote about it all the time. I wanted to be dead.

At 17, it came back and I wanted to die but this time I had a plan. The suicidal ideation was pretty bad and I needed help to get pulled out of that pit. I was prescribed anti-depressants.”

This is pretty much where it stopped. I have no idea where I was going with this writing, but I’m guessing I was going to go through my chronological mental health journey to the present date in which that was written. That’s A LOT of writing and story telling.

Frankly, I think it’s too boring to just write about in a methodical sense so I’ll keep these newsletters coming as I break down my experiences with you in hopes of showing that you can make it through anything, too.

What comes next is 2 sexual assaults, PTSD, bipolar disorder, some agoraphobic tendencies, lots of panic attacks, a hospital, having a loaded gun pointed at me, thinking I was going to be shot and killed, the suicide of a dear friend, the tragic death of a loved one, and a few other things here and there.

See! I told you I had heavy stuff to share, but the other thing I can tell you is this:

I have made it through all the ups and downs and through the emotional turmoil and traumas and tragedies and I have discovered that resilience is my super power.

I once had a psychiatrist ask me what my favorite thing about myself was or what my greatest trait was and I proudly told her it was my resilience even after she had just diagnosed me with PTSD. I knew I was gonna make it to the other side, I just had to keep going, stay self-aware, and always strive to be pro-active in my care.

When I need help, I ask for it. Do yourself a favor, and follow my lead. It’s there, waiting for you. You just have to ask for it.

So if you’re reading this, remember:

• Resilience can be your super power, too.

• The heavy things may break us, but we can put ourselves back together.

• Always be gentle with yourself.

• Give yourself grace.

• And love yourself most because asking for help is a sign of true self-love and self-compassion.

What’s your super power? What have you overcome? What are you struggling with? I’d love to hear about your journey and take notes! Please share in the comments.

Have you ever heard of the 75 Hard Challenge? It is a 75 day challenge created by Andy Frisella. Andy is a podcaster and CEO of the supplement company 1st Phorm. While the challenge is sometimes mistaken for a fitness challenge , according to the website it is a “transformative mental toughness program.” Here are the daily guidelines for the challenge:

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• Follow a diet. It doesn’t have to be any specific diet, just a structured eating plan that will result in physical improvement. No cheat meals are allowed.

• No alcohol consumption.

• Drink 1 gallon of water.

• Work out 45 minutes twice a day. One workout must be outside.

• Take a progress picture.

• Read 10 pages in a book. Audiobooks do not count.

Following the program should improve your:

• Confidence

• Grittiness

• Self-Esteem

• Self-Worth

• Self-Belief

• Perseverance

• Fortitude

My sister and her husband are both participating in the challenge right now. Previously, my sister tried the challenge, but didn’t complete it. She made it to day 62 then on day 63 she forgot to take her progress picture, which meant she was out of the challenge.

If you altar or forget to complete any of the guidelines, you are to start over at day 1.

My sister has asked me multiple times to try the challenge, but I just can’t commit. For one, I can’t imagine going 75 days without drinking right now. That seems crazy to me. I know people do it all the time, but I’m not there yet. I am doing better with my drinking though, so thats a win I will celebrate.

Recently, I watched the National Geographic series, Limitless with Chris Hemsworth on Disney Plus. It was inspiring to see him push himself through tough challenges. It encouraged me to want to be healthier and change some of my habits while incorporating new ones.

Currently, I’m in the middle of a writing challenge called 1000 Words Of Summer. It spans two weeks and I must write 1000 words everyday. I missed one day, but have been on point for the rest of it. It is ends this Saturday.

With all that being said, I have decided to create my own well-being challenge for the month of July in hopes of making same lasting changes. Here are my guidelines:

• Drink a cup of warm lemon water. I’ll do this first thing in the morning to jump start my hydration.

