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.

 

 

 

15 Years Old

15 years old. A heart so pure and true. You believed him when he said “I love you. 15 years old. Love is new. You believed it yourself when you said “I love you too”

15 years old not a little girl or a women. Caught somewhere in between for a moment. 

15 years old; not quite old enough to know better, definitely to young to care. Oh how this world will devour you like bears. 

15 years old your broken hearts hurts oh so bad. Nothing your mother can do to not make you sad. 

30 years old, someday you’ll ask me; momma? What was I thinking? I’ll wrap my arms around you so tight and so firm. I’ll reply I’m not quite sure my angel, but it’s been quite the fight that’s for sure. 

~B

5 Simple Syllables

Positivity. 5 syllables. Easy. Positivity. Negativety. Also 5 syllables and also easy. Which one is easier? Glass half empty or glass half full? My ENTIRE life I’ve been a “worst case scenario” person. Glass half empty. I’m not sure there is anything to blame. I mean I’m a psych major so one could say my line of thinking is contributed to my childhood environment. Another theory could be natural personality. 

I WANT to he a positive person. To always look at the brighter side of life. My dream is to become a motivational speaker and author. 

I started taking medication for bipolar II and BPD. While these medications have helped save my sanity, I no longer have a passion for creativity. It’s kind of like I’m  on autopilot all the time. Compared to what I used to be like? It’s very boring; I’m not going to lie. I miss the bright ideas I used to have. Coming up with incredible ideas for my book and topics to speak on for public seminars. I believed in myself. While this medication has greatly improved my relationships and calmed me down I can’t help but feel like a part of my soul has been stolen. 

Dear Clients; 

Dear clients, and friends, and extended family members. My husband and I got into a conversation this morning that made me think. 

We are essentially like a family. An extended family essentially. Cousins, aunts, sisters, nieces, best friends….etc. In some way, shape, or form EVERYONE who has walked in my door has impacted my life in some way. Some impacts have created life-long friendships. Some impacts have hit me causing me to fall to my knees in despair. 

I LOVE deeply with no judgement. We live in a world where it’s essentially weird to love “thy neighbor” and I simply can’t help it. I won’t say I like everyone who’s walked in my door but there’s generally a mutualism in this. When this happens one of two things happen. It becomes an interesting relationship of time, or that person walks out and I never see her again (generally). God (or whatever higher power you believe in) has this funny way of working on relationships between people if given the opportunity. I LOVE my opportunities! Everyday is a day that I get to fall more in love with the uniqueness of each person who sits across from me. In the 7 years I’ve been in this business it’s only been about the last 2 years that I’ve literally LOVED my job. I quit focusing on the fact that “doing nails” isn’t my dream job.
 

God knew what he was doing. God knew I needed a career based on relationships with women that changed lives. Mine and theirs. It’s why I wanted to be a women’s therapist. I get to DO THIS EVERYDAY! It the COOLEST job ever! I get to sit and be relational everyday. I’ve been given the opportunity by God to make amazing friends and extended family. I say “by God” because I BEGGED him to put me in a job where I would work with women everyday. It wasn’t the job I had lined out for me but it was the job He lined out for me. 

A little fact about me…..I HATED this job for YEARS. I went to school and I have my BS in psychology. I was working on getting into a program for my Masters and PhD. I was going to be a psychologist for women. It was my DREAM job. It was THE JOB I knew I was supposed to do. But God had a different job title for me. I wanted the fancy title Dr. Bridget Wehde PhD. But I have something BETTER. I have a title I’ve EARNED. Bridget Wehde- Nail tech, friend, sister, aunt, cousin, whatever it becomes (because it ALWAYS becomes something). And this is where I should apologize. 

Why am I apologizing? Because as the weeks, months, and years go by, one of us will do something that’ll hurt a little. Not even on purpose. I have so many examples I wouldn’t even know where to start. The problem with hurt is that no one wants to confront it. People WILL confront it over TEXT. I don’t advocate this in the slightest. If possible always a phone call or wait till we can be in front of each other to address it. If I hurt your feelings I will OWN it. I will put it on as armor and then apologize with the hopes that we can win the battle together. After that, I can take off my armor and we can move on in our relationship. In some instances it’s like a marriage. Love, confront, work through it, move on. My relationship with you is really no different. 

Some of you KNOW me better than my own biological extended family. Why? Because if I’ve told you something personal about me it means two things:

1. I trust you with that information 
2. I look at you and see more than $35 in my chair. I see my FRIEND. Someone Ive developed an equal trust. 

Some relationships are just starting while others have been in the works for YEARS. 

To the amazing women in my life; THANK YOU. Thank you for the incredible friendships! To the women I’ve yet to meet; I look forward to meeting you. I’m perfectly imperfect. I have lots of flaws. I’ve made lots of mistakes. I look forward to the years ahead we have together.

embracing the journey one person at a time

Exposing my Vulnerabilities 

Good evening; as the founder and creator of the group, Confession of Wonderful Women on Facebook, I’ve only disclosed is that I struggle with “mental clarity”. That doesn’t tell you much. I will now make myself extremely vulnerable like you many of you have. This is incredibly difficult for me. As its probably was for many of you. It’s also scary. I put off a somewhat Perfect perception I’ve been told. This is far from the truth. 

