SO MANY FEELINGS

Alrighty so it's been forever. In fact, I was stuck on the idea that maybe I wouldn't write here anymore. Mostly because writer's block plagues the hell out of me. But, lucky for you guys, I have so many feelings and so few people who want to listen to me whine. I plan on using this little blog to vomit out all of the things in my head so that I can feel better.


I live 2,714 miles away from my home. I am 22 years old and I am standing in the ruins of what used to be a beautiful marriage. For the first time in a long time, I'm not really sure what the next step is.

When I was 16 years old, the boy I had been madly in love with for years finally called me up and asked me out. A year and a half later, he was on one knee asking to spend the rest of his life with me. In our typical whirlwind fashion, we wed 2 weeks later. Most people would say that we did everything wrong. Most people expected us to fail. Most people will not gasp or second guess us when we tell them that now all of that is over.
Despite the fact that my marriage barely lasted 4 years, I don't regret one single moment. I believe the love we cultivated together was perfect. I was loved in my brokenness, in my childishness, and in my own self-doubt. I was tugged along through Europe on the craziest adventure of my life. We climbed volcanoes, we sailed the seas, we mumbled our way through foreign languages, and I will be damned if anyone says we didn't do the best we could.
We laughed together until our sides hurt. We cried together when our hearts ached. We loved each other in a way that made everyone believe we were still dating. I've been thinking about the past a lot and I'm just not sure when these things stopped being true. I shift through moments in time when we weren't at our best, but I cannot find a rift big enough to put us where we are right now. I'm looking for changes in his voice, the look in his eye, the falter in his kiss, and I just can't find it.
I guess maybe falling out of love is a lot like falling in love. Little things start catching your attention; like the way I snore in the Winter or the fact that I washed all of the laundry and didn't put it away for two weeks...again. Your priorities start to change- time together takes a serious back seat to that new video game you just bought and absolutely nothing sounds worse than tagging along at the grocery store. I think maybe it's a gradual change, little by little, until you finally look at the person next to you and wonder how the hell you got here.
Maybe last year when he was going through all of those emotions, I should have let him go. I told him our love was worth fighting for. I told him he could spend more time by himself if it helped. I told him that I could get him into therapy and I could make his interests a priority. I told him it was temporary and I was wrong. I kept him locked in for another year and maybe he's been miserable the whole time. I've always been so selfish in love.
I don't think I would trade one of what we had. I don't regret an ounce of love that I gave to him or a single kiss we shared. I think we learned a lot together and I think our marriage helped us both grow. It's sort of funny though, because when I look at it, I think life tried to break us up a thousand times. When we were kids, he didn't want to do long distance so we broke up. When he came back, I was with a different guy, but he waited this time. When he got his orders to Germany and we didn't have plans to marry, he should have gone and I should have stayed. A few times we had tiffs where he would get in a really bad place and try to pull away. But I thought being there for him and loving him were the same thing.
The point is that we made our decisions and we had a beautiful marriage. It wasn't perfect and it wasn't forever, but it was full of love and discussions and problem solving and some really great sex. We worked so hard to make sure that we were doing it right. We were young and lost and we did the very best we could.

Things are getting really sloppy and scary and real right now. I think there's a lot of pain in our house. I think there's a lot to process and it's hard to keep our heads on straight. We're both sort of sitting in this limbo- avoiding each other for the next week. He's trying to kill time until he can move out and I'm just trying to stay out of the house. In 7 more days I will be packing boxes of my husband's clothing and dishes. When we go to drop them at his townhouse, I'm thinking it may be the last time I see him for a while. A few weeks ago, I was wishing I could just pause for a bit. I wanted a few more cuddles, to be called babe just a few more times, maybe a couple 'I love you's. Now I'd like to fast forward. There's been no love in our home for quite some time. We didn't get to wean off the affection, it just stopped dead in its tracks.




Alright I don't really have much steam left to think about this. Just had to get some of it out there. Feeling 100 times lighter.

Brain mush #1

I've had some random things floating in my head lately so I'll be posting them here and there.





