Monthly Archives: July 2015

Fire Under My Butt

Getting my surgical consult date really set a fire under my ass.  I’ve made some big life decisions that I was pondering heavily and wavering on. I really just needed to freaking decide already, and i have.

Work is moving in the right direction. Surgery and weight loss are progressing steadily. Support is all coming in at just the right time.  It seems that the universe has been listening to my prayers, because everything is starting to click into place like a beautiful puzzle.  It’s about time after the few years I’ve had. 

I feel really grateful.  Overwhelmed.  But positive. 2015 is my year, damnit. I deserve it.

Oh, and my bestie Tracy got me this beautiful leaf and pearl necklace to commemorate all that the future holds. On the back, it says est. 2015.  God I love her.  💜

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Check out my art and follow my journey on Twitter, Instagram., and in my Etsy shop.

One Step Closer

I finally heard back from the surgical center this week and got my consult with the surgeon scheduled for August 5! Apparently I’ll get my surgery date at the time of consult, which should be four or so weeks later. So… surgery in early to mid September! Eek! I’m nervous as hell. I’m excited beyond belief. I’m trying to get all my ducks in a row. I’m having a hard time not feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all.  Just have to remind myself (I’m like a broken record in my mind here) to keep taking this process one. day. at. a. time.

I ended up telling my parents about surgery this week.  I struggled with the decision for months and was adamant that I wouldn’t tell them, but it was getting too weird not to. Surgery is a huge part of my life at the moment and it will continue to be for, well, forever. It went over pretty well. Dad was typical dad – don’t go with the first surgeon, it’s a total life change, do your research.  Yeah dad, I know.  Mom was excited (I thought she might be), but of course the conversation with her was immediately about how she wants to be involved and had to include a “no, I don’t need you there, I’ve got this covered.” She was disappointed, but she seems like she’ll be respectful of my wishes there. My parents are intentionally my 5th string on the support team. This is about my own very personal transformation, inside and out; I need to keep it that way, even if it’s hard for anyone else.

Unfortunately, I’m already slightly regretting the decision, because my mom threw around a couple comments about how it’ll be when I lose all my weight yesterday. I had to shut her down, because I try not to think that far ahead and, truly, just don’t want to discuss that aspect of it with her. I don’t even know what my day tomorrow will be like and If I think about all the future possibilities surgery-wise, I get too anxious.  Mindfulness means staying in the present, so I constantly have to reel it in and think short term.  What’s done is done, I’ve got to deal with it now.

Naturally, because the universe loves me, life beyond WLS continues to be crazy.

I’m struggling with keeping my head on straight at work these days. Between almost daily court appearances, boss regularly being out, and an intense caseload, it’s tough. I’ve been a networking mad woman this month too (which is incredibly tiring for this gal with introvert tendencies).  Having a crazy schedule and stressful career constantly concerns me when it comes to surgery, but it’s my life. I’ll figure it out.

I also recently got an invitation to be a contributing writer for a new local lifestyle and culture magazine launching October 3. We had a meeting yesterday, and it turns out that rough drafts are due August 29 and final drafts are due September 12 (all right around surgery, of course)! It’s a great opportunity, but something I’ve never done before. Plus, as I wrote here just the other day, appealing to the masses gives me a brain cramp and serious writers block. Everyone seemed to like my ideas, but I’m definitely feeling out of my element here. Intimdation. Insecurity. Check and check. For some reason, this opportunity landed in my lap, though, so I’m going to make it count!

Unfortunately, because yesterday was an overwhelming day on all fronts, I ate like crap for dinner.  I was struggling with head hunger all day and my fridge is low on easy good for me food (time for grocery shopping), so I went to Carl’s Junior. I’ve been there on this journey and done pretty well, just getting a cheeseburger and nothing else. I fell into old habits for the night, though. I’m disappointed in myself and feel a bit sick because of it this morning, but today is a new day! I’m not going to let it ruin my overall progress.

Slow and steady wins the race! Have a beautiful day, friends :)

Check out my art and follow my journey on Twitter, Instagram., and in my Etsy shop.

Food!

