Thirty-One. Better than Thirty?

Another year around the sun. I know when you see that, people will say all of the good things that have happened in the past year of their lives. And believe me, I have so much good in the past year. But this year, I feel was one of the best years of my life. Why?

This past year brought pain, tears and oh so much heartache. More than some days I ever thought I’d be able to get through. From switching careers, to losing relationships I never thought I would. I don’t know if I can say I’m fully healed, because are we ever? I think I’m on a steppingstone, a stone further than I was last year. Or maybe multiple stones further than I were last year, heck even at the beginning of this year.

This birthday, I told everyone I didn’t want to celebrate. I didn’t want the hoopla that comes with birthday celebrating. And boy, was it a change. A huge change. It was a day, a normal day, a day filled with love from the kids and Matthew, chaos every second, and not a minute was wasted on less than love. Love that I’ve built around me. A love I didn’t think I ever deserved. A love I couldn’t even dream of. I had minimal phone calls, minimal texts and no social media to truly bog my mind down. For the first time, I was truly at peace. A peace that over the past year, I yearned for.

Over the past year, I cried in therapy, in the shower, in bed, begging for the pain I felt to go away. From my therapist to my boyfriend, begging me to realize I’d come out of it. That I’d be okay, I just had to heal. So, every day, I tried. Every day, I keep trying. Don’t get me wrong, not every day has been a win. Let’s just say, you can cry on your birthday if you want. But between the bad days, are so many good days.

The relationships I lost this past year, have been a struggle. A struggle I have battled for a long time, that maybe I’ll always have to struggle with. But they kept me from fully being able to be the person I am today. So, for the first time, I woke up a day after my birthday, at peace. I was on my usual drama and awakened to my children’s usual banter, but it was what I wanted. I wanted this life. I deserve this life. The people I have in it, they’re all that matter. Not the ones that comment or like on a picture. Not the ones that will gaslight you into thinking you are always in the wrong. Not the ones that have always had a say in your life, when they never even deserved to be a part of it.

Sitting here, while my kids are on video games, playing outside and enjoying their Sunday before the school week; Matthew in bed waiting for me to finish writing so we can binge watch Supernatural, these are the weekends, these are the days, that I want to have and want to continue to cherish.

So, here’s to another year, around the sun. Here’s to thirty-one.

The Summer of 23

When you think of 23, you think of Michael Jordan, or at least in a sport’s fans eyes. I’m not much of a sport’s fan, but I do know that was his number. That’s starting way off track of what I was on here for. I guess one could say, I’m itching around the words that I’ll be actually putting out there. I’ll show my vulnerability, which is something my therapist told me, I could work on.

Therapy is such a “voodoo” word. When you grow up and realize that it isn’t something to be ashamed of, your whole world can change. At least it has for me. See, I’ve had my share of trauma, well haven’t we all? The only difference would be that most people are able to work it out, grow from it. I hadn’t. Well, I hadn’t fully. I’d been in therapy a few times in my adult life. I’d always find a way or reason to stop. I didn’t like them, the truth was catching up to me, or I just didn’t want to hear it. It took a special therapist to call me out on my shit. To tell me that I’d never heal, I’d never grow, until I was able to face the demons that I was facing.

So, it was the summer of 2023, when I had been in therapy for over six months, and I was starting to feel like the truths were catching up with me. It was teary eyes every week, battling the childhood trauma I’d blocked out. It was learning that it was okay to stop relationships that were doing more harm than helping. It was letting go of the same people that would shut me out when I needed them.

I’m unsure what really broke me, if I’m being honest. The boys were out of town with their dad for the week and I was sitting in my bed, debating if it was too late to start painting my bathroom. It was in fact after 9 pm when I decided to paint, and not just regular paint, but full-on Barbie pink paint my bathroom. It was loud. It was chaos. And I thought it was what I needed. I cried, I painted and at midnight, as I finished, I drove to Jack’s for some tacos. It was after 2 am that I finally was ready to attempt to sleep. It went on for a few days, not getting out of bed, not doing anything. Just being “there”. I was showering every few hours, I stopped eating, I just didn’t do anything. I needed help. And I didn’t know how to ask, I didn’t know who to ask or what to even say. I just knew I wasn’t okay. I cried, uncontrollably, until I was able to get ahold of my therapist, who referred me to a physiatrist. She’d done all she could, but it was time for me to get more help. The feelings I had were something I’d never wish on anyone.

