- 600 followers
- 300+ views per week
- 525 post
- @ least 3 post daily
- Blog posts added
- Personal interest
- Funny/true things
- Workout journey
Here we go…….
The last time I got really serious about weight loss I took weight loss pills like they were candy, it made me extremely manic and a lot of bad decisions. I got hooked on those and laxatives, it was just horrible and in the unhealthy decisions of mine I lost over 45 pounds in a little under 3 months that isn’t necessarily healthy especially the way I chose to do it. I am giving it a try again except this time without the use of laxatives and diet pills. I’ve made my list of exercises to go by a good time to do them and working on my cardio. I have pictures I took this morning but I am not comfortable sharing those yet. My Snapchat filters can hide a lot and also that you will never see a picture of me below my neck. When I lose some weight and notice a change I will definitely post a picture. So today is day 1 and I am not super excited but I have to change my habits for my health.
I will try to update daily in my gratitude post about my weight loss. I am using those as a daily journal though some of it is limited. I am keeping track of my moods too.
The first time I dealt with death is when my Granddaddy died when I was 6. We found out about his death on the way home from a family vacation from up north. My mom got in the back seat and told my sister and I so we were prepared when we got home. I never got to say good-bye the reason he died was because of a doctor error so it was unexpected (as most deaths are.) I didn’t cry and I wouldn’t look at pictures of him for at least a year. I never went to his funeral and I don’t regret it. My parents got a book about death to help me understand but I didn’t so they got me a dog and his name was Buddy. I loved Buddy so much but then they told me he ran away. (When I got older I found out he was hit by a car and died. My dad buried him on a dirt road somewhere.) I would come home from school and ask about him everyday and nothing. When I cried about from what I was told they think that is when I finally cried for my granddads death. (We don’t tell our daughter that animals ran away we just say they died.) I love you Grandaddy.
Who knew what would happen 2 years later. It was February of 1993 and we are all sleeping when my mom gets a call/knock at the door (I can’t remember which) letting her know my dad was in an accident at work and was at the hospital. He was there all through March. I know my mom tried her best to take care of us and stay with daddy and it wasn’t easy for her. Athens is 45 minutes to an hour away and she was constantly going back and forth. My granny and my grandma helped take care of us while my mom was in Athens with my daddy. I never understood how she did that or why she didn’t just stay home with us until my grandma got sick. On March 25, 1993 my daddy was supposed to come home from the hospital. My mom had one of my friends parents pick us up and they were watching White Men Can’t Jump (I can’t watch that movie to this day.) and she came to drop us off at home. I remember how excited I was when I got out of the car. I ran up the ramp they made on the porch for daddy until he could walk good again and the bed was empty. The hospital bed was empty and even though I knew already my mom told us. He died in surgery due to an air pocket/blood clot I don’t remember which one now. My mom sued the hospital and the doctors which I never understood because no matter what happened it would still never bring him back. I remember when everyone came over to our house bringing food and giving condolences and love to our family. I didn’t go to his funeral either. I thought by not going to their funerals it wouldn’t make it real. I went to a birthday party instead. I love you daddy.
When I was 12 or 13 my nana (my mom’s grandmother) died. She was an alcoholic and not really involved in our lives very much until she moved in next door. We would go over to her house but it was always stuffy and hot, she never really spent much time with us. I don’t have much to say about her because I don’t remember much. When she did die I remember someone telling me they were sorry for her death and I said, “Why you didn’t kill her?” And ” I didn’t know her well anyway.” To think at 12/13 years old I was already so jaded by death that I completely made myself numb. There is a funny kind of morbid joke about my Nana’s death. My grandma brought her back to Canada to spread her ashes and when she got to the border they asked if there was anything she would like to declare and she said, “My mother is in the trunk.” It still makes me laugh.
When I was 15 (yes this keeps going.) my Nanny died. ( my dads grandmother.) I am just numb to everything at this point, it is almost to the point where I don’t even care I was happy to see family we hadn’t seen in awhile. My Nanny was a sweet lady one thing you could always guarantee on a hot July day in Georgia the weather outside was cooler than the weather inside her house. She had cancer on her nose, tongue and somewhere else. I always liked visiting my Nanny she was feisty before she broke her ankle. She drove herself everywhere in her big purple car even in her 70’s. She was always going but then she broke her ankle at church and her age caught up with her. She had the coolest garage and back yard. I loved playing out there with my cousins. I still miss her sometimes. I try to find pictures to show my daughter of her. My sister was closer to her than any of the other great grandchildren.
