I'm in LOVE

...with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. Waving the bright red flag of nerd proudly ;)

But seriously, there are VERY few movies that I can sit through and just watch. My anxiety really messes with my attention span; I like having TV on in the background, but it's very difficult for me to sit through a movie, or even an episode of a TV show (though they are easier). I sat through the whole HP 7 Part 2 last night, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I have it on in the background right now... watching the regular version, right after watching it in "Maximum Movie Mode." So yeah, a tiny bit obsessed with this movie X_x

Might as well mention as a bit of a disclaimer to any other crazy HP fans... I know there are some subtle changes from the book, but the really important parts are so beautifully done and it's so visually, emotionally, and overall accurate of the big picture of the story that I can forgive the minor changes ;) I truly think it is a beautiful film that lives up well to the spectacular novel it is based upon :D

Yeah, I'm totally a crazy HP fan. Those books are some of the happiest memories to me, you know? I freaking loved/still love reading the Harry Potter books. I love how they transport the reader into this amazing world of magic... Rowling is a genius! In all cliche-ness, the books are damn enchanting... and I can't help but love the movies as well. I started reading the books when I was only 14 years old; nearly a year and a half later, the first movie came out. It's been amazing, the progression of the books and the films... parasocial interaction big time <3

Oh yes, and... HP 7 Part 2 is even more special to me because it was a surprise that Vuni got for me last night :D We had a blast watching it! Wow, I really feel lucky & loved <3

A Year Ago Today...

I was delirious from lack of sleep (did not sleep AT ALL during the night) and simultaneously very keyed up.


Last night was the one year anniversary of my first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.


I'm not quite to one year of sobriety... that's not until November 22 (slipped twice, somewhat intentionally, in the first 30 days). But going to the AA meeting is one of the bravest things I have ever done. Nobody forced me to go. Nobody went with me. I, agoraphobic, anxious, shy Em, found the strength and the courage to walk into an AA meeting, full of strangers, alone. 


Going to an AA meeting for the first time is scary enough when you're not a little ball of anxiety. I know, because of the countless stories I've heard. And, I mean, think about it... admitting that you have an addiction to alcohol, that you are letting your life be ruled by a nearly uncontrollable, never-ceasing craving to drink. It's embarrassing. It's shameful. Not only are you admitting this shit to yourself... you're admitting it to a room full of total strangers.


Needless to say, it takes a lot. Lots of inner strength, lots of courage. But it is very possible- and very worth it.


I'm still not convinced I need to abstain from alcohol my whole life.


Alcohol itself wasn't the thing I was addicted to; I was addicted to the way it made me feel. The rush of self-confidence it gave me. The way the room warmed and blurred, making everything seem "safe." The feeling of contentment. The numbness. The blacking out; not having to worry about insomnia. And the forgetfulness- in the morning I never remembered how stupid I'd behaved; I only knew what Vuni told me.


I'm proud to say that, while I feel a slight sense of longing for these things... it's such a fleeting desire. Like a veil hiding something hideous; pretty, but look beyond it, and there's nothing but despair. I still literally feel sick remembering the absolutely awful hangover I had a year ago yesterday. It was tempting to do the "easy" (and expensive) thing- my parents asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital/a detox center... but no. I felt I had to suffer the consequences of my actions. I needed to burn into my mind just how physically painful it was, how destructive alcohol could be. And this has helped me- because that memory has reminded me of why I need to stay away from alcohol. Why it's not worth slipping up.


I don't think I could ever get addicted to alcohol again, but now is not the time for me to be taking chances. I'd love to enjoy a tasty beer again, or margarita... but until I am more skilled at using positive coping methods, it's best that I stick to the sobriety path :) 


Happy one year- never forget how brave you can be <3

Suffocating :(

I need some serious help. Soon.


I think I talked about this in a previous post (maybe my last one?) but I tend to run and/or evade problems. I don't like to deal with stuff head on, until I absolutely have to. You'd think I would've learned by now... that addressing a problem early on, before it becomes much of a problem, is the best way to handle things. I don't seem to learn though...


I am so stuck right now :( Seriously, I'm boxed in.


I'm pretty much absolutely broke.


Vuni asked me last week if I could please start asking my parents for rent money, until I am able to come up with it. It's absolutely fair for him to ask... only I don't know what the hell to do. My parents have been helping me pay bills as it is... I hate to ask for ever MORE money. 


One option is that my mom suggested we move in with her and my dad; she said we could turn the large family room that is downstairs into our room... so we'd have a little bit of privacy, and our own bathroom. I was SO scared to bring this idea up to Vuni... and I did manage to bring it up, but it didn't come out right. Or moreso, I wanted to wait to propose this idea until we could talk about it with my therapist; seeing as it is already the middle of the month, and my therapist can't squeeze me in for another week and a half... I brought the idea up last Friday by saying, "Hey babe... what would you think about possibly moving in with my parents?" To which he said something along the lines of, "I'm not that crazy about it."


I don't blame him. Not in the least bit. We absolutely adore my parents; LOVE them... but living with them?


I've always had a pretty great relationship with my parents, but the past few years of me living with them, before Vuni and I moved in together, were rough. We are on completely different sleep schedules, and of course, don't see eye-to-eye on everything. Once I moved out, even despite the alcoholic period, our relationship improved. We just needed that space, you know?


But it's not just about the space that is complicating things. It's the privacy, the success, the independence... I don't think I need to explain the privacy part, or the independence. Vuni and are in our mid-twenties, thus we're (relatively) independent from our parents, and obviously we want our privacy (TMI- but who honestly doesn't enjoy walking around their house in their undies?). Also, I say "relatively" independent mostly for my sake- considering the financial mess I'm in. The success part- that's a toughie. Maybe it's all me, and things I bring upon myself, but I can't help thinking that moving in with my parents would mean admitting failure. I would hate for Vuni to feel the same way, when really, it's my fault.