I was molested at age 11. It didn’t go on for very long but enough to leave permanent scars. I started becoming promiscuous in my latter teen years. I had 2 unplanned pregnancies at age 21 and 23. Best thing possible as it settle me down but only a little. I had ZERO interest in being a mom. A host of problems followed. 

I had an affair with a married man his name was Craig. He left his wife, I left the kids dad. We were together 6 years, married for two. He committed suicide  Aug of 2007. Worst day of my life thus far. 

My husband now, Gary and I, actually dated when Craig decided to go make it work with his then wife. As soon as he decided he missed me to much and left again I was gone. He was my addiction. Literally. I miss the fun times. I do not miss the alcoholic, mental abuse. I developed an eating disorder because I was never good enough. 

I reconnected with Gary when I was separated from Craig. I had no intention of getting divorced as I was so in love I believed he’d get better. He didn’t.

I remarried 10 months after he passed away. I think it was God’s way of keeping me from self destruction. I have sabotaged this marriage in every way. Convinced Gary would leave me just like Craig did. Maybe not in the same way; but convinced he would. In my hindsight I can’t understand why he’s stayed. I’ve been down right nasty, venomous with my tongue. Lashing out at him and taking out on him all the hurt Craig left behind. It hasn’t been easy for him to stay; but he continues to say that he sees my potential. It baffles me. 

In 2008 I was dismissed with bipolar II, borderline personality disorder, depression, PTSD, and onset of bipolar depression. I told Gary we could call off the wedding; it was 6 weeks away but he refused. I’m not sure why. I denied the acceptance of these diagnoses and used marijuana to ease my troubled mind. It worked, but I quit using it for its purpose and started using it recreationally. I found that’s while it calmed my angry storms I no longer used it to calm me. I WANTED to sit in my anger. I didn’t want to be snapped out of it. I was JUSTIFIED in how I felt. Because of this I started lashing out not only at Gary but now my kids. That had NEVER happened before. My kids had become my entire world after Craig died. 

I decided to get real help. I quit using marijuana Jan 28th, 2015. I switched psychiatrists; she that took an entire hour to listen to me. She validated me and empathized with me. I NEEDED this to want to get better. I developed a trust in her that I didn’t have with my previous psychiatrist. She put me on medication. We’ve had to tweak it. I’ve still had meltdowns BUT they’re less frequent. My venomous tongue is controlled 99% of the time. I’m still edgy at times. However instead of taking it out on people I engulf myself into my clients (I’m a nail tech). My clients keep me sane. I don’t know where I’d be without them. Many say they don’t know what they’d do without me. That’s so weird for me to hear. I don’t fell worthy of that statement. 

This is a fraction of me. It’s why I started this group. I wanted a place to be me. To share this journey with others who struggle. Thank you for being here; not just for me but for each other. You ladies are incredible. Each of you bring something wonderful and unique to this group. 

Much love and blessings on you all,
Love, 
~B

Feeling helpless 

Heres the deal….tonight I feel helpless. After already telling my husband I was HANGRY literally the moment I walked in the door…..he proceeds to tell me about a conversation that I had with him yesterday that made him feel bad. It was not my intention to make him feel bad, it wasn’t my intention to make him miss his mom more. If anything I would’ve thought he would’ve gotten out of the conversation that I indeed understand that the woman in most families are generally the “rock” do to speak. He said I was repeating things he already knew. I, on the other hand was merely describing how overwhelmed I feel by all the hats that I am required to wear to keep this family together. To top it off not only do I have to keep the family together and actually TRY, like PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY TRY. I have depression, I have BPD, and I get the pleasure of dealing with its sister with bipolar II. And that in and of itself is not a pity party it is fact. I take two doses of medication that are supposed to help and tonight they do not feel like they’re helping at all. I seriously feel like I could pull my hair out. And truly I haven’t even had that bad of a day, it’s just that when you deal with mental illness everything is heightened by a million. I have gotten him article after article to read about this.

He should know by now that when I say I’m PMSing that is never a good time to bring up something that’s upset him. 

I have no idea how this is escalated out-of-control, but I do know for certain his feelings are not my fault. I’m so sick of everything turning into a damn pity party. 

It’s extremely clear that I don’t feel good, mentally, I was extremely hungry, I had this stupid thing I have to watch online for my kids for the school, I’m stressed out about 1 million different things but all he can think about is himself. 

OVER IT……

Meet Florence….

  
Meet Florence….She has a slight partying problem. Everyday I come out to see this….I stand her back up; but every night she keeps falling over. I’ve decided that the problem is real. She’s got a drinking problem. I’ve threatened to put her in Roosters anonymous, because I LOVE Florence! A tin rooster intervention! Why does she keep falling over!? Doesn’t she love me too!!??? Ugh. The failing relationship between a human and her rooster…..