A few days later, I was on a video chat with a physiatrist, explaining my feelings and why I was having the conversation with him. He looked at me, listened to everything with no interruption and when I had no more words, he says “you aren’t okay and it’s going to take time to get you where you need to be”. That day, I was diagnosed with Bipolar 1 and I had no idea what that meant. You hear about people having these mental issues and you never really know what they’re going through, well at least that’s how I saw it. He recommended different treatment options and we found one that we were hopeful with. So, I started treatment in June, and we are now, September and I can say, I’ve come a hell of a long way. I don’t think I’m where I want to be quite yet, but I will say, the lows I was having, aren’t as low anymore. And when there are things out of my control, I’m working on letting it go.

Letting go and giving up control has been the center to a lot of the issues I had. I thought the way I was living was fine. I was “normal”, my actions were just who I was, but it wasn’t true. And control isn’t healthy. At least, the control I was attempting, wasn’t. I spent all summer away from relationships that I felt were only bringing me down. I also, learned how to speak up when I needed to, even if it meant hurting others.

I don’t know if it’s necessarily hurting others, per se, but it was having to have talks that I never imagined having. It was me facing traumatic moments and letting them go so I could heal. A lot of days, I’ll think about them and how far I’ve come. The worst part? I don’t miss them. I don’t miss the relationships that I had because I wasn’t ever able to fully be there for them. I was always attempting to be in control of the situation. I would zone out and become a person outside of myself. I wasn’t happy, even when I had a smile.

If you see me now, you’d see I have changed. I will smile when I’m happy, I will cry when I’m sad and I’ll nurture my kids to the point of smothering, as long as they never have to feel that way, I felt for so many years.

If you ever feel like you aren’t enough or that you are flying off the handles, get help. No matter how taboo it may seem, it can save your life. You are a better you, when you get the help, you need and find out that the key to happiness is inside of you.

xoxo

Sunset

PS: I don’t know you other than through this blog, just as you don’t know me, but if you ever need an ear or to share your story, I am here ❤

The End of Summer

As we loom on the last few days before school starts, I can’t help but feel like this has been such a bittersweet summer. What started off as a whirlwind, quickly turned into more time with the boys and I must say, I may think they are chaos most of the time, but it was worth it.

From staying home and playing videos games, watching movies and eating junk food to taking mini vacations wherever the road led. This was the first summer the boys were traveling between two parent’s homes, and I can tell ya, it wasn’t so bad. They were able to spend time with their other family and I was able to recoup until they came home. I missed them, but my gosh, terror was still for just a little while.

With new things on the horizon for us, all I can really say is, every day I’m reminded that everything I do, is for them.

Sunny Pool Days ☀️

Life, A Little Less Conversation

I find it funny that I can go so long without writing, but the truth is I’ve had a lot going on and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to fully prepare myself for the outside world. So here it is. What’s been life.

I went through the past year with so many new experiences and life changes. I didn’t know how I was going to make it through. Some were so very good and then there were the lowest of lows. Is it taboo to see a therapist? Well, even if it is, I can say that it was the best thing I could’ve ever done. I learned how to love from a distance. How to cut the toxic and make myself at peace with things others do. It involved so many tears and I can’t say I don’t miss the relationships, but I feel so much lighter. And I refuse to let anyone make me feel like I’m not enough. So there’s that.

Then we have the life of having epilepsy. I made it a whole year. May 2023 never felt so good. I had done it. The migraines still stick around but that is something that I’ve been trying to adjust to. Two months after celebrating a year, a relapse was had. I don’t know if that’s the right word. But Monday, after waking up with the worst migraine, I went to lay down and set my AC as low as I could. I woke up, or rather “came to” hours later. I had another seizure. My sister along with quite a few police officers (eyooo that’s what happens in a small town) were in my room and trying to get me warm and to wake up. Tears poured out. I didn’t know what it was that had triggered it, but my gosh did it hurt. The setbacks it brings is overwhelming. So I’ve basically spent the last few days like a hermit and having my village checking in.

Let’s see. My village. I used to think I was so lucky to have a large family, I could rely on so many of them, right? Gosh, it took me thirty years to realize that the “family” I thought I had, wasn’t. I watched myself drain from pouring into other’s lives and not getting the same in return. It wasn’t even a single thing. It was every time something bad would happen, I would be the outcast, judged and treated like the lesser. So I’ve worked on and have to remind myself every day, is that you have to let go of people that are draining you. Yes, it could be family, it could be some of your deepest companions. Don’t let them do that to you, you my darlin, are more than enough.

Every day, I get to see the boys. And every day, it almost brings me to tears knowing that they are growing so quickly. I mean, I have a teenager! That to me, it just, it is mind blowing. I do have to admit, I was made for this life. Life with sons will be my greatest joy. Seeing them go through these stages of growing up, new friends, new grade levels, it amazes me. That I have been able to guide them and let them bring me the best hugs a mama could ask for.