So I've been dealing with a LOT of shame and guilt recently. I feel like I've failed Vuni. We moved in together in the understanding that we would make this work together. I had no intention of losing my job; I had no intention of being unemployed for this long. I had no intention of the anxiety and agoraphobia, which have always been present in my life, completely taking over me to the degree that they have. Because it's not just job hunting and the prospect of working closely with people that terrifies me; I can't do things I once enjoyed, let alone face the things I absolutely dread. 


This leaves me... stuck. I'm broke. I've been job hunting ever since losing my job over a year ago; but I am also waiting to be approved for disability (under my Dr.'s recommendation: severe anxiety and heart conditions do NOT mix well). I feel worthless; although I try, I have not been contributing to our relationship financially (other than our internet bill). I feel incredibly guilty; is it my lack of contribution and disorders that are holding my boyfriend back? Not to mention... what must his parents think of me? I keep thinking that he deserves so much better... but I don't want to be apart from him. It's painful to even imagine.


What do I do? As I sit here typing this, my ears are ringing and my hands are tingling out of sheer anxiety. I feel so boxed in. Like I'm suffocating...

Midnight Sun: A Parallel

I feel so fucking trapped these days, and it only seems to get worse. Every. Single. Day. It's like I'm stuck in one of those rooms, where there's spikes on the walls, and they keep moving closer together. Or a lava pit in the center. Every single day, I wonder how much longer I can teeter on the edge before I fall into the lava. 



The biggest worry of all, right now, is my relationship with Vuni.


Who's read Midnight Sun? *raises hand guiltily* I'm ashamed to admit that I enjoy the Twilight series... and I've read the partial draft of Midnight Sun (Twilight from Edward's perspective) that Stephenie Meyer posted on her official website. I'm feeling a lot like Edward these days... excessively torn. 

I know I'm causing Vuni a lot of stress. I know I'm the majority of what's holding him back. I'm pretty convinced, although I haven't smoked around him (I almost never smoke anyways) or physically shoved a cigarette and lighter in his face, that I am the reason he started smoking again... after abstaining so well...



As I've said before, I feel like his parents do not think I am good enough for him (at the very least, I've been put on a pretty good guilt trip regarding not having a job by his mom...). Not only that, but recently, I've literally been having nightmares about his mom just up and chewing me out, telling me that I will never be good enough to deserve her amazing son. It's like I can never escape these thoughts of guilt, shame, and feeling worthless... not even in my sleep anymore. Horrifying.

If we didn't have financial issues (due to MY anxiety disorder), mine and Vuni's life together would be pretty darn awesome. Yes, even despite my anxiety disorder. I'm not trying to sound pessimistic, I'm being real: I don't ever remember NOT having extreme anxiety, so it's hard for me to imagine life without it. But I've had other periods of time in my life where I've been relatively happy and comfortable, despite the anxiety disorder. 

Back to my point! If we didn't have financial issues, it'd eliminate A LOT of the problems we're currently dealing with. I haven't had a job in over a year now. Believe me, I feel immensely guilty about this; EXTREMELY. Vuni doesn't even want to think about "moving forward" in life with things going the way they are now.


Which is why I feel so awful... he'd probably be better off without me.


It's painful thinking that, it's painful typing that, it's all-around unfathomable. I'm a selfish, horrible bitch for what I'm doing to him. If I were a better, selfless person, and if I truly loved him, I'd let him get on with his life, without me, the train-wreck, prisoner-to-her-own-mind. 


But I can't.


I know he has the freedom to leave; he himself has told me that he is with me because he loves me. And I'm grateful for this. I'm so thankful that he is able to love the girl behind the anxiety disorder.


Maybe this is why I like the Twilight series. Especially Midnight Sun... Edward disgusted with himself, for being a vampire and feeling undeserving of a human girl's love, but not being able to stay away from her. Not being able to walk away. Edward feeling like Bella is too good for him, and that she deserves so much more. Not having the strength to let go...
... but she loves him. She wants him; she doesn't want him to let go. 


I'm feeling pretty ashamed of myself, being that I'm comparing my life to a damn vampire romance novel, but nonetheless...


I feel very much like Edward. I can't control the fact that I have an anxiety disorder (I sure as hell didn't ask to have one, and wouldn't wish it on ANYONE).  I can control certain aspects of it (major thing I need to work on), but in the mean time, it's wreaking havoc on my life. I'm feeling utterly undeserving of the absolute most amazing person I've ever met... yet for some reason he loves me and wants me. A part of me is telling myself that he would be so much better off without me... but I know I would never have the strength to leave him. Probably because I'm too selfish... maybe because I'm too in love. 


Because I love him more than anything. He's given me strength, when I felt like I couldn't cope. He gives me a reason to keep fighting; even when I feel like it's not worth it. He constantly reminds me that yes, there is a person behind the anxiety disorder, and she is very much worth loving.


The anxiety is my midnight; he is my sun.

"My life was an unending, unchanging midnight... so how was it possible that the sun was rising now, in the middle of my midnight?"  Edward, from Midnight Sun

I'll probably write more about this (the issues between Vuni and I) at a later time, but for now, I'm pretty shocked that I was able to draw these parallels. Maybe I'm crazy. If you're feeling sappy, and are interested, here's the link to Midnight Sun. I like it much better than Twilight ;)

Suicide: From an Attemptee's Perspective, and Why It's Never Worth It

How true this meme is...


Let me start by clarifying, I'm NOT suicidal... but sadly, I've been there before.


It's the absolute worst place to be. I've never felt so hopeless, so consumed by overwhelming thoughts and pain.


It wasn't that I wanted to die. It wasn't that I wanted to hurt anyone who loved me. Quite the opposite.


I just didn't see a light at the end of the tunnel; I didn't see anything but endless pain. I didn't think my life would ever be happy and whole.


It's been over 5.5 years now, and thinking about the suicide attempt still makes me feel completely sick, in more ways than one. It's awful to think I actually did it; it's equally awful remembering what I was going through at the time.


Here's what happened in a nutshell:


It was Spring of 2006. I was living alone, a 2.5 hour drive away from home. I was 19 years old, going to school full time, and working almost full time, at a job I absolutely hated. I had one person who was a true friend... and another. An ex boyfriend. In all honesty... I had followed him.


