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One Word 365

This year’s word:

SELF-CARE

Hey! I’m back. For now. I’d like to commit to blogging again. Mental health has always been my passion to write about. I skip around a lot in this blog. I’m not sorry. I used to be but mot anymore. At least I’m writing again.

I was challenged by a blogger friend I know, to write about one word every day this year. I chose self-care. I’m not sure I can commit to every day. I’m going to try my best to do as much as I can. Try to stay off social media a little bit more. Try to tame the anxiety that runs through me on a daily basis.

Whooo, what a year 2019 was! I know many who would agree! It was it was a time for massive growth and personal reflection.

So, many changes have gone on for me this year. My dearest friend Becky- passed away from a stroke. 2 1/2 weeks later my grandmother passed away. These were deeply devastating events. I miss

both of them so much.

Becky went to soon. THAT was and is devastating.

Grammy was ready. I just miss her wisdom and contagious laugh. I still have voicemails and memos that I can listen to. And that means the world to me.

This year I decided to quit drinking and start therapy after I tried to commit suicide on May 15, 2019. I was in a very dark place. Not taking my medication, and not realizing it because the alcohol was masking it. Or so I thought. You would’ve thought me falling down our wooden staircase drunk, breaking my tailbone, might’ve been the final rock bottom. I guess not.

It is what it is. I’m glad I found my bottom. I’ve never valued my life more. Has it tested my strength? Absolutely. I’ve had a sip here and there. Some people consider I broke my sobriety, but what I learned is that it’s to each their own whether or not we decide that we have broken it.

Well, last night on New Year’s Eve, I broke it. And I’m not sorry. I am the curious cat. I had a drink of wine the other night dinner and about puked. Last night I wanted to try a hard cider. I drank a SMALL glass, and I feel like shit today. I had zero desire to finish it. I suppose that counts because I had a glass. I’m not gonna count months anymore. I’m just going to count my blessings. I have a massively amazing support system. I have many people who tell me that they are proud of me on a regular basis. If I didn’t have this I much support I could’ve relapsed a long time ago. But I didn’t. I’m PROUD OF ME. Even if curiosity got the best of me. I found that after 7 1/2 months of being sober that alcohol is GROSS. I’m happy to report that I have zero desire to drink. I’m lethargic today and just not feeling great. Is it from the alcohol? Who knows, but I’m not willing to do that again. It wasn’t worth it and didn’t even taste that great. I guess I just wanted to see if I could do it. And I did, without overdoing it, but I have no desire to do it again anytime soon. If ever.

This year, I am going to be very careful about the hours that I work, take regular me time, and not allow other people dictate how I should feel about any situation. The people who are in my life right now are who I need. The people who are not in my life, for whatever reason, will always be in my heart. And I believe that we’ll reconnect someday.

For now, I’m going to continue to live my life day by day, minute by minute, second by second. I’ll do what feels right, live my life to the best of my ability. I’m enjoying a quiet life now that my children are adults and have left the nest.

If you happen to know me, I went through a phase this year of getting a miniature pig for 14 hours, that story can come another time. I got a conure who ended up being the devil. So he went back. However, I did end up with the sweetest cockatiel. His name is Oliver and I am obsessed. He is the only lil chicken I’ll ever need. He should live well into his 20s. He’s literally my best friend. We take a ton of silly videos and pictures. He keeps me entertained for hours.

Oliver is part of my self-care. He relaxes me. I love watching him play and all of his different facial expressions and all of his new discoveries. It’s like watching a baby develop. I’ve had him since he was 11 weeks old.

Anyway, I think that’s all for now. I feels good to be back in writing. I hope I can keep it up. I hope that whoever reads this as a beautiful new year. Very prosperous and Gentle to all of us. I know many many people who had a tough 2019. Like 2020 be a little more gentle on us.

Much love to all of you,

B~

Transparency 

Here’s something (if you don’t know me). I used to be a religious, nasty, judgment bitch. I left the church, I haven’t been back to another in 6 years because it was emotionally traumatic. (If you think I’m kidding, I’m not). While I didn’t pray I still always knew I loved Jesus. 

Recently I’ve had a bit of a change of heart. I want to go to church because I KNOW WHO I AM! I am a woman of the Lord! One who loves others for their flaws, their brokenness, their beauty, their mistakes! 

I am a woman who loves other women as unconditionally as I possibly can. I don’t care what race you are, what your sexuality is, where your from, or what your struggles are. I don’t care if you believe in Jesus or you don’t. 

I’m not here to shove religion down anyone’s throat. I hate the words religious or Christian. Why? Because they are associated with bigots and people who portray to live a perfect life on Sundays then treats other like trash every other day if the week! 

We shouldn’t do this no matter WHAT WE BELIEVE. 

