My daughter’s best friend bought this belly casting kit for her. It turned out so cool.
We are going to tie a light pink satin bow around the shoulders to hang it as a decoration in the nursery.
The tears are falling like rain this morning. Typically I throw up because of anxiety or cry when l get up in the mornings. It is as dreamy as it sounds. The worst part is all of this is; it is not for one specific thing, It is tears for every one of the losses.
I am so sick of these mornings. I miss my dad so much. My heart has never known this kind of pain. It is so important to have these mornings despite how awful they feel apparently. My counselor told me, ” healthy people get up cry and go to work or fulfill whatever obligation or duty for the day.” That is much easier said than done. I cry and go to work but the smoothness factor is not there.
Today I don’t want to write at all but I know if I get the toxic hurtful feelings out of me they won’t eat me alive. I feel like someone took a machete to half my heart, handed it back to me and said, ” fix it.” As I hold this part of my broken heart and gaze upon the damage, I think and feel some days it may be impossible.
I miss you daddy! I wish I could tell you how much you meant to me. I seriously might kill to have an opportunity for one more bear hug of yours. Simultaneously I want to punch you in the face for putting us through this.
I need you right now. You are not here. It feels so fucking wrong to think that you are somewhere better while I feel like I travel between hell and earth ( which lately doesn’t feel much different, earth at least offers friends, alcohol, and other things to get your mind off the emotional punching bag and roller-coaster.
I have zero words of wisdom or revelations to reveal. Just pain oozing it’s way out. Thanks for reading through the inner workings of my mind, it exhausts and frustrates me.
It occurred to me recently that due to the emotional flare ups that seem daily, I need more support.
I called survivors of suicide yesterday and got linked into a support group. I am no stranger to support or 12 step groups. I also am going to be working with a new therapist who runs a support group for suicide survivors and seemed to be to be a grief guru when I spoke with her It felt like it was meant to be, she said,” this conversation was serendipitous.” Grief spills everywhere like a broken pipe for me. The losses over the last six months combined are overwhelming, In the last month also includes a decision to end my 17 year marriage. That is whole nother Oprah, and sometimes was as bad as a Jerry springer episode. I am not ready to write about that online yet. The therapist will be able to go through each unfortunate event and hopefully guide me through the peaks and valleys that seem to extreme to climb alone. It feels strange to be called a survivor. I guess not, I consider everyone who is above ground, a survivor.
This is forty. Shit happens. Half your life is over and you look around and go hmm, do I like this or that? I feel I won’t put up with much anymore. People who suck, suck. I can’t change them, I have a choice how much I want to interact with them, If at all. It feels awesome to not let the obsessive, judgemental self condemnation thoughts I used to be consumed with are falling from me like layers of an onion. I refuse to just live in ego, It is miserable to live in rules that you accepted at one point and now don’t.
I was talking to one of my best girlfriends last night that I had met through a 12 step program. We both are determined to keep working through our shit from the past, that seems to still affect our current decision making on levels that disturbs us to the point that we go through more therapy and groups. It is tiring to do the work. So I will return to the circle of support as I know well. My hope is to add to the rich healthy friendships I have gained through these groups.
Someone told me I am like Marla from the fight club with my 12 step groups and nicotine addiction. Whatever makes you move on.
Let the truth be told!
Interesting, but I don’t agree! This is a pretty black and white perspective. The world I am finding I would like to live in and not visit only occasionally, is the grey perspective. People tell me how strong I am daily and have been told that most of my life. I have survived a lot of things in my life, usual and unusual. I am pretty much an open book about my life. I don’t share because I feel strong but the opposite I feel weak. In my experience being honest about what is really going on in your life is refreshing to most folks.
The goal of writing isn’t strength it is healing. It is an outlet so I won’t self destruct in some unhealthy way, which I have traveled that road too. Statistically people who write through trauma are able to process and
move on heal in half the time. I am super interested in leaving the depths of emotional hell as soon as possible. I have found healing to be like a slow cooker or crock pot meal instead of a microwave dinner. The more spices, time and low heat in a slow cooker produces a hearty, healthy meal, as a matter of fact it is the healthiest way to cook meat. No carcinogens. Time is your best friend!
Some people are private and they don’t want people to judge them or know their shit. I really don’t enjoy judging people who are grieving or enjoy being judged during the process myself. When you write to the Internet it is not a platform of privacy. I have been fortunate to not have people be rude or thoughtless on WordPress! Every person has a choice to get through this crazy life however they want. Talking or silence, supported or living in isolation. It is your choice, I am not going to judge you.
The truth I have come to know; whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.The end! And I am a hairdresser,
EVERYONE most people tells their hairdresser the truth about drama.
We are suffering worldwide!
I have officially been blogging a year, five months on a small blogging site and moved to WordPress in December. Due to the content of my blog and truly having a motivation of healing through writing, being on a small blog site felt like I was being punched in the face for this motivation and style of writing. I think they called it, “Whining”. Freedom of speech, yay. Anyways I left that blogging site just like I am leaving any relationship I feel triggers shame, disrespect, or anything that looks remotely abusive.
WordPress actually acknowledges mental health blogs for healing and promotes people to tag their writing’s, so that others that are doing the same thing can connect with each other’s writings. Pretty rad!
I can tell you blogging has not made me give a shit at all about what people think of me. Truly, I can walk around with my head held high through trials and defeats. I am just a human anyways. That is the expectation; get through the day, be present, love the stupid shit, laugh, cry, hug, whatever gets you through the fucking day, wins!