The previous August, he and I were together. I found out he was moving away less than 3 weeks before he actually left. Our relationship (if you could call it that) was very rocky; K didn't treat me well at all, but didn't seem willing to just break up with me. I'm assuming his solution was to move away and wait until the last possible minute to tell me; I didn't even find out he was moving from him. One of his friends let it slip. K told me he didn't think he could make a long-distance relationship work, so we "separated on good terms." Being the idiot that I was, I applied to the same school, and in January, I moved up there, assuming he'd take me back. The next few months were absolute hell; I was lonely, anxious, and depressed, I was falling further and further into my eating disorder, and he was leading me on. I called K out on it once; I told him that if he was going to be playing games with me, we might as well cease contact with one another. He promised to shape up, but said he still wanted his "freedom" and didn't want to get back together "yet". Being the naive, innocent person that I was, I didn't see this as a glaring red flag.


In late April, I took a handful of Tylenol PM. I was mostly hoping it'd knock me out for a few hours, and I figured, if it did worse, then it did worse. I woke up the next day in the ICU. After all was said and done, I convinced everyone it was stupid mistake, I promised to do better, I looked into therapists and support groups, and I signed up for summer classes.


Exactly one month later, K and I were out to lunch, when he received a phone call. Whoever was on the other side, he was being very flirty with them. When he hung up, he seemed nervous, and said, "I have something to tell you..." He then proceeded to tell me that was this girl he'd been dating for the past few weeks.


I didn't feel like I could handle this. I ran, on foot. He tried to follow me, but couldn't keep up (he was wearing flip flops). After wandering around the streets for about an hour, I returned to the restaurant. He was gone, but he kept trying to call me. I kept ignoring him. I drove to a grocery store that had a Starbucks in it, purchased the largest bottle of Tylenol PM that they had, and an iced black tea. K was still trying to get ahold of me. I stopped at another store, and got a bottle of Advil PM. K was still calling. I took almost all of the pills. Finally, I answered his call; he begged me to go to his house. I don't know what made me go, but I did.


When I got there, he started crying, and saying that he was a flaky person who shouldn't be with anyone. He confessed to cheating on me (something I'd figured anyways) and was basically flipping out. He then begged me to stay at his house that night; he was going to work for the evening, and in the morning, we'd take care of things, whatever that meant. As he was leaving (I was really feeling the meds by this time), I followed him out to his car. I said, "I did something bad." He began to panic, remembering what had happened only a month ago; he grabbed me by my shoulders, and asked, "What did you do?! Tell me, what did you do?!" I stumbled over to my car, and handed him the keys. He opened it, searched frantically inside (I was really messed up by this point) and found the bottles. He pulled me into his car, and drove me to the emergency room. I spent the next three days in the ICU, the next five in a locked ward, and the day I got out... K and I talked for the last time. We agreed to cut off all contact one another. My parents brought me home that day; we returned a few days later, packed up my stuff, and I was home for good.


It's so difficult to explain everything that was going through my mind at the time. A lot of conflicting thoughts.


Bottom line was, I didn't want to die; I just had overwhelming, excruciating emotional pain that I didn't know how to deal with, and I wanted it to end.


I felt like I was failing my attempt at becoming an adult. I was torn, because for some reason I still don't understand, I was infatuated with this guy who obviously wanted nothing to do with me; he'd cheated and been emotionally abusive. The only reason he did what he did the day of the suicide attempt was out of guilt, fear, and pity. I hated how much of a fuck up I felt like, and I thought that if I no longer existed, I would be doing everyone a favor. It might be painful at first, but I figured that the "benefits" of me being gone would far outweigh this; I wouldn't be wasting anyone's money, and I'd never cause anyone pain again. But namely... I wouldn't have to deal with such feelings of being rejected, unwanted, and not enough. It was an EXTREMELY selfish thing to do... but at the time, I thought that if I was successful, it'd be better for everyone.


I also still don't know what made me follow K out to his car, and more or less confess to what I had done. The only thing I can think of is that the tiny sane part of me, deep inside, knew that I didn't want to die. Was it a desperate cry for attention? It looks that way, and maybe on some sub-conscience level, it was. At the time, up until I did "confess" to K about taking the pills, I seriously just wanted to escape from the pain I was feeling, in whatever way that may be. Perhaps because I was feeling so fucked up by that point, I realized the true seriousness of what I'd done; I knew that if K left, there would be no going back. I was losing it as it was. If he left, I would've passed out... and not woken up. 


So why am I bringing all of this up now?


Well, recently, I've been dealing with some pretty damn fucked up feelings. And a lot of pain. I feel like a worthless failure, a waste of space/air/money, a total fuck up. My anxiety gets so overwhelming, and I often feel so hopeless, I wonder if things will ever be okay. I hate dealing with this; the anxiety, the pain and guilt it brings... I feel like I am suffocating, trapped in my body. 


But I know suicide isn't the answer. I know hurting myself isn't the answer.


Even though I may often feel lonely, and trapped, I know that I have some insanely awesome people who love me, and they obviously love me for a reason. They've never given up on me; they believe in me, when I don't always believe in myself. I think I said it in my last post: I live for curling up in bed next Vuni. I know that no matter how shitty the day is- if I've had panic attacks, heard bad news, been put on a guilt trip, gotten in a fight with the mirror, felt utterly hopeless and useless... at the end of the day, I will be snuggled up, nice and warm, to the most amazing person I could ever imagine. I know that, while I am cuddled up to this utterly stunning human being, there are two people several miles away, who brought me into this world, are proud of me regardless of my fucked up past, and loved me with all of their hearts. I have a brother who has looked up to me his whole life. I have a professor who NEVER gave up on me. I have friends and family who truly care about me, even if I am flightly and strange. All of these people believe in me... even when I don't.


There's obviously a reason I'm worth caring about and believing in... even when I don't see it.


