8 years ago, the month of May brought amazing news of the pregnancy with Asher. It also brought some of the hardest times as my mental/emotional/sexual/verbal abuse officially transitioned into physical abuse.

The middle of May, my head was seconds away from getting slammed into a car door during a one sided “argument”. Two weeks later on May 28th, I struggled for mine and my unborn son’s life as the father of my son strangled me, suffocated me, beat me, and slammed me into the floor.

Every year my body innately remembers the month somehow. I automatically get in this strange funk, sabotage myself, and isolate. I have never felt so weak as I did that night. I never want to feel that way again.

I desperately want to live in peace with this trauma. Maybe one day I can.


I do it

Why does it seem impossible for me to change my “I do it” attitude?

Why can’t I let other people help me?

Why can’t I let people close?

I have people who call me friends. But are they truly friends if they refuse to see me for who I am or vice versa?

Can someone even have the capacity to be a true friend if they stay completely guarded?


I have been on various paychotropic medications for 15 years pretty much nonstop.









Currently, I am on 225mg of Effexor for my depression and post traumatic stress disorder. Now that I am about 2 months post for TMS, I am ready to take the steps to titrate off. But 15 years is a long time to utilize antidepressants. I missed a dose last week and had pretty decent withdrawal symptoms.

To say that I am nervous and scared to taper off is an understatement. My antidepressants have kept me from going off into the deep end for a long time. Now that I can consider myself in the early stages of remission with my depression, I am hopeful that my body can adjust without the synthetic forms of serotonin and dopamine.

As of today, I start my journey to go from 225mg to 0mg. I pray so hard that this is something that can be possible.

My weight has been high partially due to such high levels of stress which releases too much cortisol but can be in part due to long term antidepressants as well as slowed metabolism.

My body has been holding on to basically every calorie I eat due to those 3 things. I have to find ways to destress and take better care of my needs.

While losing the weight is not the top of my priority list as I do not have health consequences, I am uncomfortable in my skin. It is a desire to have a semi decent relationship with my body. ❤


I have spent most of my life alone. While I am an introvert, I would enjoy having someone emotionally available and willing to walk in life with me. This piggy backs off last post of growing up with an emotionally unavailable father.

As I look back on my childhood, I dont recall truly being comforted much. Don’t get me wrong, my parents provided me beyond what I needed and wanted in life. Sports. Clothes. Food. Education.

But where was the relationship? Where were people when I needed someone to talk to or hold me?

This is a pattern that has continued throughout my life. Sobriety. Addiction. Eating disorder. Single parenthood. School. The list could go on.

Sure…. I pushed quite a few people away in my life time. But when I actually needed people, it has been extremely rare for someone to be supportive.

I have good memories of people helping in AA when I first got sober. But some of those people also used me and took advantage of our friendship so I am not too sure how beneficial it was.

I have had more than my fair share of times people physically being there for me. Letting me stay at their house when needed, helping out with a pet, etc. But when shit got truly rough… no help in sight.

I became a single parent alone. I had no one to talk to. No one to help me understand life and it’s new look. Asher’s tantrums as a toddler while living alone… asking for help with nothing.

I try speaking about my difficulties seeking comfort or advice regarding parenting to receive answers such as “deal with it. He needs you.” Noted. Thanks for the help.

I have had physical help with having him watched for me to go to school but not without pushback. “Its just hard. I’m tired. He’s difficult. Are you done yet?”

I domt get asked things like “how are you doing? How are you handling all this stress in your life? Are you okay?” It kills me because there are times I so desperately want to say “I am not okay. I need help.” But I know it will not be received and I will not get help. I might get a “sorry you’re going through that.” But I hear that more from friends. Family? I hear, “well I’m tired too.”

Recently the struggles with Asher and SPD, ADHD, and just overall struggles I feel so alone. It has been so stressful. I feel like each day that the crack in my life just gets bigger.

On one hand, I tell myself “you should be used to no support. Why does this shock you?” But on the other hand, I tell myself “how have I still not found someone I can have that with? How can I ask for help instead of waiting for someone to step forward and feel less alone?”

That’s where I fail. I want help and someone to be there for me but I have so many fears regarding them that I refuse to reach out anymore as I am so tired of being abandoned.

There leaves me with the question of… how can I find the middle ground?

Emotionally Unavailable

He has never shown emotions to me. I have barely heard “I love you” from him. He is emotionally cutoff. Of course I would have no relationship with him. How can someone?

