Grandma’s House

When I was a child I used to have this reoccurring nightmare.  I would wake terrified and disoriented, feeling a stress I could not understand and would not understand until 20 years later.

The nightmare was always the same.  I can still remember it.  I can see it.  I almost feel it.  I am at my Grandparents house, as a child I frequently stayed at their house as my father lived with them at the time and I visited my father on weekends and vacations.  I loved staying there.  I was treated nicely and made to feel wanted; my father and grandparents often called me “Princess” – not because I was a little Princess but because I was THEIR Princess.  I was allowed to be myself.  Nobody yelled at me unless there was a good reason. It felt good.  It felt safe.

In my nightmare I walk into the house as I always have, excited to see and hug my Grandparents – I was especially close to my Grandma.  As I walk in it appears no one is there.  I look around and I feel alone.  I realize my father is not behind me as he usually is.  “What is going on here?” I ask myself.  It’s quiet.  It’s so quiet that it is deafening.

I’m standing in the kitchen, it’s small but cozy, still has that 1970’s vibe to it.  I can still see the ever popular “Harvest Gold” refrigerator, brown accents, and dark wood cupboards  when I close my eyes.  So warm and inviting.  Always a buzzing place… but not this time.  This time it is not buzzing.  Grandma is not fluttering around cooking or baking something for Grandpa.  Grandpa is not in his chair with his tea and cigarette.  Something does not feel right.

I try to walk but its as if I have no feet.  Instead of taking steps I feel as though I am gliding.  I glide to the hall, everything looks dark.  I start checking rooms.  Every one – including mine – is empty.

I find myself unexplainably in the basement.  My Dads room.  The whole basement was almost all my dads room aside from a small laundry room to the right of the stairs when you reached bottom.  It was a neat laundry room, had its own chute from the bathroom and everything.  Oh how we loved to throw clothes and toys down it, rushing down the basement stairs and into the laundry room to see that our items had indeed made it into the basket. It was almost magical.

Nothing is as it should be.  There is no laundry.  My dads room looks bare.  Where are all of his things? Where’s the t.v.? The Bed? My Family??

I feel as though perhaps they forgot me.  But how?  They would never forget me.

This is when the Orbs show up – I get goosebumps just thinking about the orbs.  Three of them.  Three bright, white, circular orbs.  They came together floating down the basement stairs.  They approach me, they get so close I can almost touch them.  I feel like I know them.  Their presence is all too familiar.  Is this my dad and grandparents? Why are they like this?

We are not together long, myself and the Orbs.  They begin to bounce all around me as if in celebration.  I am still confused.  I don’t have time to make sense of it because the Orbs decide to hover by the stairs.  I move towards them.  I hope that maybe they will lead me to where everyone is.  I get near to them only to have them bounce back up the stairs.  I run after them as fast I can.  I’m back in the kitchen.  I look around and there is no sign of anything or anyone.  I suddenly feel very alone and very sad.  I feel abandoned and lost.  Sometimes I start to cry, sometimes I call out for them hoping they will come running from somewhere to hold and comfort me.

This is always when I wake up.  I would wake up in my room, at my grandparents house.  I remember thinking of how horrible it would be if that really happened.  I would always feel a sense of sadness after these Nightmares even though I was relieved to know I hadn’t been abandoned and I was not alone… Yet.

Over the years my Grandparents retired, they decided to sell their house and move a few Provinces over.  My Dad got his own place and I started just visiting him on weekends and vacations, sans g-ma and g-pa.  I got to go visit my Grandparents during summer vacations which I always looked forward to.

I did not know at the time but this was the beginning of my Nightmare.  My Grandma was my best friend and she moved away.  Without the glue of my grandparents holding the family together, we fell apart.  By my early 20’s I had stopped going to see my Dad because he was drinking too much.  I found out I missed my Grandparents 50th Wedding Anniversary because NOBODY REMEMBERED TO INVITE ME.  As time goes by I find out my Grandfather is not well and neither is my father.  I have called all over Canada more then once to track down my Dad so I can find out if he is okay.

My Grandfather died before I could say goodbye.  It breaks my heart that I could not even afford to fly out for the funeral.  My father predicted his own death and I did not listen.  I spoke with him only 6 months before his death and had no idea it would be our last conversation.  He told me he was going to die.  I told him that was crazy talk.  I had not seen him in years.  He told me he’d be in my Province for summer and would love to see me, all he wants is to see me.  He never gets to.  By summer he is gone.