Do I have to see everything to believe in it? I wish I could- but I know I don't. At the time of my suicide attempt, I never saw myself being happy again. Low and behold, despite some of the shit I've since been through, I've also had the best times. Vuni has loved me like I never thought possible. Last year, consumed by alcoholism, I never imagined that I could go more than a day without several shots of vodka. To my immense shock, I haven't had a single drop of alcohol pass through my lips in the past 10.5 months. This summer, although I didn't show it, I often felt paralyzed with fear at the thought of another heart surgery... but I had to believe that it would be okay, and despite some complications, it was. 


This has been one of the hardest lessons I've had to learn: sometimes, life really sucks, and it doesn't look like it's ever going to get better... but I HAVE to believe that it will. Because it does. It may be slow and gradual. There may be bumps and set backs and more pain and bullshit along the way... but eventually, it does get better.

"When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on,"  Thomas Jefferson.

I read this quote a long time ago; I feel this is what I've been living every day recently. I keep thinking that I can't take anymore bad news, any more anxiety or pain or guilt... but I refuse to losen my grip. I can't let go; I won't give up.


So for those of you, like me, who feel trapped, lost, out-of-touch, overwhelmed, riddled with shame and guilt, and just aren't seeing a light at the end of the tunnel... well, remember, just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Think about it- are you breathing right now? We don't see the very thing that is crucial to our existence, that courses through our bodies every second of every day of our lives. But it's there, just like the light at the end of the tunnel.


I've said it a gazillion times before: I have a long way to go. I have a lot of work to do. But in the mean time, I have to keep believing. I've tied a knot, and I am NOT letting go. 






Note- if you are feeling suicidal, please, please get help:

Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433

LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255

Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743

Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438

Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673

Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272

Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000

Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253

Taking The Bad With The Good

Last weekend Vuni and I went on a short little trip; his ska band had an out-of-town gig that was a 6 hour drive away.


I don't know what's wrong with me, but for as long as I can remember, I have never truly been able to just relax on vacations and getaways, no matter how small they are. I feel riddled with guilt, for some reason; I worry about the kitties back home (I'm lucky enough to say that I've always had a cat in my life ;), but I also worry a lot about money... even if I know that certain money has been saved up/set aside for the trip! Ridiculous.


Anyway, we left town at about 12:30 last Saturday, with the guitarist, drummer, and a bunch of gear in tow. I was determined to learn how to crochet on this little trip. I sat in the passenger's seat with a crochet hook, a tiny pair of scissors, some yarn, a "Crochet for Beginners" book, and Vuni's iPhone so I could watch YouTube how-tos. About an hour before we hit our destination and with aching fingers, I more or less had the gist of it... but I also had to take many photo breaks:

Between crocheting and the breathtaking scenery, it did NOT feel like a 6 hour drive.


We arrived plenty early, so we secured a parking spot at the bar the band's gig was at, then walked downtown to find a place to eat. I wasn't too keen on this. Anyone with an eating disorder can confirm that vacations really agitate the ED... especially if you're really routine driven. Major step out of the comfort zone. But also... I really, really don't like going out to eat as it is. I just feel guilty. 


I would've been content, in all honesty, going to McDonalds. (I love the Southwest Salads, sans chicken and dressing, yum yum!) We instead ending up at a fancy and expensive Italian restaurant... where I ironically ordered a flipping $8 Greek salad. After we left there, we wandered by an Indian cuisine restaurant, and I excitedly exclaimed, "Oh! Too bad we didn't see this place first!"


To which Vuni said, "Why? So you could get a salad at an Indian restaurant?"


This stung a little. I wasn't mad at Vuni, because, well, he spoke the truth. But it reminded me of the reasons why I don't like going out to eat in the first place: 


1.) I'm terrified of ordering anything other than a salad. ED aside, and I'd probably still be too afraid to get anything besides a salad. I like that everything is fresh and uncooked, and I can easily and clearly see everything, unlike a casserole or something... mostly because I've been a vegetarian for a good majority of my life, and I'm paranoid about my food being cooked/prepared with any meat or meat products. 


2.) The fact that I do always get a salad... and when we go to a nice restaurant, it usually is an $8+ meal. For freaking vegetables, sometimes some cheese and/or nuts, and a little dressing. Fuck I feel guilty...


Anyway, we headed back to the bar. Due to a bunch of bullshit band drama caused by ONE band member (mostly stemming from his under [drinking] age girlfriend), they got started an hour behind schedule. This wasn't cool to Vuni and I, who had another 2-2.5 hour drive ahead of us after the show (Vuni wanted to play in a poker tournament the next morning in a town that was 4 hour drive away, so we booked our hotel a city in between).


As I said in my previous post, I was being tortured by the urge to drink. It was a big bar, packed with people, and I felt super lame because this was a 21-and-over show, so I was probably the only person in the crowd not drinking. 


Then, some freaking creep came and stood next to me. I edged away from him, but he moved closer and started talking to me; I could immediately tell he was pretty damn tipsy. He said something like, "Don't move, I wanted to come watch them with you," I gave him a quick half smile but didn't say anything. He tried talking some more, but I could hear him too well because the music was so loud. Finally I heard him ask if I knew the band, to which I proudly said, "yes, the bass player is my boyfriend." He didn't seem to like that- at all. His friendly demeanor changed to sullen, and he went quiet for a few minutes. 


I tried edging away some more, but I really didn't want to move; I was right at the side of the stage, Vuni and I could easily make eye contact, I was close to the door and bouncer, and had easy access to the restrooms. A prime spot to plant myself. The creep kept edging closer to me though. 


I'm not good at dealing with over-friendly, space bubble invading, drunk weirdos. Never have been. This guy was really creeping me out, too. He keep trying to talk to me, and then, started touching me. Putting his arm around me and touching me on the shoulder. I was getting really freaked out, and wanted to escape... but I also didn't want him following me, and I was too chicken to grab the bouncer's attention. I was able to seize my chance when he turned back to the bar to order another beer; I acted like I was heading to the bathroom, then I ducked down behind a crowd of people, and snuck out the door. I moved as fast as I could, went around the side of the bar, and waited a few minutes (with my thumb over the panic button on the car opener) to make sure I wasn't followed. Then I locked myself in the van, and waited until Vuni was finished. Needless to say, he was a little angry about my admirer. I was just creeped out, and happy to be away from him.