• Meditate. I’ve been using a meditation based on Tibetan Buddhism which I really like. It’s a visual meditation with the use of mantras. I want to get in to the habit of meditating every morning to start my day in a positive headspace.

• Complete a yoga practice. I love yoga. Once upon a time I did hot yoga 5 times a week. My body can no longer handle the hot yoga heat, so I am going to explore some different types of yoga at home. Most recently I tried Kudalini yoga in which I did some chakra cleansing. My goal is to also incorporate this into my morning routine, but as long as I get it done, I’ll be good with that…even if it’s just a short 15 minute practice.

• Read at least one chapter of a book. I’ll either be reading self-help, self-improvement, or a memoir.

• Write 750 words. I want to keep this daily writing practice going. I’m a member of the website 750words, in which you try to hit the daily target of 750 words. It’s really cool. It gives you stats and analyzes your writing. So far, I’ve written over 50,000 words on this website over 52 days.

• Drink 64 ounces of water. This has been my goal for awhile. I have a giant water bottle that holds 64 ounces with hourly marks on the side to keep you on track with how much you should be drinking during the day to finish it. I’ve only finished it a few times when I’ve been working outside in the heat.

• Go on a walk. I want to spend more time outside and be a little more active, so I am going to make myself walk the dogs once a day. I’d like to do it in the evening when it cools off. The dogs will be so excited and so much happier. After all I want to be the best dog mom possible, so here we go!

• Limit my alcohol consumption. I’m only going to drink during social gatherings or celebrations. Hopefully that will get me at least 5 dry days a week. If I can stick to this, it will be a huge improvement for me.

• Go to bed and get up at the same time. This is going to be a challenge because my days are always different, especially when I am working on a project. I’ll do my best to wind down at relatively the same time every night and set my alarm for the morning. I really want to improve my sleep habits and make sure I get 8-9 hours of sleep each night.

And last but certainly not least….

• Brush my teeth every night. I have gotten into the terrible habit of not doing this. For months I was drinking in bed until I passed out, so my dental hygiene was getting overlooked and neglected. It‘s gross. I’m ashamed and embarrassed, but it is what it is. Stop judging me!

I think I’ll be able to give this a pretty good shot. I’ll just have to figure out my time management when I start a few projects that I have on the books. I’ve already been meditating and reading every morning and I’ve been sprinkling in the other things here and there, too. I’m excited to make these small but meaningful changes. I’m trying to focus on being more in the moment, centered, and motivated.

I’m not going to give myself any consequences if I can’t stick to these guidelines. I’m just going to try my best and make some improvements as I give myself grace.

If there is something that you’ve been wanting to change, try, or add to your daily routine, start now. (Or July 1) Theres no reason to wait. The best time to start is now. If you were going to make a challenge for yourself, what would your guidelines be?

If you’re reading this, remember:

• You can do anything you put your mind to.

• You are stronger than you think.

• Small improvements are still wins.

• It’s never too late to make a change.

• Love yourself most, so your life can inspire others.

When I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder I was in denial and very ashamed. The biggest thing I hated was that I had a chronic illness that wouldn’t go away; something that I would have to deal with and manage my whole life. I was very angry and I resented the doctors that gave me this diagnosis and I resented the medications I had to take daily and I resented the therapist I had to continually visit. I was mad because I couldn’t handle things like everyone else. Stress was a big trigger for me and caused mania and depressive episodes. I was mad because small things were big issues for me. While I was so angry and resentful I was also relieved because there was a reason life seemed so much harder and more intense for me. These mood swings and ups and downs and feeling like I had different personalities was because my brain functioned differently. I wasn’t crazy. Even though I felt like something was wrong with me, I also knew that a lot of my problems and issues weren’t entirely in my control.

