I AM IN SHOCK!!! I haven’t hit below 160 since my avocado accident in December!!
I AM IN SHOCK!!! I haven’t hit below 160 since my avocado accident in December!!
There is absolutely no way to make Lularoe leggings look flattering on me, but I am down 12 pounds in 11 days!
I am only 5’4 and a half, maybe, so I am not a tall, lithe person. I am extremely muscular and moderately active at the moment. I have not had the time I usually have to do yoga or get more than 10-12k fitbit steps in lately, so this is mostly from the keto diet and the ketone drink I started drinking less than 2 weeks ago. The drink helped me over the plateau weight I’ve been hovering at for a year.
My sister still has cancer, my mom is in a facility getting her bipolar/dementia meds leveled out, I am going through serious family problems and experiencing long term ptsd as a result of past child abuse.
Maisie is doing wonderfully! She is in Montessori school and is three now. She also does ballet/tap and adores it.
I have been on a ketogenic diet this year since July 10, 2017 per my cardiologist’s suggestion. I have also been using/wearing a fitbit charge 2, which has absolutely changed me from sedentary to active and I love it!
I am starting a vlog to chronicle my keto journey and just to be able to vent… xo
Once upon a time I was an abuse survivor-
Once upon a time I was an abuser-
Once upon a time I was a selfish cow who believed my own hype-
Once upon a time I was chronically depressed and unhappy-
None of the above is true anymore.
None of the above applies to my current life, nor has it in almost 8 yrs.
Someone once told me that the 40s were the best years of their life- way back when I was still in my early 30s and couldn’t even FATHOM being ‘that old’.
For me it is completely true.
My 30s were pretty decadent. I had a successful career that took me all over the world. I hobnobbed with the rich and famous. I was fit and in shape.
I was miserably unhappy and chronically depressed. My relationships with my family, my loved ones, myself were so unhealthy.
My 40s brought a separation from my long-suffering spouse, 2 small strokes (TIAs), the diagnosis of lupus, many deaths of people close to me, dealing with a (then) bipolar teen son with a substance problem, the diagnosis of bipolar and dementia in my mother- also, a new partner in my life, and a baby girl at 45.
The ‘bad’ things that happened weren’t so bad.
I found out that my chronic fatigue and frequent health problems I’d suffered all my life (and depression) were caused by alarmingly low vitamin D3 levels and an autoimmune disorder.
My sisters, mother, and niece all suffer from the same things. Had I not been diagnosed, neither would they have been.
My TIAs (and frequent miscarriages in the past) were genetic and due to my hypertension and Factor V Leiden which causes ‘thick blood’ and blood clots. I now take blood thinners and blood pressure meds. I was forced to change my diet and go semi (to total, depending on my whim) vegetarian/vegan.
I started juicing, working out, quit smoking after 25 yrs and started vaping.
I had to get tough with my family regarding my son’s (and mother’s) bipolar. It was a rough few years, but now at 22 (knock wood), he is on his way to becoming the person I always knew he could be. My mom’s issues will never be resolved, really. She now has dementia, so it is all downhill from here.
I had to get tough with MYSELF about my own emotional responses and PTSD from a childhood of abuse.
Therapy was a godsend for my family and me. You just take each day as it comes and live in the now.
My new-found healthy living gained me a great partner who is understanding, kind, loving- and quite a bit younger (though his maturity level probably tops mine by a TON). It also (with the help of the said person above) got me pregnant at 45.
I started growing my own heirloom veggies and went from glamma wannabe to hippie earth-mother.
I rarely travel any more and I am ok with this. My life is cozy and happy and I am catching all the bits I missed as a young mother with children.
Being happy- being content and at peace- is it’s own reward.
If someone offered me ‘the old me’ of 13 plus years ago, I’d run away.
Life is meant to be lived with the people closest to your heart.
Anything else is meaningless.
So, I just get a call from my parents and the sister who yelled at me for ‘not sticking up for myself’ with my mom a minute ago. They wanted to meet me at some restaurant like nothing happened.
I instantly went into a panic attack. I can’t do this. I won’t do this. I don’t want to see them.
I was just finally recovering from this lupus flare, had stopped crying for the first time in days.
I need to be left alone. My memory isn’t as faulty as theirs. I cannot breathe when I think of this shit.
Their stance will be ‘oh, don’t make such a BIG DEAL ABOUT IT’.
They don’t understand that my body needs rest. I am not a mindless machine. I am burned out.
$5 dollars says they show up on my porch today, anyway.
Jeff says they were here earlier this morning before I woke up, but went to an antiques market.
I don’t want to cook, entertain, serve coffee, sit on the porch listening to my mother alternately berate me and praise the baby. I KNOW that she is ill. I know that she likely may or may not remember what happened 2 days ago.
I need to decompress.
I am laying in bed with the baby, trying to get her down for a nap. R has gone to work, the rest are out shopping- and the house had been blissfully quiet (except for the sounds of BabyFirstTV blaring in the background for Maisie).
To top that all off, my back went into spasms again. Valium time. I hate medication.
I’ve never done this before, so… thank you all. Really.
I just figured out that I could record video on my new macbook pro.
Thank you for reading my blog and the problems with my family re depression, lupus, bipolar, and dementia
What happened: http://bit.ly/1IS8ZG7
About Lupus: http://bit.ly/1g41yVx
On Why I Overshare: http://bit.ly/1LdBgIW
Today I spent the entire day in bed- something I don’t remember doing (except when I did bedrest during pregnancy) in EONS. The stress of the last day caused a massive and sudden flare up of my lupus, which is never fun.
