One year ago today, the world lost an incredible talent, a wonderful human being, a caring father, a doting husband, and an outstanding grandfather.
I made it two hours into today before losing it. I remember this day last year like it was yesterday. Mom called me early in the morning to say she was on her way down to Georgia; Grandpa wasn't doing well. When my dad called me a couple of hours later, I knew what he was going to say before he said a word. I sobbed and sobbed - my younger brother drove an hour from his school to me. When he got there, we didn't say much - maybe a couple of words. When my brother and I finally got to Georgia, everyone erupted into tears.
Because I'm no longer in school, and because I'm not permanently employed, I have a lot of spare time. So when something causes me to think of my grandpa, instead of "pushing it to the back of my mind" like I would have to at work, I dwell on it. Because of this, I'm dealing with his passing worse than some of my family members. This post should really be called "NOT dealing with the loss of a loved one."
Grandpa was a devout Christian, and I couldn't help but question God. Why would he take away such an...extraordinary individual? It's not fair - we weren't ready for that. I'm listening to some of Grandpa's songs now, and I know he's singing with the angels, and making them all jealous of his talent!
I know Grandpa's up there - singing with the angels, giving Ginger (his Yorkie) candy corn, and growing orchids. But still, a year later, I wish he could be doing those things here on earth. I miss him every day.
Side note: I start therapy tomorrow. I hope to get off of my anxiety/insomnia meds, and learn how to cope with loss.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Half-Empty
My fiance tells me I'm a pessimist. Even though I say that I'm a realist, I probably have to agree with him. My glass is half-empty, 24/7. I'm not sad all the time - not by any stretch of the imagination. But I do have negative feelings, and am always imagining the worst-case scenario.
Every time I get a text from my mom or dad that just says "Call me when you get a chance," I call immediately, thinking that a family member is ill or in the hospital. This has gotten exponentially worse since my grandfather passed away, nearly a year ago. My family now has a system - if they need me to call them, but there's nothing wrong, they put a :) at the end of the text. If it is really urgent, then they'll just call and leave a voicemail.
My fiance and I adopted a gorgeous, 2-year-old cat over the summer. Within four days of owning her, she was trying to urinate in the corners of the apartment - anywhere there was a corner, she was trying to pee. Except for it wasn't pee - it was blood. While I'm frantically calling my fiance, the vet, the adoption agency, and the emergency vet, I start freaking out and crying hysterically, thinking we did something to hurt this precious furball. It turns out that she was bounced around to a lot of different foster homes before landing with us, and the stress of it all gave her a UTI. If you don't know, UTIs in cats can get very serious very quickly. I immediately began thinking the worst - that she would die. Yes, I know that's irrational, but irrationality goes hand-in-hand with anxiety. I didn't sleep a wink that night because she had to stay overnight at the vet. There are other cats at the vet, and Freckles does not like other cats. I knew she must have been so distraught, not to mention in pain! Everything turned out fine, and she's as healthy as a horse.
If you haven't heard about the earthquake that struck the D.C. area, let me give you a really brief summary: There was an earthquake. A 5.9 magnitude earthquake, to be exact. The epicenter was in Mineral, VA, and the quake was felt all the way up to New York. I was working in an office building with a lovely view of a parking garage. When I first felt the shakes, I thought someone was running or jumping nearby (the office was pretty low-key, so it's not too far of a stretch). When I saw the lightposts and cars moving on the top level of the parking garage, all hell broke loose. I knew that the building was going down - I was sure of it. We were all evacuated, and the higher-ups told us that anyone who wanted to go home could. A lot of us were shaken up, but I started hyperventilating and crying. The VP of the company called me into his office and told me to go home, but continue working from home. He was very compassionate, since he knew about my anxiety.
Even now, many months after the quake, every time my apartment building shakes, my heart skips a beat because I know it's another quake (one time, it actually was). A lot of people say I'm overreacting, and I know that I am. But I can't help that I'm a glass-half-empty person. And when you couple that with anxiety...watch out.