In high school and through my early twenties I would experience periods of hypomanic and manic symptoms where I was elated and excited and in a very good and ecstatic mood. I would be very impulsive and exhibit risky behaviors using poor judgment, like speeding and reckless driving. I just seemed really upbeat and charismatic; the center of attention; the life of the party. I could be very funny and witty because my mind was going a mile a minute. I seemed fun. And I felt like everyone loved me. I felt very confident and very good about myself. I wanted to talk to everyone and I was up for anything. I also had endless energy. Then there were days where I wouldn’t want to talk to anyone, I didn’t want to be noticed, and I felt like I was moving and talking in slow motion. I also felt very bad about myself. And didn’t want to exist. I felt like I wasn’t good at anything and no one liked me. I felt hopeless, like a burden, and a waste of space. Overall, I felt like I was two different people.

When my hypomania would become more severe or I would become manic, I would become very irritable and every little thing would piss me off. I would fly off the handle at a family member or a close friend if they said something that seemed accusatory to or critical of me. I would become enraged at the smallest misunderstanding and say the most hurtful things. Luckily, for other people not close to me, they didn’t see this side. I was at least able to control who I had an outburst with, but sadly my family and ex-boyfriends suffered and I’ll always feel bad about that. I would feel so incredibly angry sometimes for no reason. Then I’d end up crying out all the extra energy after an erratic outburst.

After an up or an angry period, I would swing back down to the depressive side of myself. Sometimes it would just linger for a few weeks then I’d spike back up to Happyville, but on occasion it would linger for months and then I’d eventually get suicidal. Describing this pattern is why my childhood psychologist thought I either had bipolar disorder or borderline personality disorder.

Sometimes I still feel like there’s two of me; the happy-go-lucky, talkative, and confident me and the dull, boring, low self-esteem me. It seriously feels like I have two personalities sometimes, which also makes it hard for me to trust my own thoughts and decisions. Those are the extremes. When I am stable there is also the even-keeled “normal” me. If I had my choice I’d be the hypomanic version of myself minus the anger and irritability where I’d never progress into mania because that’s a whole other set of extreme behavioral symptoms that once landed me in a hospital then in a behavioral rehabilitation center. Being hypomanic feels really good. I’m productive, joyful, confident, friendly, happy, outgoing, busy, motivated, I feel more creative, and I set high goals for myself. I feel so good, like I can do anything. It’s the ugly side with the intense anger, hyper sexuality, risky behavior, and then the full blown mania thats bad, which is why I can’t live in the hypomanic state and I have to remain medicated.

Since it feels so good, many people will actually go off their meds chasing that hypomania or manic high. I did at one point and to be honest I’m always secretly hoping I’ll get a little hypomanic and it will stay under control and not get to a dangerous manic level. At the same time if I feel like I am getting hypomanic I get concerned because mania is terrifying and last time I had a manic episode I was flirting with psychosis and extreme paranoia.

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Do you ever feel like there’s two of you. Does everyone feel like they have two or three personalities? One part of me is a high achieving extrovert and the other part is a dim, quiet, shy, and mediocre feeling introvert. When I’m functioning at a stable level I’m more of an introvert, but I can be outgoing and it’s not a problem. It’s when my anxiety and the depression get together that it’s a different story.

I often wonder if people notice this about me. Do they notice that sometimes I’m excitable and smiley and really upbeat while other times I’m more quiet and reserved? Do people even care? I think people probably don’t even notice. But I do know when my moods aren’t regulated and I’m on a mood swing rollercoaster, I feel like a crazy person and I feel out of control.

Now that I am older and have had some intense experiences with my illness, as well as many stable years, I am no longer angry or ashamed about my diagnosis. I don’t have a problem sharing that I am bipolar. Usually people who have known me for years are surprised when I tell them and sometimes don’t believe me. I’ve been lucky. My illness hasn’t completely uprooted or destroyed my life time and time again like it does for many people suffering with bipolar disorder. You could say that my illness is less severe. Some people have manic episodes that are triggered by one serving of alcohol or one sleepless night and some people have to have electroconvulsive therapy to treat their non-responsive depression. I am lucky that this has not been my experience.