I watched my father die.  He spend a month in ICU, lost both of his legs, and due to complications did not survive.  I went to visit as often as I could, I talked to him, I held his hand and begged him not to go.  On July 3, 2013 he left me.  It was not long after this that I realized my Nightmare is now my reality.

My Grandparents old house still stands but no one I know lives there.  No one will be coming to take me there.  No one is waiting to shower me with hugs and love there.

My Grandma is still with us, but lives out East. I talk to her on the phone from time to time.  I don’t call as often as I should because as happy as I am to talk to her I get very sad.  I am sad for all the time lost.  I am sad I need to jump on a plane to go see her.  I am sad that she left.  I miss her.  I miss Grandpa.  I miss Dad.  I want them back, I want it all back.  I want to wake up in my room at Grandma’s house and have it all just be a Nightmare.

DAILY PROMPT : Nightmare 

Blogging : Branding and Growth

I have stumbled upon WordPress’s Blogging University this evening and I must tell you that I was quite excited to enrol myself in one of their (FREE!) courses.  Why not?  I do love to type and write about things.  I used to write short stories as a kid and long before the confusing years of High School I wanted to be a writer.  A writer of anything.  I love words, I love typography, I am a full fledged english nerd (who sucks at grammar from time to time).

Though I posses the pizzaz to write, I lack in nailing down what I actually want to write about.  Not because I have nothing to say, quite the opposite, I have SO MUCH to say about SO MANY things.  Thankful I am, complaining I am not 😉

Anyways, my objective here is to come up with (and in my mind commit to) 3 goals for my blog.  This, though it seems obvious, never really occurred to me.  To set ACTUAL goals for my blog and (attempt) to achieve them… Here it goes.

Goal [gohl] 


  1. the result or achievement toward which effort is directed; aim; end.
  2. the terminal point in a race.
  3. a pole, line, or other marker by which such a point is indicated.

… there are more definitions but their mostly sports related.

I started blogging to reach out to those with the same interests and struggles as myself.  I ultimately want to aid in the fight against the stigma surrounding mental health and mental health issues.  I would love to post daily, maybe even carve a career out for myself. I would like to gain more followers, perhaps make some blogger friends.  I would just love to be able to type about something relevant that I feel passionate about.  I would want to work all day and night just out of the sheer passion I have for it all.  Ok. So.  ACTUAL GOALS.  Here they are;

  1. to blog daily for the next 10+ days (at LEAST 10, if I go for more – awesome!).
  2. to establish a weekly feature which we will call “THERAPY THURSDAY” documenting the remainder of this therapy journey I am on.
  3. to finish every assignment given to me in this course and then take another one.

Hey now, that was not too bad.  I have impressed myself and I am really happy with my 3 goals.  I think they are do-able.

What do I have to lose? Nothing.  What do I have to gain? Everything.




The Morning Storm

I hate mornings.  I always have, and quite frankly I think mornings hate me too.

Every night I go to bed knowing that the Storm in my head is brewing.  I don’t even know what happens to my brain while I am sleeping but there is SOMETHING going on there.  If I wake up too early – regardless of whether I have had enough sleep or not – I feel anxious, nauseous, angry, confused, and agitated.  It is a lovely combination that makes for one hell of a Storm in my head every. Single. Morning.

It is frustrating and depressing.  I hate feeling so nasty in the morning.  I wish I could feel as good at 7am as I do at 10pm.  This problem has plagued me for as long as I can remember, even as far back as pre-school.  It’s like as soon as my eyes open I am precipitately anxious.  I am worried and anxious about my day before it even starts.  It got so bad [when I was still working] I literally threw up before every 7am shift I was scheduled for.  It makes no difference if I go to bed early, try to catch a nap the day before, eat breakfast, don’t eat breakfast, snack before bed, no snack before bed, bed location, gravol before bed – nada.  NADA.

I have learned that I need space in the morning and I need to give myself time to relax and process the upcoming day – wether I am busy [that day] or not.  The morning Storm usually only lasts about an hour but has been known to knock out power until well after lunch.  Either way, it makes it very difficult for me to get motivated and moving.  It takes so much energy to battle to storm and not let it get out of control (HeLLoooo morning PANIC ATTACK !), that by the time it clears I am mentally drained.

By mid-afternoon the skies are always clear and the morning Storm is but a memory.  A memory I know I will repeat again tomorrow.  I also find I need to be wary of evenings and certain lighting (i.e. The Keg’s dim dinner lights) because for some reason both can be intensely triggering.  The storm can re-appear and riek havoc on whatever it is I may be doing.  I have a few places I avoid – such as The Keg – as a safety measure against the Storm.

