Let Me....

It crunches under my feet like the hardened snow. It makes crispy, annoying sounds that interrupt the silence of everything else that is not going on.....I have been kicking it around for so long that sometimes I could swear I have literal bruises on my toes...I am a warrior and conqueror of only that which can not be seen...on the outside I am just ordinary. On the inside I am a phoenix rising from the ashes.

So let me wrap my toes in ice and bandages. Let me put away my sword an shield. Let me spread my wings of fire and rise..........

Let me close my battle scars with kind words and bits of string. Let me rip the stitches from my mouth. Let me scream about the injustice of it all. Let me breathe and spread my wings of fire and rise....

Let me wash the soot from my armor. Let me tattoo my sins on my breast with permanent marker and fountain pen ink . Let me grieve the pain of lost battles and victories and of all that lies in between. Let me cry and spread my wings of fire and rise....

Because I am the conqueror of my fears....I am the imaginary warrior....I am the phoenix rising from the ash.

Unique and Uniquely Broken....

            Do you ever feel like you were born in the wrong time? I love old things. Vintage table cloths, old architecture, old tea pots. I prefer vinyl records over cds. I prefer old blues, old jazz, old swing music. I like the new stuff too, but I always go back to Billie Holiday, Perry Como, and good ole' Frank. When I was kid, I listened to the oldies channel over the pop music my friends listened too. It is how I got a love for Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper, and Aretha Franklin.  In my teens, I was rocking out to The Glenn Miller Band and big band swing music. I love vintage clothes and vintage furniture. Antiques make me extremely happy. Nothing bums me out more than going into an old house that someone has stripped all of the original character out of and made it "modern"....shudder. I mean, some things have to be modernized but leave the molding alone!

Right now, I am obsessed with old feed sacks. They are just so freaking neat. I also have an issue with old signs. I have a whole wall of them in my living room. My husband thinks I have enough, but just like books, I am not sure you can ever have too many. Of course, that could be my slight hoarding tendency trying to come out. I have to be careful or I could totally end up with a basement full of cheap vintage signs and old flour sacks....

I also love old typewriters, old radios, old cameras...ect. I just tend to feel like I was born in the wrong time. Or maybe, I am just weird. At this point, I can't tell the difference anymore. All I know is, I always prefer something old over something new. Like my great grandmother's chipped fruit bowl...I love that damn thing and it isn't worth anything. Except that it was hers and it was special to her because she grew up in the Great Depression and she got it around the time my grandmother was born. It is my most prized piece of china. It is my only piece of china but even if I got the most expensive china in the world, I would still only love this one chipped bowl. I love the vintage tea pots my grandmother gave me. They have lost all of their silver plating. One was from an old hotel in Texas that was given to her by one of her grandmother in law's husbands. Or the other tea pot that was made in the 1800's but has a huge dent in it, is no longer shiny and the lid hinge is completely broken so the lid falls off if you even breath while looking at it. They are worthless monetarily and yet they mean so much to me.


I love old, antique and vintage things so much that even my wedding ring is over a hundred years old. I picked it out myself thirteen years ago because it was unique, hand tooled, lovingly crafted for someone, and old.

 Maybe, I like old things because they are no longer run of the mill, cookie cutter objects. They have a history. I don't want new hardwood floors, I want hardwood that has been worn down for decades by the feet of living, breathing, loving, happily families. I don't want new furniture in my dining room. I want the table that has little scratches where the silver wear was placed for a century. I don't want the things that have no story. I want to add my stories to the things that already have one. I am fascinated by everyday objects that have little mars and scratches and marks from owners past that are a testament of their life experiences. A sign that they were here. I love the history of it all.

Obviously, some things have to be bought new but whenever possible I always go for the old. The down trodden. The underdog. The flawed and less desired because it is not perfect. I go for the tarnished tea pot, the well worn flour sack, the broken typewriter, the rusty sign and I utilize them to been seen in my home. They are my little artifacts of history. Worth nothing to most but so much to me because at one time they meant everything to someone else.... Maybe I like them because I see myself in each dented and cracked object...flawed, sometimes overlooked, bizarre, unique, broken, rusted, and well worn. Maybe these things bring me comfort because I feel we share a sameness. Our value is hidden but still exists just waiting for the right person to recognize it, not only in my little artifacts but in themselves as well. Maybe I like them because they are like tiny mirrors of what I see in myself. Maybe a bit dinged up but still beautiful, still interesting, still worthy of being seen and loved. I like them because they remind me that we are all unique and yet uniquely broken....and we all should be treasured.

Neurotic Nelly

This Means War.....

                    I have never had a problem with birds per say.....I even had a pair of "love birds" a few years back. Except they more tolerated each other rather than  loved each other. They were decent pets although, you didn't really do much with them and they had this talent for being able to poop outside of the cage even when their butts were inside the cage....as an OCD sufferer this was so not cool. I gave them to my grandma after a few years because she loves birds and birds for me, seem like they should be free. That way if they hate each other they don't have to actually be forced to lived together forever and no one should have to poop in a cage.

