Falling. Literally.

Falling. Literally.

I’m writing out of anger and maybe a little bit of sadness. As 2017 is coming to an end, I’m remembering how excited I was at the end of 2016 to have a great new year. For the most part, 2017 has been amazing and has treated me quite well – until it didn’t. The past two-ish months have been an extremely chaotic shit show. I’m willing to give you the low down. Brace yourselves; this is going to be a long one.

As October came to an end and November started, I felt fine. School was kicking my ass, but I’m a good student and I continued to carry on. I was proud of how I had been able to handle all of my stress with my crazy housemates, fat work load and financial issues in a way most people probably wouldn’t be able to. Imagine how fucked up I felt when I started hearing from one of my very best friends that people were expressing concerns about my well being. I have worked for THIRTEEN YEARS to get to where I am today and it felt like all of the hard work that has almost killed me at times was just ripped away from me. Stolen. Two of the girls expressing their concerns had no right to do so because they barely know me. They wanted to call my mom to tell her I needed help…they don’t even know my mom. When I heard this, I told my best friend that if they had done this, my mother would have just laughed and said something along the lines of, “Okay girls, thanks for the call.” I called my mom to tell her this and guess what? She laughed. I think what pissed me off the most about this situation was the fact that these girls are not even my friends and felt the need to go tell someone else about it. If they knew about my past, I would understand. But they know nothing. What hurt the most was I was in the best place I had been to date, and it wasn’t good enough for them, which means it might not have been good enough for anyone.

I told myself not to overthink this situation, but with my amazing mind (sense any sarcasm?), I couldn’t let it go. I was damaged. I felt like I needed to be a better everything but I had nothing to use to do this because I had already used up everything I had to get to my perceived great mental state. What made everything worse was the fact that my best friend who I live with was concerned I wasn’t okay because these other girls were concerned, which burdened me with the task to check on her all the time. She loves me so much that when she worries about me, she worries too much and it effects her mental state negatively. This is turn effects mine negatively as well. I hated that she expressed all of her worries about me to her mom. My best friend in high school also did this, but her mom is the woman who has bullied me since the minute she met me in kindergarten. I believe that I first felt suicidal because of the way this mom treated me for all of elementary, middle and high school. (Fortunately, I did leave this mother’s daughter behind half way through high school. I spent eleven years waiting for her to stand up to her mom for me, and she never did.) My current best friend telling her mom everything about me reminds me of the one person I hate in this world, and all it leaves me with is a brick constantly spinning in my gut.

I think I was able to reassure people I was okay. Unfortunately, this only lightened my stress load for a bit because during this whole disaster, I couldn’t concentrate on school and kept asking for extensions on assignments. I am now facing these assignments over winter break. Who in the hell would want to continue school for an extra four weeks? Thank you to everyone who stressed me the fuck out and made me feel anxious and depressed because you thought I was anxious and depressed when I wasn’t. You suck.

Thanksgiving arrived, and I saw how sick my aunt had become. She was diagnosed with cancer five years ago and fought so, so well to get better. She was not supposed to make it but she pulled through like an absolute champion. The week before the holiday, she was fine. Then her disease hit her out of nowhere like a truck. On December 1st, my aunt lost her battle with cancer. I am still struggling to accept that five of my cousins have lost such a beautiful mom.

One day later, on the night of December 2nd, I broke my ankle in four places. Long story short: I was walking home with my best friend, wanted to ding dong ditch our friend’s house, ran down the front porch stairs, and fell off the last step into a small pothole in the grass. I think it was probably about time something seriously bad happened to my ankle. After hurting it so many times tap dancing for ten years, it was tired of all of the strain. instasize_171203142349.png                                                 [This is the morning after the break]

I went to the hospital the next morning, was put in a splint, and was sent on my way. Thankfully, I only had one more week of school. I finished the week out thanks to Sierra giving me rides to and from campus. On Thursday, I came home. On Friday, I went to the doctor’s and was told I needed to have surgery. Okay fine. Then I was told I was not allowed to go to Cabo in a week. Not fine. I cried and was a little bitchy but left accepting the fact there was no way I would be able to fly and spend a week on the beach six days post op.

