Tag: moving on

Too much Bran and other Thoughts

It has now been just over 2 and a half weeks since we have moved.  So far so good – better then I thought actually… Until by the end of week 2 I realized I had not been…as “regular” as I should be.  Being the over-paranoid person that I can be I started thinking the worst and decided I better get me some bran, and perhaps some Activia yogurt.  I figured it was best to cover both bases of good bacteria and fibre.

I ended up deciding to just mix the yogurt and bran buds together which to my pleasant surprise is pretty good and pretty filling.  I literally pour out my ‘lil cup of yogurt into a bowl and add bran buds, mix it up and enjoy! Easy peasy lemon squeezey.

Within 24-48 hours I was feeling the affects of my yogurt-bran concoction and now, a few days later I feel fantastic.  Thanks to my enjoyment of my new little healthy snack I am becoming more regular then I have ever been and I am feeling physically and mentally better.  I might be to a point where if I am not careful I will consume too much bran.  I do not wish to experience what that will do.

Writing about being regular and bran snacks may not seem like much to most but the thing I wish to highlight here is that my stomach has not been the monster I had expected it to be – minus some minor constipation.  Since moving I have had less stomach aches, cramps, and bathroom issues in general.  I find it interesting that moving myself to a more positive and engaging environment is most definitely affecting me physically [and mentally] and in a good way.  This is showing me how negatively I was once effected by the life I had created for myself.  Back in 2008 into 2014-ish my stomach was like a ticking time bomb.  I felt like shit so much I got used to just feeling like shit.  When I was working I would watch what I ate around my shifts so as to make sure I would not have any problems during my shift.  I’d not eat instead of risking feeling sick- or I would have no appetite at all because I would be so stressed.  There was a time that I would get so anxious before going into work I would have to throw up before every shift.  Every.  Shift.

I can now see so clearly how my life was effecting how I was feeling physically.  I hated my job, my living situation, hec I think I must have hated myself to let myself continue to be miserable for so long.  At 25/26/27 years old I felt so stuck, I felt like life was beating me down, that “this” is all that there was for me.  I could not have been more wrong.  At 33 I feel like I am getting a new life.  It has been a long journey to get here and there is still more to hike but I am so grateful that I am on this journey and that somewhere I did love myself enough to decide to change my life.  Watching my Dads health fade away so fast at such a young age made me realize how short (and sad) life can be.  I decided right then and there that I wanted to change my life and pursue my ultimate best-self.  Before he died I was only living half a life and I was lying to myself about what I wanted and who I was.

Now, almost 4 years later and thousands of dollars in therapy, I am finally starting to feel like my whole -self is coming together.

 

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.

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