You can fall, just get back up!

I have really dreaded coming back to this. Coming back means admitting I fell off the bandwagon.

Over the past month I've pretty much sucked. Hardcore yo. I gained back 4 or 5 pounds, last time I weighed myself it was 177 something, last Saturday. I've had a few good days this week. Got my workout on.

I did however just eat a pouch of muffins for dinner. But to my defense I brought one of those smart ones dinners, one I'd never tried before and it SUCKED so I had to get something out of the vending machine at work.

Anyway, let's start with Saturday. Saturday night I got Travis to babysit, so I actually got to leave my house. This is I think the third night this year I've actually gone out of the house after the kids went to sleep so I was pretty excited. I got pretty drunk, I know, sooo many calories in alcohol, and then to make things even worse I went to Denny's after and I the greasiest burger. It's okay though, I did a nice full body work out for two hours after I got home and promptly puked violently into the toilet afterwards so I'm pretty sure I ended up breaking even that night. In other news I'm pretty sure that burger was delicious and on Tuesday I found a drunk person selfie I took but don't remember doing. Kind of made me laugh.

Yesterday I was planning on working out, got way more of a workout than I'd planned. First I did my cleaning, not a huge deal, I have to clean my house on a daily basis because of the kids at least a little bit, put on some music and turn the ten minute pick up into a half hour dance festival, I think that's the only reason I didn't gain more weight this past month! But anyway. I was experimenting with some ways to work a workout into my every day stuff. So I was doing lunges as I ran the vacuum and squats and some booty shaking when I picked things up lol. Yes, it would of been humiliating for anyone else to watch.

But here's where shit got real. The house I'm renting had a fridge when I moved in, but I had my own fridge too. I knew I wouldn't be here forever and the landlord said he wasn't planning on replacing these if they went under, so I naturally decided to keep the fridge I already had. I moved it into the basement and used it as extra freezer space where I put my wok lunches and foods that I hoped to deter myself from eating by putting them in the basement lol.

Anyway, the fridge that was here started to smell like it was burning and was warm to the touch. It was still working, cold on the inside and all that, but I really wasn't in the mood for it to explode or something like that. So I asked Travis if he would help me bring the other one upstairs. Well, when he slept until 2pm this naturally led to a large argument and I ended up first scrubbing the shit out of the fridge in the basement, and then bringing everything from the fridge and freezer upstairs and into the basement to store in the one down stairs. Awfully annoying when I was trying to cook and had to travel downstairs for milk and butter to complete my meal. Literally a half hour after I've finished moving everything Travis texts me and says (only because I merely said I would have someone else help me) he'd be there in ten minutes to help me so I had to clear everything out of the fridge downstairs, bring everything back up stairs, and move the fridge and then put everything back in it.

I think I pinched something in my back. Needless to say the kids went to sleep a little early last night so I could go to sleep a little early, which of course never works out anyway but the effort was there and that matters.

Despite gaining some of my weight back I've actually been feeling pretty good about my body lately. Which is maybe a little odd. But I don't know, I guess I've gained some more confidence as my own person or something. Who knows. What I do know is I can still see my collarbones (not like super defined but whatever) even four pounds heavier I'm still 14 pounds less and that's a big deal, my hair lately has been awesome, I'm having a great butt day, I finished writing an entire book in less than a month (I've started dozens and this is only the second I've finished so superrr exciting) and of course, the eagles are running 3-0 so far. I guess I just feel like there are a lot of things going well right now in my life. My weight is not something that defines me, but don't get me wrong, it's still something I'm very serious about correcting because it does play a huge factor into what kind of future I will have and hold long my kids will have their mommy for. So here I am, four or five pounds heavier than I was a month ago and still feeling strong. I'm ready to fight, get back on the horse.

I actually enjoy working out once I do it, it's just getting started...

More anxiety posts

I'm kind of just rolling with this anxiety thing. I decided to post some more about it. A lot of people mistake getting anxiety as having anxiety. Everyone gets anxiety, it is a natural part of life, it actually helps people to grow. Having a big speech to make and getting anxiety but forcing yourself through it, that's healthy anxiety. That's situational anxiety.

I've realized that a lot of people don't really understand anxiety. Nor do they understand how to be around someone with anxiety. So I'm going to share some more of my own anxiety tidbits. Basically somethings I feel like you should know about people with anxiety, some of my own anxiety reactions, and things not to say to someone who has anxiety.

