I have Pseudotumor Cerebri. Better known as PTC/IIH

I have pseudotumor cerebri (PTC) which is now commonly called idiopathic inter-cranial hypertension (IIH).  Only 1-2 people per 100,000 people have this. So, it is rare but not uncommon. Basically I have too much cerebral fluid around my brain and spine. The excess fluid causes pressure around my brain and optic nerves in my eyes. There is no rhyme or reason as to why people get this. Drs don't know what causes it. There is no cure either. There is only relief of the symptoms. This disease mimics a brain tumor without there being an actual tumor or any other disease that could cause the symptoms.

I got lucky when I was diagnosed and had an ER Dr that actually knew what it was and I wasn't dicked around like a lot of people before they got diagnosed.

As of 3 days ago it has been 2 years since my diagnosis.

Two years ago I had a migraine, or what I thought was a migraine, that lasted for 16 days. I finally caved and went to urgent care after it got to the point where I could feel people talking and I could feel the changes in lights around me. I could literally feel it. Every time someone talked, to me or near me, my head would throb in tune with their voice, tone, pitch, everything. Same thing with the lights. It got so bad I wanted to throw up every time someone started talking or turned on a light.

At the urgent care I explained to the Dr what I was feeling and how it hurt so bad at the base of my skull, but when she pushed there I didn't feel any pain. The Dr was not comfortable with diagnosing me with just a simple migraine and recommended that I went straight from the urgent care to the emergency room. I almost didn't go to the emergency room, but decided I couldn't deal with the pain anymore.

I get back to a room at the ER and the nurse comes in and asks me a bunch of questions. Not even five minutes later I had a Dr in the room. Now, anyone that goes to the ER knows that the quicker a Dr comes in your room the more serious your condition is. So, naturally, I am freaking out at that point.

The Dr asks me the same questions the nurse asked me, walked out, and three minutes later I am being wheeled to have a CT scan. I get back from the CT and the Dr is back in my room. He tells me that I have pseudotumor cerebri and keeps rambling on about the condition. All I hear are the words "tumor" and "lumbar puncture" out of everything that he said. The Dr walks out to give me a few minutes to process everything before we proceeded and I called my mom in tears. I had no idea what the Dr was talking about, I didn't know what was going on, and I had only ever heard about lumbar punctures being the most painful thing you could ever go through. It ended up not hurting at all.

The Dr finishes up with me, I get my discharge papers, prescriptions, and a paper telling me I already have an appointment scheduled with a neurologist. Another sign it is no joke is when they schedule your follow ups for you.

Since then I see my neurologist every six months, had an MRI where I had a panic attack and cried the entire hour and a half I was in that tube, and had another lumbar puncture.

I stopped taking my medication about 8 months ago. I still deal with the tinnitus, headaches, pressure at the base of my skull, I can't look down to read for too long or my neck and head start to really hurt, and issues with my memory (remembering why I walked in a room, what I was trying to say, appointments, important information, etc.) and getting my thoughts out the right way, but it is so much more manageable than when I was diagnosed. I do still deal with one thing that scares me when it happens, but the Drs never really have much to say about it. When I am standing for too long, or grocery shopping, I get extremely dizzy and light headed. I feel like I am going to get sick and pass out. This feeling lasts until I sit down. I wish they knew why it happened but the only thing I can think of is when it happens the pressure around my brain is elevated.

I hear about people getting shunts put in to help the draining of the extra fluid and that terrifies me. That is brain surgery and shunts are notorious for clogging or not working for very long. I made the decision about a year ago that I would never get a shunt unless or until it came down to having to get the shunt or going blind. You read that right. If my disease ever gets bad enough I could go permanently blind. I have some issues with double vision from time to time and blurry vision, but my eye doctor is helping me keep that in check.

I am part of a support group on facebook, which is nice because I don't feel alone in this anymore. I don't know anyone in my non internet life that has this disease so it helps to have people I can talk to about it online. At the same time though, I don't like it. The group is a constant reminder of how bad I could, and still can, have it. It scares me to think that this could be worse that what I have already dealt with. I could just be in denial that I could get worse as well. I have been feeling "ok" long enough that I would like to think that this magically went away for me, but even as I type this I am getting light headed from glancing down at the keyboard and the light from my screen. I am also starting to forget my train of thought so it is time to end this post now :)

One day at a time. That is all I can do. Thankfully I have been having more good days than bad.

Is blood really thicker than water?

Growing up, and even now, I have seen shows, movies, read stories, seen first hand, families that are tight knit with siblings that are very close. That is something I always wanted growing up, and still do.

My family isn't like that, at all. I don't really talk to anyone on my dads side of my family, and besides my dads mom I haven't seen any of them in a few years. My moms side of the family....... previous blogs have explained why I will have nothing to do with any of them. But, the one I always wanted to be the closest to was my brother.