Vuni and I departed for our hotel, sans drummer and guitarist (they were staying there, and had other riding arrangements). We figured we'd arrive at our hotel sometime between 1:30-2 am.


We passed through several tunnels on the way there. Funny, we both held our breaths (yes, at ages 24 and 25) to make wishes at the end...

On this drive through the pitch black, listening and singing along to Weird Al (we've been on a major Weird Al kick since seeing him in concert not too long ago), and just enjoying one another's company, I fell in love with Vuni all over again. 


I think maybe that's one of the important things about relationships not being perfect. Vuni and I have lived together for just over a year, and it's been our most difficult (out of 5) yet... but nights like the night of this drive make all of the hardships so worth it. I'm reminded of why we're in love; it's the reward a million times over for making it through the rough times. When we first started dating, and I had admitted to him all of the shit I'd been through and that I still had a long road ahead of me, he told me, "I'll be here for you, sitting in your passenger's seat." I don't mean to sound all sappy, but really, despite all of the crap I've dealt with, and how fucked up many other areas of my life are right now... I have Vuni. I love him SO much, it's unreal. Like, how is it possible to love someone so much that you can't describe it in any measurable quantity? 


And since I'm being sickeningly romantic... I'll throw in a Twilight reference, and say that that drive, that night, had to go on my list of top favorite nights of my life. My heart was just overflowing with exhilarating, overwhelming love for this boy <3 It made dealing with the feelings of wanting to drink and dealing with that idiot at the bar SO worth it... plus there was the anticipation of locking ourselves in our hotel room :D


We arrived at our hotel shortly before 2 am. I swear I live for the loving, sexy, pre-sleep cuddle sessions with Vuni :D Our hotel was amazing, BTW:

To the North... 

To the South

We got ready, got coffee and gas-ola, and headed to the casino for Vuni's tournament. While he was playing, I was working on my crochet, and lo and behold... one of the dealers (I think that's what she was?) helped me out! She corrected my mistakes and answered my concerns... so I can OFFICIALLY say that I know how to crochet now :D

It's amazing all that happened on this short little weekend getaway. It's a reminder that, anxiety disorder or sane (me... and Vuni ;), you have to learn to take the good with the bad; but that being said... "the good" (ahem... GREAT/AMAZING/AWESOME/SPECTACULAR/WONDERFUL) makes the bad all the worthwhile <3

"Yes, you do have a choice; you're just making the right one."

So, the past few days have basically been Hell-in-Em's-head. 


Friday started out shitty; I had to give a presentation on a study I did with one of my professors (Ellie); the last official thing I had to do for school. I know I've already graduated, but I agreed to this presentation when I signed up for the study back in May. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong that morning, did; from realizing that the pages were numbered incorrectly in my report, to the printer not being friendly, to wardrobe crisis, to not finding a parking spot (and thus having to park in a 15 minutes max slot, and pray that I wouldn't get busted by a lot attendant)... add on the fact that I was nervous as all hell. But to my immense surprise, once I got up to the podium and started presenting, it all went smooth. I just kept telling myself... you do NOT want to disappoint Ellie. That thought got me through it, and I did great; I actually amazed myself. I left the college feeling wonderful to finally be 100% finished, and to have rocked my presentation. I was happy, and felt a sense of relief.


Too bad it was so short lived.


Three hours later, I was at home, anticipating the little weekend getaway we had planned (Vuni's band playing out of town again), when the mail arrived: a single, fat envelope from Social Security. I hesitated, knowing very likely that their could be bad news in that envelope... and there was. A big, bold DENIED. My disability claim... denied. And even worse? My therapist never submitted her paperwork. I know she got it; I talked to her about it. So either she dropped the ball, or someone's lying about having not received it... which they could be. The letter also stated that they never received a report from my mom, however, she never got any paper work to fill out in the first place. Bottom line is, I'm for sure going to appeal it.


But in the mean time, this leaves me with more anxiety and desperation than ever. I was hoping, with school finally finished for me, that I could at least enjoy the weekend with Vuni... but fucking no. I get the denial letter in the mail. What the fuck? I spent Friday evening filling out two long ass online job applications (one for a school lunch lady... one for a dishwasher in a hospital cafeteria. Real glamourous; but shit, I'll take those over customer service any day). 


I decided not to tell my parents about the denial right away, because even though I already felt awful about it, I figured waiting and at least trying to semi-enjoy the weekend, with keeping the news to just Vuni and I, would help a little. 


Saturday night was Vuni's band's show. I really, REALLY wanted to drink. Or smoke. The denial letter was eating me away from the inside; I could have used going numb. But I can't be drinking. And as for smoking... well, I'm not worried about becoming addicted to it. I never have; the smell is too freaking nasty for me to tolerate. I smoke every now and then when I'm stressed, but it's never been an issue. I wanted a cigarette on Saturday night, before the show, when we were standing outside and everyone was smoking. HOWEVER- Vuni has been trying to quit. He's actually gone 3 weeks so far without one. Part of my mind (the bitchy part) was telling me, well, Vuni doesn't care about your drinking issues, he always drinks in front of you, so why should you be considerate to him? Because, if he were to smoke since I was doing it... I'd feel responsible. I'd feel like I was the one who threw him off of the wagon, regardless of reality. So no smoking. 


I plan on doing a separate post on our little trip, but I have to throw this in: not only was I wanting to numb by drinking... I was nervous as shit being in a bar, in a different city, not knowing anyone but the people on stage performing... I  felt extremely awkward and anxious. Some drunk asshole just had to come along and start hassling me. Awful. I'll elaborate on that in my trip post, but just know, he ruined the little bit of fun I was trying to have; I ended up "escaping" to the car.

The thought of cuddling with Vuni in the hotel room later was the only thing that kept me sane on Saturday night...


Clearly, this was not my weekend. I'm amazed that I didn't fall apart, or just snap... I honestly thought, when sending out all of my disability paperwork, that if I got a denial letter, I'd lose it. It would be THE END. I'm not sure what I thought I'd do, but I didn't think I'd just be able to...  cope with it.


