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You’re a Survivor

First of all, I know, I know, I know. It’s been forEVAR since I posted. Sorry. But this is on my mind right now, at 4:30am, and I can’t sleep, anyway. So, here it is.

So, I know this woman who was attacked maybe a year and a half ago or so. When she told me about it a couple months ago, she said something that worried me. And I wish I had said something then, but I think I might print this out and have her read it when she’s alone. If anyone reading this thinks that’s a good idea, let me know in the comments after reading. Or if you think it’s a bad idea. Just let me know your thoughts.

Anyway, she said, “Yeah, it’s embarrassing, but…” I thought, ‘Embarrassing? Oh, sweetie.’ See, you gotta see how I view it. This woman has survived what many people have not. She is thriving, yes, thriving in spite of what happened to her. And so are you, reader. You are stronger than you were before. Look how far you’ve come from that horrible act done upon you. Look how much you’ve succeeded in bringing yourself back to normalcy. No, you will never be the same as before. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t going back to normalcy.

As an outsider and an acquaintance, it looks like this woman has already come back to normalcy. In just a year! That’s unbelievable, imo. I never would have guessed that she had ever experienced that. It’s something to celebrate.

I was never physically attacked. But I was emotionally destroyed. Long story short, I was made to see my entire future burn before my eyes (metaphorically). And was told, “It’s not burning. It’s going in a different direction.” Bullshit. My world came crashing down and I fell into depression and overeating. It’s been three years and I’m still not back to normalcy. My meds still aren’t fully figured out and I’m fat as fuck.

But, I am a survivor. Like you, I have fought against the desire to hurt myself. The desire to treat myself like shit. We’re not perfect at it, I know. We have bad days. We have days where we break our stand and give up. But, if you’re reading this, know that we have never given up entirely. You and I, us survivors, we’ve made it through this far. You may have a long way to go, but look how far you’ve come.

I hope these words have helped you, reader. And I think they may help the woman I know. But I don’t want to dig up the past on her, either. If she’s embarrassed, she might be embarrassed to know that I think about it, and her, every now and again. BUT I’m a nice person and that niceness inside me just wants spill over and give her something to smile about. To help her change her view about herself, maybe. Idk, what do you guys think?

PS, if you ever need someone to talk to, e-mail me. laitiegrl@hotmail.com. It may take me a while to get back to you, but I will.

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Posted by on June 3, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Bad Girl, Lacey

So, things haven’t been going all too well. I get episodes of just wanting to cry and go home. A lot. Often. At work. So, I decided to try and balance that with a night out with a girlfriend. I have to work this morning so I planned to be home by ten. Eleven at the latest. Things didn’t go as planned.

I’m on Welbutrin, Cymbalta, and Abilify. So, I can’t drink. Buuuuuuuut~ drinking is so much freakin fun. AND it makes me happy-go-lucky wheeeeeeeeeee~. It’s a twofer. I wasn’t going to get inebriated last night. Especially because I had to drive home. But, as I said, things didn’t go as planned.

I got so, very drunk. I couldn’t see straight. I had to hold on to my friend to walk (though that was mostly because I was drunk while in these skinny little wedges). We couldn’t be happy in one place so we basically bar hopped all night.

Luckily, my friend lives nearby the bars so we went to her house and slept for like four/five hours.

God apparently has a way to punish adults what with their parents being unable to. I had left my car at the bar, of course. So I took some socks from my friend and walked in the snow about half a mile? Quarter of a mile? In just socks, leggings, a cami, and my coat. Oh, and I got rug burns because for some reason, I couldn’t walk to my friend’s bathroom. I had to crawl. And blisters, of course. But the blisters aren’t too bad.

Then I came home to a mini-lecture. I liked it, though. It showed my parents cared about me but they spoke to me like an equal. They didn’t talk down to me like they normally do. Or maybe they did. Maybe I’m just growing up and having more confidence when it comes to them. I don’t know.

So, that was last night.

 
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Posted by on March 2, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Power?

My counselor made an interesting point in our session today. Sometimes, when people are angry because they have no control over the situation, they go try to do something they do have control over. How does this translate to me? Let me elaborate.

I was in a situation with the assistant store manager where he pissed me off. What did I do about it? Absolutely nothing. Nada. Zilch. I didn’t do anything. How could I? He’s my boss. I had no control over the situation. Just let him make his snide comments and berate me. This happens all the time. I get angry at the higher-ups. But there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. So what do I do to get control over a situation? I shop.

When I’m shopping, I’m using my money to buy my things. The customer is always right, so I have the power in a me-shopping situation.

I don’t wanna think about myself doing something as low as looking for power. But it could be true. I could be that low. I mean, I’m struggling so much with all the basic things. Basic emotions, basic chores. I still haven’t done my laundry, yet. I’m trying to talk into it right now. The stupid yawning isn’t helping.

Anyway. I realize there are lots of times I imagine having the power when I feel like I never will. And I never do. I always cave in and let the other person take over. It’s just easier. I hate confrontation. Usually because I think too slowly to take control of the situation. But as a shopper, it doesn’t matter how long it takes me to think. I’m still the boss.

So it can’t just be that shopping makes me happy. Because lots of times it doesn’t make me happy immediately. I’m often upset at spending the money that I don’t have. I’m not happy until later when there’s nothing more I can really do about it, anyway. There has to be more to it.

