My Name is Meth

Phenomenal wording.

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Trying to Keep Pushing Forward.

Hey guys!

Just another day in paradise. Currently at work. Not particularly thrilled about it. We have been short staffed for an entire year. Now, my boss (who is relatively new) is quitting. It is getting really old.

I’m still in the process of trying to change my circumstances. This upcoming Saturday I have a 3 hour long E-COMM test to see if I can make it to the next round of hiring hurdles for the county 911 call center. If I can succeed in that, it would truly be a blessing. Not only financially, but also for a future in crisis intervention.

The other day I registered and paid the $500 to hold my place for training at the Bellin Hospital in Green Bay. I will be spending 4 days doing intensive training in Recovery Coaching so I can obtain my certification. This opportunity means the world to me because I want to be able to make a difference and help others maintain a life of sobriety. I feel like this will be a good stepping stone considering that obtaining my SACIT is a ways away.

Testing and competition has always been something that makes me nervous as hell. I know I will do fine. It’s just that the fear of failing is always so strong that trying is terrifying. I hate feeling vulnerable. I hate not having absolute answers or concrete evidence. I hate the unknown. AHH. I think the main internal struggle is that I never believe I am good enough to do anything. I always feel like I am a complete idiot and incapable of things. Deep down I know that can’t be true, but I have been told that or have been treated as such for so many years that it sticks.

I really need to get out of this current employment with a solid plan. I hate feeling like there is no reason to go above and beyond in my position because it isn’t worth it. I hate being underpaid. I hate the sneaky behind the back games the office plays to knock a few dollars here and there off of mine and others paychecks. I hate that the company doesn’t care enough about its current staff to show they are appreciated. Everywhere in this company is short staffed. Recruiting is apparently a chore for them. Also, the turn over is so high that every possible candidate appears to be a waste of money.

Send some extra brainy vibes and some courage this way, my friends. I’m really hoping I can rock this exam.

Best Wishes,


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Today, I had a moment where I wanted to give up on everything. I’ve been getting increasingly frustrated with my employment. I won’t give any details. What I will say is when superiors don’t fulfill their duties in an ethical manner, despite consequences, it has a ripple effect down the line. I happen to be down that line… and I don’t like it.

I left work painfully frustrated. This stemmed from a combination of being awake 25 hours, having  12.5 hour shift, some discoveries, and, some less wonderful than news. Ever get so angry that your body’s response is to throw up? That was the sensation that plagued my stomach for hours. Prolonged stress isn’t good for anyone. I am no exception to that.

I was just so angry.. so stressed.. and felt so completely defeated. I seriously had the first thought in ages that I wanted to resort to a chemical restraint. I didn’t. I promise. After work, I  wouldn’t let myself go home because I was more than sure that I would do something stupid. Not necessarily chemical, just something stupid.

When my mood swings in rapid pace, so do the thoughts in my head. It feels like a circus of psychosis and I have to do everything I can to remain the ringmaster. No matter how long a person has been in recovery (I am sorry to say), these voices never fully go away. They are not always present (thank god/dess), but they love to appear during stressful times.

This morning, my brain was telling me “Go home and crack open a beer or have a shot or two, you’ll be chill afterwards. Not like any one would know”. (My SO drinks, therefor my fridge is always stocked. I don’t buy it. He does and brings it.) Other wise it was like “Go have a cigarette (I quit that over a year ago) or go cut yourself (I was a cutter from age 12-23)”.

Even though I can spend all day thinking about all the things I could do or use to escape myself, I am thankful I am at the point in my recovery where I know those thoughts are just fantasies that I can pull myself out relatively quickly (even though it never feels quick in my head).

When I get like this, I pretty much have to treat myself like a kindergartner. Internally, I am sitting myself down, talking to myself (I’m sure I make some really stupid faces while having these inner monologues).