But the worst was yet to come.


Since we were gone all weekend, Vuni and I decided to go to his parent's house yesterday evening to do some laundry. I always feel slightly awkward going to his parent's house. I don't feel like I am good enough for them, especially these days. They're almost too "perfect," and in very subtle ways, they make it clear that I'm not living up to their idea of perfection. I've ranted about it before. So why I was expecting things to go smoothly last night is beyond me.


Vuni's mom put me on one of the worst fucking guilt trips of my entire life...


Vun had already gone downstairs to watch TV, so I was alone with MIL in the kitchen, still trying to eat dinner and arguing with myself that it was okay to be eating... okay that I was getting seconds of salad and cooked spinach (aren't ED voices just a treat? FML). With feeling ultra imperfect and trying to be comfortable eating, plus the crappy events of the past few days, I was already in a very vulnerable spot. 


She began very slowly, by suggesting different things I should be doing. As in, trying to find a job type things. Suggesting I try this, suggesting I try that. Asking why I don't try to apply to Clear Channel, or one of the TV stations? Well, I've told her why before: most broadcasting companies, whether it's TV or radio, will not even consider you unless you've interned with them, or have years of experience. I know, because I've had classmates go into both. I re-explained this to her, to which she replied, "well, is it to late for you to do an internship?" I told her it most likely was, considering I've already graduated, and if I did by some chance get one, it'd be for little to no pay. "Well, why should that matter? You're not bringing in any money anyways, and you have the time to do it." She should have just slapped me; it would've been less painful.


It matters because I do not want to do either, so why the fuck should I waste my time?


"I know the economy's bad, but with you not having a job, it must just be so stressful for you guys," 


Okay, Captain Obvious, thanks. You know what? I know you guys don't exactly like me (right now at least); I realize I'm not good enough for your precious boy. I know that you want a perfect, preppy, athletic little white girl who just graduated from med school or something for your son. But you know what? For whatever reason, he wants ME. He loves ME. He sees beyond the mess and anxiety, and sees a person, a person that he obviously loves very, very much. Do you not think I feel guilty every single fucking day? Do you think I don't question, constantly, whether I really do deserve your son's love? And do you think that I'm totally unaware of what you guys think of me? I have an anxiety disorder; I'm not fucking stupid. I'm sorry I'm tainting your perfect lives; I'm sorry you don't think I'm good enough for your son. God fucking damn.


I suddenly couldn't finish eating. I dumped the rest of my food out, and tried to decide what to do. I had an almost uncontrollable urge to want to grab a knife from the drawer, lock myself in the bathroom, and start cutting. I wanted to HURT physically. I wanted to freaking peel my skin off; to scratch myself until I bled, couldn't feel any pain but burning. I thought about running away, but to where, I don't know. Going to Walmart and getting a giant bottle of Tylenol PM VERY briefly crossed my mind; I can't imagine my life without Vuni, but yet I hate myself for being such an apparent burden to him (at least that's what I'm getting from his mom). 


No, no, no. I have nowhere to run. If I were to cut myself, I'd merely be left with scars reminding me of how horrible I felt last night. And suicide... it's just never an option. NEVER. It may be tempting when everything feels so hopeless, but I've learned that hopelessness isn't forever; and I don't want to die, I want things to fucking change. So what did I do? I text my mom, asking her for a picture of Penny (my little fur sister). She sent one a few minutes later, and I replied with "Thanks, I needed that, I've just been put on the biggest guilt trip of my life." She asked by who...


So I walked out the back door, with Vuni completely oblivious, and called her. I started walking down the street, and told her what happened. The tears finally fell. I also admitted that my claim had been denied, to which she replied, "Wow. I'm so proud of you... I never would have known, you're handling it so well." I told her how tempted I was to drink, to smoke, to cut... anything for release, but I also said I know that it won't do anything but set me back. I told her I feel like I'm suffocating, because I so badly WANT to temporarily numb myself by some bad behavior, but I'm tortured by the thoughts of how much it'd hurt her, my dad, and Vuni if I did so... which keeps me from doing it. I told her, "It's so hard, to not do these things, to just keep getting bad news, to feel this way... and to stay strong. But I'm at the point where I don't have a choice; I don't have a choice but to be strong."


to which she replied, "Yes, you do have a choice; you're just making the right one."


Up until this point, I didn't think of it that way; I just keep telling myself, if I don't be strong, I'm going to lose it all. While that may be true, it's also true that I am very much making a choice- and it is the right one. Sure, I still fuck up, and OBVIOUSLY have a lot of major issues that I need to work through- and I'm more than likely ALWAYS going to deal with the anxiety... but I'm finally making right choices? And moreso, choices that not only I'm aware of, but someone else is too?


Maybe not everyone feels I'm good enough; maybe not everyone sees progress. But it's good to know that one of the most important people to me sees it; and that it's not all just in my head... it may be small, but I AM making progress. 


...maybe one day I'll be enough.


P.S. I know I sound extremely frustrated towards my (most-likely) in-laws; this does NOT mean that I do not love them, or appreciate anything they've done for me. I also realize I've made some fucked up mistakes in the past, and that they have a right to have been angry with me at those times; but my anxiety disorder isn't one of those things. It's not something I chose, it was something I was born with. Although I can understand being frustrated (because believe me, I'm fucking frustrated with my own disorder), I just wish that they could try to be more understanding/supportive... gah, nothing in life is ever simple, is it?

The Good Girl F*cked Up Biggest

Yesterday was my graduation party :) It got off to a rough start, thanks to my mom stressing out big time (although grateful, I told her not to overdo it!). Anyhoo, it ended up being pretty darn awesome :) 


But as the party started to wind down, Vuni, my brother, Mick, and myself stood around munching the last remnants from the veggie tray and reminiscing about our teenage years, when I learned something that totally shook me up: my brother and his friends had done cocaine when they were younger.


This was over 5 (maybe even 6?) years ago; Mick has been clean & sober for years, and at almost 22, is a pretty damn successful merchandiser and journalism student. I'm so proud :)


I'm not at all mad at him for this discovery; it was so long ago, and he's left that life far behind, why should I be angry? I remember the time-frame when he was using drugs... it was really hard on my parents and I, but just assumed he was drinking and smoking weed. How naive am I?