You’ve read my page and may have noticed that I kept saying, “enough”. Every day, I wake up and I tell myself, that I am. I am enough. You are enough. And never let people into your village that would ever make you feel like you aren’t. Because darlin, you are enough.

xoxo Sunset

Learning To Choose You

I’ve been in this constant struggle. A struggle that some days make me worse rather than better. A struggle that I’m battling uphill one day at a time.

I told myself that I’d be a better me. I would start choosing myself. Not in the “I’m leaving my kids” choosing me, but more being able to make my own choices and do what it is I want to do.

The problem is… I don’t know who I am today. I’ve become so accustomed of doing for others.

I started writing as an outlet to help me cope with the separation, with the changes I was going to have to face. Changes that I asked for. Changes that are affecting everyone around me and I get to reap the sorrow everyone feels.

One thing that I know is that as I’ve looked back on the photos from the past year until now and I can see the difference. I can see that the smile I have is genuine. I started working out for ME. I lost weight and gained muscle, for me. The best part is that I feel amazing. I feel confident in myself, in my choices, and that everything will work out. It may be a long journey and it’s not always going to be easy, but it’s going to be worth it. Every single sad, good, bad and happy moment will be worth it.

Nothing like a sister date night 🥰😎 I never knew I would be able to feel this confident in choosing me.

The End of a Streak

I’m writing this on my bed the day before. The day before I should be celebrating three full years. Instead, it’s just another old date I’ll forget and now get to start my process all over.

I’ve been able to celebrate being seizure free for only two months now. Realizing that sucks. It’s like when you’ve worked on something for so long and worked so hard to get to that point, only for it to get shut down.

When you think about it, it’s not just me. It’s any person. The only difference between me and a regular joe, is when my body decides it’s ready to shut down, it major resets in my brain. (Ha insert awkward laugh) Let’s say that you’ve been killing it all week, kids and pets taken care of, house cleaned up, dinner and of course keeping up with work, so you decide to have a rest. Well, I don’t. I keep going and going like the Energizer Bunny. Then right when I think I can keep going, boom, brain shuts down to stop me from doing more.

I’ve attempted to jump right back in after an episode, but I ended up in worse shape. Look at me, just love to learn the hard way. So now, once it’s over, I get to take 3-5 business days to rest and feel better.

Well, here’s to the end of July 23, 2022.

I’m looking forward to May 7th, 2023.

xo

Sunset

July 14th

Oh how I dislike July 14th. It hasn’t always been this way, but ever since 2010, I’ve never wanted a day to pass over like I do the fourteenth. But after the semi better news I got yesterday, I can say that I’m more at peace with it. Maybe next year I won’t stay in bed and ghost everyone.

Every year, I’ve made an attempt to find a little bit of joy. I’d work in the yard, I’d make something that Pops would like, even if I wasn’t eating it, but somehow, I always end up in bed. This year, I accidently scheduled a doctor’s appointment that I had been putting off. Dragging myself out of bed at 6:45 in the morning wasn’t a good start. But once I got myself together, enough to not look homeless, I headed out.

After a few hours, I got out of my appointment and cried. Just enough to not be able to breathe and decided I wanted to get Whataburger. Thirty minutes. I waited thirty minutes for my food. Nothing like driving away and the food tasting like trash. So, I cried some more.

Eventually I got home, showered again, took meds and went to sleep. The entire day just dragged on. I had my mom to talk to about nothing. We just talked and laughed. We both knew the day, we both had feelings, but instead chose to talk to each other like it was a regular day.

Back into town, I grabbed some non-essentials and grabbed the boys from Eric.

Fast forward to almost nine o’ clock at night and I’m ready to work out. Except my emails that I’ve been avoiding are now going off. It was finally here. The results from my most recent EEG. The EEG that would tell me if I was getting worse, or if I’d finally been able to comfortably manage my seizures with less medications. (Excuse my language) I fucking did it. My results came back as abnormal per usual, but this time, it wasn’t taking over my life. It was “controlled”. The medications I’ve been are actually helping.

I.FINALLY.WON.

It’s not something that is gone. I’ll still have my days, my moments. But for now, I can breathe. Thank you Pops. You really are my Angel.

Heartache & Soul.

When I set out on this journey, I remember my mom telling me that it wouldn’t be easy. My dad told me that he would support whatever decision I made, but that I needed to make sure that the boys were taken care of.

