Harrowing Moment

I had a really harrowing moment at the grocery store today. It’s never happened to me before.

There’s an impending snow storm blowing in and we’re expecting to get around five inches of snow, which for the area I live in is a lot. Schools are usually closed when there’s one inch because we don’t have the equipment to handle snow. Not like when I lived in Wisconsin where we had to go to school in the middle of blizzard. Anyway, I went to the grocery store with my daughter and it was obvious people are preparing for the worst; the parking lot was packed and the only three cashiers inside were completely overwhelmed. I got what we needed and when it was our turn, it rang up to $24. Unfortunately, my card was declined. Repeatedly. This had never happened to me, so I started to get extremely embarrassed and my daughter didn’t understand what was happening. I was prepared to leave without the groceries, apologizing for the inconvenience. Suddenly, the older woman behind with a cart with a mountain of groceries offered to pay for them. I broke out and tears and nearly hugged her. I kept thanking her with a cracked voice and led my daughter outside with our groceries. In the car, I had an anxiety attack because I don’t like being in the spot light.

I texted my mom and it turns out our account had been hacked and all of the money had been stolen. Luckily the account was insured and we would be getting it back, but I felt horrible. It’s nice to know that there are still nice people out there in the world in these turbulent times.


Kicked by a mule

I wasn’t actually kicked by a mule, I just feel like I have been…repeatedly, then hit by a bullet train.

Despite not getting much sleep last night, I woke up feeling ok, but on the way home from dropping my daughter off at school, I got an instant demon hybrid tension migraine the moment I turned my head to look to see if it was clear to turn. I probably shouldn’t be on my laptop, but I have too much work to get done to just chill until my daughter gets out of school. The high pollen count certainly isn’t helping.

I know I should see a doctor about a lot of things. I’m sure I’d be put on a let of medication from digestive issues to high anxiety, stress, depression, and sleep disorders. Unfortunately, I learned that getting insurance will be next to impossible with the new Trumpcare proposed by #45. My daughter might be losing hers too. Lovely. Just thinking about it all is starting up a nasty anxiety attack, which I am aware are getting increasingly worse every day.

I can’t wait for April. Not only is my daughter’s fifth birth in April (hopefully it won’t be ruined by the company we’ll be having, which is bound to make me so stressed, I’ll throw up bile), but I’m taking the month off from school. Partially to start looking for a small kindergarten for my daughter and sign her up for summer dance class and possibly a summer school to put her further ahead, but because I’m also extremely burned out. The psychology program at my school has a mandatory learning team in every class and I have never hated working with people more. I usually end up having to do the entire assignment myself because I absolutely hate having to rely on others, even more so when their lack of performance impacts my grade. I was the same way in high school, I just have no tolerance for it now.

I also have some projects I want to get done, as well as some writing. I really do want to publish lesbian historical romance novel. I just have a hard time finding time to write or even the motivation for it. I need to have the right mindset or it just comes out forced. Sometimes when I have the motivation, I end up second guessing myself and hating what I’ve written. Then I feel like there’s no point in it because no one will ever like it and the ones that do will say it’s good to spare my feelings. Then I run myself into a vicious self-hating circle. I tend to be pretty good at it and have gotten better at keeping it to myself lately.

I am trying to keep more things to myself, which is why I haven’t made more posts. I know it is counter productive, but I don’t like talking about feelings much anymore because I feel that while the only person I actually talk to is supportive, deep down, part of me feels that she is sick of hearing the same thing over and over again. And things that seem very important to me have absolutely no meaning to others. I feel that I’m just making it harder for my best friend to be my friend and I’ll never find anyone to love me. I’m still running myself in contradictory circles that leave me dizzy. I want to know that I am worthy of being loved and I want to be held, but I don’t want to open myself up anymore and I don’t like being touched. The little voice inside of me keeps telling me that no one really cares and everyone is just sparing my feelings because they are tired of hearing it…even if they aren’t.