I used to imagine that as we grew older our bond would stay strong. We would hang out together, our kids would grow up closely, etc. That is not the case and it breaks my heart.

I wasn't the best sister growing up. When we were younger I always wanted to do what he was doing, play outside with him and his friends, protect him, guide him, etc. Then around the time I was 13 our whole dynamic changed. I started to become very depressed because of what I was going through, I was angry at everyone, and I took it out on my brother. There was a lot of jealousy too.

I was jealous that my moms side of the family treated him completely different than they treated me, I was pissed at my mom for not defending me, I didn't want to do anything except stay in my room or hang out with my friends, when they could be bothered to spend time with me. No matter what I did I couldn't get my mom and her family to treat me the way they treated my brother. So, logically, I would fight with my brother and act out more and more. I wanted to make him feel as miserable as the rest of the family made me feel. If he got an amazing gift for his birthday or Christmas, where I would get lectured for being the black sheep, then I would break his gift. If he got praise for doing well in school, where I would struggle to get a "D" then lectured because I needed to "work harder like my brother" then I would terrorize him until it ended up in a fist fight or me throwing the cordless phone and remotes at his head.

Don't get me wrong, I loved my brother more than anything. I still do. Even though I am the eldest I have always looked up to my brother. Where I struggled with making friends, keeping on top of things, saving money, and doing well in school he always had it easier. He could sleep through class and pass, always had friends around him at school and coming over to our house, he had his shit together by the time he was 16.

I didn't know how to handle my emotions growing up. I was taught by my mom, be it intentional or not, that you internalize your emotions. If it is something you can't handle then you "lift it to God and let go." If that didn't work then you shopped and spent money you didn't have until you felt better.

I know this isn't painting my mom in the best light, but how she made me feel, unfortunately, ties in with how I felt about my brother growing up. My mom and I fought a lot growing up, she would vent to her mom and sisters about what I was doing, how I was treating her, how I was acting in school, and how I treated my brother. Which, in turn, made her mom and sisters treat me worse than my brother and made them lecture her about how she was failing as a parent with me.

My brother took what I did to him in stride. That is until I was 18 and he was 16. We had to share a car, but I had gotten kicked out of the house for trying to fight with my dad. Sharing a car when we lived 15 minutes apart was a challenge, especially since he was in school. His use of the car came first. There was one day where I went somewhere with him and one of his friends and we started to get into an argument over the car as my brother was taking me to my apartment. I told him to take me back to the house so I could talk to our dad and get use of the car for that night and the next day. My brother refused to take me home, telling me to call our dad and talk to him about it over the phone, and drove me home. I refused to get out of the car and leveraged myself in the car so he couldn't pull me out of the car. After five minutes of us screaming at each other, my brother trying his damnedest to pull me out of the car, and his dickhead of a friend laughing his ass off in the back seat, the entire dynamic of our relationship changed. My brother sucker punched me square in the face. I am screaming at my brother, then all of the sudden I am bleeding profusely from the nose. I had blood everywhere and my gums had been ripped from my tooth in one spot. I screamed "TAKE ME TO DAD NOW!!!" and for the next 15 minutes I am in the car with my brother and his friend laughing and making fun of me.

My mom refused to let me call the cops and press charges, my dad was just pissed at the entire situation. I can't blame him. They don't say "hindsight is 20/20" for no reason. I should have just gotten out of the car and called my dad from my apartment.

The next day my mom told me to do what I felt necessary.  So, I went to the police, filed a report, and told them I wanted to press charges. I ended up disappointing both of my parents with that. I just had my brother arrested. We went through mediation for months after that.

While our relationship did start to get better over the years, I ruined chances of us being as close as I wanted.

When I moved to Arizona in 2009 I asked my brother to go to lunch with me so I could get some things off my chest before I left. I spent the next hour apologizing, explaining why I treated him the way I did while we were growing up, and that I was always jealous of him. I remember him saying "why were you jealous of me? I was jealous of you." That took me aback. I never thought of there being a possibility of my brother being jealous of me.

After the lunch I felt a lot better about our relationship and the hope of us being able to rebuild the bond we had when we were little, before all the drama and teen angst. We still aren't where I want us, but I will take what I can get at this point. I still have issues with my brother, mainly the fact that he still talks to three family members that treated me like shit and made me feel like the most worthless piece of shit growing up. He knows how I feel about them and the fact that he still talks to them. I know that he didn't have the same experience with them that I did. Not even close. Completely different. But, it still hurts that he talks to the three people that hurt me more than anyone.

I just pray that as we continue to grow and age that our relationship will continue to get better. Now that we both have kids I want us to be able to spend time together so our kids can grow up in each other lives, even though there is a 10 year age difference between them.

Me and my brother. I think he was 3 and I was 4 1/2

Me and my brother at his wedding in 2009

Break gender stereotypes. One nail polish at a time.