None of this has anything to do with my current problem except to prove that I am not a bird hater.

For the last year or so my front porch has been covered in bird poop at any given time. Mostly in a straight line all the way across my red brick porch half wall. It never fails, that at some point, I will be out there with a wet broom and hot soapy water scrubbing away like a ship's deckhand, trying to remove it all. It is unsanitary but even more than that, it is just fucking gross. And it seems to be happening more and more often and at a higher poop percentage.

And they have gotten even more devious and sneaky about it. You never see them actually do it, but let's be real....someone is using my front porch as a public toilet. Before you start thinking I am paranoid, riddle me this.....a couple of days ago, I went outside to get into my car. On the passenger side because I don't drive. And what do I find? Apparently, the birds decided to dive bomb my car but only on my side and only on my window. So while everyone else was bird poop free, my window had giant splotches of bird crap all over it. My kids thought this was just hilarious.

I blamed the red breasted robins innocently (or so it appeared) in my neighbors yard. I mean, what else am I going to think?

And then yesterday we had gone out to the Home Depot to get some paint and when we pulled up to our house I saw them. No, not the red breasted robins, I had falsely accused of barraging me with poop, (sorry robins) but black birds. Little evil black birds lined up on my porch wall, twelve to thirteen of them. And there were more on my actual porch floor. I had finally caught them red handed.....

And here is where I developed the crazy old man-get off my lawn mentality. I swung open my car door cursing at the little evil porch poopers and they flew away. My oldest ran up to the porch flapping his arms in the wind to try and help disperse them and I asked him the loaded question....how bad is my porch? Well, I will tell you just how bad my porch is.....it's covered. There are literally hundreds of blobs of bird poop over every square inch of this damn thing. And there is the tell-tale straight line of doody on my half wall.....bastards. It appears that some horrendous poop massacre had occurred while we were mindlessly traipsing around the Home Depot and we came home in the middle of it.

And to make matters worse, I even have an outside cat, so one would think that would be a bird deterrent. But no, they aren't the least bit bothered by something as paltry as their natural enemy lazing around on my porch.

This is causing me to obsess and my contamination fears are through the freaking roof. I mean, it's poop. Ewwwww.

So, last night as I laid there trying to sleep, I was plagued with thoughts as to how I am going to solve the bird poop debacle of 2015. If live cats aren't a deterrent, I doubt plastic owls would be anything but poop fodder. A scarecrow would be odd and kind of creepy sitting on my porch all year round. My friend suggested a fake snake but I am not certain they would be intimidated by that. She also suggested mirrored balls because birds don't like shiny mosaics. I am currently entertaining the idea of hanging hundreds of aluminum pie pans all over my house, like a big shiny disco ball circa 1975. I don't know what I am going to do but the one thing I am certain of is this can't go on....these feathered jerk faces can not be allowed to crap all over only my porch...and it is only my porch. I have checked. (not sure what that says about me.) It is the line in the sand this means war.....

So if you drive by a red brick house covered from roof to foundation in pie pans, it's probably mine, unless I can come up with a humane but yet kick ass deterrent to save what little is left of my sanity. Although, at this point that may be a moot issue....

Nature's for the birds, and apparently so is my porch.....have a great week guys.

Neurotic Nelly.

Blinded.....

My mom always says,"There are none so blind as those who will not see." And I sometimes think that is where we are. This divisional line in the sand crudely drawn with broken bits of lumber and long crooked pieces of driftwood. I sometimes feel like I can explain it until I am blue in the face and yet there are not enough words to fully paint such a horrific picture. I could go on and on and on and yet you would not get it. Not totally. And sometimes I wonder if that is because you are unable to understand because you do not suffer from it, or if it is simply because you can not see it. Or maybe it isn't that you can not see it but rather that you will not see it. Because seeing it means having to acknowledge the depth of agony, fear, and frustration that rules my life. And honestly, who wants to see that in the one they love?

I sit there in a quiet room and I hear you not meaning to trivialize, but doing it all the same and I want to scream....I want to yell......that yes, OCD can cause all of this pain. Yes, OCD can screw everything up and no, it doesn't necessarily matter what else is going on at the time. It is not that the triggers cause the anxiety as much as the OCD causes the triggers to be there in the first place. Without the mental illness there would be no triggers, just everyday things in life that no one notices except people like me.   So, it is in fact, just the OCD being the culprit and to pretend it is not such a big deal or that somehow I am blowing this all out of proportion is frustrating...not to mention, dangerous. Because OCD is a killer just as much as any other mental illness is and people need to remember that.

And I want you to understand my mental illness because if you did then you could understand me better. Because it is what makes me act the way I do, and it is what shapes my decisions right or wrong as they may be, and it is part of who I am. And since my youngest also has it, it would help you to understand him. It would help you to know what he will go through like I know what he will go through, because I have been in that hell for so long, I chose the wallpaper.