I am proof that although it is hard and confusing living with bipolar disorder, it is manageable. You need a good support system, a trusted doctor, and realistic goals and ambitions. You have to learn how to manage your stress or specific triggers. I am proud of myself that I have learned a lot about what I need to do to stay stable. I know I have limits and that’s okay. I know I wouldn’t be capable of handling high stress or demanding jobs. I use to be ashamed and feel bad about myself and feel like I wasn’t good enough or living to my fullest potential because I can’t do as much as someone else, but I have adapted my view and realize I have other strengths and it’s okay that I can’t handle certain things that “normal” people can. In college I was embarrassed that I had to register with the disability office and was counted as a full time student with only 9 hours, but that was what I needed to have a fair shot at surviving the semester. And that’s okay. I didn’t think it was then, but I know it is now.

If you’re reading this , remember:

• We all have struggles.

• It’s okay to question yourself.

• Doing life differently is perfectly acceptable.

• We are all different.

• You matter.

• Love yourself most, even if you sometimes struggle to trust yourself.

Life is hard. Growing up is hard. But when do we really stop growing up?

I remember when I turned 27, I was in the shower when I had this epiphany that I would never really know what I was doing because no one did. Everyone was making it up as they went along and just doing the best they could to make the pieces fit together.

As a kid I looked to adults as almost magical beings that had it all together, always had a plan, and had all the answers. I think most children do this, which is why they look to adults for guidance. When I figured out that I would never grow into this person that was completely solid in all my beliefs and decisions, it freaked me out. I’d been waiting for that to happen and I just thought I was behind the curve. At the same time, I felt relief that maybe I was indeed normal to some extent.

I’m constantly questioning what I’m doing with my life. I’ve had the same conversation over and over agin with my husband about whether or not I should abandon the mural business and just get a regular job so I’d always know what to expect and know how much money I’d be making. Over and over again he tells me I’m doing the right thing and that I’m “meant” to do art and paint my murals. But y’all! I’m actually not very good at the hustle and I’m not on top of social media to grow a business like I could if I’d put in the time and learn how to use TikTok and keep up with trending songs. But generally I have steady work and make decent money. The stress and anxiety is also generally pretty bad. It’s been much worse this past year since I got off all my meds (except one) so I could hopefully conceive a healthy child. We have this same conversation time and time again because I get stressed out and doubt myself and want to do something that seems easier.

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I do not handle stress well. It’s a trigger for my mania and depressive symptoms. It can send me into full blown episodes so I’m always trying to make sure I’m taking care of myself and my stress level. On the other hand I worry about what people will think of me if I just start working at a bakery again or working somewhere with kids half my age. I’m still trying to figure out life. I’m still growing up it seems. I can’t figure out what my career path is or what I’m supposed to do once I actually finish growing up.

I don’t want an easy job though. I want a fulfilling job. I’ve always wanted to be a therapist or a counselor. I’ve always wanted to help make others lives better. I’ve also always wanted to get my Masters degree. During the pandemic I decided I was going back to school to get that degree and follow this path. I took the GRE and did well. I applied to one pretty good program at a good school and one really good program at at a really good school and didn’t get in, so I gave up because I felt like a failure. Now, a year or so later here I am once again questioning my path as a mural artist and thinking about applying to some completely online (good) programs and keeping the cost of tuition more in mind than how “great” the school is. A degree is a degree after all. But again, I wonder and question if I’m making the right decision. How do I know?

While I’m trying to decide on a career path, I know others are questioning other big quandaries and which paths to take and they are waiting for the answers or for someone to make it clear what to do. I think we’re always still growing up because we’re always waiting for that omnipotent guidance from above, for someone, or ourselves, to have the clear answer. Or maybe we’re always growing up because we are ever changing and switching paths and growing. Maybe this is what life is all about. I don’t know. And I don’t have the answers, but what I do know is this:

• You should generally listen to your intuition.