I recently read this article on a facebook page I follow, that posted the article from another page. It is about a little boy wearing nail polish to school and how one mother reacted.
My son used to ask me to paint his toes for him when he was little because he saw me doing mine, and his dad used to paint his nails black. I see absolutely NOTHING wrong with a boy wanting to paint his nails. Absolutely nothing wrong with it. Nail polish is not strictly for girls. It says "nail polish" on the bottle and not "female polish."
I am not one to believe that there is anything out there that is truly, 100%, gender specific. My son used a coin purse as a purse for his binkie when he was a toddler, he specifically asked for it as well. He knew that when me or my mom would grab our purse that it meant we were leaving he house. So, at 18 months old he asked for his own purse to hold things in for when we would leave. He would wear my headbands around the house because he thought they looked cool. He would play in my make-up and use lipstick as "war paint." He would ask to wear my lip gloss because it made his lips feel "slippy".
Now that he is 10 he doesn't do those things anymore, and a part of me misses the days where he hadn't been corrupted by society to think that things are supposed to be gender specific. There are days, though, where he will ask for my red chapstick, not only because it is cherry, because he likes how it changes the colors of his lips. He also enjoys helping me buy clothes or purses. He will tell me which ones he likes and which ones he doesn't like.
As I was reading the comments on the page that posted the article I started to notice a very disturbing trend. The majority of the mothers had no qualms about their son having their nails painted, but there was a decent amount of women that seemed to think if their son painted their nails then it would lead to them wearing make-up, dresses, putting their hair in pony tails, and eventually becoming gay or transgender.
I screen shot a few of the comments. At first, I did it out of disbelief that people honestly believed what they were typing. Then, I decided that I needed to say something. Here are nine of the comments that I saw:

I am shocked by the amount of people that still believe being gay, bisexual, transexual, or transgender is because of the choices that persons parent made when they were younger, by the things that they were "allowed" to be around. One person even thought that if her son did "turn out to be gay" that he would eventually "become a woman". Do they refuse to believe that people are born that way, are they in denial, or are they really this uneducated? 

Who decided that dolls, dresses, make-up, nail polish, head bands, long hair, etc. was only for girls? Why is it more acceptable for a girl to break the gender stereotypes, but not a boy? 

Why would it even matter if a boy came out as gay later in life?

I can tell you right now, if my son did come to me later in his life and tell me that he is gay I would not love him any less. I would not treat him any different, blame myself because I let him paint his nails, turn my back on him, or anything like that. 

I can't wait until the day that gender stereotypes no longer matter. 

I did it on my own. Without the help I was asking for.

Most of you that have been following me for a while know that my son has ADHD and ODD. You hear the stories about what I have been through with raising him, the struggles he has with everything, and the struggles I have with keeping my patience. You have no idea how much I appreciate the support. I still get a few "Just spank him" comments and those of you with kids like mine know that spanking does NOT work. It actually has the opposite effect.

For a while know, I would say about 2 years, I have been asking for help getting on the waiting list to see a Psychologist at the Children's hospital. He sees a social worker, a nurse practitioner, and an advocate but I have not been able to get him on the list to see an actual Psychologist. I kept getting told "I looked into it and it's a very long waiting list." Yeah no shit it's a long waiting list, but did you put him on it like I asked? No? Well, screw you very much!

About three months ago I took it upon myself to figure out what I needed to do to get further testing done for my son. I talked to his pediatrician and asked if I would need a referral, which they gladly wrote for me, then I called down to Children's and asked what I needed to do to get him tested further than just "he has ADHD."

They put me on the waiting list, which I expected to be extremely long, but two months later I had an appointment on the books. Yeah the appointment wasn't until six weeks later, but I got it on the books!

I was talking to his advocate a month ago, after getting the appointment, about how I was wanting my son tested to see if he is on the spectrum. The advocate asked me why I wanted him tested, not because he didn't think my son needed it, but to see what my reasons behind it were. I started listing off reason after reason after reason. Finally after 20 minutes the advocate tells me to write everything down and take it to the appointment with me. I have had a lady from Child Focus, three of my sons teachers, his day care teacher over the summer, my intro to psych professor, my abnormal psych professor, my sons cub scout leader, his nurse practitioner, his social worker, and the advocate all say they have suspected that my son is on the spectrum because of his 'quirks.' That is 11 people that are behind me on this!

I can't tell you how amazing it is to have people tell me they suspected it to. That means I am not "making this up" and am actually seeing things the way everyone else is seeing them. I know a lot of you tell me that what I mention about my son reminds you of your child (diagnosed or not yet) and that we have been a support system and sounding board for each other. It feels so great to not be alone in this, because when it is just you and your child you feel just that. Alone.