I’ve had writers block lately.  I get into this mindset where I desperately want to write something you all actually give a shit to read. I want to stand out as something special to you, to the world, to myself. As more people pass through, follow, comment and like, the harder it becomes to live up to my expectations for that.  In other words, I have forgotten why I started blogging in the first place: for me; for my sanity; for the lonely girl, woman, man or person out there who might chance upon this blog and finally feel they’re not alone.  Writing for the masses is not why I started writing. So, no offense, but I have to forget about all of you.

I have been trying to continue to be patient about surgery, but it’s not easy. Patience has never really been a virtue of mine, unfortunately; when I want something, I go for it and I want results now. And boy do I want to have this surgery like nobody’s business. I want nothing more than to shed this fat suit. I want to do all the things my weight has been keeping me from. I want to be comfortable in my own skin. I want to be beautiful.

I have also been working very hard to get into the right mindset for surgery. No, its not about my jean size. I’ve been tackling my food issues in earnest, and it’s so hard. Eating less, being more mindful about what I eat, when I eat, how I eat, and the hardest of all: why I eat.

Why do I eat?

I eat for a lot of reasons. I eat because I was forced to. I eat for comfort. I eat because it makes me feel something other than the crushing sadness and anger deep in my soul. Well, I used to think eating made me feel good, but that’s not true anymore. Eating does make me feel good in the moment, when my seratonin levels are raging. When I overdo it, though, I feel like shit; I feel guilty, gross, gargantuan. It was this sick self fulfilling prophecy that I used to engage in more than I care to admit.

Eating better, eating less, eating slowly, eating to live rather than living to eat is what makes me feel really good, now. Some days I fall right back into old habits, but those days are fewer and getting farther between. It’s a struggle, but I’m making noticeable progress. I’m down a solid 18 lbs. now, but more importantly I’m feeling like I’m developing a healthier relationship with food.

I have to keep working. Daily. I also have to keep waiting.

Although the gal who did my psych eval said I passed, it apparently takes a week to tell the surgery center that. That week was up this past Wednesday, which means I should be seeing the surgeon any second right? Wrong. Everyone who could possibly approve my chart for surgical consult is apparently on vacation until Monday, which means that surgery probably won’t be until September. Or, it’ll be at a time in August when my friends are all gone and I’ll be alone through the worst of recovery. Trying to still be patient and have faith that God won’t give me a surgery date that will leave me vulnerable and without a support network.

On another note, I almost told my parents about surgery yesterday. It’s becoming more complicated not to. Or maybe I’m just so comfortable with the idea now, I’m not that worried about letting them know. Or is it that I’m feeling more careless? I don’t know. Either way, I didn’t do it. I’m still not quite ready, but I hate hiding things. I hate being silent, but these are the people that made me hate the need for hiding things in the first place. I dunno. I’m still confused by this part, obviously.

So, we wait.

Check out my art and follow my journey on Twitter, Instagram., and in my Etsy shop.

Off to Surgeon!

Last Wednesday, I had my final dietician appointment. Lost a couple more pounds, so I’m keeping right on track! Every time I feel like I’m sure I haven’t done enough, but something I’m doing is working.

Later in the afternoon I was in therapy (my therapist is awesome and fit me in after my meltdown the weekend before). It was a bit of a weird session for me. I wasn’t sure what to say and felt like I kept repeating myself. But I left feeling positive like I usually do; I’m glad I went.

This week I finally got my PCP to send over all my labs and clearances to the surgeon’s office. Yay!

Then I had my psych eval this morning.  I was concerned about it, honestly. I do have a history of mental illness, after all. This pre-op phase has definitely affected my anxiety and depression, has opened me up to new triggers. The heightened stress and extra responsibility at work has been super hard. And I have regularly worried that maybe because of the extent of my trauma and the early stage of my recovery (3 years doesn’t feel very long in this process), I’m not ready. The psychiatrist could say I need more time.

I think too much. I passed.

The psychiatrist intern chick that was subbing in for the doctor gave me some nice encouragement about having all the tools/support I need in place. It was hard being super full disclosure with her, but I’m glad I did, because it was reassuring to know that despite all the luggage I unpacked on her, I still got the green light. I had to know.

She recommended I continue therapy (duh) and join a support group. I definitely want to do that.