We look like normal people

You'd be surprised that the person sitting right beside you could be having anxiety right this very second. Anxiety is not the same as an anxiety attack, though most people with serious anxiety problems will experience them and even those who don't have an anxiety disorder can have panic attacks if provoked. The funny thing though, when someone is having a lot of anxiety, the look just about the same as you and I, only maybe sometimes a little sweatier.

Fight or flight reaction

There is something called a fight or flight reaction, and when I'm having anxiety, I'm all for flight. I have this overwhelming urge to just go. Go where? I haven't the slightest clue, I just feel like I need to get the hell out of this place. Often times that's not possible, like say if I'm at work, or in the middle of taking a leak when the anxiety strikes. If I'm in a situation where I can get up and leave the room I still feel exactly the same from three rooms away. Anxious, and still feeling the need to run.

There is a difference between getting anxiety and having anxiety

When I finally tell people I have anxiety their first question is usually what that means. When I try (because even as a writer, I often struggle to find the perfect words to explain how I feel)  to explain what my anxiety means and does to me, I usually get people say "Oh yeah, I get like that sometimes too." It is actually frustrating, I know that people are usually trying to be supportive and all of that. But what it really feels like is that you are belittling the seriousness of anxiety. I don't "get like that sometimes" I don't "Get nervous for important days" I get like that all the time, most of the time for no reason. And 'big days' for me? Usually result in me getting physically ill along with of course the anxiety attacks. I never get nervous, I have a constant feeling of impending doom for no reason.

Playing twenty questions

Which brings me to my second point. When I'm having anxiety the question I always get is "Why?"
WELL IDFK. I know, that seems like a fairly reasonable question doesn't it? When someone is upset you want to know why, and how you can help? My anxiety doesn't often come with an explaniation, a formal warning. It just happens. I have certain triggers, but a lot of the time I don't understand anymore than you do.

When I tell you I don't know. I just don't know. Bombarding me with other questions isn't going to make me know any sooner, I probably won't ever figure it out. "Well are you stressed at work?" "Did you and Travis have a fight?" "Did I do soemthing." I. DO NOT. EFFING. KNOW! I love that you are invested in my life right now that you want to help but I don't know.

Touching through anxiety

Wanting to help. That brings me right up to my very next point. Now I have another friend who agrees with me on this one but otherwise I'm not sure if it's a typical anxiety issue or if we are both just weird. I do not like to be touched when I'm having a bad spell. I'm not depressed, I don't need a hug. I'm not puking (although that happens sometimes) you don't need to wipe my hair from my face and rub my back. This isn't a romantic stroll down the boardwalk, I don't want my hand held. I hate to sound so downright bitchy but the quickest way to turn my "bad spell" into a "freak out." If you touch me I'm likely going to shrink away or jerk backwards like you've burned me or something. I can't help it. Don't get offended. It's nothing personal, and I might appreciate it later, but not now. If my anxiety is bad enough that I don't want to be touched I'm already struggling, because I almost always have anxiety and I still love hugs and holding hands and cuddling, but when I get to that point where I will openly admit that I'm having anxiety, it's not just a little nervousness. I think one of the big reason I don't like to be touched goes back to the fight or flight reaction. Maybe being touched makes me feel more trapped, bogged down, I don't know. All I know is if I pull my hand away or ask you to please not touch me, I mean that I can't  be touched right now.

Turning my anxiety problem around for you

I love Travis, but he is the worst person in the world to have anxiety around. When I tell him I'm having anxiety it's automatically "Well I don't know what I did this time" when I don't want to be touched it's "I don't know what the fuck you want me to do" and when I can't talk or calm down or tell him I need a minute it's usually a threat to just leave completely. Don't turn someone's anxiety issues into something about you. Anxiety is a really serious thing, it's a very scary thing, and it's a very personal thing. My anxiety attacks, even when brought on by someone else (common examples: someone saying "We need to talk" someone not texting back, a phone call from a private number, running into someone you know unexpectedly, someone telling me they've got a surprise for me etc etc) it is still a very personal thing. It's something that no one can solve for you, it's something that I really need to work through myself. Turning my anxiety problems around to making them your problem, or God forbid threatening me and forcing me to do the things that make me more anxious when I'm having a meltdown are really just going to make me want to not be open with you about my anxiety.