I’m like: ” Ok. Chill. Why are you feeling like this? When did these feelings start to develop? Was it a sudden trigger or did you just have enough? What have you done to try and calm yourself down? Have you given yourself a few minutes to just not think about this and come back a little more level headed? Ok… You’re still super mad…Breathe.. ok. Innnn….. Ouuuutttt…….Hey Hey, slow it down. You are starting to hyperventilate. Goozfraba…. Yeah, I know.. Adam Sandler. Whatever, that’s not the point. Ok…Let’s get you a bit distracted. If you go home you will just fester. Ok.. let’s see… Um. yes! The poverty mart. You love thrifting! You love staring at things! You have $3 in your cup holder! Ok lets go. Listen to that one song you like. You should totally have a sing along with yourself. Yeah… That’s a good song. Ok. Say hi to the store employees. It’s not their fault your having a bad day. They’re not mind readers either.. they’re highschoolers. Also, this is a christian thrift store and tomorrow is their easter. Don’t wreck their merriment. Ok. good. Oh yeah, social anxiety… Ok, Ok, it’s fine. Just breathe. breathe. Ok. Slower… Jeez. You’re really good at this hyperventilating thing. Ok. See that dress over there? Yes. That’s a pretty one. Go try it on. Who cares if you have no intention of buying it? You need a few seconds alone and the dressing room is perfect… Ok. Good. See? Look how ridiculous you look! Haha! Ok breathe… Yep. Doing good. Are you calming down now? Yes? Good. Ok. Are you still thinking about said problem? Yes? Ok. Any solutions? Will that actually help or will that only make you feel better temporarily? Temporarily? Ok… Let’s just sleep on that one and if you’re still thinking about it in a day or two we can consider it. Ok. Any actual solutions? Yes? Any that can be done today? Not really? Ok. Well, let’s just take the day as it comes. You can’t do much right now, so there is no reason to worry. It wont fix anything. Ok. More distractions.”  

And that is my brain in internal crisis mode.

I am fairly certain that studying psychology in terms of both mental health and addictions has helped me stay level headed (despite my seemingly growing list of diagnoses). I promise, I wasn’t always this way. I’ve had my fair share of chemical escapes, self mutilations, broken furniture, and trichotillomanic moments.

I remember one time when I was in my early twenties, I was so distressed by how much I hated the way I looked…. I smashed a mirror over my face and shredded my arms with the broken glass…. In front of my BF at the time.

Being sober has helped me look at myself from an outside view. This helps greatly because I can calm myself down more easily because I can picture how nutty I would look losing my mind if someone else were watching.

Thankfully, this approach has helped me immensely. I do not yell. I rarely-rarely-rarely ever raise my voice (pretty much only when safety is concerned, which primarily involves my clients). I do not slam doors. I do not break objects. I do not vandalize property. I do not bring others into the turmoil that is in my head. The last one is very important.

Since being sober, I have found it easier to step back and think. I don’t feel the sense of entitlement I once felt. I don’t feel like I am better or worse than anyone else. I am just on a different level. My Mario is still in the desert level. Your Mario is in the water level. We’re playing the same game. If you get bitten by a fish, you may end back at the desert level. If I do well, I can meet you at the water level…. You get it.

Another thing I have over come in sobriety is being a pity whore. Now, we all have things that upset us. We all need to vent. That may be to a counselor, a pastor, a high priestess, a teacher, parent, friend, blog, whatever. We all need that. Venting is healthy. Having the expectation that everything is fluffy frills and froo froo during sobriety will set you up for failure. As will internalizing issues.

What I am trying to describe is that type of person where everything is terrible and every thing is going wrong… The victim card. That’s what I’m trying to describe.

When I was an addict I was a hard core pity whore. I did stupid things that landed me in stupid places and I kept getting swept in a dance of misery that only led in circles. Yet, I couldn’t blame myself and I sure as heck wasn’t going to blame my drug. Oh, the world is against me. The world doesn’t understand me. My childhood was a nightmare. Oh, I have depression. Oh, my body hurts, etc. 

Being sober helped me straighten those issues out. The world is not against me. I just haven’t chose to help the world in return. The world doesn’t understand me. Sometimes, you just need to compromise. My childhood was a nightmare. Well, can’t change that now. Whether you are 20 or 200 your childhood would still suck. Quit wasting your and everyone else’s time and deal with those issues. See a shrink. Get on meds if you must. Just stop living the way you are now. Your body hurts? Ever try nutrition instead of meth? Yeah? Crazy, eh?

During the beginning part of my recovery… about 7 or 8 months in, I started seeing a psychiatrist briefly. It was insightful because she was able to diagnose a few conditions. Borderline Personality Disorder, Major Depression, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I got prescribed antidepressants. I was super reluctant to take any meds when I started because I had a heavy paranoia revolving around the pharmaceutical industry, but I gave up. I just needed it that bad.