I really wish you could see. I wish I could explain it in a manner that didn't frighten you and that made more sense. I wish that you could see it as it is. It just is and like everything else, it is just something you have to learn to live with. I wish that it came with diagrams and maps and charts and picture books. I wish that it came with movies that depicted all of like it actually is and not the silly parts of it. I wish it came with warning labels and soft fuzzy blankets and posters to hang on the wall....I wish it came on coffee cups and in shadow boxes so that everyone could be familiar with it and understand it. So that everyone would know that it is a struggle and that struggle is real. That it is not an excuse for not doing something. It is not a fad or passing phase.  It can get better but it never goes away completely. It is manageable but it is not "curable". And he and I will be just fine although we will have bad days. We will also have good days. And there is always hope that things will get and remain better. Nothing in this world is hopeless as long as you make sure to always keep a positive attitude.

I don't know how else to put it. Maybe I fail at describing it in a way that makes it understandable. Maybe I fail at showing you how it works but then again I can not always understand the things you have gone through. Even though, I try really hard to. So there is that. Maybe I too sometimes can not see the struggles you go through for the very same reasons you can not see mine. Maybe that is what life is.....trying to see others and their lives with complete honesty and compassion and having love for them just the same....

Neurotic Nelly

I Think About.....

My day today started as dawn broke. The light peeking in through the window blinds. Some days I hate the light and others it is my welcome friend. The birds chirp, the clouds hover over head, the smell of coffee fills my atmosphere. My hopes that the morning light would mean a slightly warmer temperature was met with disappointment. It was 21 degrees. Mornings are quiet before everyone stirs and makes the normal morning sounds. I love this time. My time. Time when nothing is expected of me but to simply open my eyes. The few seconds before I roll out of bed and meet the world and all of it's expectations and demands...grudgingly.

Then it is afternoon. Somehow, the day seems like it is slipping through my fingers. I eat lunch, which I have never liked. Lunch always makes my stomach curl. It doesn't matter what I eat. I think it might be anxiety. I jot notes on paper only to lose them in  my cleaning spree. I bet if you opened the desk drawers and cabinet doors you would millions of my half assed thoughts lying around. Not that they would make much sense singularly, all together even less so. They are the keys to the thought narrative in my head. Sometimes a few lines, sometimes just a sentence, mostly just a word or two. As if my OCD  mind is some dark hidden diary that requires a special key to unlock and reads it's secret contents. Although, they really aren't so secret since I write many of them in here. They are just reminders of things I want to write about.....or phrases that touch my soul. Other people's quotes, poems, prose...ect. 

I was thinking about how when I am in the car and looking out the window, I often think about riding horses in the deep green grass. I think about running through corn mazes and having picnics. I think about how money seems like such an odd concept for me. Not because I have ever had much but because I have never had much. Even if I did, I would probably give most of it away. I always want to help others, do for those that have less than me, and I find many things to be ridiculously priced these days. I don't need a bouquet of roses, just pick some wild flowers on the side of the road.  I don't need diamonds and fancy shoes. I hate shoes, they make my feet sweaty. I don't know, maybe that is weird?

I think about how everything seems like people become more and more detached form each other. I used to write long thought out hand written letters on vintage stationary I bought from various resale shops and send them to my loved ones. All of the people I used to write to have since passed. They were the older generation. I receive no letters and send none back. It is kind of sad really. I get bills though....yay. (sarcasm)

I think about how my oldest is turning into a teenager and I worry if I am teaching him the right things. Do I teach him to really listen to the world around him? Do I teach him the importance of liking himself and trusting his intuitions? Because a low self esteem is a horrible cross to bear and a hard one to rectify. Do I teach him how to stand up for himself and the things he believes in? Do I teach him that life is love and music is a representation of life and therefore universal? Do I teach him that of all things in life I find to be important, compassion is the biggest and sometimes hardest thing to learn? Do I teach him that education is something to be serious about? Do I teach him to be fearless in his pursuits and to always question everything and to never give up?.....Hell I don't know. I try.  I hope these things are coming through, but with a teenager it can be hard to tell. He is an amazing kid,so I must be doing something right. After I write this I am going to call my mom and apologize again for being a teenager.....because wow....just wow. They are a real trip. I never appreciated all that she did for me like I do now that I am doing it for my kids. It's an eye opener. 

I think about what it must be like to live unafraid of the things I am afraid of. I think about how some apples were recalled for Listeria. My husband just bought some apples too. I most likely will not be eating them. I might if I feel up to battling the contamination fears. I don't at this exact moment. Maybe later...

I think about blood sugar levels and weight loss. I think about vacuuming the carpet. I think about finding things to write about and this horrid writer's block. I think about my husband's upcoming birthday, and wanting to train to run a marathon, and of learning to be secure in myself enough to go places on my own. I think about what nightclubs must be like because I am a horrid dancer and have never actually been in one. I think about bookstores and antique shops, and how much I love the smell of old musty books. I think about the Winter being over because I detest the cold.  I think about how nice the aroma of wood burning fireplaces and bonfires are. I think about the garden I am going to plant in the Spring as a memorial to my aunt because she liked pretty things and her favorite color was green.... I think about anything and everything in rapid succession and I wonder if maybe I have a touch of ADD with my OCD or if this is just how an overactive brain works.