When I was 17 my granny died (Dad’s mother) She too was an alcoholic, but I don’t resent her for it anymore. I understand now how easy addiction is and how you would rather numb the thing that is hurting you instead of dealing with it. When she was really sick in the hospital I was at summer camp and I remember calling home and no one answering and then calling my moms work and being told she wasn’t there and I knew something was wrong. We came back from summer camp early and I got to see her one time again before she died. Her funeral was the first one I ever went to. I saw her in the casket and then remember why I didn’t want to go to funerals. I was never completely sad about her death because she did drink herself to it. Whenever I hear the song “Whiskey Lullaby” I think of her. She was a good person other than her drinking and I know that more so as an adult. It is sad how it takes all of that to realize the truth about people in your family. I knew that for her I was hard to look at because I look liked my daddy (and acted like him sometimes). I always said I was the forgotten grandchild. (This is when we cringe.) My sister was the oldest grandchild, my cousin who is 3 mere months younger than me was the first grandson and my youngest cousin was the baby and I was just in the middle somewhere. My husband came to her funeral wearing a suit he borrowed from his uncle. I remember my sister had these amazing things to say about her and while they were true that wasn’t how I remembered her, she was an alcoholic who was embarrassing to go out with in public, always had a screwdriver in a Gatorade bottle, almost completely burned cigarettes because she was drunk, falling in the fire, a nuisance and then a bit of hatred because I never understood why we weren’t enough to keep her from drinking. I wonder if she knew how much I disliked her at the time how ashamed of her I was. I feel horrible about it now. I know she can hear me when I tell her I am sorry for resenting her so much and I knew why she drank so much and I wish I understood more when you were alive to help you. I love you Granny.
Now lets fast forward to 2017 and I am 33 years old. We got a bit of a break in the middle of death when my grandma was sick. She’d been sick for awhile but she was a tough woman and survived a stroke, heart bypass, drs that sucked she was a fighter, but I remember when my mom called me crying saying they had to intubate her and I called my sister and rushed up to the hospital. This is when I learned how hard it was for my mom when my dad was sick. I called out of work just went on leave and stayed with mama the most I could. I took my meds late came home randomly to shower and see my daughter and my husband but mostly I stayed at the hospital with my mom. I wanted her to go home and do things she needed to do knowing someone was sitting with her. My aunt and uncle from New Hampshire came down and while that was a complete cluster fuck they sent grandma home. I stayed with her and mama to help as much as I could. It wasn’t just because she was my grandmother it was also to help my mom deal with this. She’d taken care of my grandma for many many years by herself. I was there when she took her last breath and then helped my mom and aunt clean her up with the nurse before the funeral home got there. I saw way more than I needed to and that fucked my brain up. I tried to help do everything I could so it was all on one person. I even had a Priest come out and do her last rights before she died. They weren’t practicing Catholics but I felt this would ease everything and I do believe in God so I felt it put everyone at ease. We had her service at the local community center and once the dust settled I couldn’t go back in her house. I just couldn’t and I think it is hard to this day for people to understand. I watched her die in her living room and helped take care of her after she was dead in the room. It really fucked my head up and now 2 years later it still fucks with my head. My daughter has pictures and things of hers that I hide because I can’t deal with it. My daughter knows where to find them and not to show them to me. We still talk to my aunt and uncle in New Hampshire and I am glad my daughter had a chance to meet them, but the whole ordeal is something that is still processing and until I am ready I really don’t want to talk about it too much.
This is the conclusion my brain doesn’t process death well. I have random moments when I bring someone back up and talk about a memory with them, but my husband knows not to push it with me and to let me share when I am comfortable. I tell my daughter stories sometimes and she loves them and one day I hope I will be comfortable enough to share more of them. This almost felt like therapy but again I probably need a therapist.
Today is one of those days. It is pouring down rain here and I can’t see well while I am driving and it makes me nervous I am trying to catch the dog because he is loose and I am scared he will get runover I am late for work, I forgot my umbrella then it happens…. I get a call from Georgia Power saying my prepaid account is in the negative and unless I cover the balance they are going to shut my lights off. I panicked and tried to make a payment but the prepaid card I keep for back up won’t work and I can’t get on their site or app to move money over and I don’t know what to do so I call my husband who again is a saint and saved the day with his debit card. I just to crawl under and a rock right now. I get to see my hubby and daughter for dinner so at least there is that.
The biggest thing about having a mental health is having support which comes in many forms and sometimes from people you would never suspect. So no this isn’t me gushing again about how amazing my husband is (we all know he is like a saint.) but my support is large and comes from many places like those of you who read my blog and Instagram. Your words of encouragement mean so much to me and the likes and follows on my account make me smile especially when I am having a rough day. Let’s talk about support:
-My best friend who unfortunately had to go through the shit storm that was 2015 with me even though we hadn’t been friends that long she still stood by me the entire time. I was so nasty and hateful towards her so many times and every time I apologized she said, “I forgive you.” She said it so fast without blinking an eye, there was no thought or hesitation she just forgave me every single time I pushed her away or said hateful things that hurt her. I hated her for awhile and saying it now makes me sick to my stomach. I hated her because she was always happy and understanding. I hated her because I was jealous of the type of friend she was able to be and I could never return it to her. I hated that no matter what she was always there because sometimes I just wanted her to go away. I tried to push her away so many times but she never budged. She would text and message me everyday and I wouldn’t respond she is persistent because she never stopped. I think back now to all the people who would run away but instead she stayed and was able to withstand the tornado I was stuck in.She is a true example of a good Christian and an amazing friend. If you are lucky enough to know her keep her in your life good people like her are hard to find. In case you are reading this I love you. I love you for the amazing person you are, I love you for never giving up on me and for standing beside me through everything for every reason I hated you, I love you for now and I know I’ve told you this many times but I just wanted to say it again.