After researching my conditions extensively (especially BPD and detox/withdrawal from my drug of choice), it made it easier to exist. I could pin point symptoms of these conditions in my daily life and make a conscious effort to function in a different way. Sounds easier than it really is. I promise.

BPD has blessed me with dramatic and unpredictable mood swings. They are for the most part kept stable with antidepressants, but there is always a margin of error. Like PMS week. AKA Shark Week.

Anyway, ramble ramble. The point is: Today was hard internally, but I made it through. Everyday I am thankful I am not at day 1 again. The end.

Best Wishes,


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Nocturnal Panic Attacks

Hey everyone!

Hope everyone is doing well. I just woke up after sleeping a whopping 15 hours. I swear, every other Friday and Monday I become a time traveler. Anyways, I need to just write and sort out my brain a bit. I’m trying to calm down from a panic attack.

Thankfully, my daytime panic attacks are very minimal.I have post traumatic stress disorder stemming from a very traumatic childhood. I have spent years doing my own versions of submersion therapy to help reduce triggers. For example: I spent many years working in the thrifting industry and I have developed a bit of a passion for antiquing and studying products from the past.

How is this submersion therapy-ish? There were several instances in both work and leisure events in which a product from the past would trigger my PTSD and induce a panic attack. (These are no fun in private and are sure as heck way less fun in public… let alone at work. There was one occasion that one of my bosses actually locked me in her office so I could calm down and not have anyone intrude accidentally. THAT WAS EMBARRASSING.) Anyhow, working with triggering products over a long period of time can help numb the responses to the products. Eventually those triggers can cause significantly less severe reactions and in some cases those symptoms can almost completely disappear.

Nowadays, thanks to modern technology (thanks FitBit HR), I can usually monitor my heart rate so I can get a hint at if a panic attack may be developing or if it is almost over. This unfortunately cannot save me in my sleep.

I woke up abruptly after having a dream that sent me into a complete panic attack. All of my dreams that induce panic attacks involve either the house I grew up in, my biological mother, her family, or the houses or possessions of those people.


Last night I had a dream that I was at an ICP concert and one of the people I went with shot herself in the head on the ledge of a parking ramp and then she fell several stories down. The images that corresponded with that event kept flashing between it being her suicide and it being a murder by a few of her lady friends and was masked as a suicide. I’ll never know.

The concert was surprisingly empty. There was an ok turn out, but not really. I looked at my phone and my phone told me it was 1pm in a town in the middle of nowhere in Wisconsin. I was thoroughly confused because everything looked the same as my usual concert venue in Milwaukee.

Also, 1pm? No wonder no one was here! It was so un-chaotic that I called my SO to see if he wanted to pick me up and take me home after the concert and then spend the week with me. He turned me down. He said he had some work to catch up on and also that he needed to catch up with his ex girlfriend to sort out a few things.

His ex girlfriend? What the heck? It has been years and from the best of my knowledge, he doesn’t want anything to do with her. I tried to play it off cool (because no one wants to be the crazy girlfriend). He responded that he needed to sort out some bills with her because she ran up a credit card that was under them jointly and he got stuck with the bill… Makes sense. Okay. No biggie.

He asked me about my car. He seemed  confused that I would be out in the middle of nowhere and would abandon my car. I told him I rode in with some friends, but there has been some strange chaos and I wasn’t too thrilled with riding home with them. I also told him that it was ok. He had stuff to do and I wasn’t about to take him away from that. I told him it was worth a shot and that I loved him and then hung up.

After the call (which was on a phone that was a weird combination of flip phone and an I phone) I looked up toward the stage to realize that the concert had started and Shaggy 2 Dope was bouncing around with a chainsaw. That’s cool, whatever. The part that confused me the most was that I could still hear my phone call even though I was in the middle of a concert.

…Flash forward. Some clips of trying to find friend that was dead. Can’t remember much. Gave off a live action version of ‘Clue’ vibe. Also, I found it strange that the halls of the venue had oak lined spiral staircases that were the pretty much exact replica of the double staircases in my elementary school. Right down to the shade of blue used to paint the walls.

