First week here

I have made it.  Made it through the first week of being in a new place.  It has it’s pros and cons, mostly pros, but it is still a battle for me.  During the day I feel fine, content, a little lonely and a little lost but ok.  At night I have a hard time.  Last night I completely broke down and cried.  I am not unhappy here, it’s just different.  I need time to adjust.

I like being in/closer to town.  A few days ago my brother-in-law and I walked to a few places.  It was so windy I almost tripped over my own feet but I was so happy to be out and walking.  Freezing no less, but walking.  Our main purpose for walking to town was to get chocolate.  We both need our chocolate.  I also bought a Marc Ecko “cut & sew” pullover sweater, 100% Wool, for $10.00 at a local discount store.  It’s a men’s medium and fits a little large but I love it.  We came home to eat our chocolate and make tea.

My kitten, Marble, is adjusting pretty well.  She was sick yesterday a few times which immediately had me in tears and worried but by late afternoon she was totally fine and has been since.  I don’t know what cause her to be sick, her food is the same, her water is the same, same dishes, she has not gotten into anything… I don’t know and I am going to try not to over worry about her which I am all too good at. Today she has been running all over the house, she has seen her first bathroom and kitchen.  She sat and watched me do dishes this morning.  Such a cutie.  She helps keep me occupied and she is great company.

I am doing my first load of laundry here tonite.  I feel good to be getting on with laundry life.  I have had a nice hot shower with Sienfeld-like pressure.  It still blows me away every time I get in it. It’s kind of fun.  I did some dishes and tidying while my mother-in-law was out, I figured it was the least I could do.  I feel good this evening, granted it is Friday and I did take an Ativan earlier because I did not wish to repeat last night.

I was fine all day yesterday, at least I think I was fine.  I was longing for the weekend and definitely stressing about my Marble all day and I guess by 10pm I finally cracked.  Today I opted to try to keep myself busy and I have even decided that I want to re-arrange our new room already. I love a good re-arrange and re-organize.

I also really love our new little room.  It is much smaller then the one I had at my moms but it is cozy.  We have opted to put our mattress on the floor instead of taking up extra room with my antique 4-poster bed frame-plus in time of anxiety I like to lay on and sleep on the floor so just slapping the mattress down seemed like a good idea.  So far, so good, I quite like it.  I even have all the comforts I have gotten used to having, a small space heater and my heating blanket (this house is old and though very solid is limited on heat vents, this room of ours in particular does not have one).  With the door open during the day it heats up in here pretty fast but if I want the door closed it can get a little chilly.  Nothing compared to the chill of the basement though.  I love living above ground.  I was so sick of living in the basement, it was kind of depressing [for me].  We have 2 beautiful windows in our room that both myself and my cat enjoy.

I am learning what I actually need and use.  I don’t know where half my stuff is right now- I mean I know ALL of it is right above me in storage- but I don’t know where to begin to start looking for this and that.  Last weekend when we were moving I was so in a tizzy to just get outta my old house by the end I was just grabbing shit and putting it wherever.  I hope tomorrow to be a very good find-and-organize day.

Looking back at the week I feel that I will be ok.  I still need time to adjust and I need to take my time and I need to remind myself that it is ok.  My love is so supportive and has been since day 1, one of the many reasons I love him so.  I feel like as long as we are together and have each others love that I, we, will be ok- not just ok, FABULOUS.  I don’t praise him enough and he certainly deserves it.  He rubs my back when I cry because I am sad for no explainable -or at least cry able – reason.  He checks in often to make sure that I am ok and when he does he looks at me with such a look of genuine caring concern, it makes my heart skip a beat every time and it reminds me why I am doing this.  I mean aside from the fact that I am in my thirties and IT IS TIME for me to leave the nest… I need to do this for him, and us.  He stayed by my side no questions asked and no judgements ever and now I will stay by his.  I will be the best me I can be [if not for me] for him.  We made this move for me, so I could feel more relaxed and less sad, lonely, and frustrated.  And I am happy to report that I am feeling more relaxed, less sad, lonely, and frustrated which is an amazing feeling.  Sadly it is such a new feeling that I am not sure what to do with it yet.

The weather has been crazy this week.  From pouring rain to insane winds to snapping cold with flurries, literally every day has been different… I just wanted to log that for memories sake.

Well, my computer is dying and my eyes are getting heavy so off to bed I toddle, looking forward to Saturday, and Saturday morning snuggles with my love of course ❤

Last Day Here

It is officially my last full day here.  By this time tomorrow [the rest of] the move will surely be underway. I am both excited and nervous for this new chapter of my life.  A month ago I did not know that I would be leaving yet here I am.