There's a rumbling in my chest. It's low and it's steady and no one notices it but me.
I hear it grow, I feel it pulse, it takes all my focus.
A sandstorm breaks out beneath my ribs and robs me of my breath.
The momentum trickles to my fingers, to my toes, to my teeth.
I move because I worry the energy might burst through me
If I bounce my knee, tap my fingers, chew my lip
When I talk a hundred miles an hour it feels like I can out run it
When my arms ache and my teeth are sore, I observe
Are people staring at me?
Is someone agitated by the clicks and thumps?
Just when I start to wonder, it rushes back
My heart is in my ears; racing, wanting, begging
I am eaten alive from the inside
       A.N.X.I.E.T.Y.

One Man Show

My poor blog has been neglected lately and I apologize. Life happens, you know?

I have been asked on many occasions why it is I "think I have multiple sclerosis." Let me start by saying this: I have a beautiful, deep, untouchable relationship with my body. I let my body command me the majority of the time. I do not look to the clock to decide when I eat, because my body will tell me not only when it needs to eat, but how much and what kind of food. I go to bed and rise according to my circadian rhythm because only my body can accurately judge the rest I need on a day-to-day basis. I have almost always been able to catch illnesses and disorders early by doing one simple thing: listening! 

Now I'm going to bring you back to my youth. Visit after visit to the doctors, testing me for diabetes, and giving up when the test were clear. Still I knew something was wrong. Still I sat and I suffered and I complained until another visit and another test. No one listened to me vocalize until, at 20 years told, I urged the doctor to keep looking at he found the source of the problem. Because I knew best, I had to keep asking, urging, and complaining until someone finally acknowledged me. This is what healthcare is like. I do not have the scientific knowledge to diagnose or to heal but I know when something is wrong.

If you add up 21 years of "unknown" issues, you start to get a little concerned. If you remember back to continuous knee and ankle pains, daily headaches, stabbing and shooting, and every time the doctors found nothing..wouldn't you get frustrated? How many times does your body need to speak up until you listen? How many days of pain do you sit through before you ask questions? I know that my body is healthy. I know I treat my body with the utmost respect. I know that my visceral fat is very low, my muscle mass is high, my blood pressure and cholesterol are incredible, and my organs are in perfect shape. I fully believe that the reason my body is so happy is because I listen to it. 

So WHY am I in pain? Why do I struggle to stay awake after 2:00? Why does my back hurt from morning to night? Why do my joints swell and ache despite little impact? I ask these questions and I stay open to answers. Let me tell you: I have been through all the blood tests, okay? My doctor ran tests he thought were absurd just to make sure we had ruled out all the possibilities. We did CAT scans, MRIs, and neurological tests. You guys I had a fucking spinal tap and my doctor would not have subjected me to that if he didn't think it was necessary. I don't lean on the idea of having MS because I'm desperate or because I don't know what else to do. I lean on it because not only did we rule out ALL the other options, but I had 5 doctors agree that it's highly likely. 

I have been living this on again, off again tango for 2 years. Without healthcare, I can't get a firm diagnosis. Without a diagnosis, I can't even participate in free trials that might take my pain away. I have to keep pushing through life every day with a grocery list of symptoms and try to take it all in stride. When it all starts going (remember, this goes into remission every few months), I can barely walk let alone work out. My appetite is at the mercy of my body. I sleep 10-14 hours a night and still get fatigued. I sometimes have issues driving or doing daily tasks because my wrists and hands get so bad. 

So please, I beg of you, don't ask this question. Don't make me tell you every vial of blood I got collected. Don't make me list the types of specialists they ran me to. Don't make me explain something that I know is true. This is my body. This is my pain. This is something that I have been dealing with almost 100% on my own and I don't need you to question the validity of what I am going through. 

If you are curious, I will answer your questions. If you know of treatments or therapies I can do at home to help, PLEASE help a sister out. If you want to get me in touch with a relative you have with MS, I'm all about it. Genuine care, concern, and curiosity is always fine with me. I love you guys.