I find it best to not ignore the warning signs, my mind gets foggy, the winds of too many thoughts pick up, the spiddle spaddle of anxiety drops fall throughout my body and the tremble of nausea begins like thunder rolling in the distance.  At this time it is a good idea to get myself to a sheltered, safe place quickly.  Once in my safe place I can ride out the waves of the Storm, however long and exhausting that may be.

I am lucky.  I [now] have a few life preservers that come floating to me when the Storm begins to flood, and good grief, does it flood.  My main preserver is my boyfriend, my best friend, my soul mate – he loves me unconditionally and is not at all intimidated by the Storm.  He helps to remind me that I am not my illness and I can [and am] capable of being loved.  He accepts me for who I am and never judges me because of the Storms.  He has taught me how important it is to feel loved and supported.  What an incredible gift that has been.  My second preserver is therapy.  With [going on 3 years of] therapy I am learning to cope with the devastating effects of childhood trauma, sexual, verbal and emotional abuse.  I am also learning to cope with my Fathers death which was sudden, unexpected, and absolutely crippling to me.  Though distant, he too was a preserver and I lost him.  Without my boyfriend and without therapy I would never stay afloat.

It is a battle. Sometimes it’s daily.  But I refuse to give up.  The eye of the Storm is fast approaching and I will fight it.  I will fight to see the rainbow at the end.


I am sad. Sad I am.

Depressed again.  It comes and goes as it pleases and I hate it.

I tell myself I am only ruining my own day (my mothers words actually), but sometimes I just get in a rut and I need to be left alone… At least by certain people.  Also, I have now learned that when one is loathing one’s living arrangements, it can really weigh on one’s mind.  “One” being me.

I so desperately want to move out (of my mothers basement) with my boyfriend.  Just the thought of not living at home feels SO GOOD.  I want out so bad.  Due to unforeseen crappy jobs and [until recently] planning on paying for everything myself kind of put me 10 years behind schedule in the moving-out department.  Right now I am on a short term disability which hardly provides enough to pay my bills, never mind cover my therapy appointments.  Though this is temporary the lack of jobs in my area combined with my severe anxiety towards leaving the house for 6-12 hours a day does not help the situation.  I have no idea what the hell I am going to do when I am off disability.

I love people that tell me I need to move – Ya, because I don’t know that.  You need money to move and I have no money.  I have tried many little projects to generate money on the side; eBay, Etsy, YouTube, Storenvy; after 3 years none are worth my time.  I either have what nobody wants or I am just making and selling what everyone else is.  It is very discouraging.  I would love to work from home somehow, in some way.  I would work SO MUCH if I could do it from the comfort of my own home.  I have tried a few online jobs too- Swagbacks, Megatypers, Surveys … again NONE are worth my time, or yours for that matter.  I’m NEVER eligible to take a damn survey, oh the frustration.

I still love Youtube thought lately my viewing and interest has been dwindling.  I don’t know if this is something to do with therapy or perhaps my extreme disappointment in myself regarding my own Youtube channel.  I want(ed) to film regularly, if not daily.  I want(ed) to talk about therapy and anxiety and all the lovely things that go along with that.  I want(ed) to create [more] outfit videos and get back into one of my first loves – fashion.  But then part of me doesn’t care.  I hate that part of me doesn’t care. Who am I if I don’t love these things anymore?

Then again… back to moving out – I feel like I would feel more inclined to do these aforementioned things if I was not here (sitting in my mothers basement, fracking FREEZING from the a/c).  I stay down here because well, there is no room for me anywhere else in the house and I feel comfortable here, its my comfy cave, but at the same time I hate it.  I am grateful- don’t get me wrong- but just because I am grateful [to my mom for putting up with me and my mental instability] does not mean I am happy.  It could be worse but it could also be better.  I am trying to seek out the positivity in life and ignore the negative.  That is very hard here.  Good test I must say, but hard.

I actually worry that I might die before I get to move out and live independently.  Who knows what could happen between now and whenever the hell we manage to get outta here.  I’m 32, another 5 years and I’ll be 37, if I am still here at 37 I really don’t know what I will do with myself.  I didn’t even want to start working again while living here (unless online/from home).  We live SO FAR from everything.  Just driving to a town where there might be work will take over half an hour AT LEAST.  I hate it.  I am stating to see how condo living in a town or city can be appealing.  I want to be able to walk places for crying out loud.  The only place I can walk here is to the end of the driveway to the mailbox which at times CAN be exciting not gonna lie, but only when I am expecting something and thats never these days.

