Be quiet…

One of my goals for myself this year was to learn how to be quiet. I have a need to fill the silence with anything. Music, my voice, TV, anything that can cut the silence. The silence was always uncomfortable for me. It made the thoughts in my head that I was trying to ignore oh so loud. My anxiety would take over. With this constant need to fill the void that I felt silence created, I missed out on so much.

So, I decided that I would slow down and accept silence. I would practice the art of being quiet. I started being quite more when around my family. Not because I didn’t want to talk to them, but because I wanted to really hear them. You’d be surprised what you can learn about someone when you sit in silence with them. Or when you shut up and actually listen to someone other than yourself talk.

I didn’t explain this goal to anyone. I decided it was something I was doing for myself, and it was better left unsaid. When I got back from my trip to Hawaii with my sister’s family, she asked my mom if I had fun because I was quiet. This broke my heart a little. My sister thought I didn’t have fun because I was actually quiet for a change 🤦🏻‍♀️. I was so quiet because I wanted to be genuinely in these moments with them. I tried to soak in every little detail. The experience, the scenery (which will leave you speechless anyway), and all those little moments with them that I’ll never get again. I was quiet and present. I loved every second of that trip with them, but my seemingly sudden behavior change had my sister confused.

This year has been the perfect year to start the practice of being quiet. As we all know, this year has been a shit show. All of the unknown, drastic changes to normal everyday life, and forced quality time with your loved ones, known as quarantine, I honed my ability to be silent. I’ve finally mastered the art of comfortable silence. I no longer feel a need to fill a void.

This morning I wasn’t able to fall back asleep after being woken up. Most mornings, it’s easy for me to slip back into slumber, but today not so much. I laid in bed. The only noises were coming from my fan and Eleanor with her labored breathing. Staring at my ceiling, I was overwhelmed by the stillness. The stillness I tend to miss because even when being quiet, I’m usually moving or active in some way. I eventually moved myself out to my back patio. Sitting here now, I’ve listened to birds and neighbors awaken. I’ve watched the sun slowly creep into the sky. I’ve heard Eleanor and Herschey hunt for lizards. I’ve felt the air go from crisp and slightly cool to humid and warm. I soaked in all of this because I woke up with the weight of the world on my shoulders. I was lying in bed this morning, and the shock of yesterday had finally disappeared. My indifference was gone and an overwhelming heaviness was sitting in my chest. I felt the need to sit in silence and observe. I feel the need to be quiet more than ever now. The need to soak in every second of the next 5 1/2 weeks.

Being truthful…

Virginia Woolf once said, “If you do not tell the truth about yourself, you cannot tell it about other people.” When I write, that is what I try to do. I try to tell my truth. I try to make sure that when I tell my story, I try to be unapologetically truthful. I talk about things we all try to keep hidden, anxiety, depression, mental health awareness, etc.. I try not to be redundant in my writing, and I try my hardest to be relatable. To let others know that they’re not alone. We all have heavy stuff we carry.

My life has been filled with heaviness. Heaviness that I have a hard time sharing with others. Heaviness that eats away at me. Writing has been my way to lift some of that weight. To be able to talk about it. To be able to grow as a person. The last couple of weeks have been profoundly heavy on me.

The saying when times get tough, you find out who your friends are, is true. Over the past few years, I’ve let go of people who showed me they were only surface friends. In the last six weeks, I’ve learned a few more hard lessons with friends. People whom I would’ve bent over backward for proved themselves not to do the same. I’m aware that we’re all at ages now where we are adults and have our own busy lives, but part of being an adult and a friend is knowing when to be there for someone else. Those of you that have been there that have genuinely cared to know the real answer to “how are you” and those of you that have shown up; I can not thank you enough. You’ve helped me open my eyes to who is more than a surface friend. I’m finally at peace with my circle becoming smaller.

The last six weeks weren’t just about opening my eyes with my relationships in my life. There was a great deal of reflection about my life. I’ve repeatedly been told my options are limited and I’m complicated. I’ve come to have a love-hate relationship with this complexity. I love that everything about me is complex. I’m a light, bubbly person, but once you get to know me, you see that there is much more beneath all of that. As my best friend, Madison, told me last night, “there’s so much concealed under your outgoing, upbeat personality.” She’s not wrong and what she said sat with me all night. I love the complexity of my being in that sense but hate it in the medical sense. Being complicated in the medical world is not a hidden beauty. It’s messy, and no one wants to be messy. It’s caused me to be filled with fear. I live every day with fear. Fear of the unknown because the unknown in this situation usually points to death.