People with anxiety have odd coping mechanisms

Just like I said I don't like being touched, some people are the opposite. Some people breathe into bags, some people scream at the top of their lungs, a lot of people turn to music or deep breathing techniques, I like to get into small places. Don't knock someone's anxiety solutions. If it helps them, that's all the matters. I don't even like small places that much, I don't really mind them, unless they are crowded or dark, but I don't really like them either. But for some reason when I'm having really, really, bad anxiety I'll hide in the shower or the closet. Yes, I find it a horribly embarrassing feat, and I try to avoid it at all costs, but it's one of the few things I've found that can center me.

Here's a special segment just for you lovely readers on things not to say to someone with anxiety.

"Calm down/Relax"

Number one worst thing to say to someone with anxiety. My best friend has anxiety as well and we refer to 'relax' as "the R word" because it's a word we hate to even use. If we simply could relax don't you think we would? Our brains are literally wired in such a way that we aren't capable of just relaxing. Because trust me when I say if there was a magic shut down button on our brains, we would all be hitting it! It's frustrating when someone tells you to do something you can't do. I wouldn't shoot you in the foot and tell you to stop bleeding on my carpet! If you want to get punched in the nose, by all means, tell someone mid panic attack to calm down.

"It's all in your head."

Oh my God, I've been living with anxiety all these years, how did I never figure that out! Oh wait. I did. Yes, we know it's all in our heads. And somehow, we still can't stop it?

"You're just doing this for attention"

Okay, I'm a writer. Not a blogger, but a writer. I've finished (though not published yet) two novels and got a good three other works over 40k in. The whole reason I even got this laptop is to work on my novels. Seriously, if I needed attention, I could think of a heck of a lot better things than "I have anxiety." Creating fictional stories to draw emotions out of other people is literally what I do! And also, if I were doing this for attention I wouldn't run away and hide in the shower. I would go ahead and have my panic attack right in your annoying judgemental face. It wouldn't have taken me years before admitting to a single person that I have this problem. It wouldn't be something I only even bring up to certain people if I'm having an off day. I certainly wouldn't devote enough of my

"You're over reacting."

Uhm, yeah, I probably am. That doesn't make me reaction feel any less traumatic though. So I'm over reacting in your eyes? That's cool. In my eyes I still can't even see straight from this.

"You don't have anxiety."

This is actually something I've only heard twice. Once from my mom and once from my grandma. I'd been open with my anxiety for years with my significant other but not my own family. When I finally broke my silence and voice my problems, they were denied. "A panic attack feels like a heart attack. You'd know if you were having a panic attack." Uhm, first of, yes, I do know when I'm having a panic attack, second off different people can actually experience different reactions with their anxiety. Third off, you don't have to have an anxiety attack to have an anxiety disorder. I have impending world doom anxiety feeling on an almost daily basis, have had many many really bad anxiety spells, but have only hand a handful of actual anxiety attacks. AND LASTLY. You should never try to tell anyone how they feel. Looking on the outside in, you don't know a single thing about that person. Looking at someone, you know their eye color, their hair color, a rough height and weight guesstimate, and you know what they tell you. Unless you can walk on water, or read minds, you don't know how someone is feeling inside. I've had plenty of people tell me before that they had anxiety or were depressed that I did seriously doubt, but guess what? I don't fucking know for sure! I can't take a pair of forceps, force open the ear, and climb in to examine their brain. I've got no clue what goes on in their mind, the happiest and most well put together people may be the biggest train wreck inside that you'd ever see. You don't ever get to question someone else's feelings because you don't know. It's bullshit, and I don't think my mom and grandma have ever pissed me off more than they did that day.

"Just take a pill."

The expression "take a chill pill" means something totally different for people who struggle with anxiety or depression. People like me? I am pretty sure I should go to a doctor about my anxiety because it sometimes feels crippling, definitely passed the point of interfering with my every day life, but I can't bring myself to go to a doctor. Doctors are a huge trigger for me. I don't know why, I've never liked going to the doctors. I think part of it is I always thought my pediatrician was perverted, maybe it's just another random irrational trigger of mine. I don't know. But I haven't gone to the eye doctor in probably six years and I can hardly read the screen a foot away from my face, I haven't seen a regular doctor in I don't even know how long. I had an OB while I was pregnant, and I've taken the kids to see their doctor with only mild panic, but otherwise no way. There have been times I've thought I was dying (thank you anxiety for turning my leg cramp into a blood clot and my headache into a brain tumor) but still didn't go. Figuring if it didn't go away I would in a few days. When I finally do go to the doctor I'm going to end up taking a notebook full of problems with me and he's going to be baffled at what the heck is wrong with me. And I just don't like medicines. It's not that I don't trust them, I think I might be afraid of getting addicted or something, who knows. But I don't even take tylenol unless I really think my brain is going to explode. I just don't want to be dependent on some sort of drug just to be normal. I've seen the giant pill organizer my mom and my grandma and my aunt have used and I just don't want any part of it.