• You should strive to reach your goals.

• You should listen to others and find that sound advice.

• You can make big changes if it’s burning inside you.

• You should always love yourself most, even if you’re not all grown up… you’ve done a great job so far and got yourself to this present space….

• You should rejoice in the small victories.

If you have something you constantly question or a decision you’re struggling to make, tell me about it in the comments!

I often think about how much I’ve changed over the years.

I have been a completely different person so many times in my life. Sometimes I feel like I’ve let myself down or I’ve failed in someway. Sometimes I want to talk to my former self and give them warnings or tell myself to give it time.

I recently read this Essay by Alexa Jaunita Jordan in which she talks about past and future selves. It made me start thinking more about what I want for the future and if I’ll ever achieve certain goals.

I’m the same person at the core but my habits and daily routines have changed. My extra curricular activities are different. My life is completely different. I never really pictured what my life would be like at 37 because I didn’t see myself living this long. I really only thought I’d make it into my twenties. I know that sounds really morbid, but for whatever reason I didn’t think I would survive. Now I want to live as long as I possibly can. I want to make it to my 50th anniversary, so at least my early 80’s.

When I was married in my twenties everything was very regimented. I made myself busy even if I wasn’t. The house was always perfectly clean. Laundry was always done. I made breakfast, lunch, and dinner everyday. I tended a garden, cleaned the pool, mowed the lawn, exercised, played soccer, and for a couple years worked to finish my degree. My ex-husband was very particular about the way things needed to be done, so I was always on top of things trying to make sure he was happy. This became a burden as his particularity and demands became peculiar and more substantial. It got to the point where I felt I needed to be perfect just so we could make it through the day without an argument. I lasted 5 years in that relationship. It became abusive. It was toxic. When I realized I wouldn’t bring a child into that marriage I knew it was over and I started planning my escape.

If I could go back, I’d tell myself that those little things at the beginning of the relationship that freaked me out would become huge problems later. I’d tell myself to pay attention to the red flags and never get married. But that’s not the way life happens. I learned a lot from that relationship and even more after I left. I learned about my resilience and how to survive with barely anything. In the middle of all of it, I would have told myself that the things he said to me weren’t true and I am worthy of love and happiness and that I deserve respect. Things could have been much worse and I think they would have continued to escalate had I not left when I did in the manner in which I did.

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All that being said, I wish I still had some of those same habits everyday that I don’t now, like cooking dinner on a regular basis and having a solid morning routine and being active. These are things I am working on again to implement into my life for more stability and joy.

If I could talk to my 8 year old and 10 year old self, I’d tell her that things will be okay and life won’t always be filled with panic. I use to have obsessive compulsive tendencies as a child to deal with my constant anxiety. I had panic attacks and at school I couldn’t concentrate or stop thinking about being stuck in windowless classrooms while the door was closed. I worried for days about having to ride in elevators or sit in enclosed rooms. I had to tap my foot the perfect number of times, just right, before I did a gymnastics move. I had to kiss and hug my grandmother just right in the correct order when I left her because if I didn’t do it right, I was convinced she would die. I’d give myself a big hug and try to find a way to help her talk about the molestation that caused all of this anxiety and discomfort in the first place. I’d help her find a way to know that it wasn’t her fault and she didn’t do anything wrong. I’d help her start healing that deep wound. I’d tell her that she was still perfect and wasn’t damaged goods. I’d tell myself that your life isn’t ruined, but there will be struggles because of this and you’ll make it through.

After I left my ex-husband, I lived in Austin for about 6 months and for part of that time I lived in a meditation center. I use to meditate and do prostrations at least 2 times a day but usually 3 times if I had the time. I was dedicated to meditation for a couple years. It helped me find clarity and peace of mind. I stopped meditating when I became manic in 2016 and never got back into the habit. I was a different person when I lived in that meditation center, but I want pieces of that me back. I want that dedicated meditation practice back in my life. The thing is, even if I could go back and talk to myself when I stopped meditating, it wouldn’t do any good. I was sick at that time with my mental illness and when I am having a manic episode I am not logical and don’t think straight. I’m flighty and all over the place. The only thing I really could have told myself was to get help sooner to get my medications under control.

