The Year Of January

Has anyone ever made new years resolutions? Ever got to the end of the year with them intact? Yeah me neither. That is why I started picking one word a year to focus on, whether it be a self improvement goal, or an emotional goal, or a spiritual one...Just one word to think about, ponder, strive towards, and try to integrate in every area of my life.

Last year my word was peace. I wanted to have peace in everything. I knew that deployment was coming, I knew it would be a long hard process to get there, I knew that my world had been shaken a bit and I wanted to have peace in my soul. I did not want to be upset over small things, I wanted to be able to know that it was well with my soul at every corner. That was my goal for the year. Even in the midst of battling around round of depression, I tried to strive to have peace.

And I got to November and literally felt so far away from peaceful that I could not function. I was tested right at the end of the year to see if I would have peace. Would I have peace when I had a mental break from having way too much on my plate? Would I have peace when I was being asked to work full time while trying to run my own business, deal with my husband being gone, a double dosage of my meds screwing with my brain, and a craft fair to prep for? Would I have peace through losing one of my closest friends? Would I have peace traveling home? Would I have peace to deal with the holidays? Would I have peace through family heath issues?

2017 was not a very peaceful year. I had loved ones pass on, I lost touch with friends, I had others walk out of my life, my husband was gone half of the year, a close family member struggling with major health issues...It was not a place to easily find peace.

Especially at the end. I had to fight really really hard at the end for peace. And I do feel like I ended the year in a place of peace. And it has carried through.

So when choosing this new word for 2018, I wasn't sure what to pick. I was reading in Ephesians 6 about the armor of God and one word stood out very boldly to me.

A final word: Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on all of God’s armor so that you will be able to stand firm against all strategies of the devil.

I started looking up what the word stand meant and more important what it meant to me.

The image that I have in my head is a solid place, my feet firmly planted as if they are set in cement. Like a tree that is in a hurricane, but is so strongly rooted that nothing is going to pull it out of the ground. Stand. In the face of fear, failure, sorrow, whatever this year brings. To stand and provide shelter for those around me, to stand and be a strong place for people to come and find their own peace.

And little did I know how hard that January alone would test me. Little did I know how making that choice to stand meant that everything was going to come and break me apart, knock me down and out.

It feels as if I have lived an entire year in this month alone. My soul is tired and weak.

First off I came back to my home, I left my family where I had been staying for a month. I left the constant presence of another person in the house somewhere close to me.

Then we were woken up by a missile incoming, take shelter message one Saturday. I called my family to tell them goodbye. I literally sobbed on the phone with my baby sister because I thought it was going to be my last time talking to her. My other sister started praying that God would protect me because she wasn't ready to let me go. I couldn't even get a hold of my mom because our phones were cut out and all I had was wifi. 38 minutes later they told us that it was an accident....big whoops so sorry we scared you all. People were literally putting their children into manholes and running across college campuses trying to get into a classroom without windows. I cried tears of fear that I was going to die. I cried goodbye, I am sorry that I will never see you graduate or get married or become a doctor or have kids or be a cop tears... I cried for my life.

Life altering tears. Life changing phone calls. Life shaking moments.

Then came being told that I need to see a physical therapist again. Being told that I need to look at options because all the hard work that I went through last year was undone.

Then came the government shut down and the threat of no paycheck.

Then came the tsunami warning.

Then came my husband telling me we still had no idea where we were moving.

Then came chest pain and an ER visit.

As I sat here tonight thinking that the only thing I had to be thankful about for this month was that it was one month closer to my husband being home....as I took a look at everything that January has held for me I realized,

I am being called to stand.

In the midst of this chaos, in the midst of the worst month I have had in a long time... I must stand.

Not just because it is my word and my goal for the year.

Not just because it is the right thing to do and God says so.

I must stand because there is a reason that I am being thrown down. There is a reason that I am being taken out right off the bat. There is a reason that I don't know yet that I need to be on my feet and ready for.

So as this month comes to a close, I am picking myself up from where life hit me full force. I am planting my feet. I am looking forward and telling the rest of the year, "Is that all you got for me?"

Because no matter what happens, I know the One who will give me the strength to stand in the midst of it all.

Thankful

Every year around this time everyone starts posting their thankfulness posts, usually one a day, of everything that they are thankful for. Good friends, puppies, coffee, love, etc. I always think I am going to do one of those everyday and I never do. So this year I decided to just do one blog post about it.

This has been a difficult year. In many ways it feels like this year has gone on forever. But in other ways, I cannot believe that it is almost over. It has not been an extremely hard year, but it has also not been an extremely easy one either.

Part of me believes that it has been an easier year because I am a stronger person. But part of me knows that a lot of that has to do with being on medication. Prozac saved my life. And finally I could focus on who I wanted to be as a person and work on myself. I was no longer held in chains by this soul sucking disease.

And then the disease got me again. Prozac has once again saved my life, at a higher dosage this time. But this time at the expense of a fully functioning brain.

You should record me some time. The amount of things that I forget in the process of 30 seconds at time is unnerving. I lose my phone like it is made of invisible glass. It needs a homing beacon because I have wasted at least a full 12 hours total looking for it a week.

I cannot really keep up with life at the moment. Sometimes I can barely think a full thought without getting confused and losing my place.

But I will gladly trade a few moments of that for the happiness and stability that I have. The solid ground that my feet are walking on. The fact that I am getting out of bed. I am functioning. So what if I have to repeat something to myself a few times before I remember it? It is practice for getting older right?

I am happy with where I am. Memory issues and all.

Because this year, my darkness only took 1/4 of my days. This year my darkness did not consume me alive. Because this year I got help before it was too late. Because this year I have spent time on myself and becoming who I want to be.

So this year I am thankful for unconventional things.

I am thankful that I went to a doctor.
I am thankful that I took a chance on a therapist. She might not have done anything for me, but she encouraged me to get my meds checked out and that did a lot more than her telling me I shouldn't be sad because I was beautiful.
I am thankful this year that I have made it a very intentional growing period.
I have shaped who I want to be.
I have gained confidence.
I have stopped running after people who have hurt me.
I have stood up for myself.
I have stood up for my beliefs.
I have stood up for others.
Even in the face of arguments with people close to me.
Even though it has made a lot of people mad at me.
I am thankful that I am the door and not the doormat anymore. I decide who to let in, not who gets to walk all over me.
I am thankful that I had a wonderful physical therapist who gave me so much healing.
I am thankful that for the months I spent in her office, some times crying, some times rejoicing, some times just simply there. In those months she truly took the time to feel what I felt. To cry with me, rejoice with me, and simply just be. She was a strong, take no shit, give no shit, woman. I learned a lot from her.
I am thankful that last night I put all my laundry away, even though I really did not want to.
I am thankful that I have friends who understand me and know what I need.
I am thankful for the friends who are there in the muck and the grime, with nothing but patience and love and forgiveness when I ask for it.
I am thankful for the friendships that I have lost this year. Each one has made me a much stronger person.
I am thankful for the boundaries that I have placed in my life.
I am thankful that I know what I will and will not allow from people.
I am thankful that I am reaching out for the help I need when I need it.
I am thankful that my job ended and then picked up again.
I am thankful that I started a new business.
I am thankful that I kicked a lot of people out of my life because when I did that it gave me a lot more room to truly and deeply love those who I wanted close to me.

Overall, I am thankful that I am me. That I am here. That I am who I am. That I do not care if you like me or not. That I don't care if so and so is mad at me because I stood up for myself. That I have the space in my life to focus on the few people that honestly mean the world to me. That I have made my circle small and powerful around me.

I am thankful for my honesty that has brought me to where I am.

Because I happen to really like the place that I am at in my life.

I am nowhere near perfect by any means! I am still working on me, and I will never be done. There will always be something that I can work on. But I am happy with where I am now. I do not feel the need to rush to become a better version of myself in the next 2 minutes.

I have grace for myself and my short comings and it has allowed me to grow even more this year.

I am thankful for peace.

Highly (but barely) functioning depression and my thoughts on changing my pattern...

I haven't been on here as much lately, because quite honestly, I barely make it out of bed.