I was rejected by two lesbian mom groups and I have to admit, that stung. I wasn’t given a reason. I thought they were there to be provide support to other lesbian moms, but apparently it’s a pick and choose kind of thing. Looking at the one group, it said I had to be friends with someone in the group to be added, but isn’t that the point of wanting to be in the group? It’s like needing experience to get experience. It’s not fair. I don’t really know any other lesbian moms on social media outside of the LGBT Allied group. Feeling pretty worthless now.

Today I have been feeling this horrifying need to feel loved and have been on the brink of tears all day. I have this persistent lump in my throat that won’t go away.

I just want someone to talk to, but I don’t know what to talk about…

Love for a Lesbian Mother?

Lately, I have found myself wondering if I will one day find love. People seem to have a hard time viewing single mothers in a romantic light, let alone a single lesbian mother. I’m already dealing with people telling me I can’t be a lesbian if I’m a mother.

I know I have a long way to go before I can be ready for a relationship. I still don’t really like being touched and I keep a lot of my thoughts and feelings to myself. I don’t even talk about all of them to my best friend because there’s a voice in my head telling me she won’t care and that I’m just being a burden. Beyond that, I don’t think anyone would find me physically attractive. I’m a bit more plush than I am comfortable with, but I am having a very hard time losing weight.

I seem to be walking myself into contradictions a lot lately. I want to be held, but I hate being touched. I want to be loved, but I’m too reluctant to put myself out there. Why should anyone love me if I am unable to love myself?

I also have to think of my daughter. She is slow to open to others and I know she learned that from me. I also know that children are quick to love and I would hate for her to get attached to someone that would end up leaving. I don’t want to be one of those mothers that are constantly bringing people into their children’s lives that don’t end up staying. I guess there is reluctance in there for me too because I know there isn’t much of me left to give…I don’t know how much will be left after another heartbreak. I guess that’s why I get people so many gifts…I feel like I’m not enough, I know I’m not enough.

I know in a previous post I said I was content with just being a mom and I am, but sometimes I feel like I need someone to show me that there’s more to me than that. That I’m not one dimensional and that I’m worthy of being loved.

Sometimes I just feel invisible.

Sleep Paralysis?

I have been having troubles sleeping for a very long time and have grown used to always being tired, but lately I have been feeling like that I have just been awake for a long time. I go to bed, I dream, but I don’t feel as though I have slept. Last night was extremely…disturbing for me.

Now, I’m not a superstitious person. I’m not religious by any means or spiritual. I prefer a logical and scientific explanation with evidence that I can see, but things have been happening lately that are making me question my eyes and possibly my sanity, which is scary for me. I’m the primary caretaker of my daughter and the only one she trusts. If she loses me, it will be traumatic.

For awhile now, I’ve been hearing things in my room when no one is up there. I hear footsteps and knocking sounds near my side of the bed. The other day I was walking by my room and I saw a black mass standing over where I sleep. When I say black mass, I mean it was almost solid. I couldn’t see my bookshelf or the chair beside the bed. I stopped and looked back into the room and it was gone. I can easily explain that as being a block in my vision or the result of fatigue or even because I was using chemicals to clean and the room wasn’t vented enough. It was still alarming. Before, I have heard footsteps walking around upstairs, low voices talking, and coughing. Now, usually I would say it was my landlord who lives next door in the duplex…however…this stuff happens when he isn’t home or he is outside. He is also confined to the downstairs, he is unable to go up the stairs, so he wouldn’t be walking around up there.

One night, when I was getting out of the shower, I felt something was off in the house. It was eerily quiet and I just felt on edge. Out of nowhere, I heard running in the hall. It was a rushing kind of run that is very alarming, especially when it is so quiet, and those steps were heavy! I was terrified and went back to room, then shut and locked the door. My anxiety overwhelmed me and I broke down. After that, I keep the hallway light on until I retire to my room for the night.

I have also been increasingly aware that I am scared of the dark, which is very new to me. I grew up on horror flicks and was never scared. I could easily rationalize everything I saw in those movies. I can’t exactly pinpoint when the fear started, but it had to have been when I was in the hospital when I was pregnant. There was one night where I saw a tall, thin figure of a woman with long fingers standing at the end of the bed. I don’t know if what I saw was a result of stress with the combination of ambient, but that image stuck with me.