It seems like thinking is all I ever do. A never ending, never ceasing mumble in the back of my brain much like the sound of a train passing by in the background. Only the train never passes fully, either that or it is the world's longest train track occupied by the world's longest train. If it is a train, then I hope it has a caboose like the ones I used to see as a kid when I played near the tracks of my great grandmother's house. Cabooses are a thing of the past too, and they were so neat looking. Children these days really miss out on some of the old cool things. Makes me feel a tad bit ancient.

I guess this post is about how OCD just never really stops. It is manageable but it is never quiet. Never fully silent. There will always be thoughts, and wondering, and thinking about stupid and or ridiculous things. There will always be that mumble in the back of your brain, even if the loud thoughts and images aren't present. It gets to be where you don't notice it as much. It is just something you learn to tune out. It is part of the OCD experience, I suppose. But hey, I always liked trains so I am not too bothered by it.

Neurotic Nelly

Inspiration.....Go Whitney!...Haters Need Not Apply....

Sorry I was unable to write last Thursday and Tuesday but I have been under the weather lately. A head cold and a case of "the blahs" will do that to you. But never fear, I am back!

I was watching this television show called "My Big Fat Fabulous Life" the other day. For those of you who haven't heard of this show, it is about a woman who wrestles with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and has become obese due to the weight gain of her disorder and depression. It is inspiring to me because she has such a wonderful outlook on life. She is working on losing weight but at the same time, she refuses to let it stop her from living her life. She dances. She goes on dates. She laughs. She LIVES.

Of course she gets haters, because people really don't like when someone "out of the mold" as they say, defies social norm and learns to love themselves, or pushes the media fantasy of what a "real woman" is, or refuses to be an unhappy recluse shamed to tears because she is fat.

And this show resonates with me on a number of levels. For one, I have wrestled with two separate eating disorders in my lifetime. A binge eating disorder I have struggled off and on with for most of my life and unspecified anorexia, which I had at the age of eighteen. Basically, I ate only tiny bites of food and exercised for six hours a day. My bones were sticking out, my face was sunken in, my hair had started to fall out.  I have never felt so fat as I did when I was anorexic. I was under 120 lbs which on my frame looks sickly, and yet in the mirror all I saw was fat. The scale was the weapon I used to torture myself with. Then after around a year and a half of this kind of horror with an inept therapist and a bad marriage helping to take it's toll in flipping me to the anorexia, I swung right back to the binge eating like I had done all of my life. I ballooned up, gaining one hundred and forty lbs leaving me at 260 lbs. My weight for me, has been a struggle and it still is a work in progress. I am finally for the first time under 190 lbs and eating completely healthy. I am for the first time, not worried about what the scale says, but what my doctor says about my blood tests. I am not binge eating anymore and have not for over a year.

The second reason for loving this show, is that I don't fit the mold either. Not just because I have been both overweight and too skinny, but because I have a mental illness. And just as there are several stigmas and untruths spread around about being overweight, there are equal if not more stigmas and untruths being spread about mental illness. Some of them are similar i.e. laziness, weak willed, pathetic, disgusting, worthless....and some of them go a step further i.e. dangerous, scary, unhinged....ect. So, even though, I am not as big as the woman in this television show, I feel like we could have been sisters in the discrimination department. We are similar in the discrimination that she faces and the battles she has dealt with because of other people's judgments making her judge herself.

I doubt she knows how inspiring she is, not just to those people with weight issues but also to those of us who have also unknowingly let our disorders steal life away from us. Those of us that too, do  not fit the society's mold of perfection. Because we are scared of what other people would say. Of what other people might think. Of how we forget that we have every right to be seen and be loved not just by others but more importantly, by ourselves.

She says things that inspire me. When she was about to teach a dance class and she was talking about her weight and struggles. Her words hit me like a ton of bricks," It's about a passion and if you feel it you gotta bring it."  And I thought about all of the things I am passionate about but I am afraid of and it made me realize I have a right to do what I am passionate about, to admit that there are big things I am passionate about, and that I have a right to be passionate in the first place. Because she is human, and I am human, and we are all human and to be human is to dream, to learn, to love, and to be passionate.


Case in point, next weeks episode preview was about her buying a swimsuit for the first time in twenty years. I sat there and tried to remember when I bought my last swimsuit, which was over thirteen years ago. Then I tried to remember when I last went to a beach or public swimming hole and I realized it had been at least fourteen years. Not because I was overweight or not, but simply because even though I enjoy swimming, I have OCD and being in a large group makes me feel vulnerable and nervous. It took a television show to show me how far I have let my OCD stop me in things I could be doing. I should be doing. Things I used to love to do but somehow became complacent in because I was worried how other people would react if I had an anxiety attack.