I barely get up each day and feed myself. I barely do the simple tasks that are required to continue living. I can barely function. Tasks that would normally take me 2 minutes take me two hours.

And yet, I get up, I go to work, I laugh, I joke, I hang out with friends, I am happy and cheerful and fun.

From the outside, you would never know anything was wrong. You would never know that I have fallen into my ever present, ever looming, pit of despair. You would never know that once again, here I am, unable to cope, surrounded by darkness and fear.

You see, I *barely* do things. It takes an extreme amount of effort to do every task that is put in front of me. It is beyond exhausting to walk to the mail box. I can barely make dinner because that requires me to stand and think about how to cook and then I have to wash dishes. I order an extra large pizza twice in a row from Papa Johns because then I have something to eat for the week. I do the bare minimum required to function.

But if you ask me to go anywhere with you, I will shower and get dressed and look nice. I will show up with a smile, I will laugh with you, I will talk about everything. Then I will go home, and get into bed with those same clothes on and lay there watching tv until my brain decides to shut down. I will wake up the next day, lay in bed for an hour or two, go back to sleep for a couple more hours, and then I will get up, barely make it through my shower, barely get my to-do list for the day done, go to work and work for hours until I have nothing else to do, go home, and crawl into bed...to not sleep for like 4 hours to finally fall asleep to do it all over again.

You see I am functioning.

But barely.

And the barely makes me invisible. The barely makes me feel like it isn't that bad yet.

Yet.

What a scary word.

You see when you have walked down the same path over and over again, you start to notice the trends. You start to notice things like you don't actually see the sunset, you don't find things truly funny, smiling is a chore. You start to notice patterns. And you start to notice how everything starts.

See I am a high-functioning depressionist. Yes, I just made that word up.

I function at very high levels while also being at my very lowest.

It is what enabled me to hide my darkness from everyone in my life for years and years. I cannot tell you the amount of times that I heard, "What? YOU? You have depression? I would never have thought that."

There lies the danger. The danger in hiding.

Hiding from the world that the darkness is strangling you and you cannot breathe. Hiding from the world that there is a hole in you that you that you cannot mend. Hiding from those who love you that you need them.

It is how the, "I never thought he would take his life, I don't know why it happened," comments are made.

Because people like me, we function so well that people don't worry.

We are okay on the outside, so people forget to check in on us.

We can go to work and show up to gatherings and do everyday things, so we get missed.

And sometimes we miss it ourselves.

I still remember the day a few years ago that my aunt pointed it out to me. I remember sitting in her apartment in a huge sweatshirt, tired out of my mind, just got done with a 40 hour work week...but thinking that I was doing good. I was better than I was before. I wasn't crying every single night anymore, I thought I was doing great because I was functioning. But she said this to me...

"You don't look like you are doing good. You need to start taking better care of yourself. I can tell you aren't doing good right now. Are you sure you are okay?"

I remember thinking for a minute and then finding tears streaming down my face. She was right. I wasn't okay. I was better than I had been before, but I was not good. I was not okay. I was not on a healthy path. She noticed my pattern, and helped me to see it.

That night is still embedded in my mind.

I can see my own patterns now. And I have been reaching out for help this time! I have been telling people, hey I need you, I haven't left my house for anything but work in a week. Hey can you check in on me in the morning because I am not doing good tonight. Hey I need to you help me find a solution for certain things before Cody gets home. And sometimes I don't get the response that I need from people. And that is okay. Because this isn't easy. I know that it isn't. It isn't easy to be on the other end of it. And that is fine. I am not letting that burden me. I am not letting that make me back away from reaching out to someone else.

And sending those messages, is really hard for me. Sending a message, hey I can't get out of bed because the world is too heavy today, is a really crappy feeling. You feel weak. You feel broken. You feel needy and annoying.

Asking for help makes me feel selfish.

But I know that I am about to hit the next stage in my pattern which is total shut down. If I don't ask for help, I am not going to be able to function anymore.

My next stop on this train is not eating and dropping down to 100lbs again. My next stop is staying in the house for three weeks straight, barely getting out of bed except to use the bathroom once or twice a day. My next stop on this train...is a total wreck. And the only thing that kept me alive last time was my husband being home to feed me, and help me shower, and help me to the couch, and clean the house, and take out the trash.

That isn't an option this time. I cannot stop at the next stop. If I stop there this time, I will be alone. I will not have a husband home to help take care of me. I will be 100% alone for most of next year.

I have to change my pattern.

I have to ask for help.

I have to reach out.

Because I do not want to stop at the next stop. I don't want to go there again. So I have to change my path.

So maybe for a bit I have to be a bit selfish. Maybe I have to actually take from people instead of always being the giver. And I hope that I can find the balance in giving and learning to take as well. Because I need help this time and I know that I have to reach out.

And thank you to those who are there and have been there and understand. Thank you to those who know when I am losing it a bit and need help. Thank you to those who have shown up at my house and helped me leave it. Thank you to those who have texted and called and skyped... You are appreciated and you are my life support. I am forever in your debt, thank you for caring.

How do you get your hair to grow so long?

Okay so this is a different kind of post but a lot of people have been asking me lately how I get my hair to grow so long! So I figured that I would fill you all in on my secrets!

Secret #1: I live in a humid climate. I understand that I lot of you cannot change where you live, or don't want to...BUT the more time your hair has in humidity, the better. It really has helped my hair stay healthy and not brittle. So maybe some time in a steam room once a week would really help. Plus it is great for your scalp because lets be honest, your scalp is just skin and skin needs moisture too!

Secret #2: I RARELY blow dry my hair. And by rarely I mean like once every other week or so. When I do blow dry my hair, I let it sit in a towel to dry as much as I can before I take heat to it. The less heat time my hair has to endure the better!! And trust me when I say, if I blow dry straight out of the shower, it will take 30 minutes to get my hair to a damp state, because well humidity and the fact that I have so much hair!

Secret #3: I try to never brush my hair wet. Before I get in the shower I brush my hair out, and then I let it sit in a towel uncombed. I also blow dry my hair uncombed... It isn't until my hair is mostly dry again that I will brush it out and finish blowing it dry. This has greatly improved my breakage amount.

Secret #4: Heat protectant. Let me just say that I use this every time any form of heat is going to be touching my hair. Whether that is blow dryer, flat iron, SUNSHINE! The sun is a source of heat that we don't think to protect our locks from, but it is super important! I noticed a huge difference after I started using it before I went into the sun for a long time.

Secret #5: Every time I am in any form of water that is not a shower (pool, ocean, etc.) I apply leave in conditioner before I get in and the moment I get out. Now I have to say that from personal experience....you do not want to put this close to your hair line before you get it. It will run into your eyes and you will think someone lit your eyes on fire. I usually only cover the ends of my hair up until the pieces underneath hit my scalp. After I get out, I put that stuff on everything. I look crazy at the beach putting it in my hair, but my hair would be so damaged if I did not do this. Because the salt or chemicals in a pool really do a number on my strands by the time I am able to wash my hair out.

Secret #6: Even more rare than me using a blow dryer, is me using a flat iron. One, it is way too hot and by the time I step outside for ten minutes my nice straight hair has started to curl up. Two, it is so much work....Have you ever tried to straighten thick hair that is this long? It takes forever.... So if I want my hair a bit straighter, all I do is the ends and top layers (after I spray heat protectant of course). This cuts down on time and always cuts down on the amount of hair that is getting heat applied to it.

So basically summed up.... I use way less heat... If I want curls, I do braids or heatless curls.... If I want straight, I only straighten what I absolutely must. I only blow dry when I have to, and I protect from all kinds of heat! I don't brush it when it is wet and I use lots of stuff to keep moisture in it!

My favorite hair products are Marc Jacobs Oil of Morocco Argan Oil collection. I love the blow dry smoothing cream, it helps it to be less frizzy and easier to get a comb through! I use it even when I don't blow dry my hair! I LOVE the styling oil spray for when it is dry though! Because my hair tangles SO fast and this spray loosens my tangles without making my hair look oily or dirty. It keeps my hair from getting tangled throughout the day as well. LESS IS MORE with this stuff, you can make a bottle last foreverrrrr because it is so potent you need so little of it. You can find it at Ulta! I highly suggest looking at the links and finding some for yourself! It is cheap and I have had my bottles for about 6 months and still have some in them!