So, yeah. On to the surgeon! I’ve just got to call and bother my patient advocate, because she should have everything now! Diet, psych eval, labs, clearance, etc. She had said once everything was in, it should only be a few days. Then a few weeks later would be surgery! That would be great!

Fingers crossed, y’all!

Check out my art and follow my journey on Twitter, Instagram., and in my Etsy shop.

What I Know

I haven’t been able to cry. I need to cry that ugly cry, but it’s not coming.  Soon.

In the meantime, I’m eating all sorts of carbs to avoid the emotions. Thankfully the carbs are being trashed and I’m working hard to try to process all my emotions like a big girl. Lol  It’s been an incredibly hard couple of weeks, but I have a game plan and know what I need to do to make sure my life continues to improve, no matter what. 

But yeah. Food issues. Emotional problems. Work. Sucks. All of it all at once at the moment. Life.

I haven’t had an opportunity to ask Christie why she said she thought she knew about the abuse. It’s anxiety inducing, but I have some peace being nearly certain that there’s nothing that she could know that would be new to me. My worst anxiety has happened when the long ignored (but never really forgotten) memories come to surface. So, of course, I still worry there are things I have yet to remember; but I’ve examined the many scary nooks and crannies in the dark recesses of my brain and think I’ve gotten it all out. The rest is just anxiety. And we all know, anxiety is a bitch.

Theres also comfort in knowing that whatever it is that she may know can’t be changed. Its the past. And I can’t keep hanging on to the past. Embracing the future in all its uncertain glory makes me feel vulnerable and anxious, but the future is full of hope.  My past is not.

Every day is moving forward and I have to enjoy the ride. 

So, tonight, 311 concert at Mandalay Bay Beach! It’s going to be hot as eff. Totally worth it. Just pray for no sunburn! Stay safe and sane out there tonight y’all! :)

Check out my art and follow my journey on Twitter, Instagram., and in my Etsy shop.

What They Knew (Part II)

Christie’s words have left me reeling.

What did she know? How could she know? Did I tell her? I don’t remember. I hope she does.  Because I want to know; I need to know.  It’s going to be hard to hear, but I need to know what it is that made her say that.

When I got to Tracy’s, I was about to boil over with tears. Tracy and I hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks  (my fault), so we had some catching up to do before I could get the words together. It wasn’t long before I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I could barely choke out the words over my tears. 

Tracy of course, knew how difficult my week had already been before Christie’s bomb on my brain and her unadulterated response was, “Wow.”  I told her, “I’m glad I wasn’t overreacting about feeling how heavy this is.” I really struggle with identifying and trusting my emotions, so her validation was just what I needed. I love her for everything she does for me (which she totally knows). 💜

Yeah, so I had a really bad Friday/Saturday, but did everything I could think of as self care, including setting a mid-appointments appointment with my therapist. Talked to my close friends. Colored. Read. Distracted. Two days of no sleep.  Then sleep. Lots of sleep. The emotional hangover is real, people. I’m actually kind of proud of how I’ve been handling things, considering.

Anyways. I have yet to get the courage to ask Christie what she knows. It’s coming, though.

I often wonder…

Who knew? What did they know? That’s really all I need to know. 

With that said, I know of one cousin that semi-actively follows my twitter (the only place I share my blog now). I don’t want to call him out by name, but he spent a year of his childhood with us kids, and he should know who he is. While I don’t know if he’ll ever read this, if he does i want him to know: I don’t think I want to know what you knew, no matter what the answer is.  Not yet, anyways.

Ultimately, I know that anyone who may have known something will tell me as much just as quickly as the universe has planned for me to hear it. Asking Christie what she knew will also happen in due time. In the meantime, the emotional tornado somewhat rages on.

I’ll keep you posted. Because, #nomoreshame.

Check out my art and follow my journey on Twitter, Instagram., and in my Etsy shop.

What They Knew (Part I)

Now twice in my recovery, I have been confronted with the reality that old friends (other than the one I knew for sure I had told) knew about what was going on in my childhood home.  My first ex boyfriend was first, right around the time of my breakdown (early to mid 2012).  The second was this past Friday night and came from a close childhood friend who I just reconnected with after 15 years.