– Facebook groups- These are a bad idea and after being kicked out of 3 I would advise you to stay far away for them. Older women can be extremely petty more so than younger woman. I was in the first group and became popular/hated because as I will later find out the majority of the women in these group did not have any mental health issues they just wanted to bitch/attention from random strangers on the internet (insert hypocrite with a blog) They also wanted to cause problems where there weren’t any and if any of you are reading this and remember any of the 3 groups I was in you will remember that I told you that you never win if you play dirty and that is why all of you had a fall out you created problems that weren’t there. You also need to not lie about having DID because it is a serious illness and almost impossible to diagnose so to all of those bitches please suck my dick. Just don’t promise it isn’t worth your energy
– Tater- If you are friends with me on Facebook or seen post on Instagram I have a friend I call Tater. Where did Tater come from? I have no idea but it just works so I call her Tater. I’ve only known Tater for almost 2 years but she saved my life and we’ve never met. I live in Georgia and she lives at least 500-600 miles away. We met on one of those Facebook groups (the only good thing to ever come from it.) It was 2017 and I was manic and suicidal. I kept going live on Facebook while I was popping pills and drinking whiskey (that was the smartest thing I ever did.) and on the last one I took a bunch of pills and she called my husband. This woman who at the time new me for a couple of months blew up my husbands messenger, phone and whatever else she could to get in contact with him because I passed out and I don’t know what would’ve happened if no one knew what I did. After that we became twins and instant best friends. We are there for each other in a way that is hard for other people because we share the same illness. It makes our friendship hard at times because two bipolar people can offset the other, but we make it work and just like every relationship I am in with people it is complicated but I love her and hope to meet her one day the person that saved my life.
– Anonymous 2- I have to limit these two because of other privacy reasons but I love both of them. Anonymous 1 was the very first person to read my book. I have a great deal of love and respect for them. They also knew when things were going bad and would deal with me in a different way. They were a security blanket for me and even though they aren’t in the same area anymore we talk all the time and I know if I ever need something they are there. This person saved my life multiple times and also would call bullshit on a few things I did. They are one of the biggest influences in my life and it is amazing how in such a weird circumstance we met and became friends. Anonymous 2 is the same thing. I want to say more but I can’t. Thank you both! I love you more than words can ever express.
I am so blessed to have such a large support system because it is something hard to find. I wouldn’t be where I am without them.
Today I was very productive more so than I’ve been in awhile. I managed to catch up on almost all of my blog post and a good amount of instagram. I started up the Bipolar Chronicles again and slowly but surely they are being released every couple of days. This is more my daily thoughts, moods and going ons. I have managed to hyper focus and get so much work done. I am very proud of myself for sticking to my goals and getting anything accomplished. I am very easily distracted so for me to put the time and energy in to focus is amazing. It takes a lot of work but I am definitely on my way.
75 ounces of water
I talked to someone the other day excited to tell them about all the work I’ve done and they said, “I can slap some stuff online a few post on Instagram and get a ton of followers in a couple of days……..
People have no idea how much work it is not even me when I started. You have to post consistently and interact with your followers and subscribers then make sure you have good content to make them come back. I work on it every waking moment I can (except when I get distracted) I know it takes a lot of work to build a following and if this is my plan for a future I got it to keep hustling. You think it would be simple but it isn’t easy especially in the mental health community. So assholes if you think it’s easy why don’t you try it? Sorry I had to rant about it for a second. Now back to my regular schedule post.
Today has been the day from hell. I want to be with my husband and daughter and I can’t be plus everyone around me is sick and grumpy. I want this day to be over already. I am off tomorrow and when I get home I know there is going to be tension because my daughter has a project for school and any school work at all with her isn’t fun because she gets aggravated and starts to fuck it up on purpose. I just want to be done for the day and crawl back in my bed and go to sleep.
Stats for today:
100 ounces of water
Mood is 😐 and 😦
I stayed up for New Years!! I got my kiss and followed the superstitions about not cleaning, spending money, washing, and eating greens, black eyed peas and ham for good luck. I love actually having a day off with my family especially a holiday those don’t happen very often but it also makes it harder to leave them because if I had my choice this would be my job and I would get to spend more time with them, but I need some miracles to happen for that. I am busting my ass trying to figure out the right formula to make this go viral. I realize that this itself is a job and everyday I am learning it more and more everyday the amount of time it takes to engage your readers, post, keep up with your social media. It can be a 5 or 6 hour day if you are behind like me. I need a manager to stay on me to get this where it needs to be. The last two weeks or so I’ve had a problem with peoples stupid opinions and critics of me and things I am doing wrong (according to them) and I can’t handle judgement very well so it bothers me and I don’t know how to fix it but good old Dr. Seuss reminded me to not let that shit get to me. So I am trying but it is hard to do.
85 ounces of water
Mood: 😐 and 😦