People are always saying things about how quickly life can change and how we need to live in the moment. How often do you find someone doing that? I feel as if we only think about life that way when something terrible happens. In the last few weeks, I’ve repeatedly told myself that if it doesn’t bring me happiness or serve me in a positive manner that I need to cut it out. But we rarely take our own advice, do we? It wasn’t until I spent a Tuesday morning with my friend Lilly that it all came full circle. Everyone needs a Lilly in their life, and for those of you that know her, aren’t we lucky. She has provided me with an endless amount of entertainment, a safe space, and a love like no other. Sometimes we view things differently, and one of us has to adjust our outlook to overcome the disconnect, and that, my friends, is a healthy friendship. So, we’re sitting on her couch on a Tuesday afternoon after having a good morning. I’m getting ready to leave for a doctor’s appointment, and she can visibly see the fear on my face. For some reason, just to have her acknowledge that she can not begin to comprehend my fear, but has genuinely tried to, as well as how much she sits with it because she loves me, was precisely what I needed to hear. I felt seen at that moment. I had someone look me in the eye and hold back their pain to tell me that they didn’t understand mine, but they tried to, and she wasn’t going to give me advice but that she supported me in whatever choice I made. This was exactly what I had needed at that moment, and Lilly tends to always deliver in those moments of need. I found myself reflecting on our conversation the whole way to Pensacola, reflecting on how I needed to take my own advice, how I needed to remove things that no longer positively serve me. I need to do what makes me happy and stop caring if others understand what that looks like because I have people other than my family, like Lilly and Madison, who will always support me. I have friends that are genuine.

So now I’m at another turning point in my life. I’m lying in a hospital starting a new medication that has the potential to help me or severely cause damage. I’m discussing possibly having another surgery. With all of this unknown and all of the potential life-changing things that can happen, I’m trying to remind myself that I need to take my own advice. I’m no longer going to sit at tables where I might be the topic of discussion when I get up. I’m going to stop caring about what my happiness looks like to others. I’m going to continue sharing my truth even if others don’t understand why. I’m going to try to continue to share my heaviness and make sure others know they’re not alone. I’m going to try and live unapologetically.

What do I need…

Yesterday during my weekly therapy session, my therapist and I talked about my health. This is usually the topic of discussion and one of the main reasons I put myself in therapy. I finally opened up a little deeper yesterday. See, I have a tough time truly opening up and letting people in. I’ve got these large walls I’ve built when it comes to certain parts of me, and my health is one of them. I talk about it lightly with others because if you get too “real,” it frightens people.

I see the fear and sympathy in everyone’s eyes when I don’t talk about it lightly. When I start to talk about the heavy stuff, people rearrange their faces, so I can’t see their discomfort, but it’s all in the eyes. Your eyes reveal all the things your face isn’t saying. That’s one of the reasons I focus on someone’s eyes when I first meet them. I digress, I can see the sadness in their eyes. I can see my friends and family getting upset. When I see this, my tough exterior goes into effect, and I stop talking.

I know that those who care about me are allowed to feel a certain type of way. They’re allowed to be upset and think things are unfair. Lord knows I do. I’ve cried what I could only imagine the amount of tears that could make up a large body of water. But herein lies the problem. Majority of them are thinking about how it effects them if something happens, not how this truly effects me. The problem with this is a dynamic has been created that’s even more unfair. I always have to be the strong one. I can’t show too much emotion because it triggers fear in those that care. If I stay collected and calm about it, then it must be okay, right? Wrong! Instead, it makes it very lonely for me. Those first few moments I’m alone after these exchanges, I break down. I get in my car, get to the end of the street and sob into my steering wheel. Or I wait until I’m home, then I sit in the shower holding myself while sobbing.

I’m starting to reach the end of my rope with this dynamic. I’m finally beginning to be brutally honest. When asked if I’m okay, I’m finally admitting the answer is no. I’m talking about my health more matter of fact and not sugar coating it. Maybe this is my way of coping or maybe it’s because I’m tired of feeling so alone in this. What I’ve learned over the last 5 years, is that people don’t want to know the truth. They want a version of the truth. For years I’ve been giving everyone a version of the truth and hiding this huge part of myself.

I’ve written about how I resent my health and heart about how I never wanted it to define me and how I’ve fought so hard to be someone outside of my heart conditions. Yet they consume me. If you’re ever with me and I’m looking off into space with my mind racing, you can bet that 98% of the time, I’m thinking about my heart and all it entails. It creates fear and anxiety that is hard to describe. It eats at me from the inside out. I don’t want it to define me or be my whole life, but it is what makes me, me.

Lately, I’ve been wholly consumed, overwhelmed, and distracted by my health. Every skipped or extra beat creates panic. Anytime something feels off, my mind immediately goes to the worst-case scenario. I’ve been trying not to get my hopes up because I’m yet again in a situation where everything in my life is barreling forward except my health. So, for the last few weeks, my therapy sessions have been all about my health. Yesterday my therapist asked me what I needed from others, and I honestly couldn’t answer the question. I don’t know what I need because, on a deep level, I always deal with this on my own. I don’t let anyone help me with the deepest darkest parts of it. I get told, “you’re so strong,” but honestly, what other choice do I have?

What do I need from others? I could use a conversation with someone where I can’t see the discomfort in their eyes. I could use an emotionless discussion—one where I don’t have to sugar coat it. I want not to have to worry about how this is affecting the other person for just one conversation. I wish not to feel a level of loneliness that consumes me even in a crowd of people. I want for someone actually to understand what it’s like for me. I wish for my therapy sessions to be about the common problems of a newly 30-year-old, like dating and developing relationships, making good career choices, or nonsensical problems.

