Thankful

Today is a good day. This week has been a good week. I have been reminded in so many ways how truly blessed my life is. And that I should take that with me when the world goes dark.

My life is a battle, but perhaps everyone's is. We all have our own demons. But honestly, I am well aware of what a gift life is. I have had to fight to live this life, so why NOT live it the way I want? I don't have to be happy all the time. Conversely, I don't have to be sad all the time.

On this day... today... instead of stressing out about food preparation, or any of the other burdens we bear in this life... be happy. Be grateful. Reach out and feel the love that is out there in the Universe just waiting for you to ask for it. Tomorrow might be miserable, so be happy today.

Flying Solo

I've been using you all. Every one of you. I am not going to apologize. I need you. If you're reading this, I need you more than I could ever convey. I am not good at being alone. I'm no good at pretending I don't need to connect to other people. I thought I could go on with my life and just raise my boy and protect my heart... it's not working.

Alone leads to panic attacks. Alone let me talk myself into being used. Alone makes me grasp at straws, build relationships in unhealthy ways, refuse to be left behind. I make terrible, rash decisions when my loneliness gets this bad. And I usually end up unhappily married at the other end of it. There's a whole lot that goes on between that... but I'm trying my best not to rush into another relationship, just because I'm lonely and hate being that way. I'm so out of the loop (or maybe never was in the loop) that I don't know how people let relationships grow organically. I really want to find out.

I don't want to get married again, because apparently I either don't pick partners very well or I just suck at being someone's wife. I just want to know someone is there. That cares about me, that I can call and ask for a hug. That won't think I'm a psycho when I cry. That isn't in love with someone else.

My life is on hold, and I'm tired of this pause. I'm moving on, I just don't know when. Why are the doors all locked?

Ouch.

Broken Toes are amazing. I have at least 2 currently, possibly 3. I did it chasing after an almost 3-year-old. My foot is throbbing and turning a lovely shade of purple. Yay Monday.

And the award for Most Selfish Daughter goes to...

Today is definitely one of *those* days. Mom woke me up at 5am complaining of a headache. Now, normally, I'm awake at 5am and almost ready to face the day. Today was one of the few I had planned to sleep in since I was taking Liam to school. I wasn't the happiest person to ever fetch an extra strength Tylenol or two. I was probably downright grouchy as hell. Fast forward an hour, and I wasn't able to go back to sleep, so I got in the shower. I was about halfway through when Mom starts hollering through the house for me again. I pretended for a few minutes not to hear her, but fearing that she'd wake the rest of the house up, I cut my shower short and went to see what she wanted.

A glass of water. Another glass of water. Her second of the day. At 6am. Really? I was fuming. Maybe livid is a better descriptor. But, because I am first and foremost a dutiful daughter, I got it for her. But it threatened to ruin the whole day and how I dealt with her. Little did I know.

I took Liam to school and when I got back... Mom's acting weird. In that "My blood sugar is too high" way. So I take her to the ER. And my fragile mental state starts blaming me for this. I should take better care of my mom. I shouldn't think things like "take care of your own damned self". I shouldn't be making plans to move out, she's my mom, and she NEEDS me. You're one ungrateful bitch, Abbie.

So Mom's in ICU and I'm sitting in her chair in the living room. I'm scared to death that she'll never sit in this chair again. And my jewish guilt will eat me alive.

A Day Without...

a panic attack.

A small little victory.

Today is the first day in 40 that I have not had a panic attack. It's been a very long 40 days. I've got that feeling in the back of my throat that says one might still happen, but I'm being optimistic that I can keep it at bay with positive thinking.

I've been in therapy for a little over a month now. It seems to be working. My mind is a dark, twisted place. I feel as though I have the weight of the world on my shoulders, and the thought of less responsibility is sometimes a far scarier thought than doing what I am now. I am making headway.

There is so much that I want to do. I finally have goals in my life again. I'm trying. I want to love the person that I am. I no longer wish to change myself into a person that I can love. I am who I am and I'm going to embrace her. I want to be strong. I want to show my son that the sacrifices I have made for our lives are worth it.

And I want the panic attacks to be a thing of the past.