Do any of you have some of these same feelings? If so, let me know how you deal with them in the comments!
Up next: Dealing with loss
Every time I get a text from my mom or dad that just says "Call me when you get a chance," I call immediately, thinking that a family member is ill or in the hospital. This has gotten exponentially worse since my grandfather passed away, nearly a year ago. My family now has a system - if they need me to call them, but there's nothing wrong, they put a :) at the end of the text. If it is really urgent, then they'll just call and leave a voicemail.
My fiance and I adopted a gorgeous, 2-year-old cat over the summer. Within four days of owning her, she was trying to urinate in the corners of the apartment - anywhere there was a corner, she was trying to pee. Except for it wasn't pee - it was blood. While I'm frantically calling my fiance, the vet, the adoption agency, and the emergency vet, I start freaking out and crying hysterically, thinking we did something to hurt this precious furball. It turns out that she was bounced around to a lot of different foster homes before landing with us, and the stress of it all gave her a UTI. If you don't know, UTIs in cats can get very serious very quickly. I immediately began thinking the worst - that she would die. Yes, I know that's irrational, but irrationality goes hand-in-hand with anxiety. I didn't sleep a wink that night because she had to stay overnight at the vet. There are other cats at the vet, and Freckles does not like other cats. I knew she must have been so distraught, not to mention in pain! Everything turned out fine, and she's as healthy as a horse.
If you haven't heard about the earthquake that struck the D.C. area, let me give you a really brief summary: There was an earthquake. A 5.9 magnitude earthquake, to be exact. The epicenter was in Mineral, VA, and the quake was felt all the way up to New York. I was working in an office building with a lovely view of a parking garage. When I first felt the shakes, I thought someone was running or jumping nearby (the office was pretty low-key, so it's not too far of a stretch). When I saw the lightposts and cars moving on the top level of the parking garage, all hell broke loose. I knew that the building was going down - I was sure of it. We were all evacuated, and the higher-ups told us that anyone who wanted to go home could. A lot of us were shaken up, but I started hyperventilating and crying. The VP of the company called me into his office and told me to go home, but continue working from home. He was very compassionate, since he knew about my anxiety.
Even now, many months after the quake, every time my apartment building shakes, my heart skips a beat because I know it's another quake (one time, it actually was). A lot of people say I'm overreacting, and I know that I am. But I can't help that I'm a glass-half-empty person. And when you couple that with anxiety...watch out.
Do any of you have some of these same feelings? If so, let me know how you deal with them in the comments!
Up next: Dealing with loss
Anxiety, Insomnia, and OCD: My Current Methods of Dealing Part 3
Hoo, boy. I apologize for the length of my previous posts. This one may be longer, so consider yourself warned.
Much like my insomnia, I've had anxiety issues for quite some time. I think they started when I was a little girl. My mom would lay out my clothes for me, even though I wanted to pick them out myself, because it would take me hours to decide what to wear. This is embarrassing, but I didn't want my other clothes to feel neglected.
Anxious feelings would come and go all throughout grade school, but I chalked it up to the usual: fear of public speaking, feeling uncomfortable in crowded areas, etc. The real tipping point was my junior year of high school. I had gone to Home-A-Rama with my mom as part of an assignment for an interior design class I was taking. I got so overwhelmed in one model townhouse that I started hyperventilating, crying, the whole nine yards. Mom took me outside, where I sat on a bench and she bought me popcorn (my favorite). I couldn't explain why I was feeling like I was, but since my dad had similar crowd-related issues (though not as extreme), we kind of let it go.
I remember that sometimes, for no reason at all, I would be literally mad at the world. I didn't want anyone - anyone - speaking to me. I just wanted to go scream in a pillow. My mom was so confused as to why this was happening; we now know that it was mini anxiety attacks.