Most of my clothes are packed away.  Upon packing said clothes I realized I hate most of them and wish to slowly start upgrading my wardrobe.  Not all, just some.  Too many items remind me of the person I was and of certain feelings I may have had when I wore this item or that one.  For example, I have a long sleeved knit white tunic from Walmart that I have owned and worn for over 10 years now.  It used to be my go-to “going out” or “date” sweater.  It now looks more beige then white and whenever I wear it I can’t help but remember that time I had an anxiety attack whilst en route to the Mandarin.  Got there only to NOT EAT ANYTHING. I just silently panicked at the table while insisting the party I was with “please enjoy themselves”.

I have a Barbie sweatshirt that is baby pink and I love it but every time I touch it I recall how I ordered it right before going to Cuba in 2013.  A trip that I recall as a shit ton of panicking, throwing up and just wanting to go home.  In trying to move on with life and continue to improve myself I feel as though I don’t want these cloth reminders of memories.  As of this moment these items are packed away but as I unpack I plan on donating a lot.

I am feeling better about this whole thing [this morning] then I thought that I would.  I have only had to take 1 ativan so far this week and I will allow myself 1 for tonite and possibly 1 for tomorrow because I just know now that I will not be sleeping and good grief I cannot let anxiety get in my way.  It has gotten in the way of my life enough already and has led to me where I am at this current moment.  I’m not in a bad situation per se but I am not where I wanted to be.

I am not working and I am on social assistance.  Something I was advised to do by both my Doctor and my Therapist a few years back.  At this point in time I am trying to focus on completing EMDR and healing myself without the extra stress of working or trying to work.  Also after 10+ years of shitty jobs, shitty hours, shitty pay, working multiple jobs and still not getting ahead, I was mentally and physically exhausted.  I have worked so many places my resume should be a novella.

I have no idea what the future holds for me, and us but I can only hope and pray that is is a good one.  I have had enough bad things happen in my life, it is time for some good stuff.  I know that this move is a step in the right direction and I am so looking forward to being the person that I am supposed to be.  It has been a long time since I started a new chapter, perhaps a little too long.

So, here we are, last day of this chapter, last day in this room, last day in this house.  It’s bittersweet.  Part of me can’t wait to shut the door tomorrow afternoon and the other part of me wants to hold on for dear life… then there’s another part screaming “just defrost your fridge already!!!”.

 

DEEP BREATH.

… The fridge is waiting.  Along with your new life.

I am freaking out.

My poor boyfriend ought to come into our room at any moment to find me sobbing like a baby.  I can’t hold it in any longer today.  I am trying not to freak out but I think I am freaking out.

I first showed up in my therapists office about 5 years ago now, claiming that I am “just naturally thin” and that “my mom is my best friend”.  Both of those lines were slightly blurred.  I had managed to finally arrive in that office, in search of EMDR Therapy, because my mother had told me I needed to.  That I needed to get this therapy and to “hurry up and try it” so that “maybe” she “could try it too”.  Well, here we are 5-ish years later and I am still working on my EMDR whilst my mother will most likely never try it because “it takes too long” and she can’t seem to decide wether or not she needs therapy.

I am not one to tell anyone that they need therapy, that is something you need to decide for yourself and I have always said that if you can live with life and your mental health is not bothering you enough to seek out help then you are probably fine without out it.  But my mother could use a session or 2.

I miss my father immensely, I wish I could just speak with him, I look at his photo and it makes me cry harder.  I wish he was here to give me one of his famous hugs and to tell me not to worry about my mother.  He was always very observant and empathetic, something I am realizing my mother is not.  He noticed when my 7 year old self was not doing well and he tried to get me out.  He noticed when I was losing weight in high school and he knew it was more then just shedding some puberty-weight.  He always reassured me that he loves me and I knew I was wanted.  He encouraged me and allowed me to be myself.

My mother not so much.  She has controlled so much in my life that now that I am leaving I am terrified.  I don’t know how to be myself anymore for fear of being not taken seriously  or perhaps even lectured on life.  I can’t tell her how I really feel for fear of being gaslighted.  Something my mother is very good at.

This is what hurts the most.  Feeling as though I can’t even tell her how I am feeling about the events of the past month/year.  I am so angry that I have been working so hard to do EMDR therapy and I am in the thick of it now, and now is when I am being forced to move. The EMDR therapy I “had to get” because of traumas that she helped create.