Here are a few of the reasons I am wanting to get him tested:

1. When we have running around to do I have to tell him where we are going. If I go out of order or add something he gets upset because we are doing it the "right way."
1. He has been like this since he was two. 
1. By the time he was three I would have to write a list of the stops and if I needed to add anything it had to be added at the end of the list.
2. If there are rules that are supposed to be followed daily, at school or with is online games, and people don't follow the rules he gets very upset.
3. Doesn't pick up on social cues very well even though he is mastering sarcasm.
4. He can tell you everything, inside and out, about the shows he likes, the games he plays, or whatever else he is interested at that point in time.
5. Is he is told to stop doing something so he can do something else he get frustrated to the point that he starts hitting himself.
6. Extremely particular about his food. If it is not done a certain way, or made by a certain person, he refuses to eat it.
7. He will "shut down" in situations where he is uncomfortable or mad.
1. In social settings he will stop talking, stop looking at you, and stare blankly off somewhere else. he will not respond at all until physically moved from the situation.
8. He has a hard time pretending that he likes a gift someone gives him. He can't just say "Thank you" and move on. He will straight up tell you "I don't like that," "I don't want that," or "it's stupid"

These are just a few of the reasons. It is not him being "spoiled" either. He is not a spoiled child. He will give you the shirt off his back if you need it, he cries when someone is hurt, he will go out of his way to make someone happy, but he struggles with the small and daily things. 

I am ready to know what is going on inside my sons head and to help make him feel comfortable with everything. It breaks my heart when he gets so upset and just cries "I don't know why I do this. I hate it. I want it to stop."

I will do whatever it takes to help my child. Even if I have to do it myself because the help I asked for was never given.

Why is my baby insisting on growing up??

This week my son became a grown man. Well, a miniature man, a 5th grader. I looked at him after he got ready for his first day of school and I wondered where my little boy went. It feels like just yesterday he was getting on the kindergarten bus for the first time.
I remember that day clearly. He wanted me to come on the bus with him to see his seat and insisted on doing his seat-belt all by himself. It was a bit of a challenge for him but he did it. I was so proud of him. I cried when the bus drove away too. Then he came home just beaming from ear to ear because his day was "super awesome"
Now he is a 5th grader. In just a handful of months he will be done with elementary school and I will have a middle schooler on my hands! I am not sure I am ready for that!!
I have a running count down in my head that goes as follows:
1 year until middle school
4 years until high school
5 years until learners permit
6 years until license
7 years until senior year
11 years until college graduation
but forever he will be my baby, my little man, my Booger.
I don't care how old he gets!
My baby from K-5

Winter Break during Kindergarten

Fall of 1st grade

Spending time with my mom during 2nd grade

1st day of 3rd grade

Fall picture day of 4th grade

1st day of 5th grade.

Where did my baby go? My adorable, sleeps on my chest, pisses on my brother, pukes on my mom, little baby boy,

This was just yesterday. I swear it.

I may have my struggles with raising him, practically by myself, but I love him so much and can't imagine my life without him. While there are days I wish I could get the first few years back to do them right, I couldn't be more happy. He has grown into such a polite and loving young man.
In 3rd grade when he learned about recycling and the ecosystem he would tell me all about it, insist that we recycle, and get so upset when people would litter on the roads. He would tell me his plans for getting more natural and safe energy so we could save the planet. He would tell me how he would make it to where trucks and cars could no longer emit black smoke when they need to be worked on. He would complain that the government needs to focus more on how to safe our country with more wind turbines and solar panels available to anyone that has the space for them.
Smart little brat isn't he? :)
As much as I don't want him to grow up I can't wait to see how much my little man changes the world for the better.



*I always want to say thank you to my family for helping me raise this blessing. I was 19 when I got pregnant with him and not emotionally ready to handle taking care of another life. If it wasn't for you I don't know what I would have done! I love you guys!!

Booger and my dad 2004

Booger and my brother 2004

Booger and my mom 2006

Booger and my dad 2006

Booger, my brother, my dad, and a neighbor (his babysitter) 2006

Booger and my dad 2012

Booger and my brother 2012

I can't afford expensive trips but boy do we have fun!

I never claim to be a mom that has a lot of money. In fact, I am broke. I am blessed with a dad that is letting me and Booger live with him while I go to school. He doesn't require me to work, which is nice.
While I may not have money, the rare times that I do, I try to make sure that my son has fun. We may only go somewhere "expensive" a few times a year, but I try to make sure Booger has a blast when we go. Here is a picture from each outing we have had since moving back to Ohio in 2011.

Sharon Woods 2011. Only $3 to get in but he got to pet a pet iguana.