The woman in the show is not so different from the rest of us. She is different from what the media force feeds you to believe everyone should be but she is so much more than that. She is beautiful, she is strong. She is an inspiration and she is a bad ass. She is everything all of us are but many of us just haven't been able to see it yet.

She is learning to say yes to things and she is doing things for herself. In spite of other's ignorant comments and opinions and it inspires me. Maybe one day soon I will go and try a new swimsuit on and go to the beach. Because if she can do it, and not give a flying fritter what other people think, I can too. If she can dance and kick ass then I can too, even though I am a horrid dancer. If she can say yes to things that make her uncomfortable simply because she is an amazing, positive, and inspirational human being, than I can too. Because as she says," I have one life to live and it damn sure better count"

No one deserves to live in shame whether it be for weight, mental illness, or anything different. Difference is what makes us unique and beautiful. Difference is what makes us...us and we are fabulous.

You go girl! Thank you for reminding me to keep trying even when things are scary and rough. You are an inspiration to more than you know!
Neurotic Nelly

Silver Linings....

I finally got to watch Silver Linings Playbook. My husband didn't really understand it but I sure did. It was a good movie. It resonated with me.

Part of what keeps me positive is finding the silver linings in things. So, I have been trying to do that everyday.

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Things here are still pretty stressful. I had this horrid nightmare last night that I was on a bus going downtown and people kept touching my face (one of my major triggers). Like a bunch of strangers walking down the isle putting their open palms on my cheeks and mouth.......shudder..... I could feel the anxiety swell and I tried to yell at them to stop. No voice would come out at first but when it finally did, no one listened. It was awful!

Silver Lining: I woke up by rolling of the bed and was relieved that it was just a really bad dream. No one had actually been touching my face unless it was one of my cats and that is perfectly fine.

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I have been stuck in a weight plateau of 195 lbs for six months. It was really bumming me out. No matter how much I tried on my elliptical bike, I couldn't lose anymore. It was starting to really bug me. First I did 10 miles a day. That seemed to do nothing weight wise but I did get some great leg muscles. Then I tried to up the resistance and only do 5 miles a day. That didn't seem to do much, either. After three months an zero loss on the scale I became irritated. I wasn't looking for a huge amount of difference but I was hoping for at least a half a pound. Out of extreme desperation, I upped the resistance to where every ten pedals I feel as if my legs have been set on fire. I push through and do 5 miles a day even though I have to take breaks between every mile. It hurts, I hate it but you don't go to the gym and not "feel the burn" so exercise at home should probably feel the same. I need to lose about 30-40 more lbs to be "target weight" for my height.

Silver Lining: I lost eight lbs finally!!!!! My blood sugar is much better and I look forward to the possibility of being able to manage my diabetes without medication. Although I am not sure I will be able to not have to use the medication, I am going to give it the good ol' college try.

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I haven't had as much time to write and think and do my posts because of all that is going on.  It seems like I have lost the "alone time" it takes for me to be able to put thoughts together. I am always busy and I can't even get my house as clean as I would like. I kind of feel like I just can't catch up. I lose the energy to clean when everyone is home. I clean better and write better when I am alone.

Silver Lining: I haven't had time for my OCD to plague me either. Not a bad trade if you ask me. Things will eventually get back to normal at some point and I will have a cleaner house, better posts, and my OCD will be back in full swing (the last thing not being great but at least I am used to it).

So, things are hard but I am getting through it. It is sometimes all about attitude and I am trying to keep a positive attitude going. Or, as the movie says, "Excalibur". Stay positive and keep going no matter what obstacles get thrown in your path. You can either stop  in front of them and walk away feeling defeated or climb up them scratching and clawing until you get over them. And I need the exercise anyway....

Silver Linings, people. Silver Linings.....
Neurotic Nelly

Ummmm, Yeah...

Today I would like to celebrate two years of writing this blog. Two years ago, I had no idea what I was doing, if there was an audience for my platform, or if what I had to say was going to be received in a positive light. As it stands, I have had wonderful feedback, tremendous support, and terrific feedback. I thank you all for supporting me and being my amazing readers. This is my two year celebration but really, this is our two year celebration. So, here's to us!

I would also like to take a moment and wish one of my greatest supporters, my Grandma, a lovely happy birthday. Today, she turns 75! Without her and the support of my friends and family and you guys, I wouldn't be here. I certainly wouldn't be writing. And I would have never known just how many of us are out there and how important mental illness dialogue is.

So, happy blog anniversary to US and Happy Birthday Grandma!!!! Ummmm, yeah. Today is pretty awesome!


Neurotic Nelly

We Are Worth It.....

So, after my last post things started looking up. First of all, I got some much needed support and comments on my google+ page in my blog comment section. You guys are amazing and thank you so much.