…Flash further forward. I seem to be invisible but conscious at this point. I look around. I’m in a Chevy truck that I kind of recognize, but I don’t quite know why. I am in the passenger seat. I look to my left and see my maternal grandfather in the driver’s seat. The truck is parked. We are on the side of the road somewhere. His seat is all the way back. There is a beer in the cup holder and what appears to be a sawed off shotgun in his hands.

I continue to watch him confusedly. He takes no notice of me being next to him. He lifts the gun and puts it up to his head. He keeps moving the gun. Trying to decide the best route for the bullet. First under his chin, then in his mouth, then in his mouth at a different angle, then at his forehead, then at his temples.

I keep yelling “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TRYING TO ACCOMPLISH?!” but I am not to be heard. He has no expression on his face. He seems mechanical. I can tell he has thoughts in his head, just no correlating emotion.

I look away for a split second and then jump at the deafening blast of the gun. My lap is wet. I can’t quite tell if I peed myself or not. I look down to discover I am soaked in blood and brain matter. I look up at my grandfather. The fucker shot himself through his left eye. Who does that?

“YOU DID IT WRONG! FUCKER!” I yell at his mangled corpse as I sneak out the passenger side door to get away.

I try to get my bearings on my location. It is a beautiful and sunny day. It is warm, but not too warm. I almost start to question if I was dead too.

After a few moments, familiarity begins to set in. I am on the same road as my maternal grandmother and grandfathers house. Just a block down. The house is in full view from where I am standing.

…Flash forward. Somehow I am at my maternal Aunt’s house. The whole household seems hysterical. WTF is going on? I’m either teleporting or time traveling. There’s no way news travels this fast.

…Flash forward. I am in my bed in my childhood home. I wake up in a sense of panic. At this point every memory I have previously described was either forgotten or I had no conscious knowledge of it. I had a strange urge to turn on the TV. I turned out my 13 inch tube TV with the remote next to my bed.

I am still confused. Why am I here? Panic starts to set in as I realize where I am. I can see dents in the four wooden posts of my bed where my head had been smashed years before. The litter box I was forced to use when I was locked in my room was still on the floor in front of my toy box. My purple glitter filled lava lamp was on the table next to my head. It was still elevated by an old wire locker shelf. Underneath, my old stash of razor blades.


The pink carpeting taunts me, as if it knows it is a paradox. It’s supposed to be happy and relaxing. It is supposed to be a haven for childhood creativity. It is no such thing. Fuck you pink carpeting and all the years of blood and tears you have soaked up in my beginning decade. FUCK YOU.

The TV flickers. It flickers some more. The picture is becoming more identifiable as the seconds progress. The image on the TV is in green scale. It is a news report. It is my grandfather’s suicide.

All the memories previous to this moment in time come flooding back. I wasn’t sure how to feel about the news report. I had seen it first hand. I was there. Some how. Was it a prophetic dream? I haven’t had one of those in years. I don’t know.

I get up and out of bed and reach for my door knob. It turns! Oh my god! It actually turns! I think this may be the first time in my memory where I didn’t have to jump out of my 1.5 story high window to escape.

My brother is in his room. His room is right next to mine. The door is locked. I knocked on it. He doesn’t respond or answer.

I continue through the dining area and through the kitchen of my childhood home. Nothing has changed. It is terrifying. I get to the stairs that lead to the front door. Before I can start to descend, I hear a voice.

It is my biological mother. She is on the phone with my maternal grandmother. She still uses the old forest green corded phone. She still sits in the chair next to the fish tank to talk. This is weird.

“YOU KNOW HE’S DEAD.” I say to her, not thinking she can see me. She looks back up at me and says “How did you know?” This scares the shit out of me. I wasn’t planning on her knowing I exist. WHAT IS GOING ON?

“I saw it on the news a few minutes ago. I tried to tell my brother, but he wasn’t answering his door.” I say as my biological mother gives me the stare down. Her crooked British teeth are coated in years of alcoholism. They give off a green glow, just the way I have always remembered. “Ah, yes.” She says. “He’s sleeping.” She says and she left it at that.

Uh… Okay?

…Flash forward. The house is on fire. I’m not quite sure where I am because this house is not the one I was just in. Rooms are burning. I am sweating profusely. I try to keep low to avoid asphyxiation via smoke inhalation. WTF? Where am I?