I know that it is best for me to go.  It is time for me to go.  I should have gone a long time ago.  Perhaps I am angry with myself.  I allowed myself to end up in this position.  I am sad that I am not yet the person I am supposed to be.  I let myself down too many times and this is my consequence.  I listened to someone who did not know what they were talking about and I dismissed my needs and wants in exchange for pleasing someone else.

* * * 12 HOURS LATER * * * 

I need to remind myself that this move is the start of my new and improved life.  I thank my lucky stars that I found someone that shines light into my life, sees me for me, and loves me unconditionally.  I don’t even want to think about what my life would be like without him.  When he first came along a few years ago I promised myself I would stop making decisions based on my mother.  He was one of my first decisions and it has been the best one I have made in a long time.  We decided to move together and I am committed to moving with him.  I am also committed to finding myself and learning to love life again.   I know that this is a step I need to take in order to find my happiness.  I should be excited, not terrified.  I have found something that I never thought I would, love and acceptance.  I need to focus more on the love and acceptance part and try to let the fear go.

PHEW. A few moments of mulling that [last] thought over and I am feeling a little less teary.  WHOA. This post is kind of all over the place but I am posting it anyways because I took the time to write some things that I would like to remember.

After feeling anxious and crying last night and then having a repeat this morning I am tired.  At the same time I don’t want to sleep, I want to work towards my new and improved life.

Maybe I will pack some more stuff.

 

MOVING OUT

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The time has come where I can no longer stay in my current situation/environment and I have decided to move.  This has been a long time coming and should have happened a long long time ago.  I am to the point where I no longer feel welcome here, I isolate myself on a daily basis and I am stifled creatively.

I have mixed feelings about this move.  I know in my heart that if I stay here I will only stagnate, and I have been stagnating in this toxic and negative place I call “home”.  Thanks in large part to my PTSD and quite possibly my mothers own PTSD I have allowed and been allowed to stay in this house for too many years.

I am 33 (just turned) and I am leaving my mother’s house for the first time.  I have travelled in the past and I have lived in many other places for short periods of time but I have never packed up all of my things and left.  For what I hope to be permanently.  Like I said- I have been here too long.  I have allowed myself to think that I am not capable of living outside of this house.  I have been made to think that it is too hard “out there” and that if I can’t make it here then I certainly can’t make it “out there”.  I have become accustomed to not inviting ANYONE over anymore, even my best friend who has known me for over 20 years.  Partly due to embarrassment and partly due to the feeling that I just shouldn’t.  Socialization is not promoted in this house.  I am sick of being talked down to, I am sick of the constant negativity.  I need to be able to breathe. I need to be able to live.

So. I am moving out.  I have spent the last 2 weekends packing and moving all of my belongings to my mother-in-laws house where I will be staying with my love until we can save up first and last for our own place.  Trust me- I did NOT want to move from one mother to another but as my luck would have it the decision to move happened rather quickly and as we have no other place to go and we need out immediately, this seemed like the best option.  For many reasons.

And so here I sit, in my room, for the last Tuesday I may ever sit in this room.  Most of my stuff is gone to my new home, aside from my bed and a few large furniture items that will be moved Saturday morning, and my cat Marble.

I feel as though I need to remember this. I need to remember sitting in my own house feeling so unwelcome.  I need to remember that this does not feel like home – and then I have to ask myself – has it ever?  Grandma’s house felt like home.  This has never felt like that.  Looking back I realize that this “home” has allowed my PTSD to fester and erupt.  The worst it got, the more I thought I had to stay, all the while being suffocated by the thick, negative air.  Why do I feel like the family outcast? Because I found out 10 years of anxiety and depression where a part of something much bigger (PTSD)? Because I decided to take time off to heal myself? Because I fell in love with a wonderful man? Well. Pardon me all to hell.

I used to think this “home” was a safe place.  I have come to feel that it is not safe at all.  Not for me and my mental health.

I am sad.  I am sad that this took 10 years too long to happen.  I should have been in therapy and moving out 10 years ago.  The time and tears that I have wasted trying to find myself here, and falsely believing this was the best place to do it is frightening.  I am sad that I have allowed my self esteem to be on the chopping block for so long.  I am sad that I let my mother so interfere with my relationship with my father.  I am sad that I let myself down countless times because I was too afraid to be myself.  I am sick of hiding.  I am sick of isolating myself, I am sick of not living my life.