Anyways, sorry for the random post of today!

Love, Kiki

Calm in the ever raging storm...

To say that my faith has been weak lately is an understatement. I have been struggling, mostly the depression talking once again. Convincing me that no one cares, especially the One who created the universe. The darkness is all I'm seeing again.

Then recently we lost a family member...suddenly and unexpected. At the age of 10.

"How could You take her away?? How dare You?"

Now let me just start by saying that the loss I'm feeling is nothing compared to the loss that those closest to her are feeling. My feelings are so small compared to my aunt and uncle's grief. I can't fathom how much they are going through and this is not to take away from them at all. They are going through hell and that is not something I want anyone to think I am comparing my own sorrow with. This is just my current struggle and how this has effected me.

JoJo and I weren't close in age, so we didn't grow up together. Life has taken me away from my family so it had been a few years since I saw her. They joined our family a while ago, so I didn't have the privilege of knowing her from birth or anything like that. I just got a few holidays and times when we could all get together as a family. I didn't have years with her, I didn't have the chance to know her favorite color or what she would have wanted to be when she grew up.

You see as a military wife, you give up so much. You give up the privilege of seeing your family every holiday and birthday. You give up all the memories you could make with them, watching everyone grow up and experience life. You move away and people who are dear to your heart become distant. You lose touch, you can't call everyone and keep up with everyone. You lose touch. Plain and simple.

But you hold onto the hope that, this too shall pass. You'll be home eventually and you'll get back into their lives. There will be future holidays and family reunions, you can attend them and then you'll get to know everyone again. You will have the chance later. You hold onto to that for dear life. Because without that hope, the fact that you miss everything at home is crushing.

And then you fall smack into the reality that is not the case. You don't get to have that future. I am drowning in hopelessness wondering if I'll have the chance to be involved in my family's life again. Who will I never get the chance to make more memories with?  Who will I have to hold onto the memories I have, knowing I missed out on so much of their lives and I'll never get the chance to make up for that?

I was already standing on the edge of my darkness again. Battling with depression once again. My ever present friend/enemy. And this was the push over the edge.

How could a God who could have stopped this, just stand by and let it happen? How dare He take her when she didn't even have the chance to fully experience life.

"How could you?"

I know God can handle my questions. I know He can take my faith being weak. If He couldn't I wouldn't believe in Him.

Here is the conclusion that I have come to as I sit crying silently on the plane.

Life sucks. Period. Life is just made to destroy us. Its science, everything is going to a state of decay at all times. Life hits you hard, sometimes wave after wave, sometimes with a tsunami. Life is brutal. It doesn't care about you.

God didn't say that He came to save us from life. He didn't say that suddenly life would love you and stop being an ass. If that is how life worked, a lot more people would believe in God simply for a get through life easy pass.

No, the storms will still hit you. And they will make you fear for your life. They will rock your boat, they will toss you around, they might even throw you overboard. But the difference is, you have someone in your boat with His arms outstretched, ready to take over when you can't grip the sail anymore, when you have fallen out. He is present at all times to calm us and give us peace beyond understanding. He didn't say He would save us from every storm, but He promised to be in them with us. He promised us His love and grace at every moment of the calm and the storm.

So the calm that I am finding in my heart right now is this: this life is not all I get. I have eternity to know and love and be with my family. I am not limited to the memories I have with JoJo on earth.

And until I see you again, I'll hold onto the memories that I do have with you. I will hold onto your smile and your laugh.

It is not fair that you are gone. That will probably never make sense to me. I will always carry regret I couldn't know you longer and more. But I won't lose my hope because someday, we can make up for the lost time.

Keep an eye on us okay? See you soon.

If you would like to donate to my family, here is the gofundme link. Please keep my family in your prayers and thoughts this week as they lay to rest their child, something one should never have to do.

 https://www.gofundme.com/c7a3t-in-memory-of-johanna

Also a huge thank you to my friend who made it possible for me to come home for the funeral. You are a bleeding from God, truly an angel walking on the earth. Thank you will never be enough...

A story I don't really want to tell...

The third appointment was the hardest one yet...and the whole reason that I am writing out my journey down this road... This is full of just broken thoughts and pieces, and I am sorry for the choppy writing. I cannot quite find words to say what I need to say...

I thought that I was going in for a purely physical fix to my problem.

It is called physical therapy right?

Well I forgot the therapy word was in there.

Most my appointments go with me doing exercises on my own, kegel mostly while working on other parts of my body, shoulders, back, etc. After I am done with those, Joanna stretches out the muscles in my hips and then works on other muscles in my back, shoulders, neck, pretty much where I am tight. The goal is to get my body to relax and release all the tension so that I can have sex without dying.

Let me tell you, I have a love hate relationship with the muscle portion of the appointment. She is very gentle to your muscles, trying to just get them to relax and release the tension and built up knots on their own. Which is the love part... the hate part is this...

I did not know you could hold so many emotions and broken pieces in your body. I thought emotions were purely in your head that that is where they stayed...

That is wrong. And if you want to argue that with me, talk to my back every time I stretch it how tears come running down my face. Or how after she corrected my neck and stretched my spine out I broke into a million pieces and could not hold it together for the whole next week.

I have been to therapy for the things that I have been crying over. I have cried nights and nights, months of tears for the things that I am crying about.

And still they keep coming...

Please read this next part of my story with a little bit of respect, knowing that I have never really fully shared this with most of the people reading this. It is not something that I enjoy talking about. It is not something that I want to share. I do not share it for your sympathy or for any other reason than the fact that it is important. Because I know that it has happened to more people than I can possibly know. I want people to know that they can talk about it too. I want people to feel safe and loved and know that it happens to others too.

When I turned 18, I found that the world did not give me the freedom that I felt I earned. I got good grades, I followed all the rules, I went above and beyond what was expected of me at every turn. I went to college early, I didn't go out and party on the weekends, I read my Bible almost daily, I went to church every single week, usually more than twice a week. I made it to 18 without kissing a boy, even though I was with someone for about 2 years. I did it right. I am not saying that to brag, I am saying that because I was a stuck up little prude who followed the rules and the worst thing she ever did was prank the boys hotel room while on a trip with the youth group. And even at that, I was the lookout because I couldn't actually do the pranking without freaking out.

But I just found that the rules placed on me were harder than before. More responsibility was given, yet zero freedom was given in return. I felt trapped.

I broke up with my boyfriend of 2ish years right before I turned 18. He was verbally, emotionally, and mentally abusive. I do not say this lightly. I could not speak to any boys. I could not text boys without first sending him the text, getting his revised version that he wanted me to say instead, and then waiting for a response from the boy, and starting it all over again. I could not get mad or hurt or upset about anything because it was always my fault. "I did that because you did this and this and this." If I made him mad, I got hours of silence in return for my trying to make things better. If I made him really mad, he would just threaten to leave me somewhere with no transportation. I was never "giving him what he needed." I loathe words of affirmation, because he shoved it in my face to literally make me tell him all the things that I loved about him while I was hurting and broken by his actions. I ended things because I could not take being made to feel invalid and invisible any longer.

We were young. We were immature. I am not saying that I did everything right, but I am saying I walked out a very very broken woman. But I also walked out with a, "I won't take sh*t from anyone, if you don't like that get out of my way" attitude.

Well I found myself liking this guy.... totally different from my first boyfriend. 5 years older than me, had a car he bought himself, had a job and did great at it, showed up to work on time, worked hard.

He would text me back. He took my honesty. He talked about the hard things with me. He understood the broken and just let me be.

I told him from day 1, there will be no kissing, no sex, nothing of that sort. NOTHING. AT. ALL.

I remember conversations with him telling me, I like you for more than that, a guy can want to spend time with you for more than sex, I am okay with that completely.

I slowly found out he was a man-whore. I mean that to the very extent of the word. His number of women at 23 probably exceeded double digits.