In front of me is the silhouette of my grandfather on fire. He is standing there, staring at me with one eye. The other one is missing. He touches the walls surrounding him. They kick up a blaze of light and heat.

The electricity gives. Everything is darkness. The rest is illuminated by the terror of flames reconstructing my surroundings. I keep eye balling my surroundings, I am still confused by where I am.

Some how, every direction I attempt to go morphs into something else. Oh my god. This is a fun house. I am going to die. I try to calm myself down. I suck up a big breath through my shirt. I take in the air nearest to the floor and make a bolt for it.

There are stairs, ladders, swinging ropes, etc. AM I IN AN IMITATION MARIO LEVEL??? Every where I go, the fire engulfed grandfather follows. I finally somehow make it out of the house. I get to the road and stare back. I see it is a two story house. I have no idea whose it is. I have never seen it before, to the best of my knowledge.

All of a sudden I get this sense over me that I somehow magically know the floor plan. I don’t know how. Some preternatural skill that suddenly manifested itself in me. I get a vision that there is a pet bunny in a cage on the second floor. This freaks me out and I go charging back in the burning house.

I make it through the flaming obstacle course. My skin is writhing in pain. Licks of flames have singed me on every part. I can smell my hairs burning. It is the worst smell. I keep taking breaks by laying on the ground to catch my breath. The air supply is running thin and I know I am a few breaths away to succumbing to death.

The floor is hot. It feels like it is melting beneath me. I hear the creak of the wood beneath me and I immediately realize the floor is about to collapse. I spring up. My entire body hurts so badly, I am not sure how I am moving. I grab a swinging rope from the ceiling and hold it to support my crippling body as I stand up.

I see the burning man ahead of me. Oh god. Fuck. I find the energy to make my way to the bedroom that I know the bunny is in. The bedroom door was closed and that saved the poor animal from a smoldering fiery death. I quick shut the door behind me to keep the smoke and flames out.

I see the bunny in its cage. It is black and white and seemingly oblivious to what is going on outside its cage. I try to open the cage, but I can’t. NO. NO. NO. THIS IS NOT HOW THIS ENDS. NO. NO. I look around the room trying to improvise a way to break into the cage. I see a drawer labeled “Crafts”. I open it and find a wire cutters. BINGO! I cut the wires on the cage and pull the little fluffer into my arms.

The bunny is panicked. He gets squirmier by the second. I maintain my grip as he proceeds to piss all down my front. UHG. WHATEVER. I JUST NEED TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE. There are no windows in this room. I need to go back the way I came. I hide the bunny under my piss soaked shirt. I am hoping this will help filter smoke as well as keep the little fucker from bouncing away to its death. I’ve come too far to save it. Hopefully since my shirt is soaked in piss and sweat it will help prevent us from catching fire.

After burning my hand on the doorknob, I make it to the hallway. There at the end is the burning man. He is egging me to come towards him. The floor beneath us is cracking. Flames are devouring each board by the second. I look behind me and see a window. It is closed. I notice it has been painted shut. FUCK. I look ahead. There he is. I look behind me.

I gather my courage and gain running momentum as the floor begins to collapse underneath me. I make a shoulder first lunge at the window. To my surprise, I penetrate the glass on my first attempt. Two stories down, I land on my back. The bunny is safe. I am in pain from my burns. I start puking up blood as I try to catch my breath.

…Flash forward. I am in my bed. Unharmed. I look at my Iphone and decide I should call my grandma. I haven’t spoken with her in almost 15 years. She tells me my grandfather killed himself. I panic and have a flash of the entire dream that I thought I just woke up from.

…..Apparently I only woke up in my dream. When I actually woke up for real… In real life. No more dream inside a dream crap, I was in a full blown panic. Heavy breathing. Crying. etc. FitBit said my heart rate was at 108. (To put this in perspective when I wake up I am normally at 54-64 BPM.)

So… fuck. Trying to calm myself down a bit.

Send good vibes for the rest of my day.



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BAM! My headache is gone and I made a comeback!