It is an HONOR to love on other women. Share our stories etc. It’s an honor to love women and humans from a nonjudgmental stance. It’s refreshing. 

I don’t like the person I was 6 years ago. But I’ve learned from it. I have that experience to grown from! 

Seriously ladies, I used to be a judgmental bitch. I was even a narcissistic asshole. Yep! Me! (Soooooo not proud of this). 

Everyone has the ability to change who they are, become better humans, learn to love through differences even if it means learning to agree to disagree. My son is gay. I’ve had to agree to disagree with A LOT of people I love. 

The world is FULL OF LOVE. It’s hard to see this amongst the struggles we face in life. 

Food for Thought- Taco Bell

So I’m in Taco Bell. I’ve decided this’ll be my Sunday splurge. That and an ice tea from Dutch bros. Taco Bell is SLOOOOOOW in getting out the food today. People are pissed. Throwing looks everywhere and mumbling. There was a time I’d be one of these patrons. But what’s the point? The guy behind the counter is making all the orders by himself.  He looks miserable. Prob making minimum wage. He has like 6 people staring at him angrily. Personally, this would not motivate me to work harder. I’d be stressed out if I was this guy. People…. ITS TACO BELL. Chill out. I’m hungry too but instead of focusing on how loooooooong the wait is, I’m wring this blog instead. I get that fast food is supposed to be fast. But in all reality it’s still faster than going to a sit down restaurant. Calm down. If the worst thing we’re waiting on is fast food, your in good health, your not preparing to bury a loved one, then it’s a GOOD DAY! Let’s take a day to be thankful! Great job to the msn making my burrito and is prob hot and miserable working at Taco Bell. 
~B

Truth Prevails…

I have diagnosed myself with Obsessive Compulsive Eating Disorder. I’m going to guess that’s when you obsess about all the food that goes into your mouth. I haven’t exactly researched this and I don’t know if this is a true disorder but from what I can gather in my head I totally have this. So here’s what I’m going to do. I took off my fit bit, cancelled my weight watchers subscription, I’m not going to use myfitnesspal or any other calorie tracking device for a while. You know why? Because it’s NOT WORKING!!!! It’s not from lack of trying that’s for sure. Here’s what I do think; I think that at 39 years old I need to learn to love myself against all odds. Meaning? I need to love myself despite my weight, despite my current mental oddities. We all struggle with SOMETHING. I struggle with thinking that my worth depends on my waist size.

Today, I had sex with the lights ON! You know what? It didn’t occur to me what might be jiggling! I’m deciding at 39 to take my life back. My entire adult life has been consumed with the number on the scale. The number on my scale determined my self-worth for the week. How horrible is that? That a NUMBER on a SCALE could determine how I loved myself or not? I SAY NO MORE! I am no longer going to be a slave to the scale. I am going to do my best to eat healthy and live healthy but I am going to try hard to not allow it to consume me. I have to say NO to the obsession. I am good enough, I am smart enough, I am likable, I am genuine, I am reliable, I am fun. All of the things that make up who I am far outweigh the person who I have been convinced that I’m not. My husband still wants to have sex with me and thinks I’m beautiful. I didn’t have this type of marriage in the past. My first husband told me that if meth wasn’t addicting or could kill me, he would suggest it for weight loss. Who the fuck says that? Someone who wants to love an image not a person. Someone who is shallow. While I sometimes miss Craig I have to remind myself how incredibly shallow he really was at the end of the day.

I’m going shopping this week for clothes that I need, I am going to go with an open mind that I can find cute clothes that make me feel confident about myself. I am going to be ok. I will be ok at a size 14 and I will look in the mirror every morning knowing that I am the human God made. If God wanted my weight to be easy  he would’ve made it easy. Positive self-image is not easy. We are our own worst critics. God loves me, my husband loves me, my children, family and friends love me. What else can I really ask for?

Go Love Yourself

This morning one of my friends told me I inspired her. I think those were the words she used. My jaw about dropped to the floor since I don’t look ay myself as inspiring in any way. However, as I sit here and write this, I think “why can’t I be inspiring?” I have confessed my mental illness, I most definitely have an eating disorder from years of being told I needed to lose weight. My weight has been in the forefront of my mind for pretty much the last 15 years. I want to be healthy, but it’s certainly not healthy to obsess either. INSTEAD, I am going to work on loving myself right now and taking off the conditions I have put on myself. Like “I’ll love myself more when I lose 10 pounds.” As I write this I realize how RIDICULOUS that even sounds. We want other people to love us unconditionally, but many of us, including myself, aren’t willing to love ourselves unconditionally.