Now, there are nights where I’m lying in bed and I see that same female figure next to my bed, looking down at me. It’s hard to tell where her eyes are. Sometimes, there is a male figure with her wearing a top hat. They don’t really concern me anymore. They just watch and from what I have seen, they leave my daughter alone. Again, I am convinced it is all in my head.

Last night was more concerning. At one point in the evening, I woke up and I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what time it was and when I tried to reach for my phone, my hand wouldn’t respond. Nothing would respond. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t hear the tv playing in the background, but I could see the flickering light of it through the blankets that cover the tv. I couldn’t hear my fan, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see the glow from the green light that indicated the fan was on. All I could hear was a combination of my heartbeat and a loud ringing that set my teeth on edge. Out of nowhere, a black shadow figure thing crawling into my line of vision on the ceiling. It was hard to decipher a what it was, but the sound of breathing seemed deafening to me. It sounded like ragged heavy breathing and clicking. When it turned its head, I cannot begin to describe the fear I felt. Those eyes were a piercing yellow and seemed to bore right through me. Then…it dropped on top of me. I remember choking and unable to move. I couldn’t breathe. Then…it was gone. I sat up and got instantly dizzy. I felt weak and every joint in my body and my lungs hurt. I was covered in cold sweat and my heart was racing. I had to take a shower to calm down. Even now, I can feel like a haze or fog in my brain and I can’t focus. I’ve been very clumsy all morning and my hands aren’t moving the way I want them to. My voice sounds strange to my ears and after I took Sakura to school, I sat on the couch and stared at the plants. I know what kind of plants they are, but I can’t form the words to tell what they are. My first thought is that I’m just really tired, overwhelming so. The only thing, I don’t think that’s the first time I’ve seen that thing…I know I’ve at least felt it.

When I was younger, during spring cleaning in the house, I was cleaning my room (this was after my door had been removed), I remember sitting against my bed to take a little break and watching my younger brother across the hall pull stuff out from under his bed. Then I remember seeing shadows around me and when I looked up, I saw these small black things flying around me that looked like bats. I tried to scream and cry for help as they started to bite and scratch me, but no sounds escaped my throat. I couldn’t understand why people were walking by my room, not bothering to look in, and see that I needed help. When it stopped, I couldn’t talk through the sobs and I had scratches and little patches of skin missing where my skin was exposed. Looking back, I think it was more of a stress induced episode or even a seizure of some sort. I don’t think those were bats that I saw and I think I was the one that scratched my skin in the episode. I was certainly under enough stress to cause one.

Unfortunately, since that moment, I haven’t liked it being quiet and I need to have a fan on when I sleep and it has to be pointed at me. I have a movie playing on a loop all night long, but quiet enough so that it doesn’t disrupt sleep. During the day, the tv has to be on or my anxiety skyrockets and I start hearing things…like voices whispering around me. As long as I have background noise, I don’t hear them.

As I said, I don’t believe in the paranormal and I think there is a logical explanation for what happened, but that doesn’t shake this persistent anxiety attack that won’t go away.

Acting Family Therapist

I’m becoming increasingly aware that I am slowly becoming my family’s therapist. I’m taking courses to get my degree in Psychology and now people come to me for advice. I always tell them that I cannot give them advice, but I will listen to them.

Back in September my aunt and uncle came up from Florida and my uncle asked me to explain what the bipolar disorder is because he has a friend that is bipolar, but doesn’t understand it. I explained the properties of it and he had a new understanding of his friend. He then began explaining that lately he has been getting angrier and angrier and the things that used to calm him down don’t even put a dent in his aggression. I sat and listened to everything that stressed him out, which took awhile, and after some time he recognized what was the root of his problem. I didn’t tell him how to face those problems, but since he knew what was causing his stress, he had begun feeling better and is slowly returning to his usual self.