My counselor told me to let my anger out creatively. See, you might not believe it knowing me, but I have a lot of anger. I never show it. I was taught that it was wrong to do so. I was shamed for doing it. So my counselor told me to let it out in a short story. A story where the character representing me takes control of the situation. Kicks the other person’s ass. Stuff like that. Sounds good to me.

How do you let out your anger? Were you ever told that it’s wrong to let it out? Were you ever shamed for doing so?

 
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Posted by on February 10, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Anxiety and Anger

There have been some new developments in my depression since my last post. Oh, and yes, I gave up on the A-Z blogging. Sorry about that :(.
Anyway. There have been new developments. I don’t remember if I wrote anything about what I’m going to talk about, so I’ll just start from the beginning, anyway.  I do remember mentioning that increased anxiety has come with my depression. Well, it’s getting worse.
One day, something happened and I got very, very anxious at work. I couldn’t have a breakdown at work! I’d be sent home! Previously, my co-worker had told me she gets anxiety attacks and carries Xanax with her. She had offered it to me. So, that first day that I got anxious (not angry) at work, I went up to her and asked if I could have some. I know, I know. Naughty Lacey! I’m a very naughty girl XP. Anyway, it worked a little. I managed to calm a bit.
Maybe a week or so later, something triggered my temper. I was getting angrier and angrier. At customers! It was ridiculous. I needed to chill out before I burst into tears at work again. And what does Xanax do? That’s right! Chills you out! So I went back to my co-worker, who almost-reluctantly gave me a full pill. Again, it only worked a little. But it was enough to keep me mostly sensible for the rest of the day.
I decided then that I wanted Xanax. With my anxiety and anger, I needed help to control myself. So on my next visit to the doctor, I reluctantly told him about my illegal use of Xanax. He actually wasn’t angry. He said “OK,” and I got myself some anxiety pills. For five bucks! That’s less than my antidepressants! It’s very exciting.
I’m using the Xanax a lot more often, now. I don’t believe I’m getting addicted, though. It’s not like I need it every day or anything. Rather, I only take it when there’s been a trigger or potential trigger for anger or anxiety. Then again, these triggers are happening more often, now, too. But I still think I’m going to be OK.
These triggers can be anything. It’s impossible to tell what I will and won’t be able to handle. For example, a while ago my friend and neighbor asked me to watch her pets while she and her family were out of town. One of the pets was her kitten that was kept in her (big) cage while I wasn’t there. I thought I had done a pretty decent job. Cleaned the litter box every day, fed her, watered her, etc. She always made such a mess with the litter, but I didn’t think it would harm her. Just as long as I cleaned it out of the food and water when I got there. Well, my friend was quite surprised when she got home. The cat’s cage was filthy. There was poop and pee outside the litter box that I had not seen. Basically, I had done a horrible, horrible job.
My friend tried to emphasize, though, that I had loved, fed, and watered her very well. That of the top three issues (love, food/water, cleanliness), I had well accomplished two. She was still grateful, and told me she was more concerned about the cat I want to have in the future. I apologized profusely and went on with my day. I had errands to run.
I told myself it wasn’t that big a deal. I tried to shrug it off. The cat was safe, healthy, and I had still done an OK job. But for some reason, it kept bugging me. It bugged and bugged and bugged. Even the new dress I got that day didn’t stop the bugging. It got to the point where I was in the car and I decided I was not at all fit to drive. I took two Xanax.
I did just fine after that. Changed into my new dress, rushed off to work, etc. But then, several hours into my shift, it started bugging me again. I felt like I was going to cry. I took more Xanax and told the HR rep that I was feeling emotionally unstable. Unlike the last time I was emotionally unstable, though, she promised not to send me home! Instead, she said they would let me go to the bathroom and cry until I felt better if I needed to. That helped me feel better, too.
By the end of the night, I was feeling just fine and closed up the registers with a smile. Xanax is amazing.
But no, I promise I’m not using it to solve all my problems. One day, they were giving me grief at work about this and that, and I was unhappy where they had placed me for days on end. Then it was how those two issues connected. Where they place you greatly affects the stuff they give you grief about. And they were placing me at the register where it was near impossible to improve and get them off my back. All this was starting to make me very angry. But I didn’t take my Xanax yet. Instead, I shared my frustrations with another co-worker. She told me to tell my boss, and though I didn’t want to, I finally gave in and took her advice. Nothing was going to happen if I kept quiet, right?
I told my boss my frustrations. She talked to her boss. They gave some lame-ass excuse, but I started to feel a little better. I didn’t take any Xanax.
Later that day, I was still a little worked up. So little things were getting me off. It got to the point where I felt like I was going to cry, so I went back to my boss. This time, I didn’t let her go to her boss. I didn’t want to be a problem. But after I got it all out, y’know what happened? I felt 100% better for the rest of the day!
I think most of the problem with my anger is my inability to let it out. My parents tell me that I should never let work think things aren’t going well. That I’m unhappy. I have to smile and be cheerful and acting like I love my job all the time. But I just can’t do that. I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve, and I simply can’t keep my emotions in. Otherwise, bad things happen. Like my anger building up from little things and unable to come out, so I burst into tears. I have to let it out.
TL;DR: I was naughty and used Xanax illegally, acquired it legally, and it’s made my life better, though I promise I’m not getting addicted. Also, I wear my heart on my sleeve and if I’m not allowed to, bad stuff happens.

 
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Posted by on June 21, 2013 in Depression

 

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