Hey everyone! Happy to be on the opposite side of the spectrum than last time. Yesterday’s intake assessment went super well. I applied the MAST as a basic screening tool and then used WI DHS 75 UPC to get a feel for an intake questionnaire. The intake session went super smooth. We accidentally turned a session that was meant to be 20 minutes into about 40 some minutes. Whoops. What can I say? It was comprehensive! So yay for that.

A few minutes ago I finished my paper that is due tonight. Such a relief! I’ll be able to try and take a nap here pretty quick in hopes of being refreshed for work tonight. (I totally snuck an hour and a half nap prior to writing my paper. It’s totally for the benefit of the paper though. Totally. I mean, you can’t write gold without a clear rested mind, right?)

Earlier today I finally got around to working on my resume and I submitted it to two places. One was the home care job my trainer told me about and the other was for a residential pet care company in the Milwaukee area. I am hoping at some point to move closer to the Milwaukee area. It would be a good start if I could land that job. Plus I would get to work with animals… SQUEE! So send some good vibes, do some voodoo, bless some herbs, or do whatever you feel is worthy of putting good energy into the cosmos for that to happen. I would greatly appreciate it!

Best Wishes,


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So many setbacks, so little time.

It has been a very defeating past few days. I’m currently writing this with a migraine. I’ve had this migraine since 11am yesterday morning. I feel like there is no letting up. It is getting frustrating because I have so many things I need to do and it hurts to exist. I spent all of yesterday in bed waiting for this pain to pass, but now I am losing patience.

The past weekend was my cluster crap weekend of 35 hours of work crammed into three days. We’ve had a few injuries and even less communication which has left staffing a bit wonky. It is pretty frustrating.

I have a possible next job. I just have to research what it is and call the owners to see what’s up. My trainer is an acquaintance of the owner of some at home care type business and put in a good word for me. The way she described it is, if I want it, I pretty much got it. I just have to find out what ‘it’ is. I have the number on my cork board at home. I’ll have to do a check up of it when I am home next.

My ability to think strait is getting thinner by the second.

I have class later on today and I have to prepare and record an intake session for a fictitious client and then I need to come up with a diagnosis, a treatment plan, and i’m not sure what else.

When I was told about the assignment I decided it would be a cakewalk and stopped thinking about it until yesterday. I was in no condition to do anything yesterday, so I will have to write a initial screening and an intake questionnaire for this session pretty quick here. This interview is meant to last 20 mins, so at least it will be an abridged version of a standard intake interview.

After that class I am headed home to work on some discussions for another class and then I need to start working on a paper due Wednesday, a minute before midnight.

I finally got my last paper graded yesterday. I feel defeated. I got an 89% and I have never done so poorly on a paper in college so far. It would typically light a fire under my arse, but as of now it just makes me angry.

On the list of yesterday’s disappointments (outside of work), my gym training session was the worst I have ever had. I had to get saved from my squats on 4 occasions yesterday! I have never needed to be saved from the squat rack ever before. FOUR TIMES! I maxed out at 105 pounds and then it went downhill from there. I ended at a measly 85 pounds. I feel like I’m trying to lift Fisher Price weights and I can’t do it.

So of course, my goal is to step up my game. On everything… Some how. I just need to calm this headache and get on with it. Somedays it can be harder than others. Oy. Send good vibes this way, my dears. I could definitely use them.

Much love,


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Yay, I put my mind to something and did it.

The past while I have been haunted with the urge to put up my altar and celebrate the god and goddess in a manner in which I had become estranged. Well, my dears, I have done it.

This morning I did my first tarot reading in ages and recorded my spread in my BOS, I’m currently doing some in depth research of my cards to further my analysis. I’ve had some serious questions on what my next move in life should be and it is nice to get some imput from the cosmos.

I ended up sleeping maybe two hours today, again. I woke up for a pee break and couldn’t get back to sleep because it was a blistering 78F in my room. Plus the craving to build my altar was too intense.

So of course, two dr peppers and a chaotic mess in my living room later, art was created. Voila.


It feels like home once again and it’s good to be back.

In other news, I had another fantastic training session this morning after my SO and I got back into town from a weekend at his place. It was so good and royally booted me in the arse. I’m thinking I may feel it tomorrow.

Monthly weigh in was today… Yep, the dreaded weigh in. I put on 4 pounds. Girl brain melt down. Thankfully my sorrows were reversed after learning my fat percentage went down and all of my measurements were either the same or down by at least a quarter inch. Except my boobs, those went up. Praise push ups! Praise chest presses! and while i’m at it.. praise Victoria’s Secret.