My brother was diagnosed with anxiety and panic disorders about a year before I was. His panic attacks are far worse than mine, but they're often brought on by the same triggers. Being in a crowd with no visible escape route is the trigger for my brother, my dad, and me. We all shut down, stop speaking, and eventually just book it to the nearest exit. My mom is the only one unaffected, but is often the "herder" - she has to go around and find the three of us.
I was officially diagnosed with anxiety in the summer of 2011. I was prescribed one medication to take every day, and one to take when I felt an anxiety attack coming on. As of January of 2012, I am now on two medications to take daily and still just one to take as needed. When you include my sleeping medication, my fish oil capsules (2 a day), my multivitamin, and my fiber chewables (I take three, but I'll count 'em as one), that brings the grand total of 7 medications every day - 8 if I have an attack. I don't want to be on medicine forever. I want to look into other options. I've tried yoga, and while I love it and feel more centered and grounded, I don't feel less anxious.
It's a vicious cycle, it really is. I can't sleep because my brain is going a million miles a minute, then during the day, I'm anxious because I haven't slept. I just want it to get better. Though, if I think about it, I don't want it to just get better...I want it to get gone. As of now, my anxiety is more tolerable, and I know some techniques to help me out if I feel an attack coming on. My triggers are all still there - crowds (though not tight spaces), crowds, to-do lists that are too big to be accomplished in one day, making mistakes (or feelings of failure), crowds, not being able to move my feet or my arms, oh - and did I mention crowds? It's a running joke in my family that I kind of "bulldoze" my way through a crowd, bobbing and weaving like a motorcycle on a crowded highway. Instead of leaving dust in my path, I leave my mother, saying ever-so-politely, "Excuse me, pardon me." On more than one occasion, I've had to say, "Mom, I don't have time for apologies!" (Halfway joking, of course.) I never purposefully push or shove someone out of my way, but if an elbow happens to hit someone else, well, that's what my mom's apologies are for!
Up next: Feelings of negativity.
Much like my insomnia, I've had anxiety issues for quite some time. I think they started when I was a little girl. My mom would lay out my clothes for me, even though I wanted to pick them out myself, because it would take me hours to decide what to wear. This is embarrassing, but I didn't want my other clothes to feel neglected.
Anxious feelings would come and go all throughout grade school, but I chalked it up to the usual: fear of public speaking, feeling uncomfortable in crowded areas, etc. The real tipping point was my junior year of high school. I had gone to Home-A-Rama with my mom as part of an assignment for an interior design class I was taking. I got so overwhelmed in one model townhouse that I started hyperventilating, crying, the whole nine yards. Mom took me outside, where I sat on a bench and she bought me popcorn (my favorite). I couldn't explain why I was feeling like I was, but since my dad had similar crowd-related issues (though not as extreme), we kind of let it go.
I remember that sometimes, for no reason at all, I would be literally mad at the world. I didn't want anyone - anyone - speaking to me. I just wanted to go scream in a pillow. My mom was so confused as to why this was happening; we now know that it was mini anxiety attacks.
My brother was diagnosed with anxiety and panic disorders about a year before I was. His panic attacks are far worse than mine, but they're often brought on by the same triggers. Being in a crowd with no visible escape route is the trigger for my brother, my dad, and me. We all shut down, stop speaking, and eventually just book it to the nearest exit. My mom is the only one unaffected, but is often the "herder" - she has to go around and find the three of us.
I was officially diagnosed with anxiety in the summer of 2011. I was prescribed one medication to take every day, and one to take when I felt an anxiety attack coming on. As of January of 2012, I am now on two medications to take daily and still just one to take as needed. When you include my sleeping medication, my fish oil capsules (2 a day), my multivitamin, and my fiber chewables (I take three, but I'll count 'em as one), that brings the grand total of 7 medications every day - 8 if I have an attack. I don't want to be on medicine forever. I want to look into other options. I've tried yoga, and while I love it and feel more centered and grounded, I don't feel less anxious.