Invincible.

I learned a really hard lesson recently. 

A few nights ago I was part of a conversation that shattered my sense of reality. See, I have spent years working towards the confidence, personality, and general outlook that I enjoy on a daily basis. I practiced every day until I had convinced myself that I had finally done it. I had finally recovered from enough falls, made it close enough to rock bottom, and been thrown through the ringer enough times to finally be invincible. This may sound silly to you, but hear me out. 

When you've experienced the darkest side of people, it becomes easier to see the good in them. When you've been hurt to the deepest level, it seems impossible to have someone do it again. When you've looked around and found that the only ally you had was you, it's surprisingly easy to love yourself. I felt like I had gotten there. I thought I had climbed the mountain and achieved this sort of untouchable state. I thought I had the strength and the courage and the love I needed to heal myself from anything. I thought I could maneuver my relationships without sacrifice or pain. I thought risks had finally become the choice between an epic story or a memorable lesson. I had foolishly trusted in myself so completely that I reverted back to my rookie mistakes. 

I had honestly forgotten that the people you let in have the most power over you. The closer you hold them to your heart, the easier it is for them to reach out and crush it. I was living blissfully unaware of the fact that all of this incredible healing love I was giving out was giving people access to the most tender parts of myself. I had foolishly forgotten to save a piece of myself. So the other night, in a moment of raw emotion, somebody confided in me. Somebody came to me with advice about something that was making their heart ache. They laid themselves out on the table and asked me to stitch them up. This has happened before, and I have always done my best in the past. This time though, every word cut me like a knife. Each syllable fell like acid rain from the sky and I swear I have never felt pain like it. For the first time ever, I regretted being that shoulder. I wished I could take back every offer for consolation because I was so hurt, so torn, so completely raw, that I struggled and faltered. I removed myself as much from the situation as I could and tried to patch together some helpful advice. I fought to see from their perspective and gave them every ounce I could muster. Then insult was added to injury when I was accused of making it about me and making my friend feel guilty. I wasn't sure what hurt more: the emotional pain of the confession or the fact that I had completely failed my friend. 

I am honestly still a little dazed from it all. My reaction to the whole thing was to immediately throw up a wall. I suddenly did not want this person to touch me, to love me, to speak to me. This person is so near and dear to me, I wanted to uproot them and back them up. I needed them to forget all my vulnerable moments and all my weaknesses because they no longer deserved those things. There is a thick air between us and I feel like I am at war with myself. 

This one interaction has me re-evaluating so many things. I could never turn away my friend when they are in distress. How can I properly care for them when their issues affects us both? In what way can I extract myself from the situation to provide more clear and concise help? Am I being naive by being completely open and honest with those I love most? Maybe I can prevent this in the future by not letting people in so closely. How will this event affect our relationship? I've already felt a bit of tension, insecurity, and fear bloom between us. Things I would have never batted an eye at are gnawing at me. The pure love and comfort we used to share seems tainted and I don't know how to come back from it. Should I approach this person about my feelings, and if so when and how?

Needless to say, I am taking a lot of time to reflect. I have been a bubbling mess of emotions and am a little concerned about how I am going to handle it all. You may know how much I enjoy my day-to-day lifestyle of blessings, fresh air, simple pleasures, and general pleasantry. I want to rush right through the healing process so I can get back to that, but I know better. I may be going back and forth on this for quite some time, but I will try to stay true to myself in the mean time. I will keep my eyes peeled for all the little things that make me smile and try to keep in mind that I can be healing without having to surround myself with endless pain. I am so thankful to have a place where I can jot down all my thoughts and feelings. 

Part of why I wanted to share this is because I think it's a very human thing. I believe many of us work very hard to change a character flaw or to open up ourselves in new ways and it's scary. I know I am not the first person to feel this sort of set-back. It feels so stupid to me, and sort of juvenile. But the truth is that it happens, and I assume it is very common. It isn't always easy being the kind of person who rushes in with love. It isn't always fun trying to bear some of your friend's problems. There's a lot of times when you get a little stung, a little burnt, or a little charred, but it's the healing that matters. I think almost always it's the healing that matters most. 