It’s been months of feeling trapped. Feelings of discomfort. It was similar to not being able to handle the growing pains. Do you recall when you’d get them in the middle of the night and they hurt so bad, but “you were growing” so it was fine? That’s how I felt. I felt like I was growing but there wasn’t enough room for me.

So I walked away. I walked away like I said I would never do. It’s scary. Scary knowing that I’m walking into the next chapter of my life without the person I thought I’d spend forever with. It’s funny how things can change for you. Change in so many ways that make you feel lighter. Like everything is going to be okay. The feeling of peace. How is it that I’m so okay with everything? I emotionally detached myself for months. I watched myself do it. I read books, I started working out harder, hell I even started writing more.

I can feel myself being fine. I think the trauma is watching my boys miss their dad. Not knowing why he’s taking his stuff from the home we once shared. Having him come and sit for a movie, only to turn around and go back to his own place. It’s watching my oldest cry on my bed as I hold him without either of us saying a word. I see myself in him so terribly much and I know he’s trying to be strong. So, the moment I saw him breaking down, I knew that he didn’t need words, he just needed to be held. And that’s what I’ll continue to do until he says otherwise.

My heart breaks for them. I keep thinking that maybe it’s just me being selfish. Maybe I should just stick it out until they turn 18 and then I can start my life, right? But then I remember, they deserve me at my happiest. This is me at my happiest in a very long time. It just took some risk to bring it out. And for that, I can only apologize and keep moving forward. Moving towards making sure the boys are better adjusted before school starts. That they are continuously reminded how much we both love them, but we are going to love them from two different homes.

It won’t always be like this. Not forever. It’ll get better. It just takes time. And lots of patience.

The A Word

I had an abortion. Every day since then I have never been the same. I have never forgiven myself. I’ve gone through multiple therapists, I’ve spoken to others that had been in my position, yet I’m still in the same position, hateful.

It wasn’t that it’s what I wanted. It’s what I needed. I needed to have it; it was me choosing my life. It was me ensuring that my boys had their mom for the rest of their lives. It was making sure that Eric didn’t raise them in just sport shorts and t-shirts. It was making sure that my mom didn’t raise them to be spoiled because they truly believe their Nana is rich rich.

My body couldn’t sustain another human. I was going to continue having seizures if I didn’t terminate the pregnancy. I just wasn’t healthy enough. How can you have a body that just lets you down like that? It was and sometimes still is the biggest hurt I have ever felt.

So last week when I saw the Roe V Wade ruling, my heart sank. My heart sank for the women that are going to go through unthinkable and unimaginable things because some old guys think they know what’s best for a woman’s body. Women that are too young, don’t have the money, the insurance or even the sense (because sometimes you just mess up) are going to have to bring a child into THIS world that they can’t take care of. So what happens when the foster families won’t take children? Or when child abuse becomes greater? Then what happens Mr. Old Men? People think that by “saving lives” they’re actually saving lives. Newsflash, y’all aren’t. You’re making this Country look like a damn fool and you’re turning the clocks back way too far. I hope that when you were making this decision, you were thinking about your daughters, your granddaughters, nieces and every female in your family. It’s going to hit you one day, but it’ll be too late. Your actions are going to have consequences and karma will always come around.

xoxo

Sunset

PS: I’m always down for a good road trip. If you ever feel the need to go to another state for help, I’ll gladly take you. No strings attached, other than a nice road trip followed by unhealthy road trip snacks.

And The Thunder Rolls

I feel like I was sidetracked, and this made sense to start another part of the story. About a month ago I felt compelled to begin the decluttering process in my house. I did a small amount of the “Does it bring you joy?” I think it was more along the lines of “there’s no more room, let it go.”

I got rid of clothes that didn’t fit, blankets that were definitely from the old days and then I started with random household items. As I was going through my closet, which has only just begun, I sat on the floor and wept.

See, my mom had given me two of my baby dresses that have sat in my closet for years. The dresses have followed me from apartment to rental to the house I now own. They’re a part of me, my story.

Ok. I know I had some bomb fashion as a child.

So why the hell was I crying about these dresses? I feel like a part of me was always expecting to have more kids. I mean my kids are a lot. I don’t know how my mom had four of us and managed to stay sane. But, hey, I wanted a girl. I felt like that was going to complete the family.

When I was diagnosed with epilepsy in late 2018, I think I became even more hardheaded than I already was. What did I decide to do? Go against every doctor’s advice and try for another baby. By March 2019, after a lovely stay in the ICU that I cannot even remember, I had done it. Until I couldn’t.

I’m not sure I’m ready to feel the wrath of the world knowing more. Maybe not yet. Or ever. Time will tell.

xoxo

Sunset