I think my future self would tell me that what I am doing right now is okay. That it’s okay I’ve spent hours laying in bed through my depression and getting back to the other side. That it’s a good and healthy thing I’ve been able to accept that I wasn’t making my own money to contribute the past few weeks because I needed this down time. Accepting that is usually really hard for me, but I’ve find a healthy head space where I can be gentle with myself while I get back on my feet. My short term goals right now are to get a solid morning routine together with reading and meditation, do yoga at least 3 times a week, and have at least 2-3 dry days. These are definitely doable changes. Everything is one day at a time.

There are so many things I would tell the various past versions of myself, but the main thing I’d want her to know is that you will make it through. Life won’t always be chaotic like it was in my late teens and early twenties. I won’t always feel like a caged bird like I did in my first marriage. I won’t always feel the trauma from sexual assault and I will feel safe in a healthy loving relationship. Life will be good.

So if you’re reading this, remember:

• You will make it through whatever it is you’re struggling with.

• You can heal past wounds by talking to your past selves.

• Taking down time is self care.

• Listen to your intuition.

• Love yourself most, even the parts of you that have been damaged.

When I was 17 my psychologist told me he thought I either had Bipolar Disorder or Borderline Personality Disorder. Both sounded really serious and insulting, especially a “personality disorder”. There was no way I had these things, I thought. Although it was nice to know there was a reason for how I was feeling. He suggested I go see my regular doctor to get my depression under control, so I did. I was prescribed Zoloft to aid my suicidal thoughts, hopelessness, and sadness.

This was the second time in my life I had been suicidal. The first time I was 14. After my grandmother passed away, I dipped into such a dark place as I grieved her absence. At least that time I actually had a reason to feel so empty and so low. At 17, I was mad and angry that I felt so bad and wanted to die for no good reason. Everything was going well in my life. It didn’t make any sense. While I didn’t want to believe something was seriously wrong with me, when I was told it was clinical depression, bipolar disorder, or borderline personality disorder, I felt relief. There was some reason this was happening to me and it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t control it.

At 18, after a hypomanic episode and going into a depression, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and also told I was an alcoholic. I thought that was total bullshit. My doctor told me I needed to go to AA Meetings and quit drinking. I was a freshman in college and I thought that was insane. I told one of my friends and she encouraged me to listen to him and said she would go with me to meetings, but I ignored her good will. After all, everyone drank a lot in college, right? Most people don’t take their antidepressant with booze, though, and most people don’t like the idea that you black out when you drink with it, but I did. I was really angry with this doctor, so after seeing him a few times and him repeatedly telling me I was an alcoholic I stopped going to see him. I hated him, but maybe he was right.

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Flash forward almost 20 years, and here I am still bipolar and still struggling with depression and drinking. I recently added a new antidepressant to my meds to help with my depression and anxiety. It has done wonders over the past few weeks. I am actually doing laundry and mostly keeping up with my hygiene. (Woohoo for the small wins!) About a month ago, when my depression was getting really heavy and the suicidal thoughts were knocking at the door, I knew I needed to stop drinking for a while. I didn’t drink when it was really bad for about a week, then I went back to self medicating. That’s the thing with alcohol. It’s so easy to drink to cover up your emotions, to numb them out, or make yourself feel brighter, or make things more fun, or drown out the anxiety in your mind. I drink for a lot of reasons but recently the main one was to feel a certain way and deal with the constant anxiety. It worked for a long time, then it stopped working and I still felt sad and depressed. That’s when I knew something had to change.