Remember folks, us anxiety filled people are human too. We tend to feel things stronger and definitely overreact, but you'd probably be surprised how hard we try not to.

Anxiety struggles

I'm not dead!
I'm still here!

A little MIA. But I'm still here. Lot's of things I could write about, a lot of weight related things I could drag on and on about, lot's of life events and such. But today I've decided not to do any of that.

Today, I'm going to discuss anxiety.
Again.

I once shared one of the worst anxiety attacks of my life on here. And today I'm just going to talk about anxiety in general. It's taken me quite some time to become open about my anxiety. I mean, a large part of me thought it was normal to lay in bed staring at the ceiling and thinking about that one time I was rude to little Susie on the swingset eight years ago, gosh, does she still remember that? Did I apologize to her? I should send her a card, or a cake. That's it, I'll bake her a cake, that wouldn't be coming on too strong would it? What if she has an allergy and I kill her. Susie must hate me.

It wasn't until one night when I was explaining to Travis why I needed to sleep with the door locked, with my jeans still on, and why there had to be a lamp beside my bed and that my messy room was a strategic protection mechanism that I realized I had a problem. See, I figured if someone broke into the house obviously my room needed to be locked to hopefully deter them. If they somehow did break in they would struggle getting to me through all the mess. When they reached me and, of course attempted to rape me I would slow them down by still wearing my jeans and while they tried to take my jeans off I could just hit them over the head with the lamp and promptly escape. I was I believe 16 at the time. And yes, I thought I was normal, brilliant even. For years I had pretended to be asleep in my bed when I was absolutely positive there was someone in the house hoping they would leave me alone if I didn't see their face.

When Travis pointed out, with a laugh of course, that I was crazy I was confused. I was crazy? It wasn't normal to be preparing for the world to explode at every moment? The sinking feeling in my stomach all the time wasn't 'normal.' I didn't just dislike the doctors because they sucked, it's because I'm crazy? I don't just have stage fright, it's part of my anxiety too?

Before I never talked about it because I figured that's just how everyone was. Everyone 'reflected' on their day as they laid in bed. Everyone had fears. Etc. Once I realized I had a legitimate problem and it wasn't okay, well that's just when it got even worse. I talked to a few friends, very few friends, about my anxiety. And had a very hard time putting it into words what it was like. I was asked once what it felt like. And they only thing I could think to say was that my stomach felt really funny, my chest was tight, and above all else I felt like I needed to run.

I still don't know exactly how to put my anxiety into words. So rather than try to explain what it feels like, I'm going to explain a few things that have set me off, just this past few days.

A few years back I had my first and only one night stand. Revenge sex actually. Travis had been cheating on me for like two years, I confronted him with the other woman, and when I left he yelled that he didn't care and I would just go home and cry alone all night anyway. So I said fuck. that. I called a friend and said "Hey, come over and have sex with me tonight." I know. What a hoebag. But he came over saying we would just 'hang out.' We were still friends after but eventually because travis and I had gotten back together and I told Travis what had happened I wasn't allowed to talk to him anymore.

We talked a few months back but after hanging out once and it not going so well we haven't talked since. Well he sent me a snapchat the other night. Immediately I'm filled with anxiety. Why is he messaging me? What does he want? Did I do something? Is he only messaging me because we're both single? He's hanging out with someone who was my best friend in highschool, are they talking about me? Did I get fatter since the last time we saw each other? What are they saying about me? What do I say back to him? He said he's drinking, is this my cue to ask if I can join? What if he asks me to join?! I don't want to join but I don't want to be rude. Gosh I just need an excuse to not hangout without seeming rude. What if he thinks I'm rude and never talks to me again?

And then it got even worse when I replied and he didn't reply back. Did I say something stupid? Are they laughing even more about me now. Omg, I called him an alcoholic maybe he hates me now. Omg, what if he knew I was joking and he thinks I came on too strong and thinks I like him now. Oh God, what have I done!

^This is a typical reaction of mine.