I also found out after everything that had happened.....that he also was trying to see how long it would take him to bang the virgin with most everyone we worked with.

One night we are just watching a movie, nothing fancy... And he kissed me. I was not happy. AT ALL. I had been saving my first kiss for my wedding day. But all he said was, "It was your job to make sure I didn't."

Well after that happened I was just like, well its done now so I guess I am kissing people.

He was so nice to me... He would take me on picnics and we would ride our bikes together a million times around a lake just to talk. He had me try new things, like rock climbing and riding a motorcycle. He never got mad at me, he never ignored me. He was sweet and romantic.

Then one night I find out that my grandma's cancer had come back again and this was probably it for her because she barely survived it last time. I was devastated. I go over to his house to cry and talk...

I find him semi-drunk and very happy to see me.

We talk and I cry a lot... and we end up laying in his bed kissing. And things went down hill from there. I do not want to talk about the specifics because it is still very real and hard for me to talk about. Nothing happened to me, but it almost did. The terror that I felt in that moment, the fear of not knowing how I was going to stop him from screwing me, how was I going to get away from that situation. I can still feel his hands in places that I do not want them in. I can still feel the weight of being pinned in a bed. All I could think of at this moment is, don't let your fear show so he won't fight you getting away anymore. Leave without letting him know how you are terrified or he will push further.

Here are the thoughts that I think that you are thinking right now and why I hate talking about this:

You kissed him and you knew he was drunk...what did you expect?
Nothing actually happened, so what is the big deal?
You liked him, so what was the problem?
He obviously didn't rape you so where is the problem in it?


Here is what I wrote in my journal over and over again a few nights ago.

I did not ask to be kissed, I did not want that. I did not initially want that at all. Sure I kissed him after that, I own up to that. But in the end, he did something I said a very firm no to.
I did not want the sexual advances. I wanted to be comforted and instead I got grabbed and smashed and violated.
I said no to sex. And he pushed. And touched where he was not invited, and tried to push where he was unwelcome.

These things happened to me. By someone I trusted, cared for, shared my emotions and heart with.

I hated myself. Literally hated myself. I would drive and scream at the top of my lungs and cry until I had no more tears. I couldn't talk about it. I couldn't tell my parents that this had happened because I didn't want to answer questions or get in trouble or being in that position. I hated that I let myself be in that position. I couldn't take what I knew people would tell me, nothing happened get over it you went there it isn't that big of a deal you weren't actually raped.

I talk to a counselor. I worked through things. I talked and talked and talked until I was blue in the face and my eyes fell out from crying.

Imagine for a moment not being able to get close to anyone again without the fear that they would rape you. Imagine not being able to be trust anyone because what if they tried too? I couldn't trust anyone because I trusted him when he said, "I don't want to have sex with you, I can want to be around you without wanting to hit that." I couldn't trust myself to believe those words again.

I still get flashbacks... When my husband, who is safe and loving and kind, touches me in the same way, I have an anxiety attack and cannot breathe or move. I am always looking over my shoulder, I am always on edge. I am overly self-aware so that I don't give anyone the wrong ideas ever again. I live(d) in fear. And silence. Because who would understand?

Here is the conclusion that I have recently come to:

If someone does something to you that you do not want, it is assault. It is trauma to you and to your body and mind. Unwanted advances are assault.

Keep reading that until you believe it. Keep saying it over and over again until in your heart of hearts you truly believe it.

I am still trying to take hold of it myself.

What happened to me, has had a profoundly negative physical effect on me and my body.

Joanna says that we hold things in our muscles, women hold them right in their hip muscles. Trauma especially. Our body is trying to protect itself. That is all it knows. Flight or fight. Don't let this happen.

Emotions are not simply in your heart, they can be held in your muscles as well.

This is already a long post so I will end with this and pick it up later.

If you have ever had anything unwanted happen to you, it is not your fault. You do not have to carry the blame for it. It is not your fault. And it is okay that it was traumatic to you. Accept that so that you can work through it better. Do not try to down play what happened to you. Let it effect you and get help for it.

I am here to listen or answer questions if you want to know more.

Just because someone has it worse, does not mean that you cannot be broken by what happened to you.

Cheerleader

You know that feeling when you finally see the light at the end of the tunnel only to realize that it is a freight train coming right for you?

Yeah, that was me a few days after seeing my physical therapist.

I get a letter from my insurance company in the mail.

"Your approval claim has been denied. You are not covered to see this doctor blah blah blah.... If you want to appeal this claim, your service member will have to contact us directly."

Heart attack. Then heart break... Then full blown break down.

They just sent me an approval, how is it denied?? What do you mean denied? Only my husband can talk to you?? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? He cannot call from a submarine to deal with an insurance matter! You are out of your mind!

Terror. What if I cannot get the help I need? What if I have to pay out of pocket?? I don't know how long this will take to heal and get better... What if...it takes a year? I can't afford that. Not in Hawaii on a sailor's salary. No way. Not when I lose my job at the end of January!

So my next appointment I go in to see her...

And I don't even want to bring it up. I really don't. I just want to pretend that I can still keep coming and that I am going to get better... That everything is perfect.

But everything I am nervous about/have an anxiety attack over, whenever I bring it up to her she puts me at such ease.

She immediately gets her part time secretary on the phone with Tricare (my insurance company), because they received two letters as well, one of approval and one of not... And she gets it sorted out before I even leave her office.

She fought for me. And made it very clear that she would continue to fight for me through everything.

So anyways, I am doing all these exercises, contract and release muscles, more than kegel exercises, finding a way to fully relax every muscle. And then at the end of our session she works on the muscles in my back...

Now I have to point out to you, that I have a knot on each side of my spine that runs down the length of my spine into my hips. And I have solid shoulders...not from muscle. From all the knots and tension. My back is solid. And tense.

But have your ever tried so hard to do something that when you don't succeed you just want to start crying? It is discouraging... Very very discouraging...

And I said that, with tears streaming down my face as she asked me to do something and I could not. Physically could not do it. I just started crying... "It is so discouraging... I can't do it."

"That is why I am here! To cheer you on when you are discouraged. Because this is a process and it does not have to be over night.

"I am your cheerleader."

That to me meant the world. Because there was finally someone in my corner who had my back. Who was okay with, I cannot do this, I am struggling and crying because I want this so bad but I just cannot get there right now.

I need that. As someone who demands perfection from myself at every point. I need that. I need to know that it is not a failure, nor a set back, it is just something that will come later on.

Relief. Complete relief.

Maybe I can fix this and repair the holes in my marriage after all.

The crying did not stop there...

You know when something is set up by God? When you walk into your physical therapist appointment and they tell you that you need to go somewhere else for help because they don't specialize in "that." They wouldn't even say the word sex... But they know a person who does and they will get the referral sent over to your doctor to send in again for this new place.

And you walk into this new place.... And are immediately put to ease by your therapist. She asked me questions and wanted the honest answers, no matter how crude or awkward it was. She wanted the truth... She was willing to talk about the hard things that you have been wanting to talk about with someone who could help you for so long... She wanted to know my pain and struggle... She encouraged crying and feeling everything that came with finding healing.

But you know how I really know that God had His hand in this?

She tells me that she was once committed to someone very dear to her that was on a submarine. Those were her exact words. I thought I would start crying right then because immediately she knew my struggles and my pain. She understood what it meant when I said our only communication is through "emails." She just got it when I said that I didn't want to put anything personal cause I never know who is reading. She instantly knew.

And that does not happen. Let me tell you....it is hard for people to get this life, impossible for you to understand fully unless you have walked in these shoes what it is like.

It is a constant sore spot in my life when it comes to talking to people about it... It is hard for me to explain without feeling that I am complaining, to convey truly how difficult every day of my life is... This is not just the regular military where they go on deployments then they are home, maybe gone for a month of training before they deploy again... No. Not this. This is they are home maybe a total of 5 months each year. Total, meaning that is broken up into a weekend here, a week here, maybe a month if you get lucky (more like the boat breaks and they are forced to stay).