Then I read this post from an incredible blogger http://judyjourny.blogspot.com/2014/12/thoughts-on-approaching-new-year.html. Her last few lines hit me in the gut and made me realize that even though I am weathering a bad storm, I have been here before. And just like last time, I will get through this too. Sometimes, you just need to be reminded of how far you have come. Especially, when setbacks rear their ugly heads.

Then this morning I read some stories that made me sad and well, angry. And I was reminded why I started this blog almost two years ago. Through my ups and downs, I started as a scared but yet hopeful mental illness blogger just praying that there were other people like me out in there in the world. Never thinking that that those people understood me better sometimes, than I even understood myself. And it makes sense to me because although we may all have different mental illnesses, pain is universal. And the understanding of that pain and the compassion we show each other is also universal. But even more than that, LOVE is universal.

All of us walk down winding blinding paths. Sometimes the fog rolls in and we become unable to see. We become blinded to all that we offer the world. The negative thoughts set in and we lose the ability to not only see the love we get but also the ability to love ourselves. We start to believe that we don't matter. But the funny thing about fog, is even in the thickest darkest hours eventually the fog lifts. And we can see the path again. Clear not for the first time but clear enough to pass. And that is all life is, a couple of steps at a time. Helping those you meet along the way. Understanding pain, having compassion, and most of all offering Love. Not just for others but for yourself as well, because dammit, we are worth it. (Even if we sometimes think we aren't)

Then this song came on the radio and I just knew that this was what my post needed to be about.




And even though this is a love song and it is about a relationship, I kind of took it to mean something totally different. It made me think of us, all of us dealing with mental illness and the relationships we have with our own selves. And how much we need to support each other because who understands us better than we do? And how many times has it been just one kind word or sympathetic smile that made you turn from suicidal thoughts and made you hold on for just one more day. One more day is all it takes. A couple of steps at a time.

The lyrics touched me and it made me realize that I am strong and it is because we all are strong. That even in the darkest of times, I can never give up on myself and I can not give up on my mental illness community either. We are all in this together. What I do affects others and I need to make sure that everyone knows that that they belong on this earth. That they have a place here. That they are many things in this life but alone is never one of those things. We are strong. We are tough. We are magnificent. I refuse to give up and I hope that you refuse as well.

As the song says:

When I look into your eyes
It's like watching the night sky
Or a beautiful sunrise
Well, there's so much they hold
And just like them old stars
I see that you've come so far
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?

I won't give up on us.
 Even if the skies get rough.
 I am giving you all my love.
 I'm still looking up.

And even the stars, they burn. 
Some even fall to the earth.
 We got a lot to learn.
 God, knows we are worth it.
 No I won't give up.

I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily
I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use
The tools and gifts we got, yeah, we got a lot at stake
And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend
For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn
We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in
I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not, and who I am.

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up, still looking up.

Well, I won't give up on us (no I'm not giving up)
God knows I'm tough enough (I am tough, I am loved)
We've got a lot to learn (we're alive, we are loved)
God knows we're worth it (and we're worth it)

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up

We are still losing good people out there and this has to change. Stigma has to end and compassion has to grow. And the only way to do that is to live for those that could not hold on and fight for those that are not able to speak out from fear. We have to hold on not just for ourselves but for each other. Because simply put, we are all important. We all matter. All lives matter...Everyone. And God knows we are worth it. I am worth it and just as importantly YOU are worth it too.


Neurotic Nelly

Gutted.....

              I must have broken a mirror, whilst standing under a ladder,  holding an open umbrella in my living room, while a horde of angry black cats crossed my path. That must be what happened and I just don't remember it because I was drunk. (I don't drink) But, clearly that must have been the case.

I am so over Christmas. Hell, I am over this year. This last month was horrible. So horrible in fact, that I have to sit and laugh at it because if I were to sit and cry about I am not sure I would ever stop.

Lots of people do a count down till Christmas. This year we had one of our own but it wasn't the painstakingly hand sewn red felt calendar with the happy motifs of Santa Claus or shimmering glittery snowmen with the candy cane counter. Ours was more of a countdown on moldy torn fabric warily clinging to the nail, praying to God that it didn't blow away in the shit storm that we are weathering.

Before Thanksgiving my husband got hurt at work. He chipped his hip bone and hurt his back. He was in pain but he is a hard worker and so he went to work everyday despite numbness in his back and feet.

The day before Thanksgiving, my grandma became very ill and had to be hospitalized for eighteen days. She almost died on us.

Two weeks before Christmas my Christmas tree (the one thing that made me still feel hopeful for Christmas cheer) dried up. Most people have Christmas trees that sparkle. Mine molted. Most are full and fluffy, mine was crispy and stabby.

Six days before Christmas my husband was laid off. "Merry Christmas to you and by the way, we don't need you anymore....have fun with trying to pay bills and buy Christmas gifts for your kids..."

A few days later, my oldest cat became extremely ill. We did everything we could including taking him to the vet to get shots and medicine but his kidneys had stopped functioning. He had lost six lbs in two weeks.