That Friday afternoon, my family and I left town to go to my Aunt’s funeral and to spend the weekend with my family. It was emotional, sad, happy, overwhelming and fun all at the same time. I am just so glad I was able to be there with all of my cousins, aunts and uncles.

Monday the 11th was surgery day. I went in with my mom and brother at 10:30 am to be ready for operation at 11:30. 11:30 am became 6:30 pm. My surgeon was stuck in another surgery where he said things went from bad, to worse, to disastrous. Thankfully, his patient survived the operation. I am proud of how calm I was during my long wait, but my mom claims the nurses gave me something for my anxiety. I don’t remember being wheeled out of my room and into the operating room but my mom did take a video of me forcefully pushing the door all the way open for my doctor and then waving goodbye with my eyes half open. Surgery was a successful hour and a half long procedure. I was woken up thirty minutes early though because I wasn’t breathing very well. Story of my life. Because I was awake before planned, I was conscious while a doctor was putting a nerve block in my leg. I’m so glad I don’t remember this however. A nerve block is a catheter which drains medicine into my body in order to numb my nerves in the desired area. I think this bad ass mechanism only worked for a day. Post op days three, four and five were excruciating. Yesterday I found out that my splint was digging into one of my incision sites. For the past week it has hurt like a bitch and so the nurses took my splint off and put me in a boot ten days early. Bless their souls. I still can’t walk until the 29th, but as long as my pain isn’t unbearable, I’m cool with it.

Overall, I would highly advise against breaking your ankle and getting surgery because it debilitates you in so many ways and leaves you feeling depressed and bored out of your mind. I am actually tired of laying down, sleeping and watching TV and movies. I can’t drive (which might be good because I therefore cannot go out and make more stupid decisions), but I hate having to rely on other people to help me get places…not that there are many places I want to go to when I can’t walk. I weened myself off of the prescribed hydrocodone I have been taking the past three weeks and finally got over the withdrawal symptoms. This whole experience has really humbled me. I never really stopped to think about how hard life must be for those who can’t use certain parts of their body. I am just thankful I will get to walk again, unlike so many others who will never have the ability to walk again.

Below are some pictures of my ankle surgery and recovery process.

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Let’s try again?

Let’s try again?

I swear I just typed up a whole damn blog post only to have my computer shut down and delete the whole thing. I’m not going to try and remember what I had written and re-do it. Instead, you’re getting a summary.

I received the most amazing internship opportunity this summer and was able to make bank while learning what it’s like to work for the government’s communication team. How legit is that? (Very legit Abby, very legit.) I did end up transferring from the University of Portland to Portland State University. It was a weird transition but not in the way I had anticipated. It was difficult to see all of the people I used to sit next to in class going to my dream school, but transferring was the best financial decision for my family. I’ve already learned so much just by being immersed in such a culturally diverse community. In all honesty, I am just so grateful for the opportunity I have to be getting such a great education. I’m so privileged.

Speaking of PRIVILEGE…I seriously don’t think half of my housemate understand the damn word. Unfortunately, I need to be careful in case they were to ever read my blog because I don’t have the energy to argue over “you said this”…nor will I ever.  Things around the house have been a shit show. I’m kind of the mediator for everyone and I’m finally realizing that it is sucking and draining every ounce of energy from my body. One of my very best friends however lives right next door and is a god-send in that she has seen how much I have progressed mentally over the past three years. I can tell her things that I cannot tell even my very best friend. Even when she doesn’t fully understand my thoughts or emotions, she does everything to respect them and trust that I know how to take care of myself. I’ve been struggling with accepting the fact that people are worrying about me. My hope is that people who do love me as much as they claim to, can see that I’m strong and can handle shit. It truly is disappointing when I have to explain this to those that I thought knew me enough not to question my words. For someone who has as much fucked up brain chemistry as I do, I am in such an amazing place and I am so incredibly proud of myself. It recently came to my attention that others don’t see this and I began to second guess myself. Of course, this just led me to feel anxious, stressed and depressed. All I want at this point in life is for people to love and know me well enough to know when I need their help and when I don’t. Sometimes, “help” makes things worse than they originally were.