And when you are having painful sex...that schedule is hell. There is no time for anything. There is no time to try and work through things and feelings and thoughts. There is no time to sit down and take a good few weeks to discuss your heart and where you want to be.

So when you are already feeling the fear and terror that your marriage might crumble....take into consideration that you cannot fix it. You cannot work on it continually. You have a day here and a week here and hope that the bandaid that you applied will last until you can replace it.

And for someone who is going to be working through such a tough process and deep healing with you... For her to just get it and not have to go into all that and explain all of that....

Heaven. Send.

Then she goes on to discuss why most people have this problem. It is all about the muscles, not a faulty body. How women carry our stress in certain places and it completely takes a toll on us. She asked if I was in pain at that moment. I said, yeah my back is always a bit off, her response, I can tell you are carrying a lot on you because of the way you are sitting.

Then she walks me through a treatment plan...saying what she would like to work on and work through with me. Then she tells me, if all that doesn't work....I have something else to try. It isn't covered by your insurance but it is only $50 up front and that is it. I have other options, and I will help you, I can help you. This is a problem that we can fix, not something that is permanently wrong with you. I have written a whole book on the matter, I can help, I promise you.

I started crying....

Sitting there in her front room, crying. Just met the woman and I am crying in her office. What? Who am I? I don't do that very often... I don't cry with strangers!

But here I am, crying in her office.

Now mind you, there is still skepticism in the back of my mind, I have had my hopes up before and that didn't go well. At all. But I am slowly see more and more light...

And the crying did not stop there....

What makes time the healer of broken things?

Time. What is it? Everyone says that it is supposed to heal us, but what makes time the healer of things broken?

It has been two years. Two years since I got married. Two years of the schedule of a submarine, two years of my roller coaster of depression, anxiety and the like, two years of figuring out how to be a married couple, how to run a home and survive the real world.

Time has passed.

You might remember my blog post about painful sex… If not, I suggest you read that first (click here).  I was full of hope for the first time since I got married.

Then I saw an OBGYN for this. You know what they said, you will be fine, use a dilator you are fine just takes time to get over.

Crushed does not even begin to describe the feeling that I had. It does not touch the sinking feeling in my stomach of devastation. They tested me for STDs and sent me on my way. A test that I knew I did not need and one that cost me a lot of money.

Depression came like a floodgate. It is hard to keep your head above water when you feel like you don’t even feel that you deserve the right to swim. I can’t blame it on that doctor’s appointment because I know it would have happened anyways, but it was the tipping point for months of despair and anguish.

Two years of feeling like a failure. Two years of struggling with sex… When I say struggling I don’t mean an occasional feeling of annoyance or frustration. I mean sobbing and spending nights in the fetal position on my bathroom floor and literally not being able to breathe from the pain in my heart.

Did you ever lose someone important to you and the heart shattering that goes along with that?

That feeling in your heart and the physical pain felt in your chest from your heart being ripped apart, imagine nights and nights of that.

Imagine that fear that your marriage may not last because this has caused such division and self-loathing on both ends. Imagine that you love someone so much that it eats you away inside every night. You go to bed with a simple kiss because the thought of even trying to be intimate with one another brings so much apprehension in both your hearts.

He doesn’t want to hurt me. And he knows how much I hate myself every time that I cannot. He is discouraged and there is nothing I can do about it because I can offer no hope either. I start to hold resentment in my heart for the fact that he cannot feel my pain, resentment that he is causing it. I know in my head that he is not the cause, that he is not doing it on purpose. But the heart is harder to convince when it is only feel deep pain. I am just being honest here because someone out there needs to hear this. Needs to know that it is normal and you will survive. I tried not to be resentful…I usually find peace again in the morning, but those feelings still sit there, waiting to pounce again the next time you try to initiate anything.

I hate it. I hate that I fail. I hate that my body fails. I hate that I cannot be close to my husband in this way.

I honestly cannot tell you the last time that we tried. It is too hard on both of us.

But then that burden still sits there on both your shoulders. You feel the pressure to fight this and not be in a sexless marriage. Because where is the fun in that? Where is the deep soul bonding that comes from that? Sure we can talk until we are blue in the face about all the things that our hearts hold, but it is a connection that you cannot get any other way. But at the same time you feel the defeat in the air before you even try and it kills you a little bit more each day. And it slowly starts to separate you and pull you apart, until you finally break and hope all the pieces land in each other’s laps.

I am at my wit’s end. I have faced the door of defeat so many times that I cannot even bring myself to walk down the same hallway anymore. God has seemed to be silent on the matter. I felt like He was just sitting there watching the struggle without offering to help.

Then a few months ago this happened...

I went in to see my primary care physician who is a wonderful caring woman and a phenomenal doctor. I just needed to switch my birth control because I was no longer happy with how it was effecting me. So I went in and they were telling me about all my options and I made a passing comment to the nurse that sex was painful enough as it was, I did not want anything that would make that worse.

Well she told my doctor.

And that woman is amazing.

She came into the room to finish talking with me about which option I would like for birth control and then immediately said, “You should not be living like this, this effects your quality of life and I am not okay with that. Can I refer you to a physical therapist?”

Can you what?? You mean there are people who do that? There are actual physical therapists that specialize in that on this island?? And you want to send me to one??

YES! A thousand times yes! Please!

She cared. She cared enough to get me help and find me help. When the first physical therapist turned me away because she didn’t deal with that directly, she found me someone else. She fought for me. She went to bat for my marriage. And this isn’t the first time that she has fought for me like this. She fought to get me help for my depression. She is always fighting for me. And I will be forever thankful for that. I don’t think that she will ever fully understand how much I appreciate her.

She was the beginning. The start of someone hearing my pain and helping me in a real way. And I just felt this ray of light shining down into my heart and peace feeling that God had not abandoned me, just simply was waiting.

This is the start of my journey. This is the start of my healing. This is just the beginning and I hope you will walk this journey with me.

Running with chains

Four years ago I wrote:

If you learn to run with your chains, once they are broken you'll run faster than everyone else.

This day last year I was struggling to even get out of bed each day. I could not function, I was so depressed I would sleep for 14-18 hours straight, I didn't even have the energy to eat. I would wake up at 3pm, watch tv in bed until Cody got home, he would help me shower, then we would sit on the couch until we went to bed. He would have to bring dinner home with him every night and that was usually the only meal I would eat all day. Every day was a struggle with the demons sitting on my shoulder telling me the world would be better off without me. Having to constantly battle these thoughts with reason that was so hard for me to find. I could not function. My life was a hole of darkness and despair.

Then my doctor and I found the right medication and it slowly started working. It fixed my brain chemistry. It helped me to see light and colors and meaning in my life again.

But I still have days of struggle. I have days where I have to talk myself into getting out of bed. Days I have to force myself to be active or just do a simple thing like take a shower.

And on those days I feel so aggravated and downtrodden. I'm tired of this struggle! I wish it was over and I was "cured" and 100% happy and upbeat every day! I wish that my feelings weren't so heavy to carry some days.

So today I needed that reminder. Little did my 18 year old self know that I would need to read that today. To be reminded, that one day I'll be able to run even faster than I can imagine now. One day these chains won't be so heavy and one day I'll be able to see how strong carrying them has made me.

I think about how far I have come from last year and I can't even begin to express how grateful I am that I didn't give up. That I kept running.

So I'll keep running cause one day, I'll look back again and realize I'm running even faster and doing even better and be so grateful once again that I kept running!

Letter to my youngest sister...

Everyone always writes a letter to their younger self, things that they wish they had known, things they would do differently... But I have the beautiful experience of having two younger sisters. One I could not share a ton of wisdom with while she was growing up because I was still making mistakes myself. But I feel like I can impart a bit of my learned wisdom to my youngest baby sis. So here is my open letter to all the younger girls in my life. I hope you read this and avoid my mistakes.