I should be happy that I am leaving- and I am happy but I am also hurt and afraid.  I am hurt because I feel as though the rug has been pulled up from underneath me…AGAIN.  I am afraid because this is all I have known.  I feel like I am about to be freed but I don’t know how I feel about that freedom because -at 33 – this feels very new, overwhelming, and scary.

Stay tuned my friends, this could be a bumpy ride.

The PTSD Tag

Thank you for calling me Brave

THERAPY THURSDAY | July 2016

 

I got Microbladed

My eyebrows have been an issue for me for a very long time.

I originated with very thick, slightly uneven brows.  When I was 13 the kids on the school bus called me “bushy eyebrow lady”.  I was not allowed to pluck until high school and my mom always warned me about over-plucking and getting stuck with half an eyebrow. It was the late 90’s and pencil-thin brows were all the rage, I really didn’t care about ye old legend of half-brow, I was desperate to pluck.  Oh how stupid I was…

Once I got a hold of a pair of tweezers it was pretty much game over.  I had NO KNOWLEDGE of eyebrow structure whatsoever.  I desperately wanted a high arch and the thinner the better seemed to be my motto.  I recall plucking them particularly terribly in 10th grade, I literally plucked myself a new arch and in doing so pretty much took off most of the tail end of both of my brows.  It looked HORRIBLE but I thought I had it GOIN’ ON!. Ugh. It almost makes me shudder.

Over the years I managed to do all the things you are not supposed to do whilst trying to shape a beautiful brow.  I tried with no avail to get them even – one brow always seemed higher then the other and this drove me INSANE.  I wanted them EVEN! This desire for evenness led me to pluck MORE.  I over plucked the inner AND outer areas and always seemed to have that “sperm” look.  So not hot.

In college I discovered I could “draw them on”.  AHA!  A solution to my problems.  Or so I thought.  Again, I still had no legitimate eyebrow knowledge, this was loooooong before the days of YouTube tutorials and what not.  I overdrew the inners, I overdrew the outers, and again thought I was rockin’ it.  Good grief no.

In my mid-20’s I finally gave up and ditched the tweezers for awhile.  Sick of looking at uneven eyebrows and hearing my mom yell “YOUR GONNA END UP WITH NO EYEBROWS!!!” I figured I had nothing to lose.  It took a good 2 years and a few tubes of Billion Dollar Brows (I don’t even know if that stuff worked but it gave me hope) to get some brows back.  By this time I had become so paranoid of over plucking that my eyebrows HAD actually become overgrown.  Going to Beauty School I learned about eyebrow mapping and proper structure.  My teacher actually told me one day that I could “use a pluck”.

Well.

That was all I needed.

Within a few weeks I was back to my super-thin brows only this time there was a little more evenness to them and nothing was too over or under plucked.  For a brief moment there my natural brows were looking pretty good.  I could add a little brow powder or gel and I was good to go.

And then I just kept plucking.

And plucking.  I could not just LEAVE THEM ALONE.

Before I knew it I was back in sparse-town.  Before I knew it I was buying and trying every brow powder, pencil, wax, and mascara on the market.  There was a wrinkle in time where I thought that penciling them on was just my lot in life.  I was just destined to have bad brows.  I became VERY good at filling them in.  For a good year I was obsessed with M.A.C.’s “quite natural” paint pot, with a good angled brush I could give myself brows I only dreamed of having.  Even my teachers in Beauty School would compliment me on how good my brows looked.

The paint pot had a good run but after a couple of years I was getting weary.  Filling in my eyebrows was not quite the fun beauty ritual it once was.  It was tedious and as good as I once was at doing them, after becoming lazy with it I began to lose my ability to beautify my brows.  Could have also been my complete loss in faith for the upper region of my face. I had begun to look back at my 13 year old eyebrows with sorrow.  I started with such a good base, my brows could have been great but I ruined them.  Not just once either.  Enough times over the course of almost 20 years that they were to the point of no return.

Ohmygawd. The legend of half-brow is TRUE.

For awhile I totally gave up on my eyebrows.  I stopped plucking but they weren’t growing back.  I didn’t want to fill them in.  I just wanted them to be naturally pretty but I had let it sink it that that would most likely never happen.

And then I heard about Microblading.  It sounded too good to be true.  It looked too good to be true.  What is this sorcercy? Natural looking semi-permanent brows? WHAAAAT?!?!?! Long before I ever found a Brow Artist or ever made an appointment, I made up my mind that this is what I needed. This is what I wanted.  SO BAD.