Sometimes I wonder if its just me.  Maybe I was just born this way.  I was born in February of 1984, 3 months earlier then I was due.  I spent the first weeks of my life in an incubator and I feel lucky to have not only survived but to have been blessed with no physical or mental damage.  Then I got Kawasaki Disease when I was 2.  Very rare, can be deadly but thanks to Sick Children’s Hospital in Toronto I lived.  Again, without physical or mental damage.  I cheated death at least twice now and sometimes it makes me wonder.  Maybe I am having a hard time finding my place in the world because I wasn’t suppose to be here.

I plan to stay and see what happens.  I like to hope I am here for a reason.

Retiring Piercings

Today was the day I decided to remove my tongue piercing.  I had it over 12 years – and LOVED IT until recently.  The last few months I have been considering removing it for a number of reasons, one of the main reasons was I just plainly did not care to have a metal bar through my tongue.  I was doing some random research and learned that Acrylic may not be the best material to have in one’s mouth as it can release toxins when it inevitably gets warm.  I went back to metal balls promising myself I’d buy a gold one (as I also learned gold is softer then your teeth).  At the end of the day wether it was plastic, metal, or gold I just could not stand the feeling of something in my mouth, always clinging and clanging around.  Having had it for over a decade I felt as thought it had run its course and I have gotten as much use out of it as I possibly can (NO PUN intended lol).  I honestly thought I would never remove it and I am surprised I have actually decided to take it out.

I also took out my lip piercing(aka madonna/monroe) a few months back, again, loved it – could not stand it rubbing against my teeth (after 5 years).  The first few years it never bothered me, I couldn’t feel it, I thought it was cute.  I don’t know how or why but suddenly it seemed to drive me nuts, I could feel it, it was bothering me, and (on my face) its just not that cute.

Oh and I almost forgot that I removed my top navel piercing.  I had that one since I was 17, its been overplayed, over trendy, overdone and I missed seeing my bellybutton.  I have the bottom of my navel pierced, I kept that one because its different, not as popular as the top and I still like it.

My tongue and bellybutton piercings were things I wanted at 16 & 17 years old (my lip was a random mid-20’s purchase).  I don’t like all the same things that I did back then, multiple piercings being one of them.  I still love piercings and the people that rock them but for me it was time to retire a few.

I can also only assume that this is a part of my mental health transition.  As I proceed in therapy and am working on getting better I am finding some things I never thought would change are changing.  I feel good about removing 3 separate piercings – NEVER THOUGHT THAT WOULD HAPPEN. I don’t have the desire to dye my hair every other week (it happened at a point.  Every. Other. Week.).  I just want to grow in my natural hair, as grey as it may have gotten (thank you stress of 2013).  I am not so addicted to YouTube and don’t have the desire to create, edit, and upload my own videos anymore (or at this time).  That’s just weird.  NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED.  Plus I have realized the reality that YouTube is flooded with new channels and people everyday and I just don’t know that I have what it takes to set myself apart nor do I desire to put the work into doing regular videos (it’s A LOT of work, more then you would think).  I wish I could be a Youtuber, I applaud those who have made it and those who can survive off their earnings, I do, but I just don’t see how I’d ever get to that point.

I am not sure where I am going or where I will end up but I am hopeful.  Terrified, but hopeful.  I don’t know what I want to do or even what I like to do but I am interested to see what I find.  I am realizing I am not the person I used to be (which is a good thing).  That girl was very lost, depressed, confused, and felt very unloved.  This girl is finding herself, treating my depression, finding my way out of the confusion, and is very loved.


PLEASE NOTE I wrote this to remember when and why I removed my piercings.  I am not saying that you should remove or keep yours or that those that get piercings do it because they are sad or depressed.  Getting and removing tattoos and piercings is a personal decision no matter who you are. To each their own 🙂


Zivot je lep. Life is beautiful.

Love may be be real.

People can change.

This journey we call life truly is a strange and magical trip.  It could be heaven and it could also be hell, both of which I do believe are very real and both of which are right here on earth not in some galaxy far far away.

Until recently I was living in hell.  A hell caused by and allowed to live and thrive by means of a variety of awesomely stressful situations.  A hell I thought I was doomed to stay in, something I somehow thought I deserved.