It's a vicious cycle, it really is. I can't sleep because my brain is going a million miles a minute, then during the day, I'm anxious because I haven't slept. I just want it to get better. Though, if I think about it, I don't want it to just get better...I want it to get gone. As of now, my anxiety is more tolerable, and I know some techniques to help me out if I feel an attack coming on. My triggers are all still there - crowds (though not tight spaces), crowds, to-do lists that are too big to be accomplished in one day, making mistakes (or feelings of failure), crowds, not being able to move my feet or my arms, oh - and did I mention crowds? It's a running joke in my family that I kind of "bulldoze" my way through a crowd, bobbing and weaving like a motorcycle on a crowded highway. Instead of leaving dust in my path, I leave my mother, saying ever-so-politely, "Excuse me, pardon me." On more than one occasion, I've had to say, "Mom, I don't have time for apologies!" (Halfway joking, of course.) I never purposefully push or shove someone out of my way, but if an elbow happens to hit someone else, well, that's what my mom's apologies are for!
Up next: Feelings of negativity.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Anxiety, Insomnia, and OCD: My Current Methods of Dealing Part 2
My obsessive-compulsive disorder is somewhat of a sticky situation in that I have never been formally diagnosed. I know, I know - the Internet (and self-diagnoses it brings) is no substitute for a doctor. I believe that the only reason I have never been diagnosed is because I have never seen a doctor specifically for OCD. I always mean to bring it up in appointments, but my anxiety and insomnia overshadow that.
First and foremost: I hate when people say "Oh, you're so OCD" or "Yeah, I'm totally OCD." No, you're not. You are not obsessive-compulsive disorder. You merely have obsessive-compulsive tendencies. You can have a disorder - you cannot be a disorder.
Now that that's out of the way - on to my as of yet un-diagnosed OCD. I remember being five years old and organizing my box of 64 Crayola crayons (you know, the one with the sharpener in the back). I hated the way the crayons came organized, so I re-did it. My crayons had to be organized in ROY G. BIV order, and within that order, they had to be arranged from dark to light (though sometimes I'd mix it up and arrange each color light to dark). And those in-betweeners? The "yellow-green" and "green-yellow"? I hated those too, but settled on putting the yellow-green in with the yellows, and the green-yellow in with the greens.
Most kids will scribble on the walls with crayons at some point. I know I did. But instead of a scribble, I drew one line, around the whole living room. Just one, single line.
For as long as I can remember (I still do this to this day), I have to make things even.If my fiance kisses me on the cheek, he needs to kiss the other cheek. If I chew a bite of food on one side, I have to immediately follow it by chewing another bite of food on the other side, and so on and so forth. But my food issues don't stop there - oh no. My food absolutely cannot, I repeat, cannot, touch. If the foodstuffs are meant to touch, such as pot roast and mashed potatoes, or if the foodstuffs are pre-mixed, such as pot pie or salsa, then I'm ok. I will sometimes eat all of one food item in a pot pie before the others (chicken first, peas second, carrots last). But if my food is not meant to be eaten together, it must not touch. You know those divided plates they have for kids? Genius. Pure genius. Not only can my food not touch other food, I have to eat it in sections. Just like the pot pie example - all of the asparagus, followed by all of the rice, followed by all of the meat, and so on. Generally, I eat the yuckiest one first, followed by the one that will be yuckiest when it gets cold.
I need things in order. My wedding is not until October, and I have nearly every aspect planned. The only things missing are the cake and final guest count (which we won't get until we receive our RSVPs). I have lists upon lists upon checklists upon to-do lists. You name it, I've got it covered. But my need for order doesn't stop there. I had all of my DVDs organized alphabetically. Fine, that's fairly normal. But my fiance wanted to get rid of the cases (except for things like seasons of a TV series) and put the DVDs into one of those DVD binder things. I agreed, so long as he agreed that we would replace his old binder thing with a new, white binder. This new, white binder will have the same DVD holder pages, and they will (of course) be alphabetized. There will also be a table of contents. A list of the movies we have, alphabetically arranged, to be placed at the front of the new, white binder. Though I don't have the new, white binder yet, the table of contents is already typed, ready to be printed and inserted into the binder. My bookshelf is the same story. The top shelf holds things like my rarely-used journal, our Entertainment Guide Book, and my Brides magazines (as well as any other magazines we have that we haven't finished reading yet). The second shelf is the non-fiction shelf, arranged alphabetically by title. I don't often have a craving to read an author, hence the reason why they are not arranged alphabetically by author. The third shelf is the fiction shelf, arranged the same way as the non-fiction shelf. The fourth shelf, my favorite, holds our cookbooks (again, alphabetically arranged). The fifth shelf is kind of the neatly-organized catch-all.
