Yours Truly

I used to love dreaming and the adventures that came with it. Because I listen to Jim Dale narrate Harry Potter every night while I'm falling asleep, a lot of my night-time unconscious adventures include the Potter crew. Some of the best have been a rap battle with Voldemort (which I won), and also a rugby game against Voldemort, and a laser tag place with wands instead of guns (this idea is trademarked by me...so don't even think about it!)
Lately, I've almost been afraid to fall asleep because when I do, I either see people who I have cut off contact with, or people who I miss dearly and live 1000 miles away. I don't fear so much seeing the people I miss, because at least in my dreams I get to spend some time with them.
No, the problem is seeing people, or in this case 1 person with whom I have cutoff contact.
Imagine a past relationship as a gaping knife wound. you cover the wound with salve and bandages and take antibiotics for possible infection. You keep the wound covered, you don't rip off the bandage every few minutes to see if it's healing. After awhile, the wound begins to heal, you remove the bandage because it's no longer needed, and the scar begins to heal, and you don't feel the deep penetrating pain that used to be a part of you. But imagine after the wound is healed if then you get stabbed in the same place everyday, and you have to start the healing process all over again.
This is what it's like when I dream of or am reminded of said person....we'll call her Bertha.
In my dream, we are besties again, and none of the bad stuff between us ever happened. More than anything, when I wake up I am angry. Angry that I still have thoughts of her, and that she still has a role in my thoughts and dreams. I need some bleach for my brain to scour my thoughts and memories to clean away any trace of her.
I have distanced myself from Bertha in every way I know how. Blocked on my phone, blocked on Facebook and Instagram, I burned, literally started on fire everything she ever gave me and every letter she wrote to me, and my favorite shirt that she gave me.
All these things have been therapeutic but it's not enough. it doesn't take away the memories we had together or all the times she made me laugh so hard I cried. It doesn't take away the feelings I've had about how she treated with reckless abandon our 10 years of friendship, and how a lot of the blame was put on me, leaving her spotless.
I would be naive to think that I didn't have any part in the process, but I have endlessly racked my brain on the things that I could have done better, and what more I could have said, and how many more chances I could have given her. In reality, if she were to find some way to contact me, and beg to be friends again, I would give have to give pause before I slammed the door.
I am starting to think that these thoughts will never go away, and honestly I am the person I am today partly because of our friendship. I went on a mission because she got me thinking about it, and I thought about things on a deeper level because of our late night chats. I enjoyed Snow College that much more because of her. But I have grown, and faced my demons without her. I thought that I couldn't survive without my best friend, but I did. I not only survived, but I have thrived in Grad school, and in life without her, in spite of her. I might always have a hole from where she used to be but I focus on the people in my life who didn't leave me behind.
And Now, a poem:
 

Yours Truly

You’re in my dreams but I wish you’d go.

I’d cut open my brain just to let you out the door.

I’ve moved on in life and I’m happy with you gone

But when I close my eyes, my time with you isn’t done

You riddle my nights, which ruins my days

I’m sick of thinking about all the ways

I disappointed you, what more could I have done

Should I have kept quiet, should I have held my tongue?

I’m mad that you still take space in my brain

You are the conductor of the thought train

I burned everything you gave me, blocked you from my phone

But in my brain you still roam

You’ve built yourself a two-story house in my head

Consider this your eviction notice

Take your crap and get out of my mind

For you this is the end of the line

The wall is up with razor wire and a chain around my brain

Don’t expect to be treated kindly if you ride in on the thought train

Let me move on, let me be okay without you

You made your decision, now let me make mine

What it really looks like

     As I sit here preparing to write about one of the most difficult trials in my life I can feel my heart racing, my eyes welling up with tears, and the general feeling of anxiety spreading throughout my body. But here is the thing that I have learned about trials. If we don't learn from them, and share that knowledge with others so that their pain might be lessened, then we have learned nothing.
     I am not writing this post to troll for sympathy, or to seek attention. I am writing this post so that others may learn from my experience, and be able to realize that they are not alone in their trials.


  
I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This disorder is the result of almost drowning 3 and a half years ago, while swimming in San Diego. The symptoms show themselves gradually. For the first 3 weeks there are flashbacks, and nightmares. At the 2 month mark, loss of attention begins, claustrophobia, shortness of temper. After that, they just start rolling in: Mood swings, depression, anxiety, loss of desire, Isolation and panic attacks My first panic attack started at the movie theater while I was watching "The Deathly Hallows Part II"(The crying started around the time that Snape was dying, So people would have just thought that I was really moved by his love for Lily).  This could also be the time when people look for coping strategies. For me it was eating. Lots and lots of eating.
  After 4 months of having symptoms that I thought were just a result of being on summer vacation, and not being busy, I sought help. I was at the end of my rope and didn't know what to do. I was referred to A Psychologist. I also Learned about Emotional Support animals, and got a dog named Vinny who has been my best friend since the day we met. I got on medication that worked, and my symptoms were significantly lessened.
 