I hope all has been going well for everyone this week,

Best wishes,


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I wish I could find myself a coven.

I’ve become so urbanized in the past year, I feel like I’ve forgotten my roots. I have been feeling this way for a while. It’s like the fire within has died. Just soot remaining. Dying for someone or something to breathe some life into me and reignite the flame.

Last week while cleaning, I pulled out some of my ritual altar tools and just stared at them. I tried to feel something, but I couldn’t. I haven’t cleansed my tools in months. They probably have accumulated some negative energies from being moved around from place to place. The last time I used them was almost a year ago.

This week I am going to try and find time to cleanse my tools and erect my altar. I think the only thing that has been keeping me from setting it up is that I am not sure where North is in my flat. Sounds silly. It is a two second fix on the google. I just haven’t done it.

I’m sure it sounds ridiculous, but if you practice the craft you will understand.

When I practiced regularly, I yielded great results. The cosmos seemed to be in order. I currently feel so out of the loop. Maybe I just need to pick up my wand and it will all come back to me.

Another thing I miss is having other pagan/wiccan/witch friends. I had one friend I would partake in celebrations with, but it was short lived because I couldn’t handle the lady’s banshee neanderthal child…sigh. Oh, well.

The picture used as the header was my beautiful altar setup for a full moon celebration with my wiccan friend. September 2014. She had her altar set up next to mine and she charged her crystals in the moonlight. We danced and hula hooped and got bitten by copious amounts of mosquitos and enjoyed our time with the Goddess and each other.

I’d like to find something like that again.

Hope everyone is having a good week,

Best wishes,



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I can’t believe it has been so long between posts.

A lot of life just happened I guess.

Still having a hell of a time with the binge eating. This is a combination of being tired all the time and my depression.

Pretty much all I want to do is sleep and not exist.

I had an interview a few days ago and even had a call back. Problem with that was every time they called me I was sleeping and every time I called them, the management team wasn’t around. Vicious circle. I’m not expecting results.

I’ve been wanting to go running lately but so far it hasn’t worked out. The temperature and weather can’t make up its mind. I went on an ebay binge for workout clothes to try and help motivate me. I prefer running at night because I feel awkward in the day. The downside to that is the temperature and also that people in the dark can be scary for a lady jogger. I wish I knew this town better. I’ve lived here since the last week of May, but haven’t gotten out much.

I’ve been trying to keep busy with school. I have a fair bit of things I have to do over the weekend as far as school work goes. I should have started it earlier, but i’ve had trouble concentrating lately.

My neck and shoulders have been hurting for a long time. It has been triggering frequent painful headaches. I gave up today and went to see a chiropractor for the first time. I had a bunch of x rays done (…Gulp. I hope insurance covers this.) and my spine looks like a circus.

The chiro set up another appointment for me tomorrow and also stated that I should come back on monday to look at it and go over the x-rays because apparently I have a lot to fix. From the looks of the x-rays it seems like I have a pretty solid case of scoliosis and perhaps a bulging disk. I’m not trained in that department so I can’t truly answer. We will have to wait and see.

I also learned that the ninja neck snap technique i’ve seen in movies is totally a real thing. The chiro did that to my neck twice. It was a combination of relieving and terrifying. Should my neck really do that?

My SO and my weasels will be coming home tomorrow. I can’t wait. I miss my family. It has only been a few days, but still.

I don’t have anything particularly exciting going on for the weekend. I’m catching up on a lot of cleaning and have a monstrous pile for Goodwill that keeps growing. It’s so nice to get some space back. I live in a 1 bedroom, 500 sq ft flat. I have my bedroom closet, a linen closet and a coat closet. Thankfully my ceilings are 12 or 13 feet high so I can jenga the top shelf of my closets like a boss.

It is amazing to go through everything and realize all the crap that I don’t need or want. I kinda feel bad….but hey, MURICA!

I have gym training tomorrow. Last session was good. Pretty much just did deadlifts for a half an hour. After my trainer realized that i’m not weak and I just have small hands, she strapped my hands to the bar and I was good to go. I can deadlift 120 pounds. I don’t know if that is good or bad, but I will take it.