Dearest baby sister,

I have not always been the best example in life. I have made so many mistakes and I hope you were too young to remember a lot of them. I hope you forget all the dumb things I did and put up with and I hope you just remember this version of me. The stronger, smarter, wiser version. But part of me does hope you remember my mistakes. Remember all the things I did wrong and all the wrong turns I made in life. Remember my mistakes, not as a part of me, but as a guide for you to make better choices. If I had to walk the road that I walked, just for the sole purpose that you would not have to walk it, I would do it all over again a million times. So here is what little wisdom I have, I hope you cherish it because I went through a lot of heartache to gain it.

Don't take crap from anyone. Do not let yourself be bullied or looked down upon or ridiculed. Stand up for your choices and believe in yourself and what you are doing in life. But never become a bully yourself. When someone gives you crap, turn it into a compliment for them. When someone tries to bully you, bring them lunch or a candy bar and shower them with kindness. NEVER let how someone treats you define how you treat others.

Smile at everyone. All the time. Be happy to see your friends. Be excited when you see them in passing. Nothing will mean more to someone than a smile. Let everyone know that they are loved and cherished by you at all points in the day. But also, know your boundaries. If someone is taking too much from you, make sure you set up boundaries with them. The people who love you will listen and understand your boundaries. Only hang out with them every other week, or text them only once in a while. If you do this you can put everything into being present and not burnt out when you are around them! And if they still are draining you or causing you drama or pain, show them the door politely. Quietly step out of their life. Or just be done and walk away. The pain of losing someone is temporary compared to the lifetime scars that they might leave on you.

On the note of boundaries.... That brings me to the topic of boys....

I wish with everything in me that you stay as far away from them as possible until they are old enough to treasure your heart and love you properly. But since I cannot lock you up somewhere and throw away the key until then, here is what I want you to remember.

If a boy stands you up, leave him. If a boy is overly jealous of your time and affection, leave him. If he gets mad at you for the littlest things, leave him. If every date he takes you on ends in you crying, leave him. If he blames you for whatever you are upset with him about, leave him. If everything is your fault, leave him. If he can't say sorry when he hurts you, leave him. If he doesn't change his behavior after that sorry, leave him. If you lose friends because he is controlling, leave him. If he is controlling or possessive at all, leave him. If you feel like you are walking on eggshells around him all the time, leave him. If you spend hours on the phone trying to make things right because you laughed at the wrong man's joke, leave him. If you can't be around your family without him embarrassing you or making you spend all your time focused on him, leave him. If he pushes your boundaries, leave him. If he doesn't listen to the word no coming from your mouth, leave him. If he can't control himself when he is with you, leave him. If you can't trust him, leave him. If he pressures you to do anything you don't feel like doing, leave him. If he makes you feel like you are garbage or worthless, leave him.

Even if he leaves a flower on your doorstep the next day. Even if he leaves you a million flowers. Even if he plans a big date to romance you. Even if he says all the things that your heart will want to hear, all the sweet words that will make you want to stay every day. Please leave him.

Character flaws are not something that romance and flowers can make up for. The pain he will cause you, is not worth staying with him. His actions need to match his words. If he says sorry, he better not do it again. You need to put your foot down baby girl because you are not a rug to be walked on. Because regardless of what your heart is telling you, you do not want to be with him.

You want to be a bird that is free to fly, not one locked in a cage in fear that they make the wrong chirp and get wrath in return. You want to be encouraged and enlightened and cherished. You want to be truly loved.

Abuse is not love. Please see it for what it is. And leave. Trust me, you'll thank me one day. It is not worth the scars later on down the road for the momentary feelings you have for him.

You can wait to have sex until you are married. It is possible. I did it. I know you can to. You have to find someone who is 100% self-controlled and will not do anything with you, even if you want him to in the moment. Feelings can get strong, but know your limits and have them etched in stone. You can do it, I know you can. But also, if you fail, don't let shame or fear or guilt eat you alive. Talk to someone about it, move forward, and use it to make your testimony better. Grow from your mistakes, don't let them weigh you down.

Be strong but compassionate, be firm but pliable, be confident but soft.

Don't let the world and its harshness change who you are inside.

If you want to be funny, be funny. If you want to be soft spoken, be soft spoken. If you want to climb a mountain and ride a goat, then do it. If you want to sit at home with a book and a cup of tea, then do it. If you want to be a great person, do it by following who you are, not what Instagram or Facebook is telling you is "cool."

You will get sad sometimes... But if that sadness lasts for too long or is too much to bear, reach out. Talk to someone. Talk to me, talk to a doctor, talk to a therapist, talk to mom or dad. Take something for it if you must without shame or fear or reservation. Don't be afraid to reach out...Because it runs in our family and it is treatable. You are not meant to feel down all the time. The world should not weigh so much that your back is breaking from carrying it.

Mom is always going to be there. You may not always get along because you are more like her than you realize or sometimes want to be, but she is always there. She gets things. She listens and understands. And one day you will realize that being like her is not a bad thing. If she tells you to leave a boy or a situation or friendship, please listen. Trust me. Save yourself the time and effort. Not sure if a boy likes you, bring them around mom, she will know if they do or not.

Also know that no matter what you do or who you are, she will love you. And so will I. You could come to me as the most broken, messed up person, and I will still take you in and help you find what you need. There is nothing so bad that you could tell me that it would ever change my opinion of you.

And lastly, be real. Be honest. Be true to who you are in all aspects. Be honest with yourself and others about your shortcomings. Work to be a better person, but know that you are already a great one. If someone doesn't like you for who you are, then you do not have to be friends with them. You will find people who will fall in love with your scars and your quirks and your humor. You will find people who will embrace you and not mock you for who you are. You are never too much for the right person, you are never a burden to those that really love you. Be who you are, show your flaws, be open about what is going on with you. People will flock to your realness, they will come and find shelter under your honesty.

I love you forever, even if you choose the same path as me,
Kiki

You Are Being Quiet, Are You Okay?

You are being quiet, are you okay? You really should talk more. Get into the conversation. Why are you so quiet? You need to speak right now. Cody, you need to take your wife home cause she is tired and bored. You look bored.

All things I heard last night. And things I hear a lot. They don't bug me usually.

I don't care that I'm quiet. I don't care when people point it out. But I do care when people are abrasive about it, sometimes without realizing it.

I am quiet when I'm around people. Social interactions are not my thing. More than like two people and I start to internalize.

Nothing is wrong. I'm not trying to be rude or stuck up or mean. I just have nothing to say.

Why?

Not because I don't have words to say... But I think something and then I have to run it over in my head a couple times to make sure its okay to say, that it won't upset or offend someone. I wanna make sure its taken the right way, and said with the right grammar. I want to make sure you understand what I'm trying to convey...

And by the time I have something perfected in my head, we are three topics down the road and it doesn't matter anymore.

So I quit trying to reply to conversations, I just listen. And I'm content listening. Cause its better that way, I'm not all up in my head freaking out about the three things I missed while I was taking 5 minutes to respond to your first thought.

Please know I'm not being rude, and if I am, just tell me. I don't have to speak to be having a good time.

Most of the time I am trying to calm my racing thoughts... Because there are too many things going on.

Last night for example, there were two conversations going on at once the whole night, I'm getting caught in the middle. I can't keep up with both, and talk, and try not to have an anxiety attack...

My husband got to witness my first outward anxiety attack around him the other night. And it did not make me feel good. Usually I hide when I'm having one, or I can talk myself out of it. But not this time.

See we were talking about something very important to us both and I was crying and not the pretty cry either...the I've been holding this in for months while you've been gone cry, where snot is running down your face and every inch of your face and neck is wet. Well when that happens to me, my nose stuffs up and I cannot breathe through it. And bam. Anxiety attack. Freaking out. Hyperventilating. Can't think. Can't breathe. Panic that I can't breathe. Can't breathe even more. What if I die? I am dying. I can't breathe. I need to move. What will help me? I don't know. Can't think. Something has to help. Do something you are dying! You stupid idiot you should not be dealing with this in front of your husband. Hide. Now. Breathe. Hide then breathe. No only breathe. Deal with him later. Breathe damn it. Breathe. Now. I need air.

My husband is a fixer. He has to fix a problem. He has to have a solution. "What can I do?" I didn't know what to tell him.

I don't even know what to tell me.