Today is a pretty good day for me mentally. I have woken up all week with 10+ hours of sleep and feeling guilty for not going to the gym. You know what? FUCK IT…..I’m OK!!! The gym does not validate me. GOD validates me. If you don’t believe in God then find something higher than yourself, but also including yourself, and put your value in that. It’s 11:55am and I’m still in my bathrobe, drinking my coffee. I need to go put dinner in the crock pot and get ready to start my day. I work in 30 minutes and I could be telling myself what a loser I am for having done nothing of real importance yet this morning but you know what? Someone told me I inspire them, and that inspired me to write this blog. If it wasn’t for my friend Dawn’s small amount of validation this morning I never would have taken a few minutes to sit down and write this blog. I LOVE to blog. It’s my favorite hobby. I get to sit here and put my thoughts out into the world and hope that someone reads them. Maybe my words will resognate with soemone else. I also get to sit here and watch my cat be a spaz.

Go out and be a FUCKING dragon or a unicorn! Just don’t be an asshole. No one likes an asshole. Don’t be intimidated to love yourself. I’m still working on it.

Love,

~B

Self-Love

Right now, I could be eating potato chips, and getting ready to stuff chocolate chip cookies into my mouth. I have seen 125 pounds and I have seen 198 pounds. My problem TODAY is not allowing my self-worth weigh (ironically) on my weight. My first husband once said to me “I would encourage you to use meth (to lose weight) if it wasn’t so addicting and could kill you. Mind you this is before I really knew what meth was. Awesome huh? I married that guy. The same guy who would fix me an incredible dinner and then encourage me to go throw it up or take a laxative. F-A-T is the one word I don’t tolerate from anyone else in my life but it’s what  I tell myself everyday. Everyday I compare myself to someone else. If only I could have smaller boobs, hips, thighs etc. I’m trying to remember that right now life is what it is. I am who I am, and I should be proud of myself, and focus on the positive. I have an incredible business that I have worked very hard at. I have a husband who loves me and would do anything for me. I have two beautiful, healthy children who do well in school and have a drive to do well in life. THESE are the things I need to be focusing on, NOT what size my pants are. Do I want to be healthy? Of course I do, I’m just at a pit stop in my life where I’m supposed to learn something. I think this pit stop could be titled “Self-Love.” I have never been great at self-love or self-care because I never really knew it existed. About nine years ago I was diagnosed with bi-polar II, mild depression, and borderline personality disorder (BPD). Self love was never in my vocabulary. I loved myself a lot over the years through a unhealthy relationship with food. I typically eat out of boredom. I typically graze all day so I’m never really “full.” I think my obsession to be able wear clothes off the rack in small sizes has me a bit on the OCD side at the moment. I/m being vulnerable here so please bear with me. I was forced to go shopping last week for some capri’s and some shorts as I had a trip coming up and yoga pants were not going to make the cut. With all the bravery I could muster up I went to the clearance racks and looked for some clothes. I was very fortunate that I found a couple of pairs of capris and a couple of cute shirts. I looked in the mirror and didn’t completely HATE the person looking back at me. My self-worth must stop feeding solely of my weight. The way I view myself has ruined trips, events, etc. I tell myself “I bet she’ll just look at me like ‘how can she be so big?” But in reality I know that person is struggling with their own issues. Quite honestly, it would surprise me if anyone thought anything about me at all like the way I do. I’m no one special (in the sense that I should feel like people are talking about me). I’m tired of being hung up on myself. Am I pretty enough, thin enough, funny enough, do people like me?

 

I recently decided to wean off my anti-depressant. SCARY. Last week was a great week but this week is a little iffy. I’m noticing patterns in myself that occur in people with bi-polar and BPD. I will sleep for 4 hours and then BING, I’m wide awake. The next week I will sleep my life away from being so unstable the week prior. This is an exhausting pattern.

I think what I am supposed to learn in my journey is self-love. To love myself no matter how many clients I have in a week, what my pant size says, just to love myself for me. I will tell you a hard cold fact. Self-love is hard no matter who you are. For me, adding in all the mental components are a real humdinger.  So here I am, today, fighting the urge to go grab the left-over chocolate chip cookies we took camping and practice self-love. Fuck it~ I’m getting a cookie.

Love,

 

~B

Week 1 Unappologetically Me

46 weeks until I’m 40. I’m going to do this right. Well I’m going to try anyway, I won’t be perfect, I’ll decide at some point no one cares that I have 47 weeks and counting until I’m 40 but then I’ll remind myself that at the end of the day I am publishing this book for me. Noone else but me. I’m still convincing myself of this because what’s a book if no one reads it or buys it. FEAR, has driven me my entire life. If I don’t start now I never will. This is my dream. To write a book. Funny, heartwarming and totally stupid at times I’m sure.