Learning

I sat through my first Rape Crisis training the other day and I learned an awful lot about myself as a result.


I learned that as a survivor I am a much larger risk of developing alcoholism or a dependence on drugs. My past rape makes me even more likely to be raped again before I die. These statistics don't change as I get older. I'm not going to finally ease into old age knowing that now I'm done. Knowing I am safe from all these nasty things that are chasing me around. I already felt I was at a predisposition for alcoholism and drug addiction because of my family history.

I learned that my biggest secret in life is actually one of the number one indicators that a child has suffered from sexual abuse. The guilt and the shame and the horror I internalized was over something that wasn't my fault. The worst thing I have done in my life is because my brain was still traumatized 4 years later.

I read that "not showing outward signs of trauma" was common in cases like mine because children are so damn resilient. They said that when you go into the hospital and a child is getting a rape kit done, they will not act like someone who was sexually assaulted in the last 72 hours. They will want to draw and talk and watch TV. They will tell you about your pretty hair and their best friend and how much they hate the color yellow. They are children and they will be children. I always felt a little weird that I didn't have blatant signs showing. I almost felt guilty that no one knew because my body wouldn't even give it away for me when my mouth failed.

But as we went through class, I learned all about the outwards signs. I learned that when I was 6 and I was more than curious about my body, that was normal. When I would be mean to the cat or the dog and then immediately cry and beg it for forgiveness, that was normal. When I was terrified of my doctors and my dentists and my teachers, that was normal. It may have been 2 or 3 years later, but the symptoms came out slowly and quietly.

When I hit adolescence and I spiraled into mental illness, part of it may have really been delayed responses to the trauma. Yes, I believe I have depression and occasionally still suffer from its effects. I also, undeniably, suffer from social anxiety. It is what it is folks, but I don't think every diagnosis was right. I clearly remember that the first time I harmed myself, it was because I felt out of control. Life had gotten too big and too scary and I felt like I was caught up in the tide. This obsession with control festered though, and eventually they told me I had OCD. I controlled everything I thought I had the power over. Things had to be the size, the color, and the pattern I wanted. They had to be just right because nothing was right. I had to make everything be the way it should be. But these behaviors picked up right along with my flashbacks. These feelings got worse and worse the more I had to dig through my past in therapy. I uncovered a lot of things I wasn't aware of. I had to re-live everything I had buried for 10 years.

Wouldn't you know that a strong desire for control is a very common trait for rape survivors. Rape is all about power, control, submission. The number one thing that they suggest is to give the survivor her/his power back. Let them choose everything. Something as simple as picking what snack they want in the waiting room or if they want one pillow or two can instantly help. Is it really so surprising that I developed this same obsession as I endured therapy twice a week? It makes more sense when you realize that I no longer struggle with this. I am particular, sure, but I think my preferences are more based on my anxiety and less an indication of their own illness.

In training they told me that 46% of hospital calls in our area are for minors. I thought my heart would burst from the pain I felt when I heard that. I thought I would be ill thinking that under the right circumstances, that could be me in that hospital room waiting for crayons and a hug. Then I thought I would lose it when they spoke about a man with a passion for cold cases. They told me about a woman who got to prosecute her rapist after twenty years. That man is serving life in prison and I thought I would break down in tears right in the middle of the room. I had never heard something so beautiful. I know that will never be my story, but I can relate so deeply to how she must have felt. I can almost see the look on her face when she finally knew he was locked up and she was safe.

I went into the center to help others, but those 9 hours helped me more than I could have ever expected. I don't think I have ever felt so normal. I don't think I have ever heard someone say that my outbursts or my nightmares or my triggers were okay. No one has told me that the way I react is okay. That my pain is coming through in all these channels that are so totally normal. That any way you heal from trauma is the right way. When I heard these things, whether they were directed at me or at this made-up survivor, I heard them and I felt them and God, did it feel good.