Khron Conservatory 2012 (Dad paid for us to get in since he went with us)

Union Terminal 2012 (Dad paid for us to get in since he went with us)

Cincinnati Zoo-- Summer 2012

Cincinnati Zoo-- Fall 2012 (brother and sister-in-law paid for Booger to get in)

Cub-O-Ree 2012 (Scout thing and I didn't have to pay for the camping the night before since we didn't camp over night)

Kids Lego Fest 2013 (pretty pricey, but totally worth it and my brother went with us)

Newport Aquarium 2013 (sharks behind him. can't see them very well)

Kings Island 2013 (for school so I got in about $30 cheaper than normal)

St. Rita Fest 2013 (another thing for school)

Cub-O-Ree 2013 (Scout thing and I didn't have to pay for the camping the night before since we didn't camp over night)

Lego Movie. (This day was actually IHop for breakfast, Lego Movie, then Orange Leaf to end the day off)

New place we found. Pogo Play. $10 for him to get in so I try to take him once or twice a month

Union Terminal 2014 (Free Friday. Didn't have to pay for anything except parking!!)

While I would love to be able to afford the extravagant trips, like Disney or long vacations, I know that all it takes is spending time with me that makes Booger happy. It doesn't matter if I take him during a "free admission" day, if my dad pays, or I wait until I have a little extra money. Booger gets to spend time with me and I get to watch my "not so little" boy act like the kid he is, smile this my heart is full, and laugh his little ass off. I love my outings with Booger even if the can't stand being around people I don't know.

Fathers Day? More like Papaw's Day!

When it comes to Father's Day I only worry about buying something for my dad. I only worry about Booger buying something for Papaw (my dad). I think in his almost 10 years of life his "dad" has only gotten one gift.
Some people may question this, but the following picture says it all:

Just because his "dad" got me pregnant does not make him a dad. My dad is more a dad to Booger than anyone.

13 reasons why my dad is more of a dad to Booger:
1. He is there when my son is sick/sad/happy/angry/hurt/etc.
2. He has been there every step of the way (except for when we lived in Arizona)
3. He makes sure my son has clothes on his back, shoes on his feet, food in his belly, and a roof over his head (given that I ask to borrow the money to buy said items, which isn't often, but he does let us live with him)
4. He has never missed a birthday party
5. He is there whenever he is needed
6. Even when he is hurt or doesn't feel good he makes sure that he spends time with my son, does things my son enjoys, listens to my son ramble on 24/7/365 about whatever he finds interesting at that time.
7. He always makes sure to teach my son right from wrong and explain to him how to do something different
8. He is there for my son the way he was there for me and my brother
9. He knows what my son likes and doesn't like
10. He knows about (and how to handle) my sons ADHD, ODD, and anxiety issues
11. He knows what to do to help me when my son is having an 'episode'
12. He uses love and understanding instead of intimidation or fear
13. He knows my son is terrified of needles and goes with us to appointments where he might have to get a shot to help keep my son calm and is there to hold him when he is done

13 reasons why Boogers "dad" isn't much of a dad:
1. If my son is lucky he sees him 2 days a week, for MAYBE four hours each visit
2. He never calls to talk to my son or text me to ask how he is doing
3. I have to constantly text him to find out if he can take off work when my son has to have out patient surgery
4. He has no idea what my son likes or doesn't like
5. He uses intimidation and fear to get his way
6. He has been to ONE doctors appointment
7. He can't even remember how old my son is or his actual birthday, I have to remind him every single year
8. He has no idea how my son is doing in school
9. He chooses girls and his social life over spending time with his son
10. He "can't" help out if I am tight on money and need to buy my son something
11. Won't tell me if he lost a job and that I'm not getting child support until I ask him why I hadn't gotten anything in weeks
12. Blames me for the fact that he is a shitty parent
13. Missed birthday because he "had plans"

I don't care what the name of the holiday is, my dad is the one we recognize. My son has never asked if we were getting something for his "dad" and if I decided to ask if we are he always answers with a no, then asks what we can get my dad. When he does see his "dad" he asks if his sister is going to be there, if she isn't then my son doesn't want to go.
So, for all those non-biological and grandfathers out there that are helping raise kids.. HAPPY FATHERS DAY TO YOU!

He's not doing that for your amusement.

My son has ADHD, ODD, and Anxiety. He tends to shut down when he is not in a good mood or doing something he doesn't want to do. One thing that really rubs me the wrong way is when other kids around him start laughing and making jokes about it. I am used to him shutting down. Sometimes it irritates me; sometimes it doesn't phase me. It does bother me when kids make fun of him for it.

Towards the end of his pack meeting Booger shut down because his head started hurting. He sat against the wall, near everyone else, but just looked straight ahead and didn't say anything. He was ignoring his pack leader when he was trying to get my son to join the rest of the group to end the meeting. I hear the other 10 kids laughing at how he was acting. One was waving their hand in front of his face and lifting my sons arm just to watch it drop straight back down. That kid did that about three or four times. All his pack leader was doing was telling my son to join the group. So I decided to walk over and tell my son that he had 3 seconds to decide if he was going to join the rest of the group or if we were going to leave. I knew the answer was leave, but I was still going to give him the choice.