So, there you have it, friends. The past almost month.

I hope everything has been working out for all of you.

Best Wishes,



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It’s just one of those blah days where I hate everything.

azealia banks angry frustrated stress azealia

It may just be from my sleep pattern getting messed up but I woke up feeling like I hated everything. These feelings come and go every now and again. Usually in blocks. I’m hoping this block is shorter than ones in the past.

Every time I wake up like this I have to deeply evaluate what could be the root cause. It’s so much easier to just accept that I woke up sad, anxious, cranky, etc. but it does me no good.

Stressor #1 – School

school book weekend

I love my future career path. There are days where I go through job listings in my field and feel defeated at the majority of the listings that require bachelor’s and master’s degrees. Right now I am a half time student going for my associates degree.

Class started last week and I was so happy to be reunited with some old mates from class during the previous semester. We all chatted and hugged and caught up on lives and schedules. Some are now full time, others still half or part time.

It was a bit of a heart cruncher to know that our individual needs will eventually separate us academically. Mainly, it brings that uncomfortable feeling of being left behind. Going to school half time lasts twice as long as full time therefore some of my mates will be long gone before I get my bearings. I am happy for them, but sad for me. I learn with some really intelligent forward thinking individuals that will be a great asset to any recovery program. Someday I will get there too. I will just have to keep my attachments in check in the mean time.

The other stressor with school is just doing it. I tell myself every day that I will read this and do that and write this and discuss that. I start off well, but next thing I know there is Bludgeoning Angel Dokuro-Chan on my YouTube. How? I honestly don’t put any conscious thought into diverting my attention. I pretty much realize it after the fact.

This morning I spent a few hours avoiding my thoughts by playing on the PS4. I’m not a gamer. I’ve actually only played the PS4 once. I got it for my SOs birthday (Girlfriend brownie points) and played Call of Duty for maybe twenty minutes. It only involved me confusedly running around virtual reality while frantically screaming like an excited girl in actual reality. I’m loud.

This morning I decided I needed to play the game “I am bread”. It is literally a game about a slice of bread going through a bunch of obstacles in order to get to a heat source to toast himself on. Yep. That’s my life. BUT IT WAS AWESOME.

Stressor #2 – Them there wicked cotton currencies.

So many expenses. So little dollars. Something pretty much everybody in history can relate to so I’m not going to get all boo-hoo about it. I’m just going to acknowledge it as a stressor.

Stressor #3- So much house work. So little time… or sleep.

My house is clean for the most part. I’m really not home enough to thoroughly tear it up. I just have a few projects I would like to do… and some laundry…. and some grocery shopping. Those last two things refer back to stressor #2 though.

Stressor #4- Work-

I’m starting to feel like I just don’t care anymore. I love my clients, it is just getting old. Dealing with the same old filled depends, dementia hallucinations, choking hazards, med passes and resistant behaviors can be tasking over time.

I applied to another job a few hours ago. I applied for a biolife position. I’ve been wanting to work there for a while.

I also filled out some paperwork to possibly be an egg donor. That’s more of a possible crutch to help stressor #2 than a job switch. Honestly, I never plan on having kids. Ever. Buuuut, I do have to say I am mighty fine and it would be a shame to waste this precious precious DNA.

Stressor #5- Insomnia-Hypersomnia

It’s getting old. I think I just need to be a day walker again. See stressor #4.

Stressor #6- Little stupid stuff that pops up out of no where.

We all have this. The little stupid day to day stuff that makes you want to claw your eyes out and scream.

The other day a chunk of ice escaped the roof of a semi in front of me on the interstate. It met my windshield at 75+ miles an hour. I am now the proud mother of a spidering german windshield… Blarg. See stressor #2.

Stressor #6.5- Sexual frustration

I love my SO with my whole heart and beyond. Unfortunately his current necessary prescriptions prevent him from fulfilling certain tasks other men can’t live with out… and from what i’m learning… women also. This can be extra tormenting during peak hormonal times and generally most of every other time… He’s super drool on yourself in awe gorgeous…. Sigh.

Writing this does help, though. Thanks for listening everyone. What kind of stressors have y’all been going through lately?

Best Wishes,



Special shout out to Anna from whose blog inspired me to decorate mine in a similar manner. I love it.





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