Describe yourself…

Recently I’ve been asked to describe myself to others. Or to tell someone about myself. I never know how to answer this question appropriately. I don’t think someone wants to hear how I would describe myself or how I see myself. I don’t think it would come out in a socially acceptable way. I’d much prefer to hear how others see me. So I thought about it long and hard. This is how I see myself.

Last night while driving with my windows down the hot, humid air on my skin, and The head and Hearts- Rivers and Roads turned up, I felt overwhelmed. That kind of overwhelmed that makes tears silently fall down your cheeks. Something triggered an emotion that was just under the surface and was needing to be released. There it was a few simple tears while singing the words that were making the emotion show itself. This happens to me a lot. It is situations like this that made me realize that I was a little different.

I always knew I was a little different, and I knew at a young age. Not the kind of difference where I don’t have friends and was socially awkward. The type of difference where I didn’t fully relate to others. I have always had what has been described as an old soul or sad eyes or a sense of sadness about me. Many different people, from family to strangers, have told me this. “It’s that tortured soul that makes you artsy” or “You can tell you suffered trauma, and you carry it.” Doesn’t everyone suffer some kind of trauma? I mean, hell, no one has perfect parents or a perfect life. Isn’t that what makes us human? I know I am a little damaged. I was born damaged, and I do carry the weight of that with me. I have experienced emotional trauma because I’ve allowed myself to be vulnerable. And the older I get and reflect on myself, the more I grow and find myself, the more I realize that maybe there is a sadness to me.

Maybe I’ve always known it, and that’s why I’ve felt different. Perhaps that’s why I talk too much. I talk to distract so it isn’t as noticeable or I’m too boisterous so you can’t see that it’s there. Because being different wasn’t something I was okay with, and I’ve always cared what people thought of me. I have overcompensated my whole life just to please others. The more I grow, the more I am embracing this part of me.

I like sad books, movies, and songs. Especially the songs. I’m a lyrics person. When I can relate to a song, it’s because I can tell that the person who wrote has the same sense of sadness to them too. Hell, I’m the person that cries when I hear a song that moves me—case in point, last night. I can recognize this sadness in art. In paintings, sculptures, and photographs. I like stories that are real and raw. That don’t have the perfect ending. It creates a beautiful kind of sadness. I would describe it as an air of melancholy. Maybe I have it because I am such an empathetic person. Or it’s the trauma. Or it’s that I have an old soul. Or perhaps it is because I am meant to show it to others, in the hope that it moves them.

I’m the kind of person that finds solace in little things. Like when I’m feeling sorrowful I want to go outside and stare at the stars and moon. Or go to a library or bookstore and get lost in the stories. Or drive with the windows down and a song filled with emotion turned up. Or go to the beach and become engulfed by the water. I want to feel everything in those moments.

I’m also the kind of person that is full of contradictions. I want to be fiercely independent but have someone that will take care of me when warranted. I like to be alone but feel lonely. I am creative and lazy at the same time. I want to feel everything and, at times, nothing because it’s so overwhelming. I want someone to see me truly but I have walls I’m not sure anyone can handle. I am afraid I’m a disappointment to others, yet I demand respect and hold myself accountable. I’m all over the map, and I know it. I know that I’m different and sorrowful. I’m empathetic and constantly overwhelmed by emotions. But how do you tell a stranger that? That’s never the things they want to hear. They want you to list off your accomplishments or generic descriptions about yourself. They don’t want to hear, “I like sad music and have an annoying laugh.” Y’all my cackle is out of control, and I know it. Earlier my friend told me my laugh was angelic, and I thought, “yeah, okay, for sounding like a demon is cackling.” I’m sorry if you’ve ever heard it.

How does one describe themselves in a light that doesn’t reflect that they’re their own worst critic? The guilt we feel for our failures and moments of harshness. Or the insecurities we have with ourselves. If we only focused on the good things, we’d come off as conceded. I can’t appropriately describe myself with accomplishments and generic descriptions. I’m full of failures and depth.

The dropping of the shoe…

Do you know when things are going too well? When it appears as if everything is falling into place, and you get that hesitant feeling—the one where you’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve had that feeling for the past two weeks. In the last month, I’ve made some big decisions and put in motion majors changes for myself. I’ve created opportunities to better myself and further my education. I’ve created boundaries. I’ve been working on my self-confidence and my ability to say no without feeling guilty. I’ve been getting myself out of my comfort zone. I’ve been being upfront and working on honesty. I’ve been actively working on living for myself. It felt like things were FINALLY going my way. I had a tough time turning 30.

In the words of my nephew, “you act like a part of you died when you turned 30.” Well, I felt like it did. I had a preconceived notion of what 30 was supposed to be, and that’s not where I was at in life. I panicked. So, I made changes. I want my thirties to be more than my twenties ever dreamed they could be. All of these changes and all of this work I’ve been putting in seemed too good to be true. I had this foreboding feeling that the proverbial other shoe was going to drop. I kept dwelling on it and trying to place it. To figure it out ahead of time. To prepare myself. Then I had my “Ah-ha!” moment. My follow up appointment for my new medications was quickly approaching. This was it. My medication seemed to be working, and I have been the healthiest I have been in a while. I had recently had a few bad days. Days where I would wake up and feel off. It’s hard to put into words the feeling, but something about me was wrong. Those days I had some of my episodes. Brief moments where everything goes white. All of the sound disappears from the room. I get hot, and my head feels like a hot air balloon. It feels like I’m about to hit the ground, and my heart is going to burst out of my chest. Those days had diminished compared to before I started the new medications. So, I just knew this appointment was that shoe. This appointment was going to be the kink in all of my new plans.