My ex boyfriend reached out to me from out of the blue because his name was still showing on sone deep dark record on my bank account that we shared during our incredibly short stint of living together.  He just wanted to get it fixed because he was about to get married or something.  I was happy for him and of course agreed to do whatever needed to be done.

But I had, within maybe the month before, just had a nearly physical altercation with my mom and was in severe crisis mode after having really only just come to the realization that I was physically, mentally, emotionally abused as well as molested. I was in an endless panic attack rooted in my many layers of denial and self defense built up over 28 years.  The knowing portion of my brain was also desperately searching for all the answers I was afraid of consciously knowing the answers to.

The couple of times he and I talked again, we mended a few very old fences. During one conversation, I confided in him about what had happened recently with my mom; and I couldn’t help but ask him what he remembered. He was my first boyfriend and I do remember that his exit from my life was, well, pretty dramatic.  As it turns out, at some point during our relationship (I assume near/part of the dramatic end), she put a gun in his face and threatened him. Yep.

I think I already knew on some deep level that that had happened, but hearing about it as the veil of denial about my abuse was lifting from my heart and soul was beyomd heartbreaking, immensely validating, and something I truly had no idea how to deal with at the time.  The universe and it’s glorious timing.

I was pretty confrontational with them about my abuse during the breakdown; and I confronted her about the news from my ex boyfriend. Her response was to ask me why I’d believe him over her, say that he was a liar, and deny deny deny.  What, though, would his motivation for telling me that specific a lie about her be? He was a good guy, he cared about me, neither of us could carry the other’s baggage at that time, though. That’s just truth.

To this day, she denies and she lies.

Fastforward to last week.

The firm I’m at now does its fair share of criminal defense. Occasionally, we get retained on abuse-related crimes involving minors. I had already, sadly, learned I couldn’t continue representing children in foster care (most are abused in some way) because it was too triggering for me. Knowing a couple of the criminal cases would be bad for my mental health in similar ways, I had already expressed to my boss that I wouldn’t be able to work on those particularly trigger-inducing cases. Unfortunately, though, he had to fly out of town for business on a day that one of those cases was set for hearing; I had no choice. It was probably one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do as a lawyer, for so many reasons, and it left me feeling raw and sensitive.

Being a lawyer has given a few of my old friends reason to reconnect with me.  I absolutely love that my career brings old friends into the current chapters of my life.  Christie was one of those people that I missed and was excited to see again. She grew up down the street from me and we walked home together quite a bit from elementary school.  We grew apart a bit as life moved on and lost touch entirely after high school.  Honestly, I had forgotten how far back our history really went. As sometimes happens, she called me in a panic about something earlier in the week and I agreed to meet her Friday for lunch. I’m always willing, if I can.

She ended up running late Friday, so we just decided she’d meet me at my office.  She came around a quarter to four.  It was phenomenal to see her and to meet her young daughter.  Like I hoped, it was instantly like old times; she really was that kind of friend. We chatted for hours that flew by.

Early in the conversation, she started to share the bad and the ugly in her life. Hey, people typically don’t come to a lawyer unless they’re a little bit broken, after all. We’re “counselors” for a reason; I really don’t mind.  As we’re sharing, I of course mention the abuse and the breakdown, because #nomoreshame.  We’ve both been through a lot, the two of us, so it was shaping up to be a pretty triggering conversation.

My flashbacks were getting strong, when she says in passing, really,

I think I knew.

It didn’t even register at first, but it instantly sent me into anxiety/freeze/full crisis mode like I haven’t experienced in probably a solid year and a half.

I pushed it away initially, I had to finish the conversation professionally, on a good note. But as I drove away from Christie and the office, getting closer to home, the gravity of her statement started coming into soft focus. I was partially conscious that something was not quite right, that I was amped up, and probably shouldn’t be alone. Thank God for my friends, truly. :) I was able to invite myself over to my best friend Tracy’s house, because she’s super safe company. As I stopped at the house to feed Freckles and then made my way to Tracy’s, the fully reality of what Christie said was flashing before my eyes.

She knew.  She. Knew. I. Was. Abused.

That’s all I can get through right now.  More later.

Check out my art and follow my journey on Twitter, Instagram., and in my Etsy shop.