   Fast forward to 1 week ago. I have lived in California for 2 months, and I have been in my Masters program for almost a month. Ever since I moved here I haven't been able to sleep(which triggers my depression and anxiety), I get lost a lot, and I hate not knowing my way around. Add that to 13 hours of class a week, and more time spent doing homework... Not the best combination.

    I came to my breaking point. People use any number of coping skills to help them cope with depression and anxiety: Drinking, Eating, Drugs, T.V., Self-harm, yoga, Relaxation, and Deep Breathing. I try not to eat when I'm stressed out anymore because it's not good for my health, or my waistline. Instead I watch t.v. and when the situation is dire, I Hit myself. in only 3 situations have I cut myself.
  1 week ago was one of those situations. I could not get out of my own head, and thoughts, and wanted to be rid of them so badly. So I hit myself with my CTR (Choose The Right) (Ironic, I know) and used a pair of scissors to cut my arm. After that, I knew that I couldn't do this alone anymore. I called my parents and promised them that I would get help.
   I had an appointment with a psychiatrist on Friday, but knowing Friday couldn't come soon enough, I called another office to see if they could get me in sooner. I had an appointment the next day at 2:30. I was relieved and nervous. Tuesday came, and 2:30 came with it. I found myself sitting the office of a therapist named Judd. Judd asked me what brought me here. I told him about my PTSD, my cutting, and my hitting. And then I started hyperventilating and having a panic attack.... good times.
Judd told me a story about when he was a marine.
  As a marine, he would join his platoon in 8 to 10 mile hikes. Sometimes a Marine would drop out of the hike because of exhaustion. The medics would rush upon the man and fill him with I.V Fluids. Judd and his friends decided that they would not let this happen to each other. When they saw a man start to weary from fatigue, the others would remove his helmet, pack, and other gear, So that he could walk unencumbered for a bit.
  One day, Judd was walking along, and felt hands on his helmet and pack. It was his buddies, working as fast as they could to unburden him. Judd had not noticed that he had began to wobble, but his friends had. Judd said That he was pissed. and he tried to fight them off, unsuccessfully. After a few minutes of walking unencumbered Judd realized that he felt better. Judd Told me, that I should be able to walk without my pack for a bit. He suggested hospitalization... Maybe that was when the panic attack started.

  The only thing I new about psychiatric hospitals, was what I saw on T.V. "Girl Interrupted", and "Shutter Island" to name 2. I did not want to go at first. I thought about school, and what people would think, and what it would mean for my future in my masters program. Judd told me that all that stuff could wait, I needed to focus on me, and getting better. This would mean getting my meds change if needed. 30 minutes later, I was sitting in my friend Emily's' car, and we were driving to the Behavioral Medical Center. 4 hours and 1 urine sample later, I was admitted. I was terrified. I didn't know what to do, so I paced from my room, to the hall. I hate uncertainty and not knowing what to expect. I stayed up the first night reading because I couldn't sleep. I finally got about 3 hours of sleep.

  I was overwhelmed by the amount of report I received was overwhelming. Emily, who is also my mentor at school, took care of everything. She brought me clothes, she got my car back home, and she let my bishop, and my program adviser know what was going on. there were 2 different visiting hours everyday, and even though I only in the hospital for 2 days, I always had visitors. My roommates, Emily and my friend Courtney who is also the relief society president, the bishop, and his wife. It was the time I looked forward to everyday. I was finally letting people help me, and I tried not to think about school, or anything else but getting better. I was the model patient. I went to every group, and did whatever was asked of me.
     I got my meds changed, I started an intensive 4 week therapy, and I am home. I finally have hope that things are going to be okay. I begged God to help me, keep his promises to me, and make this right. After 2 days of trying to argue that i knew what was right for me, he humbled me, and showed me what I needed to do.
I am grateful for a loving God, who sometimes, takes the steering wheel from our hands, pats us on the head, and says "Don't worry, I got this".
I am not better. I try to take things day by day, hour by hour. I am going to work extremely hard these next 4 weeks to get the long-term fix I need to get back to school, and face life head on with confidence.