When I brought my concerns up with others, I would get responses of, ”Think positive!” or ”you deserve for things to be going well.” I was trying to think positive, and I know I deserve for things to go well. I of all people know that I deserve for things to go my way. I’ve been the one who had to live all my bad days. So, I put out positivity into the universe. I kept telling myself this appointment was going to go fine.

The week before my appointment, I barely slept. My anxiety was through the roof. As much as I tried not to focus on the feeling of impending doom, it was all my mind would allow me to focus on. Here we are the day of the appointment and y’all the other shoe dropped. I guess I should always trust my gut, right?

Today as I sat in that room and learned that my medication was working against me, everything felt small. My heart is a complicated one, literally and figuratively. My options are incredibly limited, and there will never be a fix for me. I’ve known that there wasn’t a fix for a while, and I’ve been attempting to make my peace with it. So, today in the room, all I could think was the lyrics, “I’m not here for a long time. I’m here for a good time.” That’s right, George Strait, freaking lyrics from a George Strait song. When I used them in a joke to my mother and Nana, it wasn’t a hit. Apparently, using humor as a coping mechanism doesn’t go over well with everyone. I can’t accurately describe whatever it is I am feeling. Maybe a mix of emotions with a general sense of being overwhelmed. I resorted to retail therapy and eating my feelings this evening. Even mozzarella sticks couldn’t help subdue this. I was hoping today would put my mind at ease, and all it did was create more chaos. This chaos looks like more sleepless nights, more brooding, and more uncertainty.

Failure…

Failure is not something “we” as a society openly talk about. If you’re anything like me though, then you have had moments where you’ve felt like a failure. I tend to compare my life to the life of my peers, THANK YOU social media. As a whole “we” do not get on Facebook or Instagram and post about the things we fail at. We post about our BIG moments. Picture perfect moments(that are usually scripted). Our accomplishments. Our failures are also BIG moments though. So why don’t we share them? I feel that we get so caught up in being perfect and appearing to have the perfect life that we become unimaginably hard on ourselves. I constantly say that I am my own worst critic because it is true. I tend to feel that everything I do isn’t enough or good enough. Hell, I thought I would be in a much different place in life at 29. I thought I would be a different person than I am, but my failures have shaped me to be this person.


I thought I would check all the boxes in my twenties. You know, do everything the way you’re “supposed’ to do it. I’d graduate high school and go to college. I’d get my degree and start my career. I’d meet the right person and fall in love. We’d buy a house, get married and start a family. Let’s all just take a moment to laugh at that, please! I have FAILED miserably at ALL of those “boxes”. While I can laugh at this I also struggle because I see my peers doing all of these things. Checking off these boxes in the “right” order. I find myself green with envy at times and other times I am not envious at all. That’s because I have realized that my failures were blessings. Realizing this has freed me of the weight of my failures that make my green side shine. My path is different than theirs and my timeline is my OWN. Finding this clarity and growing comfortable with it has happened because I openly talk about how I have failed at things. I laugh about it and I don’t hide it away. I don’t feel shame for failing at something anymore and neither should anyone else. So let’s talk about some of these failures.


I’ll stick to the “boxes” I failed to check off. I still don’t have a college degree! My first attempt at college was right after high school like the majority of people. 18 and so confused with adulthood, my heart was not in it. I had no idea who I was or what I wanted from my life. I had a hard time seeing past the day at hand. I took time off of school. I took the time to figure it out. I moved in with my sister(the best roommate ever) and we had our own little house and routine. I worked multiple jobs and took the time to think about my future. I realized what I wanted to do with my life and took my test to get into a nursing program. Passed with flying colors and nailed my interview. Now after 2 attempts I have had to retire that goal and that was not so much a failure because it is out of my control. That was because of a whole other demon I battle daily and will never truly have the upper hand on. I went back to school recently to work towards another dream of mine and my heart decides to stop. So once again I have not failed but had to put my health first. While overall it is a failure because I failed to check off that box, I know that I will continue to work on getting my degree. I will accomplish that goal and it will no longer be in the failure column. I will do it without rushing and sacrificing my health.