I have also been “counseling” my best friend since she reached out to me shortly after my daughter was born. She needed someone to talk to and vent on and I listened. Sometimes that’s all people need. It did get bad at times, not her venting on me, but her situation was getting bad and she needed to get out of there, which she did. Now, I’m helping her cope with her anxiety, as I have been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder coupled with depression. I offer her ways to help calm down and have recently advised her to seek a professional opinion and diagnosis. I know how difficult it is for her, but having a professional diagnosis will help her more. I helped her identify which people in her life cause her the most distress and she made the decision to remove those people from her life to help her stay positive, which I think was a great move.

Most recently, I shockingly helped my mother. We were discussing that I have always been extremely affectionate, but I didn’t know where I got it from, since my mom has never shown me an ounce of affection in my life. She revealed to me that she used to be affectionate too, but when she was ten years old, she stopped after the death of her grandfather, of whom she was close with. She also stopped showing her emotions and had a very cold demeanor, which makes it extremely hard to approach her. I told her that she never allowed herself to finish the grieving process, she shut herself down. I don’t think she even realized that that’s what happened. I told her that it will be a difficult process because she’s held those emotions in for nearly forty years.

Part of me hopes that the rest of my family doesn’t come to me for help because for some of them, I’m strongly biased and wouldn’t be of much help. Some of them have hurt me too much for me to even want to help them. I’ll continue helping those I’m already helping, if they want me to, but I’m not comfortable helping additional people until I have learn more.

Among all of that, I also have to manage my own problems. I still have to manage my social anxiety, which has grown into a stutter, my depression, horrible self-image issues, and my intimacy issues. I’m still learning to how to like myself and it’s harder than I anticipated it would be.

Fear in a Mother

Thursday the 12th was extremely difficult for my daughter and me. It was so stressful and I know it was harder for my daughter than it was for me.

Wednesday evening she was complaining that her leg hurt and she couldn’t walk. I thought she was faking it because it was bed time and she didn’t want to go upstairs. She’s done it before, so I made her walk upstairs. Through the night, she would wake up every twenty minutes crying in pain. The next morning, she couldn’t even stand without shaking and howling in pain. I couldn’t let her go to school and I was overwhelmed with guilt because I thought I had made it so much worse and I really think I had. I made an appointment with her regular doctor that same day, but it was in the afternoon. We were there for almost three hours. The appointment itself was only about fifteen minutes long and the rest of the time, we were placed in a different room in a short hall that no one walked down. It wasn’t the best experience because at one point, they had actually forgotten I was back there with my daughter and it made my anxiety skyrocket. I think that was one of my longest anxiety attacks ever. They had told me that there was a possible infection in my daughter’s hip joint, but she needed a special test to have that figured out. The doctor insisted I go to Baltimore and I have only ever been to Baltimore once in my life and that was two years ago. I wanted the second option which was closer and I have been there before. I knew the area. They didn’t like that decision, but it wasn’t theirs to make.

We didn’t get to the hospital until almost 7pm, but luckily the wait in Urgent Care wasn’t too long. The doctors were very sweet and understanding. They were very comforting to my daughter, even when we figured out my daughter has a fear of blood. They covered the tube in her arm with a sticker so she wouldn’t have to see it and she soon fell asleep. She woke up about an hour later howling pain and continued to howl in pain for almost two hours until the doctor gave her some medicine for the pain and graham crackers to snack on. She calmed down soon after and almost fell back to sleep, but I knew she was upset that I had to take off her clothes and put her in a gown. It was hard to keep myself from crying because at this point was very well aware that this was all my fault and I was the one causing my daughter so much pain. She muscled through her x-ray and I was allowed to stand right there with her and talk to her the entire time to keep her calm. Shortly after we got back to the room, she fell back to sleep.

A couple of hours later, we were informed that while they were waiting on the final results of her blood work, she would need to be transported to Children’s National via ambulance to have a special sonogram done to determine if there really was an infection. My daughter didn’t like it at first because she was scared I wasn’t going with her, but calmed down as soon as she saw me enter the ambulance with her and held her hand the entire way there. She laughed because I kept making faces every time it stopped or made a sharp turn as I wasn’t wearing a seat belt and was sliding around the bench. I have a bruise on my head from hitting the door when I climbed out and another on my neck from the stroller that hit my neck during a particularly sudden stop.