I'm talking to the guy I like and he doesn't text back until like three hours later. Now a very large part of my brain figures he is probably at work, The anxiety part of my is again, flipping the fuck out. He hates me. I'm annoying. I shouldn't have texted him, I should have waited for him to text me first. That was such a stupid text too. Omg, he's never going to want to talk again. When I see him at work I'm going to have to hide my face, maybe I should put my head on my desk and pretend to sleep, fuck, I can't sleep at work, I'll get fired. Omg, I'm getting fired. I'm getting fired and I'm going to lose my house! Omg...I'm losing my house and I'm going to have to live with my mom again. Omg, I can't live with my mom again, I already work with her, I need a breakkkkk from my mom.

Did I lock my door before I came up to bed? I locked my door...did I? I know I did...I checked three times...locked the screen door too....but....did I really?

Yesterday was one of the manager's birthday, big five-oh. We order lunch every Friday, and I've been rehearsing since last night how to tell him I was buying his lunch today. I was here for two hours before I finally called and said what I'd rehearsed in my mind for 16 hours, "What do you want and from where, I'm buying your birthday lunch today!"To which he declined anyway because he's making six figures and I'm definitely not. But literally, 16 hours planning to say I wanted to buy him lunch.

Police sirens, ambulance sirens, fire truck sirens, all make me panicked. I have this irrational fear that no matter what the circumstances are they're coming to me. I live on a very busy street and usually get police sirens drive by at least twice a day.

Getting dressed in the morning is a big task for me. It only takes me five minutes to do my make up and everything but deciding what to wear that doesn't look like shit is a huge struggle,

Am I sure I locked the door? Really sure? Absolutely positive. Fuck, I'd better go check...but uh, if someone's in here I don't want them to catch me...I locked the door.............but, I mean....did I?

I gave one of the guys a hug today, as I do everyday, and he was sitting down and he said I "buried his face in my boobs" and I've wanted to crawl under my desk ever since. It's been seven hours, and I'm still freaking out about the comment.

I have to wear shoes or slippers at night now because I have an irrational fear the mouse is going to run out and run over my feet and scratch my feet with his tiny claws and I'm going to get all kinds or horrible mouse diseases and die.

Speaking of diseases, I have skin cancer, a blood clot in my leg, a tumor in my brain, and I'm pretty sure I'm having a stroke right now. (All undiagnosed of course)

Six years ago on one of my first days at work I accidentally muttered 'shit' as I was hanging up the intercom and I still break out in the sweats whenever I think about, and I used an intercom all.the.time at this job so I think about it alot.

Did I lock the door? Did I really lock it.

I usually go to the grocery store with my mom. Today I'm going alone. Everyone is going to look at me and think I'm a loser. I hate going places alone. I hate being in big crowds. When people whisper or laugh I feel like it's always about me.

Literally about to have a conniption about football. Die hard Eagles fan and the game on Sunday was a nail biter. So much so that I took a variety of pictures through out the game demonstrating my many horrified, hysterical, over dramatic, and furious faces. Oh yes, I threw a broom too. And afterwards the stress gave me the biggest headache and a case of the shits (I shit you not) and then I was too wound up to sleep.

One of our salesguys had back surgery a few months ago and I ask on an almost daily basis when he's coming back. I want to make him a cake for when he gets back but I'm terrified that no one will tell me when he's coming back and I won't know until I get to work and boom, too late to make a cake.

Running into people in public. Like I can sit and talk with one of the salesmen here for an hour, but if we run into eachother at the grocery store....internal screaming.

Is the window locked too?

Wyatt's van was 8 minutes late dropping him off from school and I was literally shaking, I was two minutes away from calling the police because it was 8 minutes late. 8 minutes. It was only the second day of school, they're three years olds, probably still not on schedule yet with the van, I knew I was being crazy, but I was still ready to call the police.

Every night, and I do mean every night, I'm convinced someone is in my house. And every night, and I do mean every night, I can't sleep because I can't shut my mind off. The first day Wyatt learned how to open the door I didn't know he'd opened it. I just came into the kitchen and saw the door open. I then proceeded to stalk around my house with the biggest knife I owned trying to sneak up on the intruder before he could sneak up on me.


I overreact to simple things, over analyze other things, obsess over things, if someone says something rude to someone else I spend a large portion of my day feeling embarrassed for that person even if they don't even care. One of the things that helps with my anxiety is small places. Which is odd because cramped places set me off if I'm in them with other people or in them alone, but for some reason they center me when I'm having a really bad anxiety spell. So yes, I can sometimes be caught hiding in the bathtub with the curtain pulled closed, cramped into the kid's closet (as I don't have a closet I have a dresser.