My closet is also impeccably organized. On the right side, I have shirts (hanging on Wonder Hangers), with each Wonder Hanger a designated color. Cardigans follow, and dresses come after cardigans. The shelf above holds my bags, organized by "season." The four cubbies on the right hold my jewelry box (it rotates, and there's a mirror on it perfect for applying makeup); my plastic dividers for sewing notions, sunglasses, and travel-size items; my sneakers and "fancier" sandals, and; my flip-flops. On the left side, I have my knitting supplied on the top shelf. The first bar has, from left to right, blazers/suits, pants, skirts, and jackets. On the bar beneath that, I have two 2x3 hanging "cubbies." The left one holds winter gear - boots, hats, gloves, and scarves. The right one holds casual shirts and pants. Each item has a place - all of the sleeveless tops are together, the short-sleeve tops together, the long-sleeve tops together. The next row is the same, except with pants/shorts. Hanging on my door, I have a shoe rack that holds all of my high heels. Everything is organized by color.
It's funny, the way OCD works. I don't have compulsions to wash my hands 100 times a day. My room is often a wreck. Dishes are in the sink and in need of washing, and laundry hampers are overflowing. The bed is often unmade in the morning, but I have to, need to make it at some point before going to sleep. But, as I said, that's often the way OCD works. I will be entering therapy soon for my anxiety, and hope to discuss this with a professional.
Up Next: Anxiety
First and foremost: I hate when people say "Oh, you're so OCD" or "Yeah, I'm totally OCD." No, you're not. You are not obsessive-compulsive disorder. You merely have obsessive-compulsive tendencies. You can have a disorder - you cannot be a disorder.
Now that that's out of the way - on to my as of yet un-diagnosed OCD. I remember being five years old and organizing my box of 64 Crayola crayons (you know, the one with the sharpener in the back). I hated the way the crayons came organized, so I re-did it. My crayons had to be organized in ROY G. BIV order, and within that order, they had to be arranged from dark to light (though sometimes I'd mix it up and arrange each color light to dark). And those in-betweeners? The "yellow-green" and "green-yellow"? I hated those too, but settled on putting the yellow-green in with the yellows, and the green-yellow in with the greens.
Most kids will scribble on the walls with crayons at some point. I know I did. But instead of a scribble, I drew one line, around the whole living room. Just one, single line.
For as long as I can remember (I still do this to this day), I have to make things even.If my fiance kisses me on the cheek, he needs to kiss the other cheek. If I chew a bite of food on one side, I have to immediately follow it by chewing another bite of food on the other side, and so on and so forth. But my food issues don't stop there - oh no. My food absolutely cannot, I repeat, cannot, touch. If the foodstuffs are meant to touch, such as pot roast and mashed potatoes, or if the foodstuffs are pre-mixed, such as pot pie or salsa, then I'm ok. I will sometimes eat all of one food item in a pot pie before the others (chicken first, peas second, carrots last). But if my food is not meant to be eaten together, it must not touch. You know those divided plates they have for kids? Genius. Pure genius. Not only can my food not touch other food, I have to eat it in sections. Just like the pot pie example - all of the asparagus, followed by all of the rice, followed by all of the meat, and so on. Generally, I eat the yuckiest one first, followed by the one that will be yuckiest when it gets cold.