Two days before Christmas, he had to be put to sleep....He was in pain and was going to die a painful death within the next few days and the vet told us the humane thing to do would be to end his suffering rather than let  him suffer.

The day before Christmas eve instead of having happy thoughts of Christmas gifts and sugar plumb fairy dreams, my kids stood outside in the rain as we buried beloved Geves. (We didn't ask them to stay out there with us. They both just walked outside while we buried him. I was very proud of what little men they are becoming.) Instead of cheer my eight year old tried to come to grips with the truth that no, cats do not actually have nine lives. I had to explain to him in detail on Christmas Eve, that even if he did throw a coin into a water fountain and wish for Geves to come back, it wouldn't work because life doesn't really work that way.

Then we had a reprieve and went to my mother's house which was nice. We had a good time full of family and love. We didn't really want to come back home to a house without Geves though. To have to come back to our home and pretend we don't feel the glaringly obvious absence of one of our buddies. The other three cats are grieving just as much as we are. Now, our house is just a big grief sandwich filled with sadness and uncertainty. He used to sleep with me. I can't sleep in my bed because it makes me too sad to not feel him at my feet. My other cats won't go upstairs anymore, so I am now sleeping in the living room.

Christmas morning, my kids opened their gifts and played. A quiet relief of them forgetting for a second that all is not right with the world right now for us. I was thankful for that.

Santa had brought them "stickies" in their stockings. Those little oddly shaped creatures that are sticky to the touch so you can throw them on the wall and watch them "walk" down the wall. One of my kids had flung one on the ceiling in the dining room. It was so sticky it didn't fall down even after hanging there for two hours. When my husband stood on a chair to get it down, it ended up pulling off a plate sized portion of the plaster off of the ceiling.

 I laughed and laughed and laughed. Ridiculous. This month has been so bad it has been utterly ridiculous. I asked them not throw them on the ceiling anymore lest my whole damn house start to fall in around our heads when we pull them off.

I was laughing but then I was sick to stomach. So sick of Christmas and dead trees, and sickness, and pain, and loss, and of having an unsure future. I looked at all of the decorations I had lovingly hung and it made me feel even more disgusted. I looked at my husband. I looked at my kids happily playing in the other room and something inside me snapped. I started tearing down the decorations. I couldn't remove them fast enough. It was almost as if they were now, for me tainted somehow. I put away the stockings and dismantled my dried husk of a tree. I threw it off of the porch to let it stagnate in the yard until the trash man comes. I removed the what now seemed to be a sick joke of festive decorations and boxed them in their bubble wrap and tape. I swept the floor of the pine needles like I was cleaning out the negative emotions in my head. Each sweep of the broom was sweeping away the tears and sadness that had become my constant companion these last few days. I was purging this bad Christmas away from my home, my eye view, and hopefully, my recollection. I packed up Christmas and forbid myself to even think about it again until next year, where hopefully it will not be as much of a disaster as it was this year. I left my kid's tree up. I  didn't take away their decorations and joy because I am not heartless. I just couldn't stomach one more second of looking at the red a green and gold balls dangling in the light happily or the wreaths proclaiming joy and peace. I couldn't swallow one more cheerful Christmas carol or digest one more sniff of a cinnamon candle. I couldn't tolerate one more paper angel or blinking Christmas tree light. I wanted to erase the unfulfilled Christmas feelings that now felt like lies. I wanted vomit Christmas back up like it was something rotten I had eaten as a midnight snack. It left a bitter bile taste in my mouth. So much wrong in such a short span while the world is happy and telling you that you should be as well, activated my gag reflex. I couldn't take it.

I couldn't even have the lights on the tree plugged in because the tree would catch fire and yet deep down I dreamed of setting the damn thing on fire in my yard myself as a protest. I protest this Christmas and all of the suffering and fuckery that it entailed this year. It was a horrid, horrid year and I wish I could erase it from my memory.

And if things weren't bad enough to ramp my OCD into overdrive, I just went to urgent care for pain in my tailbone and was told that I have a congenital dimple there. When I told the doctor there is Spina Bifida in my family he was concerned that I may have it as well. Now, I have to have an ultrasound done on my spine and maybe a cat scan as well....So, I am more than just a tad bit upset. Fuck this year, seriously.

As always, I am remaining positive. (Ha ha ha.) I should say I am trying my damnedest to remain positive even though everything around me seems to be falling apart. I am trying to remain hopeful and thankful and I am praying. Like I always do. I know that everything will work out eventually, it just has been so hard. So stressful. So devastating. I feel numb. I feel angry. I feel sad. I feel....hollow. Empty. Gutted.

Luckily, I am blessed with a wonderful supportive family and friends and they are helping us deal with all of this...crap. I can't help but think of others going through this and not having that support. It really upsets me. No one in this country, let alone this world, should work so hard only to be one or two paychecks away from losing everything they have struggled for. But that is my opinion and this is reality. I have decide reality blows.