It took me another 2-3 years of research, scrolling before and after photos, and watching YT videos before I made the actual call.  Once I found an Eyebrow Artist that I was confident in I contacted her immediately.  I want to say it was May/June when I called.  I got a consultation for the end of July.  I was both super excited and a little disappointed.  Super excited to obviously address this problem but bummed that I had to wait over a month.  I wanted new brows, like, YESTERDAY.

Before I knew it July was here and it was consult day.  I was in and out in literally 10 minutes.  We talked about what I dislike about my brows (haha. EVERYTHING.), and what the procedure entails.  I put down $100.00 and scheduled my first Microblading appointment.  Then I found out I’d be waiting until the end of October.  Again, I was bummed but I wanted this particular Artist to do my brows, her work is stunning and I figured I’ve waited almost 2 decades, what’s another 2 (errr 3-ish…) months?

I almost literally counted the days since July.  It was like knowing Christmas is coming when your a kid only 100X MORE EXCITING.  Again, before I knew it October was here and it was *BROW DAY* YaY!!!

It has been almost one week since I had the Microblading done and I LOVE IT.  It was totally worth the wait… and the itchiness that I am dealing with at the moment.  I’m not going to go into detail about the procedure itself, there is a ton of info about that if you search for it.  I will tell you that the numbing cream works for the most part.  For most of the procedure I could not feel a thing aside from her pulling on my face a bit. There was some spots in my arch that must not have taken to the numbing cream because it HURT. A LOT.  Luckily it was only for a few strokes on each side but oh my.  I could feel a tear coming to my eye.

Once finished she handed me a mirror.  I looked at myself and immediately felt on top of the world.  I HAVE EYEBROWS! AND THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL! I was assured that they would look even better when healed and after my touch up appointment but even so, I am BLOWN AWAY.  I (now) know how important eyebrows are in terms of framing one’s face but seeing it, WOW.  I feel so much better about myself.  What a difference.  I will never go back to those bad brows EVER.

I cannot say enough good things about this experience.  I can’t wait to go forth with my beautiful brows.  I feel pretty and more confident.  I don’t feel like people are looking at my uneven, barley there eyebrows.  They are looking at me (and my beautiful eyebrows).

My only advice aside from PUT THE TWEEZERS DOWN is to do your research (if Microblading is something that interests you).  Find a reputable Artist whom you trust with your face.  Also, start saving.  Prices vary by location but regardless this is not cheap (nor should it be).

Be prepared to not wash your face/ get your eyebrows wet for 24 hours – 5 days, don’t sleep on or touch them, and the itching, oh lawd the itching.  The desire to scratch is real my friends. Not unbearable. But real.

Below are my before and after pictures that I took myself.  The before photos are from the day before I had the procedure done (October 25, 2016), and the after photos are from 1 hour following the procedure (October 26, 2016).

COMING SOON : Days 1 – 7 blogs & vlogs.

 

 

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October 25, 2016 – BEFORE BROWS
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Left Brow
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Right Brow
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October 26, 2016 – AFTER
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Left Brow AFTER
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Right Brow AFTER
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HELLO BROWS!
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Before & After
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Left Brow before & after

Thank you for calling me Brave

To the teller at the TD Bank in Fonthill, whose name I did not catch, thank you.

You asked what I was doing [for work] and I decided to, for ONCE, be honest.  I said “I write a blog”.

“About what?” you asked.

“About anxiety, depression, mental health” I replied.

To my surprise you seemed impressed with my response.  You said I was brave to talk about these things and get them out in the open.  I think you even thanked me! I had no idea that admitting that I write this blog would have such a positive impact.  If I was smarter I would have given you a card with the name of my blog on it but hey, one day at a time.  Maybe that could be a goal I work towards, feathering my cards to potential future readers.  Hmmm. Interesting.

I feel like this is a sign.  I took the leap and decided to stop making up some “normal” job that I do not have and just admit that I am currently writing (instead unemployed and on Disability).  I am not currently making any money from it and that is FINE.  I do not write to make money.  That would be nice, of course.  But I write for the love of writing, venting, and typing.  If that goes somewhere I’d be over the moon but for now I am just happy that someone I don’t even know is happy that I am writing about mental health and the struggles of having a mental health problem.

I will never forget the feeling I got talking to the teller at my bank about my blog.  I will never forget the way she looked at me, very genuinely and almost with respect.  For that I will be forever grateful.

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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 🙂