A chain of events seven years in the making has made me see that I was completely wrong and that love may actually exist. Take a deep breath and take a chance.  You never know where you may end up or who you could be.


“Buy less, choose well, and do it yourself!”

~ Vivienne Westwood

I love that quote.  I feel like it is an excellent piece of advice as well as the sentence that describes my fashion sense.  I really don’t buy clothes that often – especially new ones.  I LOVE to thrift, I love to find various pieces and mix them together to create outfits.  I try to choose my pieces well.  Wether its new or previously enjoyed I always like to ask myself three simple questions;

1. When/Where will I wear it?

     Ok, this is 2 in one but you get the jist.  When do I see myself wearing the piece and Where can I wear it? When- often?occasionally? semi-annually? Where – at home? out? out where? formal? non formal? What are my wearing options? If I can’t see myself wearing something often and presumably out of the house then I can’t see myself adding it to my collection. 

2. What do I have already that this will go with?

     Does this piece go with ANYTHING I have or is it just it’s own entity? If I don’t have AT LEAST one outfit combination I can get out of it then it’s not worth it (dresses and one pieces aside). The more items I feel a piece can be worn with the more valuable it is in my collection.  

3. Do I NEED it?

    Or does it just look like the 3 other sweaters or 8 pairs of tights I ALREADY HAVE? If it looks too much like something I already own I may not really need it.

That being said I still buy things I don’t need, that don’t match, and that I don’t wear outside the house but I always ask myself anyways and sometimes 3 no’s just equal a yes.  

Lastly, do it yourself.  Want to customize that boring sweatshirt or cut an old t-shirt into new awesomeness? Do it yourself! Don’t know what you are doing? Thats ok! Learning can be half the fun.  Watch some tutorials on Youtube, practice on a few demo’s until you are satisfied and DIY your little heart out! 

This little fall number just came together.  An inexpensive outfit with pieces thrifted, vintage and new.  

To see the corresponding video of this outfit CLiCK HeRe !!! 

iCarla | NOVEMBER 2015

ALL CLOTHING and ACCESSORIES were purchased by ME for ME.

ALL PHOTOS were taken by MYSELF.

ALL CONTENT created by ME, MYSELF, and I.


iCarla | OOTD | TAKE ME BACK TO THE 70’s
Led Zeppelin t-shirt from the Thrift Store, originally a men’s XXL I cut and styled it to my size and liking.
Denim, Clogs & Leopard Print.
Big blue ring is from the Thrift Store.
ROCKET DOG “Giddy Up” Clog.


Leopard Print “Swing Coat” by TOPSHOP from THE BAY.


Sunglasses are Original Vintage RAY BANS.  They are over 20 years old and were my Dads.
Urban Behaviour Jeans | Vintage Wide Leg | Style name: “DREW”.

Found at the Thrift Store.

Shag haircut – CHECK.
“Standing on a hill in my mountain of dreams telling myself it’s not as hard, hard, hard as it seems”

~Led Zeppelin

Going to California

THANK YOU for stopping by! Feel free to say hi :))

ALL CLOTHING and ACCESSORIES were purchased by ME for ME.

ALL PHOTOS were taken by MYSELF.

ALL CONTENT created by ME, MYSELF, and I.

i, Carla

i, Carla live with mental illness.

At this current date and time I am working through Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.  I get nervous easily, am prone to panic attacks at any given moment in time, I don’t like to go out a lot, sometimes I don’t get dressed for days… the list goes on and on.

i, Carla am not my metal illness.

Sometimes I struggle to realize this but it is true.  Mental illness is a part of me but it is not who I am.  I have goals and dreams and though it is a struggle I am trying to work towards them.

i, Carla will succeed.

I want to be successful and happy in my own mind, body and life.  I don’t want to worry what other people think because those are other people.  I am me, not them.

i, Carla understand.

I understand the struggles and limitations mental illness can present in one’s life.  The frustration that daily tasks can present.  The outright loathing of one’s self for not being able to do what “everyone else” does.  I understand because I know what it’s like.

i, Carla will try.

I will genuinely TRY to keep up with blog posts, therapy days and whatever happens in between. I will try to post “Therapy Vlogs” on my Youtube Channel on a regular basis.  I will not let myself be my own worst enemy.

i, Carla am in transition.