On a different note, my love life is currently on my mind at all times. There is one man I want to share my life with and I am nowhere near being in a relationship with him. Most would ask, “Is this because you’re lonely?” Surprisingly, I’ve actually been on more dates in the past three months than I have in the first twenty years of my life. These dates have been absolutely amazing and these men have been great – I’ve literally been treated like a queen. It makes no sense as to why I haven’t been able to commit to any of them when I have been treated in this way. I know I can’t commit because I have someone else on my mind…even when I’m overlooking all of Portland and being passionately kissed on the top floor of the Nines.

The good in my life

The good in my life

It’s been a bad week. I’ve slept a lot. I haven’t gone to the gym. I’ve put myself down more than I knew possible. About five minutes ago I took the initiative to ask my mom if I can go to my counselor this summer and she said, of course. This is a good thing. It means that I’m willing to change and make improvements in my life – that I’m not giving up even though it’s the only thing I want to do.

There are so many good things in my life and I tend to see past them since I’m so deeply buried in the negative. I unconsciously let it fill me up until it’s too much to handle, therefore pushing me towards giving up. If I gave up completely, like I’ve wanted to before, I wouldn’t get to appreciate the things that release me and make life worth living.

The first thing that I think about missing if I were to give up on life is my best friend, Sierra. Sierra Whitney Savage has easily become the most important person in my life. We joke about how we are basically dating each other. If we weren’t so straight I can guarantee we would be married. I think that’s how you know you have truly found the best, best friend. She takes care of me and I take care of her. Being friends with her is effortless and the most comforting thing in the world. You hear best friends speaking of cliches such as finishing each other’s sentences and knowing every little thing about each other and it’s even more than that. Sierra and I don’t even have to finish each other’s sentences; we already know what needs to be said without actually saying it. We know everything about each other, but we learn more and more each day like a never ending adventure. The best part about our friendship is that I need her just as much as she needs me. We are lost humans, but without each other we probably wouldn’t be human.

Of course, my family is also why I chose to live. They do everything for me even when I don’t deserve it. My parents have given up so, so much to provide my siblings and I with a wonderful life. They are good people too. When I was in 4th grade they decided to get divorced. In knowing the negative effects that this life decision can have, they worked their asses off to love each other by communicating with each other, with their close friends and relatives, and most importantly, with God. I’ve struggled a lot with my beliefs lately, but I strongly believe that God saved my parents’ relationship. My little sister inspires me to become a better person every single second of every single day. I strive to be more like her. She truly is a blessing. My brother has taught me a lot. We used to be closer and it’s been difficult over the past few years to move past our disagreements. We love each other though, and I would like to think that there have been times at which we have saved each other.

I’m alive and I have so much to be thankful for. I go to an amazing school where I have found my new family. The people in Portland are the people that will be with me until the day I die. My best friends at home keep me laughing and strong. They are strong. Al and Rinn will always have a special place in my heart. I constantly look forward to the mom dates we’ll have in the future. I have wonderful doctors who have done so much to keep me alive. They keep a close eye on me and make sure I have the medication and other means of help that I need. Thankfully, I have finally come to terms with relying on medication to give me that extra life boost. I have a house. I even have my own room and my own bed. That’s a privilege that many people don’t get to have. I have food – good food. I have an education, and a family, and a life, and love.

Today, I’m happy to be alive.

How did I get here

How did I get here

Have you ever done something so awful that trying not to think about what you did physically hurts your whole body? Your muscles are tight, your skin feels like it’s being pricked with needles, your lungs can’t expand enough, and your heart can only beat as many times as it absolutely needs to in order for you to stay alive. All you do is think about what you did and your stomach is on a constant roller coaster, throwing your gut up and down. And up and down.

And up.

And down.

I’m on this roller coaster this week and I’m in the front car. I’m so embarrassed and I hate myself. It’s as if within one hour I went from being a maturing young woman to a high school girl who is too prideful to give up being at the top of the social ladder. She’ll do anything to keep that from happening. I lost years. Years of growing up and succeeding.

All I can think about is how I’m going to become a woman again. Everything will have to change, and I have no idea where to start. I don’t even know if I’m capable of staring – I’ve fallen so deep.