I need things in order. My wedding is not until October, and I have nearly every aspect planned. The only things missing are the cake and final guest count (which we won't get until we receive our RSVPs). I have lists upon lists upon checklists upon to-do lists. You name it, I've got it covered. But my need for order doesn't stop there. I had all of my DVDs organized alphabetically. Fine, that's fairly normal. But my fiance wanted to get rid of the cases (except for things like seasons of a TV series) and put the DVDs into one of those DVD binder things. I agreed, so long as he agreed that we would replace his old binder thing with a new, white binder. This new, white binder will have the same DVD holder pages, and they will (of course) be alphabetized. There will also be a table of contents. A list of the movies we have, alphabetically arranged, to be placed at the front of the new, white binder. Though I don't have the new, white binder yet, the table of contents is already typed, ready to be printed and inserted into the binder. My bookshelf is the same story. The top shelf holds things like my rarely-used journal, our Entertainment Guide Book, and my Brides magazines (as well as any other magazines we have that we haven't finished reading yet). The second shelf is the non-fiction shelf, arranged alphabetically by title. I don't often have a craving to read an author, hence the reason why they are not arranged alphabetically by author. The third shelf is the fiction shelf, arranged the same way as the non-fiction shelf. The fourth shelf, my favorite, holds our cookbooks (again, alphabetically arranged). The fifth shelf is kind of the neatly-organized catch-all.
My closet is also impeccably organized. On the right side, I have shirts (hanging on Wonder Hangers), with each Wonder Hanger a designated color. Cardigans follow, and dresses come after cardigans. The shelf above holds my bags, organized by "season." The four cubbies on the right hold my jewelry box (it rotates, and there's a mirror on it perfect for applying makeup); my plastic dividers for sewing notions, sunglasses, and travel-size items; my sneakers and "fancier" sandals, and; my flip-flops. On the left side, I have my knitting supplied on the top shelf. The first bar has, from left to right, blazers/suits, pants, skirts, and jackets. On the bar beneath that, I have two 2x3 hanging "cubbies." The left one holds winter gear - boots, hats, gloves, and scarves. The right one holds casual shirts and pants. Each item has a place - all of the sleeveless tops are together, the short-sleeve tops together, the long-sleeve tops together. The next row is the same, except with pants/shorts. Hanging on my door, I have a shoe rack that holds all of my high heels. Everything is organized by color.
It's funny, the way OCD works. I don't have compulsions to wash my hands 100 times a day. My room is often a wreck. Dishes are in the sink and in need of washing, and laundry hampers are overflowing. The bed is often unmade in the morning, but I have to, need to make it at some point before going to sleep. But, as I said, that's often the way OCD works. I will be entering therapy soon for my anxiety, and hope to discuss this with a professional.
Up Next: Anxiety
Anxiety, Insomnia, and OCD: My Current Methods of Dealing
First, I guess let's start with the insomnia, since that often triggers my anxiety. While I slept like an angel as a baby (or so I'm told), things didn't stay that way for long. According to my mother, I would crawl to the stairs in an effort to go to bed at around 6:00 in the evening, and I wouldn't wake up until 7:00 the next morning. While this was a blessing for my parents (my younger brother had a lot of medical issues that he has, thankfully, grown out of), I often wonder if it's at all possible that has something to do with my current insomnia.
I remember it was hard to fall asleep when I was in first grade. I felt like I was just lying there, staring up at the ceiling, for hours on end. My first inclination that it was a problem was when I caught my dad being the Tooth Fairy. He snuck into my room, fully intending to replace my tooth with a silver dollar, when I sat up and said, "Why are you in my room?" He said that he just wanted to check on me, and bent down to give me a hug and a kiss on the forehead. I felt under my pillow the second he left, and sure enough, my tooth was gone - a silver dollar lay in its place.
This continued on for some time - I would lay in bed for hours just staring at the walls, or at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. This was always after my parents would tell me to stop reading and go to bed for the third or fourth time. I just couldn't sleep.