And on to another one…failed relationships or also know as relationshits. In my twenties, I had 2 serious relationships that, well failed. Clearly, I am not married or engaged. Now I see that them failing was them working out in my favor. Don’t get me wrong at the beginning of them I had those moments where I thought, “Maybe this is the one!” I really would love to have that beautiful 50-year marriage that everyone dreams about, but I sure am glad it hasn’t happened for me yet. My relationships failed for many reasons, some that were not my fault and some that were. While they aren’t my failures alone they are still failed relationships. The low points that came from it led me down a path that was HARD, but beautiful. I was/am on my path to finding myself without someone being attached to my existence. I have found how to set boundaries. To have personal growth I had to face hard truths. I started going to therapy (and I strongly believe everyone should at some point in their lives) to figure out how to set boundaries, identify toxic behaviors and to identify my insecurities. I have to actively work on these things and without failing I would not have been able to get this. I had to fail. While I may not be married or engaged like I thought I would be at 30 at least I didn’t marry the wrong person. I have had the opportunity to figure out exactly what I want in a partner and find my peace. Peace is something I never even knew I needed. I am now so comfortable alone that I refuse to disrupt this peace unless someone is absolutely worth it.


Obviously being alone means I have not been able to start a family, not that being married is the only way you can start a family, but you get my point. But being alone is not the only reason I haven’t popped out mini Madelyns. I really did think I would be a mom by now and that I would eventually have 4 kids. Now, this isn’t a technical failure on my part. For those that have read my blogs or know me, you know that I can not have kids. While that is not my fault, completely out of my control and I in no way shape or form caused this to happen. I still felt like I failed as a woman. Please, please spare me the whole, “just because you can’t have kids doesn’t mean you failed as a woman” or “having kids is not the only thing a woman can do” speech. I know bearing children and starting families aren’t the only thing a woman can do or the only thing that makes us a woman. Biologically, however, it sets us apart from men. We are given the ability to grow life inside of us and I have moments where I feel like a failure.


While I failed to check off those big boxes we’re told we must accomplish to be successful, I have also failed at many other things. I have failed at any and every fitness challenge I have set for myself. I am currently living at my parents for the 2nd time in 3 years. I have failed to hold myself accountable for the goals I have set for myself. I have failed by letting myself get discouraged because I see my peers’ lives progressing faster than mine and I have failed myself by not openly talking about the things and ways I have failed. Our hard moments in life tend to be kept secret and swept under the rug. We put up our “happy” pictures and filter our lives so they appear constantly perfect. I am guilty of it. I have deleted photos after a break up so people can’t go back and see where my relationship failed. I post updates of my health when things are going well and I post photos of a happier time while laying in bed struggling with depression. When you struggle with depression and you have those days when it takes everything to get you out of bed just to shower, you feel like you’re failing. I fail A LOT at things. I hate being bad at something. I get discouraged easily and I have cried endless tears because I feel so far behind sometimes. But I am realizing that it is okay that I have failed. It is okay I am not the person I thought I was supposed to be. It more than okay, to be honest, and accept the things I have fallen short on. It is okay because being open and honest about it has allowed for personal growth I did not know possible. It’s allowed me to be vulnerable and be thankful for my big moments that are good. I have been able to accept that my timeline is my own and however small my progress may look to someone else, it is still my progress. It is moving forward at the pace that is right for me.


I am not writing this to preach change upon others. I am writing this in hopes of being relatable. To let others know it is okay when you try something new and you suck at it. It okay to acknowledge your failures. It doesn’t make you seem less than it shows you have courage instead. It is okay that you haven’t checked off those boxes and it is okay if you aren’t the person you thought you would be at this point. Talk about your failures!!! It allows you to grow and to set new boundaries. It helps you see the good things that came from failing.

Airports, airplanes, or air travel of any kind…

I always thought that airports would play a much larger role in my life than they have, much like I did when it came to the Bermuda Triangle. Was anyone else overly concerned about the Bermuda Triangle around the age of 7 or 8? I was terrified I’d fly over it or go on a cruise and BOOM disappear. Why aren’t we still concerned with that? I digress, my point is that when I was younger I thought that airports and airplanes would be a huge thing in my life.

Who can blame me though, right? We watch movies and television shows where in the airport there are pivotal moments. Tearful goodbyes, declarations of love, and huge over the top reunions. We read in books about how sitting on the plane there was this moment of clarity, some great life altering moment where everything clicks and all the fear or doubt fades away. Then there is this whole aspect of travel. How travel changes your being and your outlook and how it is immensely important that one travels in life.

The closest thing I’ve had to a life altering moment on a plane was when I was “that person”. I had recently ended my relationship and been working nonstop. I was flying late at night, after working a close then double and then open shift, and I was on my way to Tampa to be with my Aunt while she had an ICD placed. I was overly exhausted and experiencing emotional overload. Well fast forward to my point. There I was traveling alone and I decided to watch a movie on the plane. I watched Table 19. It’s a good romantic life lesson type of movie. It had its happy, funny, shocking and sad moments. Well there was a moment when the couple it was focused on had this emotional fight turned reunion. In that moment I realized that my weak hope of my ex ever “coming around” to being an adult was null and void. I wept. I balled my freaking eyes out. I cried for feeling like I had wasted the last 4 years of my life and for being naive enough to think that movie actually would be something that happened in real life. Y’all, the poor teenage girls sitting next to me thought I was a psycho. Other than sitting next to a screaming child or a Bonnie Raitt fan that “toured with her” and gave me a lifetime of meaningless knowledge about Bonnie Raitt, absolutely nothing profound has happened to me on an airplane. I’ve never been in a life saving experience, like Greys anatomy, or realized that I was deeply in love with some like Rachel in friends. I mean she got off the freaking plane for Ross. Instead my time on planes have been meh. I’m typically reading or busy watching my friend Jes sleep with her mouth open 🤣. Love you Jes!