The words rolled off my tongue as if I knew exactly how to state it. A conversation with my mother about my father. Conversations occurred often about relationships with him and his inability to be emotionally and mentally healthy. It took years for me to understand that he was damaged as a child which caused him to be so detached. It hadn’t kept me from blaming him for so many things in my life.

His inability to get sober even though I got clean. Having memories of him stating the words “I love you” instead of “love ya” were obsolete. Dismissing my needs as my grandfather, his father, tells me to “commit suicide since that is what I am doing anyways” in observation of my active eating disorder.

The first of 2 times I have ever seen my father cry was the day he and my mother pulled up to my house to meet me at my little house in Oklahoma. Less than 24 hours prior, the father of my son had beat me and strangled me nearly to death. Seeing tears develop in his eyes when he visually saw bruises across my neck, swollen face, and blackened eye made me see that maybe he does love me.

Unfortunately, it took that for me to truly think if he could love me or not. Nearly eight years later, I have given up trying to find the answers to him and his life. I have learned that I will never have a relationship with him. He may never see regard for others. He will most likely never have emotional connections with people. And that is okay.

While I wish that my relationships with family members were more pleasant, I cannot change other people. I am responsible for me and my actions. It’s hard to know there may never be time or the ability to have healthy relationships with any of the people in my bloodline. Knowing that I can accept that today, is enough for me.

The night I lost myself

I had been struggling for 7 years with depression. I was 17 years old, the summer before senior year of high school. I was drinking a lot. Heavy into my eating disorder. Taking various drugs. The one thing I had mostly stayed away from was guys. Sure, I had kissed a few guys but I didn’t want to have sex yet.

When a guy that I had a crush on invited me over, my naive self had no idea what could possibly even be in store. I wasn’t taught the bad side of men honestly. I just knew there was free alcohol!

Even though I was a virgin, I was completely okay with kissing. I welcomed it when it came from him that night. As I was drunkenly led into a dark bedroom, that wasn’t even his, he took something from me. He took my innocence. My trust for men. My hope for future men. My strength. My ability to stand up for myself. He took away the ability for me to say “NO”

It didn’t matter how many times those two little letters crossed my lips, he continued. The physical weakness was apparent as the frail arms attempted to push his heavy body weight off mine. He knew I was an easy target. He knew he would win.

After all was done, he walked me to my car and kissed me.

How could it be possible for someone to kiss me after they just raped me. There’s no way it could have been…. rape…..

As I arrived at my home, dripping tears, I immediately got in the shower. I sat in the shower with my knees to my chest until the water ran cold. I washed myself so many times to get myself clean. As I dried off, dressed, and went to bed, I realized that I would never be clean again…..

Almost 13 years later, I find he is now married with two kids and employed as a defense attorney. While I, on the other hand, have utilized near $100k for mental health treatment starting from this night. Excellent exchange 😉

Passive Suicidal Ideation

Something I have refused to admit was just how deep my depression was taking me. Suicide is NOT an option for me. So let me make something clear, I will not take steps to ever end my life as I know there are no options for my son.

That all being said, when my depression has been heavy and I have felt as if I were not going to get out of my dark pit of hell….. I had suicidal thinking. I literally had images of me following through with suicide. Flashes of vivid pictures. Me. Gone. By suicide. I never spoke to anyone about it. Partially because I knew I wouldn’t do it and partially because I didn’t want to admit just where I was at.

It is such a hard aspect to admit, that my brain was going that dark. I “expected” this from myself when I was using or caught up in my eating disorder but how the hell is this possible when I’m educated, working on my graduate degree, and in the mental health field?!

Now. The logical and analytical side of me knows that is complete bull crap as mental illness does not discriminate. But that doesn’t mean that it stops from the negative talk to cycle as I “shouldn’t” be this way.

It’s hard to explain to someone how deep depression can take someone. I haven’t ever wanted to actually to die, I just wanted the pain to end. To live in utter constant pain with no relief in sight is debilitating. Most who commit suicide just want the pain to stop.

My life has been pain for so long, I didn’t know what life without pain could even look like. I have had snippets of great moments but they never lasted long. My coping skills are amazing. They also make me utterly exhausted. All energy is utilized to seem normal from the outside that it makes me completely drained.

As my TMS technician agreed with the other day, “you are excellent at hiding yourself.” For nearly 20 years, I have been able to hide my true self. My pain. My sadness. My anger. My irritability. Anything “negative”.

My hope for myself is to no longer hide my true self. I also hope I never experience suicidal ideation again. I hjope I don’t live in that pain again.