In need of a reprieve

I went to church last week for the first time in over a year. My husband and I went and we let our son go into the daycare area, while we attended the service. 

The church has set up home at a local middle school, so they hold service in the auditorium. I’ve noticed this has become something more churches are doing. So anywho, instead of pews, like I was used to growing up, they had folding chairs set up, and we sat in the back row. Now, when I say back row, I don’t mean against a wall. There was plenty of room for people to stand and walk behind us, of course, this leaves someone like me open to an anxiety attack. And have an anxiety attack I did. It wasn’t one that everyone could visibly see, I don’t well with keeping it harnessed within myself, but I struggled. Eventually, I was able to calm down, the service ended and we collected our son. 

Tomorrow is Sunday and I intended on going to the service. The problem is, my husband has to work so I’ll be going alone. It’s a quarter after one and I’m still laying here, awake, and working myself into a frenzy, because I’m so worried about going alone. I’m having an anxiety attack before I even step place into the school for the service.

A place that I should feel safe and comfortable, and I can’t even get a grasp long enough to sleep and then go. I’m questioning whether I’ll even be able to pull myself out of bed early enough tomorrow to go now, because not only will I be tired from lack of sleep, but anxiety attacks are exhausting. My son had so much fun last week though, and I know he was looking forward to going tomorrow too, so I feel bad for possibly canceling his fun time at church.

I struggle like this everyday, with self inhibiting anxiety and stress. Will there ever come an end to it ? It’s absolutely frustrating and beyond draining. 

What am I supposed to do ?

❤ LAFMommy

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Struggles

I’m contemplating on a new tattoo, or a couple. I’m behind on getting the semicolon tattoo, although it is something I have been longing to get since the Semicolon Tattoo Project began. 

I haven’t been able to make up my mind on exact placement nor if I just want the semicolon itself or anything with it. 

Suffering from PTSD and depression doesn’t come without thoughts of suicide and no longer existing in a world that can be so cruel. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but the thoughts are much more frequent than I would like to admit. Sometimes, it just seems it would be easier, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I have too much to look forward to, to let suicide take over. It’s permanent. I plan to experience every bit of Tristan’s life, and if I’m not alive I can’t do that. I refuse to give up, no matter how hard I struggle. No matter how hard my mind or my illnesses fight against me. 

My last major depressive episode was from January to almost April, the winter months are always the hardest. Seasonal depression. I fought so hard, but for a majority of that time I didn’t think I would win. It’s impossible to come out unscathed; with worry of the next time already etched in ones brain. I’m determined to continue fighting, even though the next episode, I know, will creep up on me at some point. 

To those that read my blog, if you suffer, you aren’t alone. Some days are hard as hell and feel like there’s only one way out, but then there are the good days. Those days are what motivate me to keep pushing. Keep looking for that glimpse of hope; grasp even the smallest light in your life and hold on. The fear and the episodes; they won’t last forever. 

And I’ll be someone you can reach out to, even in my own struggle. 

❤ LAFMommy

Post Surgery Feels

So I had my surgery yesterday. I’m still fighting with the lightheadedness, but yesterday I couldn’t shake the nausea. I’m having some pain, but the painkillers are helping a lot. I was struggling to eat; my mom made me toast last night and it felt like a huge chunk of cotton. 

Anywho, I found out I do have endometriosis. The doctor said we’ve found it early enough that I have some good options, which include; medicinal or surgery. I don’t have my follow up appointment for 2 weeks and we’ll go over everything then, but I’m leaning toward the medicinal option, of course. I don’t particularly want to have another surgery so soon. 

As much as I hate knowing I have this.. condition, it makes me feel better to know that there’s actually something going on and it isn’t in my head. I have days where I’m curled up on the floor in so much pain, I can’t even voice words to explain what’s going on. I knew it was real, so now others do as well. I’m just hoping the treatments will help so that I won’t have issues getting pregnant in the future. 

I’m just thankful it isn’t any worse than it is, because I know it could have been so much more. Now, if only this lightheadedness would go away ! 