I’ve never had a tearful heart wrenching goodbye or a beautiful run and jump into one another’s arms kind of reunion in an airport. Instead I’ve been that girl who didn’t have a napkin and licked chocolate off of her phone screen while waiting to board the plane. I really have no shame, that’s kind of endearing right? In September I purposely chose to fly home hours later than my friends. One it was cheaper and I’m a cheap ass. Two I thought a little quiet time after a bachelorette weekend would be nice. And three I hoped I would have some life altering moment. Instead I sat looking out the window at the runway contemplating my life. I sat there and cried silently over my medical saga and my current state of affairs. The only significant thing that happened that day was I realized airports, air planes and air travel had not lived up to the hype. I also didn’t throw up from my hangover so it was a semi successful day.

I haven’t traveled nearly as much as I’ve envisioned for myself. I had big plans to see the world and to keep my mind open to new experiences, different cultures, and all the things that I could learn from. I’ve traveled more than others, yes, but not near as much as one should. The world is a scary and beautiful place with the knowledge that can help everyone find what they’re searching for in life. I’ve been far too boring this past decade and have not explored enough. Maybe it’s because I am overly excited about my upcoming trip to Hawaii or because I recently watched Julia Roberts in Eat Pray Love, but that wanderlust that’s ingrained in my soul is yearning to be unleashed. Maybe my goal for my 30th year should be to just say, “Screw it, let’s do this” and cross off some of these places on my must-see list. Maybe then I will have one of those climactic moments on a plane or in an airport. Something to live up to the hype I developed in my childhood. Maybe I’ll be like Kate Hudson in Almost Famous. That realization on the plane that changes everything and sets in motion bigger things leading to that window seat to Morocco. (If you don’t understand the almost famous reference we can’t be friends, I’m sorry.) Anything has to be better than sitting on the tarmac for 3 hours learning about Bonnie Raitt…right?!

Mental health…

I’ve been in my own world lately. A world filled with doctors visits, medical testing, sleep deprivation, and anxiety. I’ve been working extremely hard at not letting myself spiral down a deep dark hole of depression. When I say working extremely hard I mean doing everything humanly possible to keep myself from completely shutting everyone out and becoming 300 pounds while binge watching everything I can stream on my TV. I haven’t been the most hands on version of myself when it comes to my relationships. I have not been the most attentive friend, sister, daughter or granddaughter. The balance between keeping myself from being consumed by my anxiety and being present is a tiresome battle.

For the last several months I’ve traveled to New Orleans, Nashville and Pensacola to see doctor after doctor. Trying to find some rhyme or reason to why my heart and oxygen seem to do whatever they want. For 13 months I’ve been dealing with trying to get a handle on my tachycardia and all that comes with it. I have requested referrals to see specialist. I have tirelessly fought to find a solution. Recently I discovered my oxygen levels like to dip down a little too low. Hence my recent photos with a nasal cannula or an oxygen pack strapped across me. Also you can notice my increasingly dark circles under my eyes. All of this has been consuming. Wholly consuming. Mind, body and soul. It’s taken EVERYTHING in me to maintain my sense of humor and to keep my head above water.

To all of you I keep sending photos like this to…you are welcome!

I constantly feel like I’m treading water. I have days where getting out of bed seems like the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I have days when making my bed is my biggest accomplishment. Most nights I toss and turn, stare at the ceiling, and mull over every possible scenario that the doctors could throw at me. I’ll be in a room of people and not be present. I get lost in my thoughts at times while having a conversation with someone I won’t have heard a word they said. I get tired of talking about it and feel like everyone is tired of hearing about it all. Mainly because I never have answers. I keep having to ask off of work for appointment after appointment. I’m afraid to ask off for a mental health day and I’m needing those more increasingly. Even when I am at work it’s hard to stay on task, my mind is always elsewhere.

For those of you that follow me on social media and see all of my self care posts it’s because I am struggling. It’s because I need to be reminded that depression and anxiety are normal. That I need to be told from time to time that it’s perfectly okay to not be okay. So I post it to remind myself and because I know that someone else might need to be reminded that they’re not the only one going through it.

Last time I wrote I had just been called a “ticking time bomb” by a doctor. I then waited days to hear from a team of doctors that they all agreed. That I was too complex of a case for them. I was consumed with anger and frustration. My mood has since turned into one of worry, fear, and doubt. My weight is fluctuating. I’m stressing so much my skin is breaking out. Some days I stare into the mirror and think, “what if this doctor can not do anything? What if I have only two extreme options? One that results in more side effects and ailments. Or one that could result in paralysis and relying solely on a battery to make my heart function?” What do I do then? Do I risk the extreme? Do I continue to fight and be “brave” or do I let go? Give up and live life like I am in fact a time bomb?” Do I do that whole “live life to the fullest” thing that we all say we will do? Live with no regrets. Stop waiting for my life to happen after I get well and just accept that at any moment my heart could stop beating. That my defibrillator could go off and revive me until one day it can’t. Do I risk it and fight or do I live my life until I succumb to ventricular fibrillation? Hence my aloofness as of late.