If you are having suicidal thought, Please get help. THERE IS ALWAYS HELP AVAILABLE
1-800-273-8255National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

wishin' and hopin'

I've been thinking a lot lately about dating, and the beginning of relationships. How they start, what sparks the match, and what makes two people decide that they're a "couple". But more specifically I've been thinking about the first few encounters, that turns a pile of tinder into a smoking almost beginning of a fire. There has always been a lot of rules, and games attached to dating, that I'm not amazed that many people my age adopt Nancy Reagans' slogan and "just say no". There's not so much dating going on, as there is "hanging out", or "making out". Both fine things, but whatever happened to the thrill of the chase? A guy asking a girl "out" and actually going OUTDOORS not just "out" in the proverbial sense? I honestly don't know the reason, but I know that I don't like it. I have only been asked "out" in the real sense, twice in my life, and frankly I'm getting to the age where I don't want to wait around to get asked out; so I might as well start asking. According to the rule book however, this is taboo. Girls shouldn't make the first move, a guy should be the one to ask for a girls' number or ask her out, but I think I might be a skeleton if I wait that long. My point is forthcoming, but first a story.
We've all seen chick flicks, where they make some great and bold declaration of love. whether it be standing below someone's window with a boom box overhead, or building them house, or toting your love fern on the back of a motorcycle to chase your cab down the road; whatever it be, Most of us think, "why can't that happen to me?" But then We walk out of the dark movie theater, shake our head a couple of times, and realize that those types of things don't happen in real life. While I agree that someone will probably never strap shrubbery on the back of a bike and chase me down, and build my dream house, I think that the idea behind it is realistic. I have this life, right now to make things happen. Hell, I probably only have the next 5 years until my daring bone shrivels up and dies. That cute guy at the Coffee shop isn't going to know you like him until you open your mouth. that guy at the new year's eve party I chatted with has know idea that I was about to give him my number; and who suffers because of it? ME! I've regretted ever since that I didn't give him my number. And even if he would have never used it, I would have known that I opened my mouth and told him I was interested.
Dating is hard enough without all the cultural rules, and taboos. Throw away the rule book, and put away the games. It's time to "say what you want to say, and let the words fall out. -Sara Bareilles" Give some one your number, send that text you've been dying to send, Say hello.
Sometimes, that direct yet subtle move, is what will turn that pile of sticks into a raging fire.

Analyze this

I need someone to analyze my dreams, because they are pretty messed up. I took Ambien to help me sleep during the summer because A: Camp beds aren't all that comfortable, and B: I'm a whack job when I'm stressed out... Which was pretty much all the time. I did have some crazy stress dreams, but those are pretty normal, I think the craziest dreams I've ever had were during finals week, but I digress. I have since stopped taking Ambien, and my dreams are crazier than ever, and there's a theme!
A lot of people have reoccurring dreams or at least reoccurring themes, like being naked in different situations, teeth falling out, flying, things like that; but I've never been a themey dreamer. My dreams have pretty much come willy nilly and I would wake up in the morning scratching my head, but now I dream about things chasing me. Crazy, Psycho animals that stalk their prey, and it's not just your run of the mill panther, or tiger. These are the crazy hybrids that were used for chemical testing or had laser beams attached to their heads, and all for the purpose of scaring the CRAP out of dream me. In one dream it was panthers with crazy bright eyes that you saw right before they chased you down, the second dream was about those crazy Pit-bull looking things from "The Hunger Games", and the dream I had last night was about a crazy looking tiger. It had a huge head, and it's whole body was bald. It still had stripes but they were grey and red stripes that were on the inside of his body. Somehow, I always manage to escape these crazy, lab rejects, but not before they scare the heeber jeebers out of me!
I don't know if this means something, or if all that time hitting my head playing rugby is catching up to me, but I don't know how much more dream me can take. Say what you want about Ambien but at least when I was taking it I was being chased by crazy cats in my dreamsBad  

Let go

Why is there always one person that you can't escape. No matter how much you fight, and say they don't matter, somehow the hold is still there. The imaginary, invisible choke hold still keeps you around. Held against your will, but still you stay. WHY???!!! How do we give people power over us, and what do we do to gain our independence from these, most of the time unsuspecting, uncaring to our plight oppressors. We think that we have found the key to loosen our shackles and grant us freedom, and then they bring us a scrap of bread, and we hand them the key and willingly lock ourselves up again. I pride myself on being perceptive, and a keen observer of human nature, but this is one of those things that continues to blow my mind, and leave me scratching my head.


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Refuge

I used to want to stay with you,

But now you pull me away,

 from moving on to better things

Your leash won’t let me stray.