When we got to her room in the Children’s National ER, she lit up when she saw her room had a tv. I turned it on for her while her new nurse checked her vitals. She fell asleep shortly after and I nodded off in the chair beside her bed until a doctor came in asking about what was going on. I had trouble talking through my growing stutter and I started to cry and blamed myself for her pain. The doctor reassured me that it wasn’t my fault because sometimes it’s hard to really tell if there is pain there or if it just in their head, especially when there isn’t any bruising or visible injury. He also said he agreed with my decision to take my daughter to hospital I was familiar with instead of driving to one I have never been to in a very dangerous city; that made me feel a little a better. He had me wake my daughter watched her walk around and to our amazement, she actually put weight on her right leg and walked with only a slight limp, but as she began to wake up more, she cried louder and put less weight on her leg. From there, the doctor said they would have a radiologist look over her x-rays from the hospital before they decide to give her a sonogram. My daughter fell back to sleep shortly after and I curled up in her bed with her.

It wasn’t long, less than an hour, before another doctor came in and asked to watch my daughter walk. She walked further this time and by herself, then practically ran to her bed saying “I’m too sad to walk”. It was too cute and we put her in bed, but she began to howl in pain again. The doctor gave her something for the pain, but she didn’t fall back to sleep after that. I lied in bed with her and we watched tv together until my mom showed up, having to have to drive her truck to the previous hospital to get the car (which had the car seat in it) and drive it to the children’s hospital. Another nurse showed up shortly after and took more blood from my daughter, then the male doctor came in and said that I had done everything right. He said that a sonogram wasn’t necessary as they determined what was causing her so much pain. It wasn’t my fault and there was a little inflammation causing severe pain in my daughter’s hip joint, but that it wasn’t serious and would go down on its own. He called it Toxic Synovitis. He said that as long as I give her Ibuprofen every six hours she would be fine, then cleared her to leave. By this time, it was a little after 7am on Friday. My daughter was so happy to be allowed to go home.

I somehow managed to pull through a really long drive back home despite having maybe a total of 2 hours of sleep for the last 3 days (the one night being unrelated) without incident. I’ve always been oddly great at functioning on very little to no sleep. When we got home, my daughter was her usual, playful self again. She was even walking and running! I was so happy. I nodded off throughout the day and had no idea how my daughter had any energy. As evening came, my daughter started complaining of the pain again and began to limp. I chalked that up to having over-exercised herself and exhaustion, so I gave her some Ibuprofen. I also noticed that she started coming down with a cold and I’m hoping it is completely unrelated or she’ll have to go back to the children’s hospital.

I learned that through this experience, I always tend to blame myself first, but I was reassured that my actions were the correct ones and I was the only one capable of calming my daughter down. I think this experience brought me and my daughter even closer together (if that is possible, we have spent every day of our lives together since she was born). I think my daughter learned that she can trust me when I say that the nurses and doctors are trying to help her, not hurt her and I know that she will never forget that experience. I know I won’t.

Embrace Yourself

As I’ve previously mentioned, I have a hard time looking at myself. I’m physically disgusted with my appearance, no matter what I look like. Before my daughter was born, I was trim and fit into a size 4, which had begun to sag on me. I barely ever wore makeup because my complexion was flawless and clear, but I still saw myself as hideous. I still do.