Currently in therapy and working on myself I am in the “transition” phase.  As I am transitioning and transforming so are things around me.  I am currently working on splitting my Youtube channel in 2 aka having 2 channels.  This is so (theoretically) one can be for vlogs and daily life posts (iCarla) and the other for fashion and beauty (iDREAMinVINTAGE).  I am currently working on changing and tweaking things online and offline.  I don’t know what I am doing or where I will end up but I will try.

I want to help and I want to heal.  I want to help other people realize they are not alone in their struggle.  I also want to heal myself.  I feel that in sharing some of my struggle I am not only healing myself but hopefully also helping someone out there to find healing in themselves.

What am I doing? … I have NO IDEA

Here’s the thing… I do LOVE fashion, makeup, and hair related anything but I am also suffering from Complex PTSD.  This is something I have been trying to sort out how to write about, how to approach writing about it and I came to the conclusion that I’d just dive right into it.

I have Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and I am prone to sleepless nights, panic attacks, and worrying about everything. All. The. Time.  My PSTD is complex because there is not just ONE trauma that affects me but many traumas all on top of each other.

For YEARS I was misdiagnosed as Mild Bi-Polar which never really made a lot of sense to me but at the time, being desperate for an answer,  I just went with it.  I have tried so many antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications – at one point I was taking something in the morning, something in the evening, and I had Ativan “just in case”.  I hated them all, none of them (EXCEPT the Ativan which I  do still use on occasion), helped me at at all.  I was a zombie.  I had no personality.  Nothing mattered.  For me it just wasn’t working and wasn’t worth sacrificing what little part of me I enjoy.  Over the course of 3 years I was on and off more meds then I can remember and one day I just decided enough was enough.  I wanted to regain SOME control over myself.

I ended up just completely stopping taking my medication which I KNOW is not a good idea. I am fully aware that one is supposed to “ween off” of antidepressants and such but in my defence I was to a point where I was forgetting to take my AM pill or my PM pill on a regular basis, I’d miss a day or two routinely so just stopping just kind of happened.  Luckily I didn’t have any issues with going off of medication and I am happy to be off- NOT that medication is bad, it does work for some people just not for me (and I do not recommend my method of just stopping meds).

After going off meds and alerting my doc to my decision, I decided to pursue therapy (again). I had tried therapy before but I never really found anybody I felt comfortable talking to nor did I find it ever helped.  I’d leave my appointments feeling worse then when I went in.  That didn’t seem right.

I began doing some research and I came across a treatment called eye movement and desensitization and reprocessing ( or EMDR for short.  I did not know much about this treatment but I knew I wanted it.  My search for this treatment led me to the therapist I see now and have been seeing for a few years now.  She is amazing.  I feel comfortable, safe, and not judged when I talk to her (which is how you SHOULD feel in a therapeutic environment).

At the time I first started this round of therapy I still thought I was Bi-Polar.  Not only did I question this diagnosis but eventually so did my therapist.  Over time and through a lot of discussions and activities such as mood charting and other things I won’t get into at the moment (because this blog is long enough ALREADY…), I was re diagnosed as PTSD.  That made a lot more sense.  I didn’t have many of the symptoms of Bi-Polar when it came down to it but I did have EVERY SYMPTOM of someone suffering from PTSD.  Not only was this a huge answer to the big blank I’ve been drawing for years but it also explained why medication did not benefit me.  In taking antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication I was only treating the symptoms of my illness, not the root of the problem.  As irony would have it, the EMDR therapy I so desperately want(ed) is exactly what (I feel) I need.

Currently I am in therapy and I am pursueing/getting EMDR treatment.  I have officially just started reprocessing and feel the need to share/vent about therapy or life in general…. What is my point? What am I doing? I have no idea really but I felt the need to write about it.  I can’t sleep and this is some what productive.  Also, I have been trying to vlog my therapy days and I thought a blog would be a nice piece to add to the puzzle.  I recently had someone comment and thank me because it helps them feel better and it was such an amazing feeling I have been inspired to start trying to write about this.  If I can not only help myself but potentially help other people then its worth more then I thought it could be.

Also please note this is my personal opinion/experience, I am not a professional.


At this current time (MARCH 2016) I have deleted most of my “Therapy Vlogs” from YouTube as I have decided that for now I would prefer to keep some things off camera (this post was written a few months ago).  I have, however, started this blog in hopes that I can potentially talk about therapy and mental health related topics.  It is something I want to talk about.  I still vlog on occasion but I am trying to focus on making happy vlogs I will want to watch years from now and am not embarrassed to share with friends.  It is all a work in progress.  Let’s see what happens and where I go.