So he starts playing me a song and singing to me. My favorite song and his voice. He was being himself. And it helped. It gave me something else to focus on. I could calm down enough to breathe again.

But I was so embarrassed, it is demeaning. To literally not be able to control your own mind and thoughts.

You don't want people to witness when your inner demons get a hold of you too tightly.

You feel weak.

And powerless.

And completely drained.

And that's what I'm trying to avoid when I'm being quiet. The panic. The uncontrollable fits. The spasms.

Because I don't want people thinking any less of me. I don't want people thinking that I'm any less of a person. Or that something is wrong with me.

And what I want least of all is the pity.

I don't want your pity. But I want your understanding.

And not just for me.

I want you to be aware that the people around you might be struggling with the same things. I want you to know that being quiet doesn't mean someone is upset always. I want you to know what its like on our end so that you can help the person in your life who is like me.

And I want you to know, if you are like me, you are not alone. You are not a freak of nature. You are perfectly normal. There is nothing wrong with you. Let me say that again... There. Is. Nothing. Wrong. With. You. This is all your sickness talking.

So to those who don't deal with this, I don't share for sympathy. I share so you can help someone else in your life.

And those who do deal with this, I share so you can have a voice when you cannot speak for yourself.

And to those dolls out there (Nicole, this was you...) who get it and help me through it and don't expect anything more or less of me, thank you. Its not enough what you do for me. But I love you for it.

Be brave my lovelies. And be quiet if you must. And don't worry if you aren't speaking. You do you. The rest of the world might understand one day.

You Will Not Control Me Today

There was a time when I was under the impression that my thoughts were normal.

That freaking out to a crazy extent was actually something that people did on a regular basis.

It wasn't until I hit the lowest of lows in my depression that my anxiety level hit a nasty high and I realized, this was not normal.

Looking back on it now, I can see all the signs. But then I did not know what to look for.

Driving to youth group and not being able to breathe, feeling your chest tighten beneath you...just because you had to walk through the door.

Being lost in the store because I literally could not talk to an employee without feeling like I was going to black out.

Heart racing over going into a new restaurant, or one I had been to a million times. Heart racing over the fact that I was meeting someone for the first time. Heart racing because I had to be alone.

And this week, I realized that this started when I was really, really young...

I remember watching a cartoon about this girl who got kidnapped and then her dad found her blah blah blah... Most normal kids would be like okay like one bad dream and it is over.

I spent months being terrified that everyone was going to kidnap me.
I had what I now know as an anxiety attack in a horse carriage because I was sitting by the open door and all I could see was someone reaching in to snatch me.
Months. Months of strangers causing me so much fear I could not breathe. Months of not leaving my parents side. Months of nightmares and not being able to fall asleep because there was someone waiting outside for me to fall asleep so they could grab me. Even after my parents figured out that something was wrong and talked to me about it, I still could not shake the fear.

Crying hysterically all of the sudden in children's church because you are suddenly convinced that your uncle died in Iraq. Or when you have a new children's pastor and they invite you to bring your favorite toy to church next week for a show and tell...and you are fine until it is your turn and then all of the sudden, even though you know everyone in the room, you can't talk and you just sit there crying unable to move. And not being able to be comforted by the children's pastor because you don't know her and it scares you that she wants to hug you so you just start shaking because you are terrified.

Paralyzing fear.

Not just normal little kid fear.

This was big.

But you know, as a kid you don't know how to tell anyone about this.

And it isn't like my parents knew what was going on... There isn't a handbook on parenthood.

And if I am just now realizing what all this stuff was...Cannot blame them for not knowing either.

It is silly things, like roll call in college, and finding a new class room, or group projects, that would make me literally freeze in my tracks, that tell me now what was going on.

Anxiety.

And then when my depression hit an all time low, it reared its nasty head and made itself known.

And it was the most freeing experience of my life.

Okay not so much at the time...

My first panic attack, literally the worst experience of my life. I was convinced I was dying.

But it also helped me to get help for it. It helped me to figure out that, wow these thoughts are not normal, this is not normal.

Freedom comes when you can finally tell yourself, this is your sickness talking, it is not real.

And even though I have found freedom, it doesn't make it any easier.

There are still days that I sit and cannot leave my house. The thought of walking to my door and turning the handle is too much for me. There are days when I have to force myself to get up and get out. For dumb reasons like, that day I happen to be convinced that I am going to get mugged and raped if I open the door.

Two months I had no communication with my husband. Terrifying honestly. But I made it through okay, until the last week when I didn't get an email and everyone else did it seemed like. Normal people think thoughts like, well maybe it didn't come through, maybe he is busy, he is probably working really long hours. But no, not me. I spent the entire week in fear that my husband has died, or punched someone and got in trouble, or went mentally crazy and is locked up in a room, or he decided to bat for the other team and doesn't know how to tell me, or maybe he decided that he just didn't love me anymore and he wanted me out of his house when he got home, or maybe he lost all his memory and could no longer remember that he was married...  Not normal thoughts, especially considering how much my husband loves me. But these were literally my paralyzing fears that I had to talk myself down from every time I checked my email and had nothing waiting in my inbox.

This is not normal.

And that is okay.

Because now I know it is not normal.

And now I know that I can fight it.

This last week I went to a brand new sit down restaurant by myself. And then I went to the bookstore by myself. And then I went to the beach by myself.

And let me tell you, that was the biggest moment for me... I was so proud of myself for conquering my fears in those moments. I might have hid behind my book at the bar, but I didn't stop breathing when a guy asked me to move down. I might have not looked up once from my book at the beach, but I still sat there alone for an hour.

I did it.

And I have to celebrate the winnings because I feel like I lose a lot more than I win. But I cannot focus on the losses. I have to focus on the moments when I take my disease by the throat and scream:

"You will not control me today."

Love, Kiki

Why I put on makeup at 10pm to clean my house...

Here it is, holiday weekend... And all I can think about is, #$*( I hate holidays!! Traffic sucks... I don't wanna do anything cause there are like ten million other people that are gonna have the same idea as me... And did I mention traffic?? On top of the fact that I used to celebrate with my family and that is just super depressing honestly.

I get home at 9:30pm, to a messy house. Great way to kick off the weekend right?

Now when I say messy, I mean that I have three bags of fast food trash on my floor, two eaten off of plates of food, about four different crochet projects going on the floor, along with about 35 different balls of yarn in the mix, my mail from the last week and a half, opened and flown everywhere... I have clothes that I need to wash laying around the washer and spilling into the doorway and the kitchen... I have half my closet laying on the floor of my bedroom, and all my makeup is flown across the bathroom with a huge fan on the floor cause it was SO hot the other day I was trying to actually get ready. Oh yeah, and don't forget all the shopping that I have done in the last week...all that is all over the floor as well... And don't even bring up all my online purchases that I also laying around. Yeah... It is bad. And I need to clean it.

But I just look at it and get soooooo overwhelmed... This is like a week of mess...and it is this bad?? How are you such a mess?? If hubby was home it wouldn't look like this? Get your life together. You think this is how you should be doing right now??

.........My mind is my biggest road block for keeping my life on track...

Do you ever feel that way? That if you could just stop beating yourself up for something for like 10 minutes you could probably actually make progress in that area? If you could just feel good in your skin for a week you could actually eat healthy and work out? That if you stopped thinking that you were doing poorly you could have more energy to do better??

Me. Everyday.

So after 30 minutes of sitting on the floor avoiding cleaning... I decided to make a crazy decision...

I put on some sexy music. You know the kind that you can dance to and shake your booty to, the songs that make you feel like you are the sexiest thing on the planet? That good stuff. As loud as I could get away with at 10pm...

And then I put on makeup. Whatever colors I wanted... What would make me feel sexy? That is what I put on... Gold. And pink. Even though I don't wear that stuff on a normal day... Or any makeup for that matter... But I wanted to <<< feel >>> sexy.

Why?

Because self health starts with self.

It starts with  looking in the mirror and learning to love yourself.

Even if your house is still a mess. Even if you are still a mess.

Love where you are at... And if it takes putting on a bit of crazy makeup at 10pm...do it. Right now.