These questions are debilitating. They weigh heavy on my mind, my soul and my physical body. My sisters recently joked about why I take such long showers. They said I was contemplating life in the shower and well, they are right. I get lost in the hot water and steam. I imagine scenario after scenario and how I will handle them. But now I am doing that all the time not just in the shower. I’m fighting for answers and fighting depression. I constantly get told by friends and acquaintances how they admire my strength and grit. But I feel like such a fraud when complemented by them because I feel anything but strong. I put up a great facade of humor and strength, but I’m struggling to not cry constantly. Every time someone asks about my appointments, asks how I am doing, or every time a stranger stares at me toting around my oxygen. I needed to break my facade and show everyone that I am indeed struggling. I am fighting for my life right now. A life I want to live and I live that I have been greatly blessed in. I have a very dysfunctional family that I wouldn’t trade for the world. They’re my biggest support system and despite not always seeing eye to eye, they have NEVER let me be alone in anything I do. I’ve also managed to be blessed on the friend front. I have somehow managed to find some of the most amazing individuals who support and understand me. They check on me regularly and love me endlessly. I haven’t been the best or greatest friend lately and ultimately I know everyone will understand and accept it. Depression and anxiety are a hell of a beast.

The whole purpose of this post is to let others know that the taboo of discussing your depression and anxiety is not okay. Tell someone what you’re going through. Don’t put up a facade. I can not reiterate enough that it is OKAY TO NOT BE OKAY!!! Go to counseling and don’t be ashamed of it. When someone asks “are you okay” say no. This post was not for attention but for help. I want my words and my story to be read by someone who also has days where getting out of bed seems like the hardest thing they’ve ever had to do. I want them to know that being open and honest about struggling is perfectly normal. I want my story and my words to help. I want people to know what I am actually feeling and going through. That social norms and expectations set by society and social media are not how we have to live life. That it’s okay to feel sad and to try to get help for that. That by taking care of yourself you will let others down and you don’t owe anyone an explanation when that happens. For those of you that sometimes feel like giving up, don’t. Keep pushing. Keep trying. Find your meaning. Your soul satisfying moments and relish those. Keep fighting that deep dark spiral that is depression even when you feel like you can’t. Take mental health days and don’t feel guilty. Cry in the shower or on the bathroom floor. Feel it and learn to let it go. Continue to move forward even if it’s at the pace of the tortoise not the hare.

Sick and tired of being sick and tired…

I would like to know what it is like to not be complicated. To not be so completely complex that you feel like you have no control over your own body. To be genuinely healthy and to not live in fear. I was asked the other day what my main concern was with all of the electrical issues going on with my heart. My answer was simple. I fear that I’m going to go into V-fib and be shocked and hurt myself or someone else. I’m afraid it’ll happen when I’m driving and I’ll cause an accident. I’m afraid it’ll happen when I’m awake and alone and I’ll fall hitting my head or hurt myself worse. Most of all I am afraid that there is no solution to my particular perplexing issue and that it could be my demise.

My whole life I’ve been rather challenging. The punishment was always worth the crime as a child. I always pushed my limits with my parents. I tend to tell the truth when people aren’t ready or used to it. I’ve been an ever-evolving person. I’ve had many stages in my life and I’ve only recently really come to know who I am as a person. My emotions have always been complex and so has my personality. I now appreciate my peculiarities and obscurity. Besides my challenging and evolving personality, my health has been a whole other beast.

While I have made it well known my heart has always been far from normal. It’s been something I’ve fought against and resented my whole life. I didn’t want it to define me and that’s exactly what it has done. It’s what makes me who I am. It’s consuming. While all of my friends and family would describe me as strong because of it I feel completely at its mercy. It started out abnormal, which to me is kind of ironic because I feel like I’m a little anomalous as a person, but it’s grown to be quite literally one of a kind. My particular malfunction in the heart is not a structural problem anymore. I’d kill to go back to my valve being the only serious issue. An easy answer and an easy fix. Structural issues of the heart are simpler, but no, I have to continue to be challenging.

A lot of you are not in the medical field and don’t know medical terminology and don’t exactly understand how it all works. Your heart has an electrical system that makes it beat correctly. That lub dub you’re supposed to hear occurs because of the electricity flowing through your heart. My heart, however, likes to have premature ventricular contractions(also known as skipped beats) at an abnormal rate. It also likes to go into ventricular tachycardia, which means my heart beats WAY too fast. I just learned the other day that one area of my heart was beating at 300 beats per minute during one of these spells. When this happens my heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest. Also when this happens my heart gets stuck in this rhythm of beating too fast to actually pump. When this occurs I am not getting oxygenated blood throughout my body because my heart can’t efficiently pump it out. When it’s stuck like this the muscle then begins to spasm and not beat all. That is known as ventricular arrhythmia and ventricular fibrillation. My pacemaker is designed to try to pace my heart back into a normal rhythm and when it cannot my defibrillator kicks in. If I didn’t have my pacemaker/defibrillator I wouldn’t be here today. I have had at least one spell of ventricular tachycardia and arrhythmia every month this year. I’ve had more but there hasn’t been one month without. I could have died at least once every month this year without my ICD(implantable cardiac device).