The way this was reveled to me was even weirder; Vuni had recently told me about going to a party at Mick's friend Madi's house when he was younger (Mick, Vuni, and Madi all went to the same high school, Vuni a senior when they were freshmen). Vuni was only 17; Madi was 14, and she and her friends were doing cocaine at the party. While we were standing around yesterday, I told Vuni to tell Mick about this memory, since I was a little stunned to hear that Madi had done cocaine. Not only was my brother totally unfazed, but he revealed that he, himself, had at one time used it. I was utterly shocked.


"Did you know about this?!" I asked Vuni.


"Not exactly, but it doesn't surprise me,"


"So wait- out of the three people in this room, I'm the only one who has never done cocaine? I'm the only who's never done anything worse than smoke weed?!"


**Note- Vuni tried cocaine once roughly 10 years ago; that one experience was enough to scare him away.


"Yup."


"But.. what... how is that?"


"Because you are a good girl," Mick said.


"But it doesn't make any sense. I have always been the 'good girl'; I've never done anything worse than smoke weed, so why I am the one who fucked up worse than both of you put together?"


A day later, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around it all. Neither of them became addicted, over-dosed, or ended up in jail.  Currently, they're both successful, hard-working, rational adults. I, on the other hand, graduated 9th in my class, did not touch a hint of alcohol/smokes/drugs until a month before my 19th birthday, and was an all around goody two-shoes. I didn't go out. I didn't cause trouble. I didn't talk back or mouth off; I was sweet, quiet, self-motivated and respectful... essentially, I was a "perfect" teenage daughter, as my brother called me.


Flash forward 7 years, and I'm a big hot mess, minus the "hot." True, I've never ended up in jail. But I've overdosed and landed in the ICU twice. I became an addict, and probably came pretty damn close to losing my life. Seriously. It's been almost a year, and I still feel sick to my stomach think about all of the "what-ifs?"... someone once told me that they think I have a guardian angel or something. I must. Something. 


But regardless... my point is, they're successful. They're flourishing. I'm not. I often feel like one big fat fuck up. Jobless. Terrified of the world. Directionless. Attention span less than a 7-year-old who drank a can of caffeinated soda rather than take his ADHD pill. Always anxious...


Where did this good girl go wrong?


The anxiety.


It all goes back to the anxiety.  The overdose, the eating issues, the drinking, the panic attacks on-the-job, the agoraphobia becoming ever-worse... all of these things have kept me from being successful. All of these things are a result of my anxiety disorder. 


Because you know what? I am a good girl. I'm not perfect. I have moments when I can be lazy, bitchy, ungrateful... but by the end of the day, I've always been a good girl with heart-of-gold intentions. Anxiety really fucks things- and the sad thing is, it's so much harder to detect than you'd think.  It's always been "Em is just extremely shy, but sooo good," or "Em starves herself because she's in need of control," "Em overdosed because she didn't know how to deal with having her heart broken," "Em drinks to loosen herself up/help her sleep..."


NO. Em does all that shit because of her anxiety- to cope, escape, act on urges... whatever, it all goes back to the anxiety. 


So maybe I still have a LOT of work to do in regards to the anxiety- but you know what? I'm proud that I can identify all of this. I'm proud that I can separate myself from my anxiety, even with the irrational thoughts bombarding me- that I really do know that I am a "good girl." A year ago, I would have just thought of myself as one big fuck-up, no questions asked; I would see myself as a "bad" person, and therefor "punish" myself in some way or another. I'm not exactly proud of where I'm at in life... but! I have been sober for almost 10 months, I've just graduated from college... and I've been turning my life around. I've never given up, like I have so badly wanted to. 


So maybe I have fucked up; but I'm a good girl, and I'm doing what I can to fix it.

Spiral of Doom

What does it feel like to not worry constantly? To not feel an impending sense of doom, even during fleeting moments of happiness? What does it feel like to... feel relaxed? Anyone watch It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia? The first episode when Danny DeVito's character, Frank, joins- the gang is in the hospital, arguing, when Frank yells "SHUUUTTT UUUPPP! Don't yous ever quit arguing, and just shut the hell up?!" I want to scream that to my anxiety. It. Never. Shuts. UP.

And one of the hardest parts?


No one understands.


No one, except for other agoraphobics or people dealing with some form of a severe anxiety disorder. Okay, so that's not "no one", but I don't know of anyone personally (though I am starting to meet some amazing fellow sufferers via my tumblr).


Back to my point- no one in my immediate surroundings understands. My parents and Vuni are trying their best to; I can only imagine how foreign and difficult it is for them to try to imagine the irrational world that my mind is... maybe almost as hard as it is for me to imagine what it's like to not deal with the anxiety. I just don't know; how could I? Though there have been periods of my life where it definitely was less severe, I really don't know what it's like to not have anxiety. I just don't.


But what freaking sucks about no one understanding is it really causes a lot of problems... for instance, in relation to people not understanding why I'm waiting to be approved for disability/haven't been able to get a job. I feel like a broken record saying this, even here on my blog, but I feel I have to say it to validate myself: ever since leaving my last job, the only brief period (about 6 weeks) that I have not been actively looking for a job is right before and after my surgery back in June... which that should be a given as to why. I comb Craigslist, the local news paper, community websites, certain websites like the local school districts and hospitals frequently. I fill out applications and send in resumes and if needed write cover letters... to available positions that I think I can handle.


But I'm agoraphobic.


I'm terrified of people. I hate confrontation, arguing, and debate. My skin is tissue paper thin. I can't handle people being rude or inconsiderate, and I especially cannot handle them being rude to me for no reason or fault of my own. I'm terrified of people.


I absolutely, positively, 110% KNOW that I cannot work in customer service, retail, ect. Seeing as that until just a few weeks ago, I was a college student (now grad- hell to the yes!) most of my options of a job were customer service and retail: restaurants, the mall, grocery stores, call centers, ect.


