How I Got Here

Time for the first post.

How did I get here? That's such a long story. Sometimes I don't even know where to start, but as for today, I'll try to start at the beginning. Which is basically childhood. I'm going to throw it out right now, there may be triggers in this post. I'm going to be frank and honest, and it won't all be pretty. Please practice good self-care, and if you are in a bad spot right now, you may want to refrain from reading. Here we go-

*************Trigger Warning***************

In some way or fashion, I've always known that I was different. I can remember, very clearly, at a young age (5 or 6) feeling sad. And lonely. And most all, inadequate. I was an extremely shy child, and I had a hard time approaching anyone. The reason for this, in my young mind, was that I thought I was boring, ugly,  and no one would want to talk to me anyway. I mean, most of the time, I couldn't even think of anything to add to a conversation. So I clung to my mom. This vastly annoyed my mother, as she was (and still is) extremely outgoing and vivacious. She will talk to anyone, and I think it bothered her that her daughter was the complete opposite. This led to her pushing me to be more outgoing my entire young life. When we'd be out shopping, and she'd see one of the "popular" girls, she shove me in their direction to go say hi. Or sometimes worse, she'd drag me over and start the conversation herself. She signed me up for multiple sports to encourage me to socialize. During the summers, she'd send me to volleyball camps. Yes, to increase my skill, but also to force me to talk to people. I love my mother, but as a child and teen I hated her for this.

I was an extremely fearful child, haunted by nightmares of ghosts, aliens, and monsters under the bed. I can remember lying in my bed as child, paralyzed by fear, unable to close my eyes. My fear of the dark led to later sleeping problems. When I was 5, I began stealing stuff. I don't mean shoplifting either. I started stealing my cousin's doll and Barbie stuff. The first time my parents found my stolen items, they marched me over to my cousin's house, made me hand over the items, and mumble an apology. I became much more secretive about stealing after that. The stealing escalated until I was in 5th grade, and I'd stolen a hoard of stuff from my friend whose house I was staying the night at. Her parent's found my stash, and confronted me. They also called in my parents. I was mortified, and despite the obvious need for the truth at that point, I denied it. I continued to deny it my entire childhood.

My stealing, shyness, and awkward appearance made me a target with the other kids. After the 5th grade incident, my friends were never the same. Understandably. Nevertheless, they became more like frenemies and kept me on the outside until we graduated high school. Middle school was the hardest, and definitely where I suffered the most bullying, paranoia, and anxiety. Insomnia started at this time. When I was 12, I had my first drink.

My favorite book when I was kid was "Gone with the Wind". I read it constantly, over and over. In the book, whenever Scarlett has a problem or can't sleep, she turns to brandy. One night when it became obvious I wasn't going to sleep at all, I crept upstairs and into my parents liquor cabinet. I pulled out the brandy, and poured myself a glass. That first sip was disgusting. It burned like fire, and I was afraid I was going to throw up. However, about 1 minute after downing the shot, the flavor began to die down. All I was left with was a wonderful warming sensation down my throat and into my stomach. I took another drink. Then I finished the glass. Then I went back to my room, and I fell asleep.

As you can imagine, I began turning to alcohol whenever I couldn't sleep. Which wasn't much, but keep in mind that I was only 12 or 13 years old. When I was 16, I fell in with the wrong crowd. And older crowd that liked to "party". In those days, "partying" was drinking, smoking marijuana, and hooking up. I'd lost my virginity at 13, so by 16 hooking up was old news. I gave myself away freely. At the time, I didn't know why. I'd heard multiple boyfriends' parents call me "fast" or "loose", which I took as a reflection on me. I was bad. I had no self-control. I honestly didn't know why anyone would waste their time on me. It was never a surprise when a relationship ended, I always expected them to end. I always expected them to end with me being left. All of these feelings simply culminated in me wanting to be drunk or high the majority of time. When I was drunk or high, I wasn't shy anymore. I could approach boys and flirt with them. I could talk to girls, and make friends. It made me a different person, and that's exactly what I wanted.

I'll just tell you now, I spent my teenage years and my 20's numbing myself. With alcohol. And one night stands. When I went to collage, I gave up marijuana and just drank. And drank. By the time I graduated collage, I could drink a 5th of vodka in a night. There were multiple sorority functions that I don't even remember. I only know I was there because I saw the pictures. After I graduated, life became drinking a bottle of wine or 12-pack of beer after work. Every night. At the time, I also used food to soothe what I now know was anxiety. Between the alcohol and overeating, I gained 60 lbs after high school.

I could regale you with tons of tales from this time period, but now is not the time. After all, that's why I started this blog. There will be plenty of time for that later. But here's the gist- during this time period I met the man who would become my husband. I continued living in the same fashion up until my husband got laid off from his job. When he was unable to find a job where we lived, we made the decision to move across the United States. From the West Coast where I grew up, to living in the Bible Belt. My husband and I stayed in a pretty run-down rental the first year we moved here, while he was looking for a job. We didn't plan for me to work, so I stayed home. That first year in the South was almost unbearable. The anxiety was overwhelming. I began to have what I thought were fantasies, images of an adult taking advantage of a child. I was disturbed by these thoughts, they only convinced me that I was just as sick as I'd always thought. Only now, I thought I was sicker than I'd ever believed.

After a couple of months, in one vision, I was jolted with the startling revelation that I was the child. And then I saw my uncle's face. My world came crashing down around me, and I was left with a sickening realization that nothing was as it seemed. More and more images came, and along with it, more anxiety. Insomnia that lasted for days. Night terrors and nightmares if I did sleep. Relentless migraines. I continued to put up with it until one day when I had a full-on flashback. I cut myself for the first time in 8 years that night. A month later, I self-harmed again. My husband gave me an ultimatum- I needed to go to a psychiatrist. Or else.

Luckily, I never found out the "or else". I made an appointment with a therapist, and I've been seeing her for 2 1/2 years now. I was able to find relief almost immediately, just having someone to talk to. I was given tools, new ways to think. Encouraged to self-soothe and find new ways to relieve anxiety instead of doing things the same ineffective way I'd been doing my entire life. I quit drinking. I started running. I gave up Vicodin, Xanex, and Ambien, and returned to marijuana. Memories continue to be introduced, but I now feel I have the tools to work through them and process them. Some may say I've gotten nowhere, since I still use marijuana. I vehemently disagree. Medical cannabis has solved many problems for me. It soothes my IBS. It takes care of the insomnia much more safely than Ambien. If I'm having a day where I feel so anxious I don't think I can get out of bed or leave the house, a couple of hits releases the anxiety. I don't think I'd be where I am today without it. I stay in the closet about it, mainly because our drug-obsessed society is so judgmental about it. I'll tell you this though- not a single person I know would ever guess that I use cannabis. Whatever the stereotypes or connotations, they don't apply to everyone. I don't get stoned all day every day. I'm not obese because I have the munchies all the time. I'm not laying on the couch, because it makes me lazy. Sometimes a couple of hits is the only way I can relief the anxiety enough to go on a run. I think most people would agree that medical cannabis is much safer than drinking, taking pain and anxiety pills, and popping Ambien every night to sleep.

I think this is a good start. As I mentioned before, there's so much more. You can't reduce 30+ years to one story. This definitely doesn't paint a full picture of me as a person.

That will come in time.