I had been getting worried about my drinking. The time spent thinking about drinking. The fact that I drank every day and had multiple beverages and I was drinking sometimes when I was working, and I was blacking out often. I wasn’t drinking to the point where I couldn’t function, but I was drinking more than I wanted and I was drinking for a reason that wasn’t healthy. I knew something needed to change about 4 months prior to actually doing something about it. I don’t think I am an alcoholic. I have an “off switch” most of the time, but other times it’s hard to stop after that first drink. I usually can stop when I’m not feeling completely desperate or I’m not in an uncomfortable social situation, which happens a lot since I have social anxiety. I especially worry about get togethers with people I know but don’t know really well. Then I just want to drink and drink so I feel calm and collected, but it usually leads to me drinking too much.

I’m currently working on drinking less. I have an app I use to track my drinking daily. I also have check-ins with coaches who help encourage me to stay on track. It hasn’t solved the problem, but I guess it’s helped some. A few months ago I went to a couple AA meetings. I felt desperate because I wanted to stop but couldn’t do it alone. I don’t know if the AA meetings are for me. I’ve done a couple online meetings this past week. It’s somewhat encouraging. I don’t know if I want to be completely sober, but I do know I want to really cut back, which is what the app is supposed to help me do. I want to be able to be in awkward situations without a drink in my hand. That sounds terrifying but thats the long term goal. I’ve been drinking for happiness and to deal with my anxiety one glass at a time. I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to make it through the day without drinking or thinking about drinking. This is why they say “one day at a time.” This is the journey I’m on now. Thanks for joining.

Remember:

• Big changes start as small adjustments.

• You can do anything you put your mind to.

• Alcohol isn’t the answer.

• Love yourself most, so you can take care of yourself in a healthy manner

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I once had a blog called Love Yourself Most.

I wrote about going through a divorce, sexual assault trauma, panic attacks, mental health, relationships with toxic people, and anything else that popped up that was impacting my world or I was struggling with. I always ended each blog post with positive affirmations and suggestions for why and how to love yourself most. I want to do that again.

You have to put your self-care first. We can’t help others or be fully present when our cup is empty. We have to refill it and give ourselves grace to do so. I’ve been having a hard time really taking care of myself lately and I’ve been using alcohol to help my anxiety, depression, and boredom. I want to get back to a place where I’m writing and creating again, which is why I’m writing this now. I want to use my story to make an impact on others. I want to do something bigger than myself. I want to make a difference and somehow give meaning to the fucked up things that have happened to me. I want to fully heal.

I need to make some changes in my life and this is going to be one of them. I want to write once a week and share with others. I’m currently trying to limit my drinking. I want to only drink socially and not in excess. I want to start doing yoga on a regular basis again. And I want to start painting again just for myself. I’m a 37 year old female, married, no kids, 2 dogs, living in the suburbs, but missing the city and our old house. I paint murals for a living and I struggle with the hustle. I once had a pretty sizable garden, now i struggle to keep my plants alive, even succulents. I want to get back to the place where I felt productive, meaningful, and stable. I want to make your life better. I want to make mine better.

I want to share this journey with anyone overcoming trauma, dealing with a mental illness, or anyone trying to better themselves and really learn how to love themselves. That’s the journey I’m on and I want you to tag along.

So here’s where we’re at:

• I’ll share weekly on Wednesday

• I’ll leave you with some positivity

• We’ll navigate struggles together and I’ll share my struggles from the past as well as currently, specifically my struggle with Bipolar Disorder, anxiety, and some version of sobriety.

• I’ll hopefully help you heal or learn about yourself and maybe, just maybe, bring you some joy or contentment

Now, I’ll leave you with this:

• Taking care of yourself is never selfish.

• You are always the top priority.

• Healing takes time and courage.

• Be gentle with yourself.

• Love yourself most, so you can love others better.

Thanks for reading if you got this far. Please share this if you think someone might appreciate it! Thanks!

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