Since my pregnancy, I’ve gained a lot of weight. I weigh more now than I ever have in my life and I absolutely hate it. My depression had gone so far that I can’t believe I let it get this far out of control. I have always had difficulty actually losing weight in a healthy fashion (having previously lost it through starvation and drugs), no matter how healthy I eat and workout. Today, I was having a particularly “fat day” and normally would have worn a large hoodie or something to drown in. However, I swallowed my shame and forced myself to wear my favorite outfit; a rather snug black long sleeved tunic dress that stops mid-thigh, grey sweater tights, black UGG boots, a red beret, and a red wrap. This is the outfit where color is merely an accessory and I usually feel powerful in it. Today, I just wanted to hide, which sucks because I think my makeup was perfect today. No matter what I see in the mirror at home, the moment I see my reflection outside of the home, I feel like a disgusting troll. It’s hard for me to be confident, even when people tell me they love my outfit, which did happen. There were even two doctors who told me have “stunning eyes” and asked if I did makeup professionally. I just wanted to hide under my wrap, but I bit my cheek and thanked them. I had a mild anxiety attack after that.

I have always had a pretty severe anxiety problem and vaguely recall getting diagnosed with social anxiety at a younger age, but my parents disregarded it. Anything that wasn’t visible wasn’t real to them (hard to believe coming from hardcore Christians, I found that ironic). While pregnant, I was diagnosed with severe social anxiety, but was advised against taking medication for it while pregnant. So, I didn’t. Now, I can’t afford the medication because I don’t have insurance. Prescribed medication intimidates me anyway. Too many side effects for me to be comfortable taking it. The only thing that ever really worked for me without adverse effects was marijuana. I was socially active when I smoked it and I slept so well. I also never got headaches or migraines. Now, I rarely ever get a full night sleep, I can go three days without sleeping (not intentionally) and I get migraines every day. Sometimes they are some demon tension migraine hybrid. It’s awful.

Back to my original point, I feel like I rambled too much there. Kind of scattered brained today (I’m so tired).

I forced myself out of comfort zone today because it is important for me to accept myself as I am. I wear makeup maybe once a week where before, I would put it on whenever I left the house, even if it was to the convenience store just down the road. Now, I only wear it if I know I’m going to be gone all day. That was a major thing for me. My skin isn’t what it used to be and I get these broken vessels under my eyes that make me look like a drug addict. It doesn’t help that on most days, my eyes usually have a pinkish hue because I have such a hard time sleeping. I have a hard time relaxing. I’m finally reaching my breaking point. I can’t keep carrying on like this.

I still have a long way to go, but I took a big step today and I’ll continue to push myself.

A little idea

I’ve made this decision to write a book about two women lovers. It’s a historical romance based in the Victorian Era, 1841 England. It’s between a half Irish/half English woman (Rosetta), who is the daughter of a decorated military officer, and a gypsy (Viviana).

After doing some research, I found that this is going to fun to write because it is during an era where homosexuality was punishable by death, meaning the love between these two women is forbidden and they have to keep it quiet. I’m still uncertain on the laws of homosexuality within gypsy culture during that time, but I think it’s just mixed opinion and not actually outlawed among them.

With the help of a friend, I’ve chosen the title “Kissed by Fire”, mostly symbolize for the Rosetta’s red hair. My reasoning behind that is that Viviana has never seen anyone with red hair before. Since red hair, freckles, and being too slim is deemed as “unattractive” in that era, Rosetta’s father has her wear wigs or dyes her hair, heavy powders, tight corsets, and padded dresses to give the illusion of curves to attractive possible suitors. Unfortunately, Rosetta has no interest in finding a suitor. She also has a love for studying plants and bugs and often gets reprimanded for it, as she usually ends up with dirt on her somewhere. She is made to wear gloves in public to hide the dirt under her nails and she keeps a small handmade journal on herself at all times, in case she sees a new bug or plant.

Viviana has a twin sister named Violetta. They escaped enslavement in Romania, but their parents didn’t, and made the trek across Europe, narrowly avoiding imprisonment at a young age with the help of a friend. They ended up joining a group of gypsies in England and were raised by the “chief” and his wife. Now, they bring in unsuspecting fools through dance to take their money. Viviana is trained in being a fortune teller and prefers that method, but does occasionally join her sister in dance to distract their audience from the pickpockets.

I hope it sounds interesting enough. There is a lot at stake for that kind of relationship in that era, especially with it deemed to be disgraceful to associate with gypsies during that time.