Things continued this way until my freshman year of high school. When my mom realized that I was just dozing off as my alarm was waking me up, she took me to the doctor. I was prescribed Ambien and banned from consuming caffeine. In the last ten years, I can count the amount of times I've knowingly had caffeine on my ten fingers. Over those ten years, I've been prescribed a total of five or six different sleep aids. All (except my current pills) either created hallucinations or just plain stopped working. I've also tried the usual methods: counting sheep, chamomile tea, no TV/computer for an hour before bed - none of them have worked.
While yoga and exercise do help, it's not enough. I don't want to rely on medication my whole life to help me sleep. But until I can find a surefire fix, medication it is.
Up next: OCD
I remember it was hard to fall asleep when I was in first grade. I felt like I was just lying there, staring up at the ceiling, for hours on end. My first inclination that it was a problem was when I caught my dad being the Tooth Fairy. He snuck into my room, fully intending to replace my tooth with a silver dollar, when I sat up and said, "Why are you in my room?" He said that he just wanted to check on me, and bent down to give me a hug and a kiss on the forehead. I felt under my pillow the second he left, and sure enough, my tooth was gone - a silver dollar lay in its place.
This continued on for some time - I would lay in bed for hours just staring at the walls, or at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. This was always after my parents would tell me to stop reading and go to bed for the third or fourth time. I just couldn't sleep.
Things continued this way until my freshman year of high school. When my mom realized that I was just dozing off as my alarm was waking me up, she took me to the doctor. I was prescribed Ambien and banned from consuming caffeine. In the last ten years, I can count the amount of times I've knowingly had caffeine on my ten fingers. Over those ten years, I've been prescribed a total of five or six different sleep aids. All (except my current pills) either created hallucinations or just plain stopped working. I've also tried the usual methods: counting sheep, chamomile tea, no TV/computer for an hour before bed - none of them have worked.
While yoga and exercise do help, it's not enough. I don't want to rely on medication my whole life to help me sleep. But until I can find a surefire fix, medication it is.
Up next: OCD
Introduction
Who am I? Well, I'm a gal with a lot on her mind. I have anxiety, obsessive-compulsive disorder and chronic insomnia, which impact my daily life. This blog may touch on how I'm dealing with those issues. This blog will also include entries in regard to my wedding planning, for I am getting married in October.
I have a love for all things classic and vintage; as well as chic, clean and modern. In my ideal world, I would be vacuuming my living room with pincurls in my hair, wearing heels and pearls, in a room that is mostly white, with a bit of black and gray. Just yesterday, I scrubbed my bathroom from top to bottom. It's very "boring," according to my fiance - a white and black shower curtain, white bath mats and towels, chrome finishes. But I was, indeed, cleaning this modern (some would say "clinical") bathroom with rollers in my hair and red lipstick on. What can I say? I'm like a modern June Cleaver.
I also love food. I love cooking, but baking has a special place in my heart. When I'm feeling blue, I often will bake some delicious, rustic, crusty bread (using Alton Brown's "Very Basic Bread" recipe). You'll find my cooking adventures (and maybe failures) in this blog, too.
All I can say is, if you're up for the journey, then hop on in. It's going to be a wild ride.
I have a love for all things classic and vintage; as well as chic, clean and modern. In my ideal world, I would be vacuuming my living room with pincurls in my hair, wearing heels and pearls, in a room that is mostly white, with a bit of black and gray. Just yesterday, I scrubbed my bathroom from top to bottom. It's very "boring," according to my fiance - a white and black shower curtain, white bath mats and towels, chrome finishes. But I was, indeed, cleaning this modern (some would say "clinical") bathroom with rollers in my hair and red lipstick on. What can I say? I'm like a modern June Cleaver.
I also love food. I love cooking, but baking has a special place in my heart. When I'm feeling blue, I often will bake some delicious, rustic, crusty bread (using Alton Brown's "Very Basic Bread" recipe). You'll find my cooking adventures (and maybe failures) in this blog, too.
All I can say is, if you're up for the journey, then hop on in. It's going to be a wild ride.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)