But I just can't do it. The majority of my past jobs- 9 in all (yeah, 9 in 4.5 years), have been customer service or retail. Each experience has gotten progressively worse. Pessimist or just plain agoraphobe, it's not the routine or good experiences I remember from each... it's the bad ones. I remember the very first time I ever got cussed out by a customer at my very first job, at Cold Stone Creamery back in 2005. In that one instance, all my fears of getting a job came true: that the world was a scary place, that people could be and would be cruel for no reason, and that there was nothing I could do to defend myself.


Flash forward to my most recent job; I'm coming up to my one year anniversary of leaving there. Joann's, the craft store. My boss was a very kind, understanding man. He knew that I was a hard worker; because of this, he tried to accommodate me. He tried his hardest to not schedule me to work the cut table or cash registers, so that I was mostly store recovery, merchandising, receiving, ect. It didn't matter. I still had to deal with customers. Frequently. I began having panic attacks so severe, I was sent home on more than one occasion. I was using alcohol to deal with my anxiety, and it was becoming out of control. Finally, I had the option of quitting or being fired.


That was the straw that broke the camel's back. I knew I couldn't do something working closely with the public again.


The thought terrifies me so much... I wish I could better put this into words without sounding so dramatic, but I'd rather be dead than having to work so closely to people. I'm not lying... it seriously SCARES THE SHIT OUT OF ME. I'm pretty confident that if I were forced into/had absolutely NO choice but to... I'd probably be having suicidal thoughts. Because even thinking about it... makes me feel like I am suffocating... drowning... I can't fathom it.


Seeing these thoughts (as well as I can explain them) makes me see a little more clearly just how irrational they are... but it doesn't make them any less severe.


I had been contemplating looking into disability for awhile, but felt guilty; I'm smart, hard-working, and intuitive. It's not that I'm totally incapable. However- I am also physically limited, due to my heart condition. Taking in consideration the severity of my anxiety, with the combination of my most recent heart surgery and its complications, my GP suggested I apply for disability. So I have; but it involves a lot of waiting, and I have not stopped job hunting.


Recently, my mother-in-law (well, almost... that's practically what she is) has been texting me and making a lot of suggestions of different places that she sees that are hiring. I truly appreciate that she is being sweet enough to let me know, and I feel like an ungrateful bitch saying this... but in other ways, her suggestions frustrate the hell out of me.


She knows that I'm in the disability approval process. She knows why. But it doesn't stop her from suggesting I apply to places/positions that make my heart race just thinking about them. This sends my mind into a frenzy of thoughts... and I just don't know what's true and what makes sense. Does she not take my anxiety disorder seriously? Or does she just not understand the severity of it? Does she just think I'm lazy?


Trust me, I feel guilty as shit. If you asked her over 5 years ago (pre-Em days) about the kind of person she imagined her son falling in love with, she probably would not have said an anxious, irrational loser... which is probably what I look like to her. Fucking awful feeling. I would love to make her, and Vun's father, proud, to prove that I am worthy of their precious, talented boy... but I feel like all I keep doing is making myself look worse and worse. Like I will never be good enough for their son.


So my anxiety about finances and job hunting flow right into me feeling like I'm not good enough to be with the person I love more than anything else in the world. I'm in no way trying to blame my in-laws, but again, it does not ease the guilt I feel for not being the amazing person their son deserves. I know I shouldn't worry, because obviously, Vuni wants to be with me. He's told me this numerous times; and the fact that, if he really didn't want me, he'd leave. He loves me. I can't always figure out why... I find it extraordinary that Vuni can see the person past the anxiety, because to be honest, even I have trouble with the fact that I am not my anxiety... that I am a person, not a disorder. And that's what makes Vuni so much more awesome, what makes me love him that much more... he loves the person that I am. But I'm absolutely terrified at the thought that I just might not get the life that I dream of having with him... because what if he stops seeing the person and only sees the anxiety?


Moving on... let me talk finances. I've bitched about this before. But let me explain how this also contributes to my anxiety, aside from the fact that financial situations are shitty all the way around. Lack of money means I don't have money for therapy. I have a wonderful therapist; I've been seeing her off and on for over seven years. I haven't seen her too much recently, because I figure, if I can't afford to see her regularly, what's the point? If I absolutely need to talk to her, I call her up, and go in for an appointment... but I usually only do that if I feel like it's an emergency. She's always there for me, regardless of how much time has gone by since the last time I've talked to her. I guess that's the good thing.


Not only do finances limit me therapy wise, but... there are things that I would love to attempt to pursue, that I just don't have the money to. For example, photography is one of those things. I have some training; I was a photo/videographer for the campus online & print newspaper, and I've taken editing and design classes. So I've dipped my toes into this... but what I'd like to get into is nature photography. I'd need a halfway decent camera and more training, however. 


See why I feel like I'm caught in this spiral of doom? I don't have a job, so I can't afford therapy. I can't afford to pursue something that I just might be able to get good at and actually make a career out of, or at least earn a little bit of income. I can't imagine facing the world... so I need therapy. Without contributing, or at least having some talent to show for, I feel like a big, fat, worthless loser... oh wait, I didn't talk about that part? I talked about the loser part, but what I didn't talk about is how all of the anxiety and guilt relates directly to my body image. Not even joking; anyone who's had/has an eating disorder knows what I mean. Guilt, anxiety, any negative emotions make you feel fat. It's irrational as ALL hell. I'm trying to ignore the ED voices, and have been doing a better job at it than I have in the past... but they're still there. Telling me that I'm a fat, worthless loser. Ballooning me to a flabby, doughy fat ass when I look in the mirror... even though the way my clothes fit (and the size of them) tell a completely different story. Talk about confusing... when numbers (and people making comments) tell you that you're itty-bitty tiny, but seeing yourself as overweight? Crazy. And not fun.


So that's the spiral of doom. I'm probably leaving things out, but there's the gist of it. I feel like I'm stuck, stuck in a damn toilet bowl of anxiety and irrational thinking... and I don't know how (or when) I'm going to get out.

What I do know is that I'm not going to stop swimming against the current, and trying to find a way out...