❤ LAFMommy

Broken but surviving

I started my blog three months ago and I had no idea what to write about. I would write something and then I would delete it, until I finally decided to make it private because I felt I did not have anything of interest.

I made the decision five minutes ago that I wanted to get back to my blog, to try and release some of the thoughts and struggles of my every day life. So here I go.

Once a week I go through a therapy session. A session that only drives me deeper and deeper into my struggle with depression, anxiety and PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder). It has been 7 years. SEVEN. And even after those 7 years, I still think about it on a daily basis. I still wake up from nightmares with the fear that it is going to happen again. I fear that I am going to go right back to that night, the night of the nasty “r” word. I was raped.

My life was taken from me. He stole everything from me that meant anything.

Let’s go back to before this happened, when I was still a happy go lucky 18 year old, fresh out of high school. Life was perfect. At the time I didn’t really have any worries, I was living in the moment, and enjoying everything, like any other teenager would be. Fast forward a bit, I enlisted into the military, which I thought was an amazing step in life. Fast forward a little more, I was almost finished with my training and with only a few weeks left, I was ready to go home. This is when my life was turned upside down.

Now, here I am, 26 years old. Now, people would say that I have the PERFECT life. I have an amazing husband, with an amazingly handsome nearly 10 month old baby boy. We live in a beautiful home, although we are trying to take the next step of purchasing one, and he tries to make sure we do not go without. We have our moments where things get tough financially, but who doesn’t ? Life has its hardships sometimes. With that being said, MY life is far from perfect. The outer shell, what I allow people to see, is perfect, as compared to the every day description, but inside, I live in hell. By inside, I mean mentally. I constantly fight memories, I wake up having panic attacks feeling as if I am going through the experience all over again. Driving in my car I will drift off into my thoughts and realize I’m starting to have a panic attack simply because a memory entered my mind.

My heart races, I can’t breathe, I begin to sweat, and I’m terrified.

This is how I feel every single day of my life. I barely leave my house, except to go to a family member’s house, typically my grandparent’s, so they can watch Tristan while I do my, once a week, therapy session. I don’t even go to the hospital for my session. At first it was due to not having the gas money because it was too far from my house, and then it was because of my son, but really it’s because I’m too afraid to travel that far from home, especially without my husband. We do go out on occasion, but I am very hyper-vigilant, I don’t do crowds, and I don’t venture away from my husband. I’m even terrified of just going to a restroom at a restaurant alone, because I fear what could be around the corner.

I have trouble maintaining friendships because I don’t like to go out. About 5-6 years ago though, I was living a completely different life. I pretended nothing happened, I coped with alcohol. I had no self respect, alcohol was my best friend. I wanted to die. I eventually realized that this wasn’t the life I wanted. I changed. I stopped drinking, but the person on the inside was still the same. I had hardened and turned cold. I couldn’t maintain any relationship until I met my husband. He has helped me through so much, and is literally, my backbone, my rock.

I didn’t tell him anything for a little while, and I didn’t give him details for nearly 2 years. When I told him what happened [details omitted], I didn’t really have a choice due to the fact that I had a panic attack just because he laid his head on my chest while watching a movie. I assumed he would immediately judge me, turn away from me because I was “defective.” He didn’t. He stayed, and he has been “dealing” with this for the last 4 years. He puts up with so much from me because of the nasty “r” word. I live because of him. I live for him and for our son.

I don’t think people realize how hard it is to live with depression, anxiety and PTSD. Some days will be okay, while others I cannot even pull myself out of bed. I feel like the walls are closing in or like someone is holding a pillow over my face and I can’t escape. It’s like I’m tied down deep in the woods and I’m screaming for help, but no one will ever hear me. I can be in a room full of people, but I’m always alone. I would love to be an advocate for those affected by the nasty “r” word, but I still can’t even speak on what happened to me with people close to me, let alone others that I don’t know. I can only speak on my issues that affect me because of the nasty “r” word.

Through all of this, I survive. I live to see another day. Because of my husband. Because of my son. My reasons for living. My reasons for being here.

Help raise awareness for those affected by the nasty “r” word. Help save a life. This is an uphill battle, that some don’t win.

</3 LAFMommy – Broken but surviving