I tell myself I’m done with you,

 your actions leave me no reason to do doubt

But then in the wind I hear you calling me,

the world has shut you out

I open up my door to you, and pray you come inside

To keep you from the elements, I ask you to abide

My one thought is to keep you safe, and away from any harm

You impress me with your kindly ways, your wittiness and charm

The morning comes, the storm has long since broke

You leave with what you came with, I supply you with a cloak

You head on your merry way and thank me for my home

You continue on with your journey, the earth is yours to roam

You changed my house when you came in, it will never be the same

At first it shone more brightly, but then the darkness came.

I pleaded for your guiding hand, but yet no answer came.

I howled into the darkness, yelling out your name

My house is cold, devoid of light it welcomes no one in

To think, if the wind had brought you here

I can only think what might have been.

slow it down

Exciting news! I went to sleep last night without the help of pills!
Now, for the rest of you this news may not be very exciting, but if you were me, and had not be able to sleep for the last year without pain medication or Ambien, you would be very excited... You might even write it in your blog. I have be doing more intensive physical therapy for the last month or so, and every time I go, I feel a little bit stronger. The end is near, and I see a light at the end of the tunnel.
    And now the real reason for this post. I think that as a media connected generation we have been lulled into a false sense of security. We have been led to believe that the world is at our fingertips. Joy, Excitement, and happiness are a mouse click away. Life is one big adventure, all we have to do is live it! I've been watching a lot of netflix lately... Okay, I'll be honest... I've watching GLEE... don't judge me. This may be a bad example, but the message portrayed on Glee is that you can do anything you want, your dreams aren't going to wait, so you have to get out there and do them now. While that is a nice sentiment...it makes me feel bad about myself, and makes me wonder what I'm doing living at home with my parents when I can be on a street corner singing show tunes, or in New York starring in my own one woman show "Look out world, She's coming!"... It's a working title.
The fact is, I think that I know what I want to do with my life, but my plan isn't moving along as fast as I would have hoped. If I had it my way, I would be almost done with my first year of grad school in a profession, I'm not sure I want to do. If we go back to the plan "high school me" had for my life, I would be married with a couple of kids by now...She was a nice kid, but a little naive :)
In reality: I'm 27, I live with my Parents, I have a bachelors degree in Psychology, and I haven't done a thing with it, and I'm no closer to being married than I was just after high school.
But here's the kicker... For the most part, for now, I am happy. I had some things that I needed to deal with. My shoulder pain, my depression, and my crippling fear of the unknown that is my future; and there is no way that I would have been able to do that if I was in grad school, or in a place where I wasn't so close to my supportive family. I do miss being around my friends and closer to people my own age, but sometimes... you just need your mommy.
The thing that Glee, and "high school me" failed to see, is that sometimes, you need to slow it down. I would not trade the last 9 months for anything in the world. I have been able to see my niece go from an infant to a sassy, rampaging toddler. The relationship I have with my mom now is stronger than it has ever been. We can sit and gab like old pals, and before it was just a quick convo about the important stuff.
   I will move on, I will go to grad school(I think I even know now what I want to be when I grow up) I will have adventures, be around people my own age, I will even get married and have children, and my high school self will be giddy with schoolgirl joy. but for now, I will be grateful for this short time I have to be with my family, and the strength they give me to live life. That will be the strength I use to face the world, however far I travel. Life will go fast, and adventures will fade... But I will always have this time.

I am the Panda...coo coo ca choo

Last week I started doing Zumba at my gym, for anyone who doesn't know what Zumba is, I will tell you; it's basically a mix between latin dancing and aerobics. It's a good work out, and I've had a lot of fun so far, but I have made a sad discovery... I am a panda bear.
If you know anything about Latin dancing you know that it is very sexy. You have to be comfortable with your body, and (heat) so to speak, that you put off with your sexy dancing. In Zumba there is a lot of hip shaking, booty bouncing, and chest flaunting going on. To make matters worse, there is a mirror that I can see myself in while dancing, so I can see exactly how un-sexy I am.
B.J. Novak talks about Pandas being an endangered species, not because of anything humans are doing, because let's face it...Pandas are freaking adorable, there is even a lab in China that cooks up little Pandas in petri dishes, but I digress... The reason Pandas are going extinct is because they won't mate with each other. apparently they don't see their own species as attractive, and I have never heard of a panda mating dance, so lets face it, if they don't have their looks to get them by, they're kind of screwed.
For this reason, I am a Panda. People think that I am adorable, and cute, and oh so cuddly, all true things, but let's face it, nobody wants their potential spouse just because of their cute, cuddly exterior. In any relationship there has to be a certain degree of heat, and sexuality, and if Zumba is any indication...I am bound to roam the earth alone, like my friend the Panda bear.