What’s Wrong With Us?

I’ve collected a few tweets that highlight things I find myself thinking about – mainly what the hell is wrong with us as a people that these are the things we have to be worried about?

My Success

My therapist asked me to write about my own success story as a kind of graduation out of one on one therapy. To start with how I felt when I started with her a year ago, and end with how I feel about myself today. This is what I wrote.


My Success

A year ago I started therapy. I was anxious, even scared, about what it would be like. I wasn’t taking care of myself. I wasn’t bathing, or sleeping well, or putting on clean clothes. I worried about everything. I had just broken up with my now ex-boyfriend and my entire world was upside down. I had to move back in with my mom and I didn’t want to. I was worried about living with her because we didn’t have the best relationship when I was a child.

I learned pretty quickly that my therapist was non-judgemental, and open to discussing whatever I needed to talk about that week. She gave me a safe space to not worry about what might be thought of me, and to reflect on myself with her gentle guidance. At the same time, I started doing things that let me feel in control of my body, since I couldn’t control anything else in my life right then. This took the form of several piercings, some easily visible, some more intimate. I changed my hair. I started wearing make-up more often. I showered. I put on clean clothes.

I got a puppy, and I started cleaning the house. I slowly stopped worrying about the things that had bothered me- if my pup was safe, if I was safe, if I would have a place to live. My piercings became less frequent, though I still got a few new ones, as well as a tattoo. The word WORTHY on my foot. Because I am.

I learned to look at things that had happened to me in a different way. My mom did the best she could for me. Not all the bad things that happened to me as a child were her fault. She loves me and thinks I’m just fine the way I am. Realizing that made a big difference in how I felt living with her and her boyfriend, and things got better.

I realized my ex was even more of a self-centered, bullying, and verbally and emotionally abusive asshole than I had let myself see before we broke up. Good riddance to bad garbage. I stopped talking to him completely and blocked him on social media. There was nothing good he brought into my life. I felt good about that.

All of these changes, and talking about these things while my therapist reframed them for me to consider made me see I am worthy of my own love and affection. I am worthy of others’ love and affection. I am worth working on to become a better, strong, more emotionally secure person. I’m worth taking care of. I am, all of me, worth it. I’m smart. I’m capable. I’m a good craft artist and a great dog mom. I can and do learn new things all the time. I can take care of myself and I can be my own success story. I am not a failure.

I AM WORTHY.

So Fucking Depressed

So next Sunday is my birthday. I’m turning 37. And with it being my birthday soon, just like every year, I’m depressed. It’s not because I’m getting older- I really don’t mind aging and I look forward to one day having beautiful silver hair. But for me, my birthday is a reminder that I’ve failed. I still haven’t managed to be self sufficient, I still have to spend on others to get by, I can’t even afford a shitty little apartment or trailer. And now I have all this stupid debt because I haven’t been careful with my money so I’m at least 3 years out from being able to start saving to actually do something about my living situation. And it makes me want to crawl under a rock and fucking die.

I’m not suicidal. But I’m so fucking low and on top of the birthday depression, I think my current living situation only adds to it as does the knowledge that my debt has dug a hole I can’t immediately get out of. And all of this is so fucking exhausting.

I really hope by this time next month I’ll have bounced back a bit. Tracy and Jami will be wanting to get together in the coming weeks, which will be a good thing. I haven’t seen friends in months, and some of my friendships are feeling neglected.

Finding Myself Again (Depression is a Mother Fucking Bitch!)

Tonight, after everyone was asleep, I took a shower. And while I was in there, I realized showering is recently a much more complex affair then it was two months ago. I have antibacterial soap to cleanse my numerous new piercings. I have facial cleanser to wash away the day’s makeup. I have body wash for the rest of my skin. I have an expensive tar shampoo to wash my hair and soothe my scalp. And after I get out, I have a fancy, delicious smelling coconut oil conditioner to work into my hair to make it smooth and shiny and soft. And that’s not even counting if I’m shaving – then there’s soap and razors. Maybe baby oil to rub over my skin afterwards.

Makeup. The day’s makeup. I went literally years without a touch of it on my face and now I’m wearing it almost every day because I feel beautiful with it on. My new piercings. 6 total in the last ten weeks because they make me feel pretty with more planned.

I’ve purchased jewelry that I’m actually wearing. I signed up for Ipsy. I bought nail polish twice in recent weeks and I’ve done my nails 3 times in the last week. My hair is currently in curling rods in the hopes of having fabulous cascading curls tomorrow when I wake up.

My next body mod will be a small tattoo that will be a reminder that I have value and I am worthy of so many things – love, good health, friendship, family, good things in my life. This is a thing I have a problem with and I often forget but I’m working on it with my therapist and all these things above are signs of progress. I feel good about myself for the first time in at least 6 years. I feel WORTHY of self – care for the first time in longer than I can remember.

Depression is a mother fucking bitch. You lose track of what’s important (yourself) and you stop believing in your WORTH. Even with medication, my environment was still a big determiner of how I felt about myself. Getting away from my ex was the best thing I could have done for myself and I only regret not doing it sooner.