I am SO glad that I had the luxury of doing this- and had people to help watch baby while I did.
I slept, mostly. I had nightmares- so many! A few of them involved my parents, but the details are faded.
I needed this. It helped. The rest was lovely.
The evening was spent playing with my new ‘toy’, the iPhone 6- and the Periscope app, which is a live streaming vlog thing from your phone. Sam showed me it this morning. It was a lot of fun and gave me something to take my mind off of my troubles.
I know a lot of people wonder why I am so transparent with me life.
I grew up in a household where we were ashamed to admit to things- or hid things- or whatever. Not always, but oftentimes. I refuse to do this now. If I don’t have the courage to speak up, who will? If I can inspire even one other person going through tough times (alone in their heads or otherwise), I feel like I will be doing my job.
Living in fear, in shame, in secrecy is not good at all, not ever. I overshare because I have to. If I don’t, the feelings and thoughts and memories inside of me threaten to eat away at my soul. I have to force myself to be honest with myself- and I can only seem to do this with the written word… as poorly written/edited as it may be.
Also, I am ‘landlocked’ in a house with a baby and males who aren’t the best conversationalists- this blog SAVED ME. I started this on the 1st of July of this year when my back went out again and have been pretty much faithful about posting ever since. I have a wee bit of social anxiety as well, which can translate to agoraphobia at times. If I don’t feel I look good, I don’t want people to see me-type-thing. Spending years in front of a camera and having to be photographed is often a shitty thing for the ego as one ages, believe me. It’s shallow and stupid, but it happens- it’s happened to me.
Though I have a TON of friends on my Facebook and Instagram, I really don’t in real life. People come to visit, they come to my dinner parties, they ask for readings… but I never seem to ‘connect’ fully. I also don’t know how to give my own problems a voice in Real Time. I feel guilt to even admit to them. Sure, I can bitch and moan like the best of ’em, but I have been so used to being the ‘ear’ to others, I can’t be vulnerable in person. It’s like I have an armor around me that is made of smiles and jokes and laughter- or anger. I try to avoid drama at all costs nowadays, even if I sometimes lose my goddamned mind and instigate it within my own family because I get sick of the same dynamic.
Our voices are formed within the familial unit(s). If we feel we don’t have a voice, or our opinions/thoughts don’t matter- this can be as bad as physical abuse. It can, like it has with me, translate into a lifetime of defensive hurt.
Writing it out is a solitary thing. There is no pressure. I can see what I think. I can read what I think. I can understand the whys of who I am. It’s non-sexual mental masturbation at it’s finest, really.
I talked to a friend in real life recently who says that she NEEDS people and has a problem being alone. I have none of that. I’ve always felt alone, even in crowds. I understand her, though.
Today, when I was going through one of the toughest times in recent history emotionally- not ONE SINGLE ‘CLOSE’ FRIEND OR FAMILY MEMBER REACHED OUT, at least no one I know in real time. The ones who did were folks I’d never met before, people from the Internet or FB or what have you and THIS HELPED ME SO MUCH. For the first time in years, I NEEDED to be ‘talked off the ledge’ and I am so grateful for those few kind words from virtual strangers.
I don’t habitually HAVE issues like these, so people are not used to me ‘venting’ per se. Maybe that’s it. I don’t know.
I just know that it hurts not to be able to have anyone to talk to in real life. It hurts to watch my children be depressed, too, and not be able to do anything about it. I cannot easily speak to my older sons, they’re men and have their own support systems.
When I posted the blog of the things that happened to my FB wall, for the most part it was met with UTTER SILENCE. I had one person whom I knew that was kind enough to speak up, but that was it.
I scrolled through my own FB feed and saw others venting about their own problems- and, as I usually am prone to do, I left messages and comments.
I hate seeing other people hurt. I hate hurting emotionally, too. It makes me sad that my ‘real life’ is the most unreal when it gets down to the brass tacks. It makes me sad that only the strangers and friends I never met were there for me.
So, yeah… this blog saved me. If I cannot talk to another human being, at least I have the comfort of knowing that I can talk to myself.
I have people coming to me, asking for readings all the time. I understand that they NEED me. I understand that they need someone to help sort out their problems. I have, for the most part, refused to do any readings (I am a professional psychic, btw) since becoming pregnant with Maisie. My job takes a lot out of me. I absorb too much. I want to be able to reserve my energy for my child/children/parents right now, because they NEED me.
My biggest question is: Where do I go when I need someone to talk to?
This blog is really the only answer. I can feel sorry for myself here and ‘let it go’.
I DID, however, have ONE PERSON call me and ask about the incident with my mother. It was my 2nd oldest sister.
She reprimanded me and yelled at me for not ‘standing up to my mom’- not realizing that our mother has dementia now and it really would not do a damned bit of good to go off her. It would just make it worse. My mother now TRULY has no control over her rages. At one time, when it was ‘just’ the bipolar, she should have been accountable.
It’s far too late now.
I can’t change anyone. I can only try to change myself… and ramble and type on until my fingers hurt and I am able to get this all spewed out so it no longer lives inside of my head.
Social isolation blows. Being frozen within yourself, ditto. I love my blog, though. I love that I have a voice, even if nobody reads/hears it. I love that I can remove the clutter from my brain and brush myself off and go on with my life.