THE LIST

You know all those times you were talking about something and you said something along the line of "that's on my Bucket List"? How many times have you done something and thought it was the best/scariest/funniest thing you've ever done? If you're anything like me, you don't actually have a Bucket List. You just kind of make things up as you go. Hell, there are probably things you have sworn to put on the list a handful of times because you can't remember that you had already promised to do so. Anyways the point is that I am here right now to start my Bucket List.

This is probably going to be a very short list right now. The plan is to actually get up and type something every time I decide I want to add it to the list. I'm going to start with the things I have already done because I'm a badass and have already done things that were on my list. The way I see it, Bucket Lists have a specific purpose. What sorts of things do you want to be able to say you did or tried to do? What places do you want to visit, explore, and treasure? What would you do if you got to a point in your life where your needs were met and you had the money to go a little crazy? I even think there's a place on your Bucket List for desires that are so big, you don't think they will ever be tackled. I think it's important, personally, to have a few things on my list that I will never tick off. I will never be done living, growing, learning, or wanting. I will spend all my years living exactly the way I want to and if I get too caught up in one thing or one place to make it to the rest,  that's okay. At least I will know, and my family will know, that I tried.

1. Visit Italy. (2011)
        *I wanted to see where my ancestors were from. I wanted to experience the language, the styles, and the personalities first hand. I found that even being so far removed from my Italian heritage, a lot of it is bred in me. I had a native Italian tell me that she knew, the second she saw me, that I was Italian. I would love to return some day.
2. Get married. (2010)
        * I squashed that one. I was eighteen years and almost four months old when I tied the knot. Some people say that young couples are rushing things and haven't had time to find themselves. Some people say getting married young is the only way to go. All I can say is that marriage is right when it's right, and I wouldn't change a thing.
3. Go to a show on a band's European tour. (2012)
       * We saw The Big Four in Gelsenkirchen, Germany. We made the 7 hour trip to go see Metallica. Megadeath was a nice addition, and we suffered through Anthrax and Slayer. The concert was electric and I don't know that another show could ever top it.
4. Travel outside of the country. (2010)
      * Growing up in a household without a lot of money, I never thought I could travel outside of America. I used to dream about going anywhere. To go to Canada or Mexico would have made me so happy you guys. I was blessed a hundred times over getting to LIVE in Germany. Not to mention the fact that we traveled to Switzerland, Italy, Spain, Tunisia (Africa!!!), and France.
5. Go on a cruise. (2011)
     * In 2011 we celebrated our first anniversary with a cruise! We still hope to go on a more tropical cruise sometime later.
6. Attend an Alabama football game. (The Iron Bowl and National Championship game would be nice too.)
7. Visit Greece, Spain (again), and either Japan or China are the must-go places.
8. Go to Disney World for at least a 3 day trip.
9. Buy our first house in a place that feels like home.
10. Get a car in my own name.
11. Pay off all of our debt.
12. Successfully make our very own baby and then love it with all my heart.
13. Go to as many of the 50 states as possible. No, layovers don't count.
14. Landmarks to see: Space Needle, Redwood forest, Golden Gate Bridge, Grand Canyon, The Alamo, The Great Lakes, The Liberty Bell, The Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, and anything else I can think of.
15. American treats to eat: Anything out of a food truck, Real Tex Mex, Something with bizarre meat in it like rattlesnake or alligator, a Chicago dog, Memphis BBQ, New York style pizza, Philly cheese steak from Philly, New York cheese cake, raw oysters, and whatever else I hear about before I die.
16. Wet T-shirt contest.
17. Canada and Mexico. I mean seriously, we're attached to both countries and I've never been.
18. Artists/bands to see before they/I die: Elton John, Aerosmith, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Justin Timberlake (Don't judge me.), and a bunch others but I am blanking out.
19. Stay in an ice hotel. (MUST be in a room where you sleep inside a dead animal.)
20. Skydive. And yes, I am terrified of heights.
21. Learn to swim.


Alllllright well it's starting to get hard to think of things so I'm going to leave it alone for a while.