Once upon a time in a place called Medford, Oregon lived this bat-shit, crazy nail tech/wife/mom/friend/daughter/sister….well you get the point. I think everyone thinks ,y niche is being a nail tech. Like thats how I’m creative and passionate. That’s a giant lie, I have never even pretended that was true. Anyone who has ever listened to me talk about how I got into nails in the first place already knows this story. Which of that happens to be you then you can probably skip to a more relavant chapter, OR you can relive again.

We all have a past. I can tell you where I was born and raised and blah, blah, blah, but none of that is really interesting. I actually don’t know where to start, well actually I do, but its an awkward place to start. Honestly everything before it was just your typical twisted, I cam frim a broken home, kinda family stuff. Typical. I guess. I’m going to bounce around a lot, but I know I’m a good writer so you should be able to follow along. Especially if your ADD them this book will be TOTALLY up your ally.

About eight years ago I was diagnosed with bipolar II, borderline personality disorder, PTSD, and depression. A FUN cocktail of mental disorders! Can I get an AMEN!? It’s been a struggle. I was in denial for the first five years. It wasn’t until it started to affect my kids and my work life that I decided I needed to get help. I left my first psychiatrist, mainly because he was retiring and a total asshole, and found my new psychiatrist who’s kinda hippy-ish but so incredibly awesome. She spent a solid hour with me going over my history. My first psychiatrist barely gave me the time of day; he just threw me whatever prescription of the month he thought would help me. Because I din’t trust him I rarely took my medications a prescibed. I litterly loathed the man who said I had these disorder but acted like he could give a rats ass about how I was doing. So after awhile,  I would go in for my monthly visits and tell him things were perfectly fine. I was done feeling uncared about nut it never occured to me to find another psychiatrist until I was forced to when he retired. What an incredible GOD SEND! My new doctor has fed me a cocktail of medications trying to figure out what will work for me. The problem is that they work for about three to six months and then they just seem to stop working. In saying this, she is constanly listening to me and genuinly cares about my well being.

Lets start when I was 12. I was molested and my life changed forever. Why? Because when something like that happens to a child it just flips a switch and everything is forever changed. This is relevant because I feel like I have linked this experience to my inability to trust men, hell even women. Now, if you know me, then you think I am WONDERFUL at making connections which is true. What is also true is that I have a hard time finding and keeping deep rooted connections. I KNOW a lot of women, and I love many of them dearly, and if their lucky (or unlucky) they might find their name in this book along the way. All of the women I have encountered in the last seven years have changed my life for the better, Seven years ago I became a nail tech. I was in school to be a psychologist as well, but I needed to make money while I was in school. I was “let go” from my job as an insurance agent. I did that job for six years. An answer to prayer in many ways and without that leas I would not be sitting here today writing this memoir. Now where do I go? OK, I’ll skip through some mumbo jumbo. I was 21 and new to Medford when I got pregnant with my son (more on that in his chapter). I was 23 when I got prego with my daughter and swore my world was ending. Youknow how I found out I was pregnant with Victoria? I was going in for a breast reduction and did a quick pregnancy test two days before I went in and BOOM! No breast reduction for me. I had VERY large breasts. I think they’re smaller now, honestly I can’t remember. But I DO remember being very pissed that I was no longer going to be able to get smaller breasts AND I was going to have another baby when at 23 I was practically a baby myself. Serioulsy, I know more than my fair share of, young, scared,  inteligent, underpridledged single mommies. Almost ALL of them are more mature at this whole baby thing than I ever was. The moment I realized my mom and their dad didn’t care if I left the babies at home while I hauled my ass down to Ground Zero Dance club (remember that place Medfordians???). Fun times right there. Now I know I should look back and feel a little guilty for going out while my kids were at home sleeping but thats exactly what they were doing….SLEEPING. What was I supposed to do? Watch them sleep? Boooooring. So I went with my friends to Ground Zero and danced aways most of the weekends all while never buying a drink for myself. Now I’m over here at almost 40 watching girls who were my age being WAY more responsibnle and taking their kids to the park, hanging out at home. Now mind you, I didn’t have, facebook, instagram, twitter, or snapchat to pass away the time at that age. I had the internet, AOL, chatrooms, and online games like cribbage. So this alone tells you how old I am! I had to go OUT to socialize. There was no TindR, plenty of fish, match.com etc to “hook up” or even try to find a date. BACK THEN we had to LEAVE THE HOUSE to meet people. I don’t even know how we did it. Anyway it was just a matter of time before Match.com came alonf and I met my now husband. But he’s irrelevant until much later. Well kind of. He was relevant when we hooked up in 2004, but then nothing more happned until 2007. More on that later.

In the last 39 almost for years I have had several life altering events happen. All in which I will get to eventually. So, if you’ve read this far and feel so inclined to stay, I would love to share the rest of the journey with you. Because that’s what life is. Life is a jouney.