I get within 3 feet of Booger and three more kids stand up and all say "Maybe he is dead. I know how to get him to talk!" I just very sternly, on the verge of being pissed, said "No. Get away from my son." gently nudged the other kid out of the way and told Booger he had 3 seconds to join the group or we were leaving. We left. As we were walking to where my stuff was to grab it I could still hear the kids laughing about what my son was doing.

On the way home I had to make sure Booger didn't think I was mad at him for how he was acting, but more upset with how the other kids were acting. Booger said, "I know. That was why I was ignoring them." I am glad he ignored them. If it was me they were doing that to I would have gone off on them. I know how my son feels, I have ADHD and pretty sure I had ODD as a kid. I shut down a lot. I mean a lot! I also held in how I was feeling outside my own home. The kids that picked on me had no idea that one day I was going to snap and just verbally rip them a new asshole in the middle of the high school hallway.

I can't stand it when I see Booger get treated like that because of what he does. I want to defend him and go off on the other kids. I want to go off on their parents for not stopping them. I also know that those kids and parents have no idea why my son is doing what he is doing. So I just remove him from the situation when I am able to. He is not their toy. He is not there to amuse them. How would they feel if another kid had done that to them?

I will be emailing his pack leader explaining that we left not because of my son but because of the other kids there.

You’re the DD. I’m supposed to be drunk, not you!

This blog was originally written as a guest blog for Holdin' Holden (here) while she was away at Disney with her family. Her blog with this originally post on April 12th is here. I hope you enjoy it if you haven't read it yet!!!

Back sometime around 2007 or 2008 my best friend and I were invited to a party that one of her co-workers friends was having. I wasn't allowed to drive at the time so my friend, we shall call her Danielle, said I could drink and she would be the driver. She picked me up from my house and was supposed to drop me off at the end of the night. If only it happened that way!!

Danielle had a crush on the guy she worked with, who’s party it was, even though she was married. I knew once she got any alcohol in her it would be a problem. Oh boy was it! The night started out normal. We were taking shots, enjoying the keg, mingling, and whatnot. I had myself a total of 4 or 5 drinks and switched to water for the rest of the night. Danielle went way beyond that! Within an hour of being at this party Danielle kept repeating this guys name. I can’t remember his name but every time she had a second to speak she was blurting out “so-and-so you are so cute!” or following him around the house trying to talk to him.

There was this pillar between the living room and the kitchen, not sure why because it was kind of a stupid place to have a random pillar. Anyways, for 10 straight minutes Danielle would pop her head out from one side and say this guys name, then swing to the other side and say his name. Like I said, this went on for 10 minutes! Everyone at the party was thinking she had lost her damn mind! I know I was and I had known her for 10 years before this party! Then Danielle gets the bright idea to try her hand at poker. I just let her go for it. There is no stopping this woman when there is alcohol in her system! She played 3 hands of poker and lost every single cent in her pocket. So then she tried to talk the guys into letting her play to win her money back. That was not happening at all! By this point Danielle is going from the happy “I love you” girl she is when she drinks to sad and depressed.

We end up on the front porch talking to some other people that she knew and she started talking about her husband. So, we end up talking about relationships and she mentions that she found out just before her wedding her husband kissed one of his co-workers. She starts going off, threatening to call him at 1 in the morning and bitch him out even though they had been married for over a year at this point. Everyone is trying to talk her off the proverbial ledge and keep her from calling her husband.

I finally decide it is time to go home around 3am. I am sober as hell by this point so I tell her to give me the keys and I am driving. If we get pulled over I will just point at her and tell the cops that she is why I am driving without a license. I had to help her walk down the steps of the porch and I keep telling her “Whatever you do, do NOT sit down because you are not going to get back up!” Unfortunately I had to run inside and get her purse. So what does Danielle do? She sits her freaking ass down on the sidewalk! I couldn't get her to stand up no matter how hard I pulled her. This caused me to have to go into the party and find two of the biggest dudes I could to get my friend off her ass and in the car. As the guys are lifting her off the ground I run to the car and get her door open. The three of us, me and the two dudes, are coaching Danielle on how to get in the car. We told her to turn around, put her butt down first, get her head in, and then pull her feet in. So she does what we tell her to. She dives in the car head first. Really. Head first. Another few minutes to get her sitting upright and we were on our way!

This party was in butt fucked Egypt compared to where we lived. It was a 40 minute drive to get to the party. It was February. It was cold. Danielle is drunk and burning up. So we had the a/c on, the windows down (all the freaking way!) and the radio as loud as I could handle it; per Danielle’s request so she could stay awake in case we got pulled over. Danielle had this look on her face that I can’t even find the words to describe, she had her chin in her chest, and she is just staring out the front window like we are driving warp speed on the USS Enterprise. Every so often she would break the silence with “You’re my best friend, you know that right?” or “I love you. You are like a sister to me.” Or my personal favorite where she would actually snap out of it and shoot up straight at a board “Oh my god. He knows. My husband knows. I called that guy cute. My husband knows. He’s going to leave me.” Then zone out like it never happened.