Finding this out and being told just how severe and serious of a case I am has been absolutely overwhelming. Honestly, there isn’t a word to describe the emotion I am feeling. I knew it was serious and I know that I downplay it to everyone else, but I can’t anymore. I can’t pretend I am okay and that I am normal anymore. I can’t mask my fear and uncertainty anymore. It is so exhausting physically because of the arrhythmia and the high number of PVCs I have regularly. I am extremely symptomatic with it all and it physically drains me. Also, being so emotionally concealed and strong for everyone else is beginning to take a toll. Completely relinquishing myself to the fact that I am not healthy and will never be medically “normal” is proving to be difficult and incredibly depressing. I’ve got a lot of uncertainty ahead and it’s not going to be easy. From starting a medicine with a black box warning label and severe side effects to accepting that there may never be a solution. It’s going to be a tough journey with a lot of ups and downs.

To everyone that has reached out and to everyone that has respected the fact that I am not ready to talk, I thank you. I have a lot I need to process still. Emotions are all over the place right now. But I appreciate every one of you that is in my corner, thoughts, prayers, positive vibes and listening ears, you all mean a lot. I have some of the BEST friends and even better family.

June…

Well, here it is, my month, the month of June. At the beginning of the year I had set goals for each month, some of which I achieved and some I fell short of, but June’s goal was a month of me. A month of self-care and being selfish. I thought it was a perfect fit for my birth month and now that it has arrived I realize I need it more than ever.

The last few weeks, months, I’ve been busy. If and when I have had downtime I find myself overthinking and over-committing. I have managed to keep my schedule full and my focus on myself at a minimum. I have got to remember that being busy is not a personality trait and it is not how I want someone to describe me. I don’t want to keep myself constantly going and not enjoy the little things. I don’t want to give someone the wrong impression of myself because I am too busy. I have got to stop neglecting myself. My wants and my needs. I need to slow down. I always get caught up in whatever is going on around me and silence the voice in my head telling me to calm the f down!

As of late when I do have downtime I keep finding myself mindlessly scrolling through social media. This is such a negative way to spend my time. I find myself comparing myself to my peers and getting stressed. I should be doing things that promote my mental health, my well being, and myself rather than stress me out and cause me to over analyze things. So, starting today, I am removing all my social media apps from my phone. Well, it’s only Facebook and Instagram, but they’re being silenced for a while. Not having them at my fingertips will hopefully encourage me to spend my free time more productively. I have also been thinking about how I don’t need to be so readily available. I want to maintain some mystery. I am selective with what I post and write, but I have decided to be a little more in the moment than on the screen. If you want to know what is going on in my life you will have to text or call me. We will have to have a proper conversation, make plans, or hell do something spur of the moment. But if you want to be in my life then effort will have to be made. No more play by play on social media.

I am going to spend more time focusing on me and less time apologizing for it. I am going to make myself a priority this month. Staying in more to get rest. Spending less money. Working two jobs to pay off my credit card and to save. Actively working on getting things together for my move. Reading at least one of the books I have in my “to read” pile. Cooking more since I genuinely love cooking. Eating healthier and drinking more water. Exercising with my girls Lilly and Ellie! Spending time with those who make my soul happy. Spending more time outdoors AND most of all doing WHATEVER I want on my birthday. It’ll involve sushi and being on the water of course. I keep telling myself I am going to do more for myself, focus on self-care, and I don’t. I get wrapped up in the hustle and bustle of life and trying to the best friend, daughter, sister, employee, etc., I can be. So, I am vowing to myself for this whole month to focus on MYSELF! I already spent the first 4 days working, cleaning, cooking and watching a totally cheesy Netflix show.

Self-care isn’t always about face masks, bubble baths, getting your hair done or pedicures. Although I will be doing all of those things this month…it is my birthday and all. It’s about making sure you are mentally, emotionally, and physically in your healthiest and happiest state. It is making sure you are taken care of and your heart is full. I have been neglecting myself. While I have been pushing myself out of my comfort zone in many aspects that past few weeks, opening myself up to new opportunities, and making big changes. I haven’t taken a step back to figure out how it is affecting me. I have been putting others first, which isn’t a bad thing, but I have to remember that my well being is most important. Being selfless is wonderful as long as you don’t lose yourself. I tend to lose myself in trying to be the person everyone needs me to be and not be the person I need to be for myself.

I am letting the month of June and the last birthday I voluntarily celebrate(29 forever club) bring the opportunity to modify a few things in my life. I am also letting it bring a month full of celebrating and using the excuse, “Well it’s my birthday so…” While I love writing and sharing my life with those I love, taking this break from oversharing and living more in the moment seems to be the right thing for me at this time. I hope everyone enjoys the month of the summer solstice. And if you see me this month looking a hot mess or having a little too much fun just remember…its the month of me. I am not trying to impress anyone, just doing what I want to do!