Little late night thought

Little late night thought

I just realized that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have someone make you feel so nervous and happy and excited all at the same time. Realizing this makes me sad. I’ve spend the past two years meeting guys at parties and in class and flirting with them but that is it. It’s ironic because I often times find myself thinking about the future and who I will be spending that future with, but I don’t ever act upon moving my life in that direction. I know that it is all supposed to come with time and that the right person will show up when I least expect it, but it’s just a little sad that I haven’t really thought about the seriousness of that notion until now. Everyone says these things; I say these things, but we don’t really mean it until it actually happens. We just wait.

Lovely Realization

Lovely Realization

I just realized something. I’ve never quite thought about what my future children will really one day be like. Then today, just now – I did. I saw a video and it pulled at my heart strings and stirred up warmth within my stomach. I’m not homophobic nor have I ever been. I have gay family members whom I love very much and some of my closest friends are also a part of the LGBTQ community. I don’t think of these people in my life any differently than I do the straight people in my life. The video I saw has no title. It showed a boy and the boy he had some sort of romantic relationship with. The boy’s father seemed to disprove of this relationship, but it is revealed in the end that the dad loves his son for exactly who he is. With almost no words included in this video, I was struck. I immediately saw myself as a parent with a child who identifies as something other than straight and I had nothing but overflowing love for this child of mine. I’m only twenty and I am in no means planning on having children any time soon, however; any child of mine will be unconditionally loved no matter who they are.

HERE I have attached the link.


24 hours of pure pain

24 hours of pure pain

Okay so the last 24 hours of my eccentric, chaotic life have been an absolute shit show. I can’t even recall half of it, but the hours that I do recall make me want to crawl into a bear’s den to be devoured. I’m not exaggerating. If you have ever had a migraine you know exactly what I mean. And if you haven’t felt exactly this, then it is not a migraine that you are experiencing. God, that it one of my biggest pet peeves. People are always saying “I have a migraine” as they chuckle and keep walking at a regular pace. Trust me, if you have a migraine even talking will hurt your head and make you pray that you’ll see the light right then and there.

I have an inkling that the explosive feeling in my brain came on as a side effect of the new ADHD meds. My body is having some trouble adjusting. I wasn’t really thinking when my parents offered me a glass of wine because drinking one never affects me negatively when in combination with my other medications. About 45 minutes after sipping my glass dry, my vision started to haze over and the next thing I remember was walking to the living room to flop onto the couch. Within 30 seconds I was out.

At 10 p.m. my “work out” alarm went off (which I never fail to click ignore on) and I got up to go shower and go back to sleep in my real bed. I don’t remember showering, or getting into bed or anything in between. Scary. Next thing I know: I’m in the bathroom feeling like I’m going to vomit but not knowing why. Out of nowhere the excruciating pain shot against all sides and spaces of my head. I cried. I kept trying to call for my mom but I was torn about the idea of seeming like a weak 20 year old who can’t even take care of herself. I just want to be independent. I gave in. I crawled to my parents’ door and they immediately jumped up when they knew that the sound of my voice was the voice of agony.

For the next few hours I was back and forth between the toilet and my bed. Nothing helped to ease the pain; however I was surprised at how empathetic my mom was and her comfort was something to be appreciative of. She knows this same pain and has lived with it for the majority of her life. I can’t even imagine. Every time I have a migraine I want to die. Not in a suicidal, depressed type of way. I know the difference because I’ve felt both. Twice when I’ve been in this much misery, I’ve asked for someone to just kill me. I kid you not, I have hallucinated while having a migraine. Don’t believe me? Ask my roommates from my freshman year of college. I’m pretty positive they’re still scarred from what they witnessed.

Point being, migraines are the definition of hell and there is no one I would ever wish that kind of pain upon. Maybe there is one person, but that’s a story for another day. People say that the worst pain ever felt is during childbirth, and if that’s true, bring on the epidural (or two) because anything worse than a migraine calls for the strongest drugs to exist.

It’s been over 24 hours since the onset of my excruciating ride through hell and I’m finally at ease. My mom calls the day after a migraine “the hangover.” The name describes it perfectly but it sure as hell beats the real thing.