If it takes dancing to some sexy music all by yourself, then do that.

If it takes wearing a dress to work, or school, or the grocery store, do that.

If it takes reading a book for ten minutes, do that.

You feel better after a bubble bath? Take one.

Take care of yourself... The rest of your life will follow.

Body positive starts with your thoughts.

You have to think you are beautiful.

And guess what, my house is gonna get cleaned tonight. Because I feel better about myself. Because I can feel sexy dancing to my music sweeping my house and doing the laundry. 

Because I took care of myself, my self-image, I can better take care of my house, my life, my problems.

#BodyPositive #LoveYourself

It's happening again...

The darkness.

It is coming.

I hate that I spend all my time running from everything and then boom. I run right back into it.

The darkness comes when you least expect it. It creeps in and then suddenly you are covered again.

I just keep telling myself that it isn't as bad as last time.....yet.... I am still getting out of bed...

It might be at 11am again.... But at least I am getting out of bed.

See, depression is a balancing act.

It is a fine line between being proud of yourself for the small things and yet finding energy to push yourself further up.

I know that I can't stay here. I know that I have to fight to be better... I know I need to wake up and get out of the house and move around and be active. I know these things. And sometimes knowing them makes me hate myself.

I know what I have to do, but I still don't do it. I still don't get out of bed early. I still don't eat the right foods, I still don't leave the house.

I know what I should do to avoid falling in the hole again... But the darkness drains my energy.

And sleeping is the best way to forget that I miss my husband. Or that I haven't spoken to him in over a month... Or that I am completely alone on this dumb stupid rock of an island. Or that we are having car problems and I don't know what to do because my husband is gone and they are way too big of decisions to make without him. I just want to pretend that none of it exists.

So I sleep. And watch tv. And crochet. And order pizza.

Totally normal reaction to all the crap around me.

Except for me.

These are my bad reactions. These are my warning signs. These are things that I avoid...

But I don't have energy to fight the darkness right now. I just don't.

And to be honest, that scares me.

I don't want to be where I was again. I don't want to be so paralyzed by this disease that I cannot do anything.

It is hard not to hate yourself for feeling this way. It is hard not to feel like a failure.

And I cannot let myself feel like a failure. Because when I feel like a failure, that is when the darkness takes over.

So I am praising myself for the small things... Like taking a shower, or a romantic bath, or feeding myself more than once a day, or texting someone back, or getting out of bed...

I have to be proud of the small things.

And I have to remember that I am not fighting myself.

This is a disease.

It is not something that I caused. It is not something that I control. It is not something that I can just make stop.

It is a disease. There is something wrong in my brain.

This is not a choice I made.

This is a disease.

I am fighting a disease.

Love, Kiki

Grace like a wave...

Grace comes like a wave / crashing over me / 
grace comes like a wave / crashing over and over and over.....

Grace Like a Wave ~by Elevation Worship.

As I am in the car this week I start listening to this song because it was on my most suggestions list on Spotify... And my first thought is... Do they really know what it is like for a wave to keep crashing into you??

Living in Hawaii has given me a unique opportunity to experience waves like you have never seen before. I can't find a video on YouTube to show exactly how bad the waves can get, but this one comes pretty close...

As you can tell....The waves don't quit. And you get knocked out really fast if a wave hits you wrong. You are flat on your backside, drowning in water with sand literally everywhere. The first time it happened to me that a wave hit me that hard, it flipped me over about 3 times, each time bashing my head into the sand. You can think of nothing other than trying to figure out how to reach oxygen again and which way is up. And if you don't get your footing quick another wave will be right behind it waiting to swallow you again. You are literally overwhelmed with the wave, you can think of nothing else... They are paralyzing.

Can you imagine being stuck in a loop of waves, unable to think of anything else but wave after wave, sand and water and sky all rolled into one?

Grace.

Like a wave...

If you have ever been caught in a wave like I am describing you will have an memory of what it is like...

Now imagine if that is how you viewed grace...

Over and over and over again, smashing into with so much force it swept you off your feet, flung you head over heels multiple times, and took every bit of thought of anything else.

Grace. That just keeps coming. Whether you ask it to or not.

Grace. That is so paralyzing, nothing else in the universe matters.

Let me tell you why the thought of grace is so hard for me.

Perfectionism.

The end. That is all I have to say. I am a perfectionist. Everything about me has to be done right and with the exact amount of precision and finesse. I must be perfect in all things at all times without fail.

Now let me tell you why that is impossible.

Depression.

I cannot be perfect when I am struggling with depression.

Yes, thanks to medication, the sun is shining again. But I still have bad days.

Days that still consist of me laying on the couch and sleeping almost all day cause I am tired and life sucks. Days that have no light and no matter what I do, the room is still foggy. Days that feelings of hopelessness creep in and I am left with the thought, "I am completely useless to this world, I should just rid it of myself." Thoughts that are so dark that I cannot share them because I will scare everyone away. There are days where the darkness still steals everything from me and I cannot cope.

I was having one of those days when I was listening to this song.

I had great plans to get so much done, and I literally did not get any of it done.

Depression steals the motivation and ability to be perfect. You cannot be perfect when your life is a disaster zone waiting to happen 24/7.

Imagine with me a small apartment, when you first walk in you see a table and beyond that a couch with a sliding door behind it that lets in a beautiful view of Hawaii and lots of sun light. Now imagine that you walk into that apartment everyday to it being clean and beautiful and full of joy. And every day you find your wife on the couch or in the kitchen...

Then imagine one day the curtain is closed and the room and the house is dark. You have bags upon bags upon bags of fast food laying on the floor...you don't find your wife in any room of the house... So you check the dark bedroom...

You find her laying there, in the clothes you left her in that morning, not showered, barely waking up at 5pm...

Imagine you have to coax her to the bathroom, help her into the shower, wash her hair, help her put clean clothes on (ones you will find her in again tomorrow...), and then help her to the couch where you have another bag of fast food waiting for her because you are tired after work and taking care of her and don't have the energy to cook for both of you. You know that this is the first and only time she will eat today. You cuddle up with her even though she can barely respond to your touch, and play a show on Netflix. And then you fall asleep and do it all again the next day, praying as you kiss her goodbye that your wife doesn't have an episode while you are at work and you come home to a dead wife.

Imagine if that was your life day in and day out for months on end...

I don't really remember how long it was that bad... The days are too blurry...

But if that was your life, your wife, your marriage... What would you do?

Would you still bring her home flowers? Would you still want to do special things for her? Would you still have the love for her that you used to have?

Or would you yell and scream and demand she get up and clean the house? Would you lose patience with her awful stench every time you came home from work? Would you require dinner be on the table and she be waiting with a kiss?

Can you imagine the sadness that you would feel, every single day that you walked in and saw your wife in bed? Could you imagine the fear that would grip your heart hoping she is still alive because you don't hear anything? Can you feel the hopelessness you would feel if that was you knowing that you could do nothing to help?

And imagine doing it, day after day after day.....after day....

And never saying anything to shame your wife. Never complaining about doing your own laundry. Never complaining about the messy state of your house. Never saying anything about how gross her hair looked or how you were tired of doing everything for her.

Having so much love, each and every day, that you would walk in with a new kiss and complete devotion for the woman who could give you nothing in return.

I imagine that is what God's grace is like. Each and every day He walks into our life and sees us in the same mess, and He picks us up, cleans us off, feeds us, and makes sure we have a fresh start for tomorrow.

He walks in every single day, and I am sure that His heart breaks that I haven't made any progress in my life, that I seem to be in the same place He left me last, a little more stinky and a lot more beaten down.

And everyday He greets us with a kiss and more grace and says, "It is okay. I've got this."

Grace. Like a wave...

Over and over and over and over and over...

I have experienced this in human form... I can only imagine the magnitude of God's grace is like...

Never screaming, always patient, always wanting the best for us but never leaving us if we just can't make it there today.

May grace like a wave crash over you today, remembering that God will always come home. And no matter if you are cooking dinner in the kitchen with a clean house or still stuck in the bedroom with the lights off and your pajamas still on... He still loves you.

Love, Kiki