That went on for 20 minutes until we saw a police check point on the OTHER side of the road and she loses her shit again! So I have to convince her that they aren’t going to stop us because they are stopping people going the other way and we are still 200 feet away from them. THEN she decides she has to pee but refuses to use the gas station restroom because they are going to know she is drunk…. NO SHIT WOMAN JUST LOOK AT YOU!! So I had to TURN AROUND and drive BACK to the party we just left so Danielle could taking a freaking piss!!

We get back to the party, I help her walk to the bathroom, I close the door, and I just stand there outside the bathroom door in case she fell and busted her damn head open. Out of nowhere, and louder than the music and 30 drunken rowdy people, I hear Danielle in the bathroom… singing… “I’m peeing. Oh yeah! Gotta pee.. whoo I’m peeing! Gotta pee, need to pee.. I’m pppeeeeeeeiiiiiinnnngggggg!!!!”

Fast forward 40 minutes, 50 “I love yous”, 80 “omg he knows!”, and 1,000,000,000,000 “you’re my best friends” I finally get Danielle to her complex. I also had to call my dad at 4am and ask him to give me a ride home. Thank God he lived 5 minutes from Danielle! While I waited for my dad I made sure Danielle got into her apartment safely but got a few giggles in for myself first. It took her 3 minutes to walk up 10 steps. I was of course behind her in case she fell, but it took her forever! Then came the joy of watching her try to unlock her door. She couldn't even get the key in the hole! I finally had to take her key and open her door for her! The night would have been nice to end for me there but my dad had to drop me off at the start of my street because it was blocked off by cops and an ambulance so I had to walk past whatever happened! I get up to the blockage and there is a dude lying across the side walk, holding his bloody side, screaming “The bitch stabbed me! She fucking stabbed me!!” Thanks Danielle.. Love you too!

I go over to her place the next day to check on her and she remembers NOTHING! Absolutely nothing! Her husband walks in and asks how my portion of the night was with her before filling me in on what happened after she got inside. OMG! It was glorious to hear! It apparently took Danielle 10 minutes to get to bed because she kept unlocking and locking the front door because she couldn't remember if it was locked or not, she left a trail of clothing from the front door to the bedroom, trying to sit on the bed she fell off about 5 times, missed the toilet on the “omg” bathroom run, fell out of bed trying to lay down in bed, and all her husband could hear after she laid down was the continuous gurgle of her stomach while she moaned and groaned that she was going to die. To make it even better I got the joy of reminding her of EVERYTHING that happened at the party J Needless to say I never saw her drink that much ever again and we went out every other Friday. That is a party I am never going to forget! I had to babysit my designated drive and stay sober because she decided to drink until she couldn't function. 

P.S. I love you.

My entire life I have struggled with anger, depression, anxiety, self hate, and at times suicidal thoughts. I grew up thinking I wasn't good enough, that I would never amount to anything, and that the world would be a better place without me. I thought it was my fault that my aunts, grandma, and people in school didn't like me and told me the nasty horrible things they would tell me. In the picture above I have been called the following:

ugly

stupid

worthless

lesbian

bitch

freak

loser

nerd

annoying

dumbass

cunt

fat

brat

whore

and slut

Surprisingly it was an equal amount from my peers and from my family. For as long as I can remember I was told these things and that made me hate myself. I became a very angry child. I acted out and I started giving up. If people really thought this way about me then why should I care about myself? I was young. I didn't know. 

I remember the first over night camp I went to in 4th grade was the first time I was called a lesbian (I have talked about this in a past blog I think) because I refused to shower with the other girls. That apparently meant that I was a lesbian and was trying to hide something. I got called dyke in high school, and had a lunch box thrown at my head by someone I considered a friend, because I wore baggy clothes and kept my hair very short. I dressed like that because it was easier than waking up earlier and spending more time on how I looked. 

I have been called fat since 5th grade. I would have the kids in my complex refuse to let me play with them because "the hippo was going to break everything." I was told that no guy would ever find me attractive because I was too fat for any guy to love. Even at 30 part of me still believes this even though I know it isn't true. Family has told me I am fat. I had one aunt pretend there was an earthquake every time I would walk into the room. I would refuse to eat for an entire day because I thought starving myself was going to help. Even now I have that thought pop into my head. If I don't eat then there is nothing to turn into fat.
An ex boyfriend of mine would go out of his way to tell me he could, at any moment, get a girl that was thinner, prettier, and better than me. He would tell me that I was lucky to be with someone like me because no one else would love me. He would flirt with more attractive girls in front of me then tell me to get over myself. He seemed to enjoy making me cry and feel worthless. The more worthless I felt the better he felt. I still don't know why I stayed as long as I did. 

Then about 4 years ago something changed. I got away from the negative people and for the first time in my life I began to get to know myself and really love who I am. Fat rolls and all. I could look in the mirror and not see an ugly person that needed to hide behind makeup. I saw someone that can and will be loved. I cried when I saw that. It all stemmed from an assignment that me and the women in the shelter I was at had to to. I remember standing in front of the mirror, surrounded by the other women, taking a good hard look at myself trying to think of something positive to say to myself. I started crying and at first I didn't know why. Then one of the ladies told me it was ok, breath, and say what I needed to say to myself. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and said "I'm beautiful." That was the first time in my entire life that I have ever said that about myself. My shoulders began to feel light. I stood taller. I could breath. I never knew how much the words from my past had been holding me back and weighing me down. I was beautiful. I finally loved myself. I never thought that would ever happen. 

It's been about 4 years since this assignment was done. I struggle every once in a while with remembering what I learned that night, but it is something that will never leave me. I stayed away from guys for the past 4 years because I still had a small fear that they would judge me for how I looked and not who I was. I still struggle with accepting my weight, but it is so much easier to see that I am beautiful than it was before. I just met an amazing guy but my own personal fears and struggles almost kept that from happening. On my way to his house for the first time I was shaking, almost in tears, convinced that when he saw me (even though we had gotten to know each other on the phone for weeks) he was going to walk away or ignore me after he saw me. Then the closer I got to his house I remembered something. I am beautiful. He already knows me even if he hasn't seen me.
I do my best to make sure the people around me know how beautiful and loved they are because you never know who is silently struggling with themselves or secretly wishing they were dead. I want them to remember "I love you." There are people out there that love you, care about you, want the best for you. They are just harder to see through the negative people that hate themselves so much they feel the need to drag you to hell with them. Stand up tall. Stand proud. Cut lose the things that weight you down. You are amazing. You are beautiful. You are loved.

Paper gives me anxiety

A little over a month ago I saw my favorite YouTuber (the only one I like really) introduce a new weekly segment (here) called Wreck This Journal-Wreck it Wednesdays. She had a journal that was made to be destroyed, literally. I loved watching what she came up with and knew I wanted the journal as well.

So, I waited until I had the money to order the journal and thought about everything I wanted to do with the pages I already knew were in there. I figured the journal would be like self therapy for me. Growing up I never felt like I had control over my life, or what was happening around me, so I because OCD with the one thing I knew I could control.

Paper.

I had to have my papers perfect. They could not be creased, ripped, stained... anything. If someone else wrote on my paper I had to rewrite the entire thing. I would irritate my mom and my teachers over this. When I was 17 or so I had a case worker for therapy and she found out about my issue with paper and would have me do a written assignment every week. When I would hand her my work she would crumple the paper and hand it back to me. The goal was to see how long it took before I tried to fix the paper. Every time I would try to fix it she would take it and crumple it again. It pissed me off so bad. I finally decided to pretend it didn't bother me so she would stop doing it. For a little while I thought I was fine. I could have messed up papers and deal with it. But, as soon as someone else wrote on my paper I would flip out. I would get such bad anxiety and shake until my paper was perfect again.

Then I saw Bunny with her journal and talk about how she has struggles with the journal because of her own personal quirks. I figured, if she can do it I can too. So I placed my order for the journal and waited until delivery.

I hear the mailman out in the hall so I get out there just in time to see him bending my package (with the book) in half to jam it in my ridiculously small apartment mailbox. I got it from him before he got it in the box and brought it inside. I take it out of the envelope and the cover is creased. I instantly start feeling anxiety and trembles in my hand.

You can see the small crease (top center)

If I can't handle a small crease on the cover how in the hell am I going to manage to do what the journal is asking me to do? I open it up to my first page, journal can be done in any order you want to do it, which was to break the spine. That was so damn hard for me to do. I grew up with avid readers, my parents, and my dad was very "Don't bend the spine of my book or I will be pissed as hell" so I never liked my books being that way. It irritates me when I borrow a book with a broken spine. I opened the book, turned it page side down, and stepped down on the book to break the spine. I survived!

The next page I chose was to write the same one word over and over again. I couldn't think of a single word except "oink." Really? Oink? That is the word that came to mind first?

 

This one wasn't too bad. There are a few spots that irritate me. Just because my handwriting is off. 

One thing I am noticing. As I continue to do a page, the next page isn't as hard. I really hope this journal does what I intended it to do. If you have anxiety like me it may just help you. Or you can just do it for fun!

I'm going to post the link to get your own journal right about NOW so you can enjoy this as well!! Also, a few more pictures of the pages I have done so far. 

This one was so ridiculously fun. Made me happy. 

I think I may add to this one as I go through the journal

Don't like this one too much but eh. I can add to it later!