Here's hoping your Christmas was better than mine and that next year is a better and happier year for all of us. Because I have always loved Christmas....just not this one. Not this way and not this time.

Hopefully things will be looking up soon and my next post will be less depressing. You can bet that at 12:00 a.m. on Jan 1st there will be cheers and hooting and hollering like there always is. Only this time the loudest will probably be coming from my house. Screw this crapified year and all of it's heart break. Come on 2015 don't fail me now! We could really use a break here...and maybe even some good news as well.

Until Thursday,
Neurotic Nelly

Warm Wishes....

Thursday is Christmas so I will not have time to write on this Thursday. Today's post is just a small post wishing everyone a peaceful and safe holiday season. Whatever your religious beliefs are, I send my warmest wishes to you all....

For those of you who are struggling with the holiday stress and are feel overwhelmed, remember to breathe. You will get through this.

For those of you who feel alone and wonder if anyone else feels the same way, remember that you are not alone. This can be a stressful time for many of us and you are many things. Many  positive, wonderful things, but alone isn't one of them.

So, to you all....be safe, have fun, breathe, and try to relax. Happy Holidays. See you next Tuesday.

Warm wishes,
Neurotic Nelly

Go Suck An Egg OCD....

I was so busy yesterday, finding time to write was like putting socks on a rooster. I have a bunch of things going on right now and only about 1/4 of them are positive things. Most of them are depressing, and maddening, and just down right unpleasant. But me being me, I am trying to stay positive.

I would list the bad things going on but I don't want to depress myself any further. A few good things are that my grandma is finally back home after eighteen days in the hospital. She is doing well. My youngest had a school Christmas performance. It was really adorable as all little kid school performances are. We haven't frozen to death this winter....yet. Christmas is just around the corner. We still have a roof over our heads....

It is the small things like this that keep me going. Because the bad stuff just seems to pile up and add on and procreate until it starts to feel like they are physically laying on your chest smothering you last breath out of your lungs.

So what did I do? Well, first I had a good ole cry. A big one. Like one of those migraine inducing from the snot moving around in your sinuses because you have cried so long and so hard kind of cry. Then after that I looked at myself in the mirror, in which I realized no one should ever have to look at themselves after that kind of cry....scary. Then I prayed and gave it all to God, because I am at a complete and total loss as to what I am supposed to do to fix anything or change any type of outcome. Then I made myself get up, shower, dress, and slather on my "war paint" and went to my kid's play.

I refused to dive into the rabbit hole of OCD today. Even though there is this really odd errant smell of old beans in my kitchen (we haven't had any beans). I did not allow myself to search it out and clean the whole kitchen with an old toothbrush and bleach. I refused to let my anxiety act up when the person behind me at the play was coughing and sneezing. I wouldn't go so far as to say I would lick their shoes or sit beside them  or anything, but I didn't change seats or cover my mouth and nose with the collar of my shirt like I wanted to. I did not vacuum away my anxiety or hand wash till my hands bled. I guess that is a good start.

My OCD seems under control outwardly and is only noticeable when I am not stressed but let's be real, who is never stressed? I am completely stressed. I am overloaded with it, hung up by it, strangled from it, and drowning in it. So, yea my OCD is going to flare up. It is going to try and rise from the ashes as the proverbial mental illness phoenix and take it's ugly smelly wrath out on me and I am not having any of it. I am unafraid. I am not about to give this damn bird another hour of my life, another day, another week, another month, another year. It will try and I may fail but it is not going to do this to me without a damn good fight on it's hands. I just hope it has it's boxing gloves on because I mean business.

I am just going to do whatever I have to do and keep plugging along taking back my life from OCD bit by bit. Centimeter by centimeter until it becomes inch by inch. Inches until it becomes feet. Feet until becomes miles. I will never be OCD free but I don't have to accept being OCD enslaved. This is me breaking my chains. This is me cutting the ties that bind. This is me retaking back my life. Go suck an egg, OCD. I have enough issues going on without you bothering me relentlessly. I got this. I got this.

Neurotic.....

Well, my beautiful Christmas tree is dead. Like a dried out pokey husk of what it used to be. I finally got to where it made me happy OCD wise, looking at such a beautiful lighted menagerie only to have die on me. The day may have been hard or tiring and I would walk into the dining room and gaze upon it's glittery shining appearance and feel peace and calm. Now I just feel empty. Sure, it is still glittery and shiny but now it is less green and more crusty. Even the wonderful evergreen scent has faded away. It's depressing me.

I am fighting the urge to throw a full grown fit like a three year old complete with alligator tears and throwing myself to the floor......sigh. It just kind of summons up the last few weeks. Blerg.

I was so depressed I forgot what day it was yesterday and didn't write. Now, I feel kinda guilty about that too. Sorry guys.

Some good things this week are my Grandma is supposed to get out of the hospital next Tuesday, finally. She has given us a few scares with her health there, so I can't wait for her to go back home. And, tomorrow is my youngest's birthday so I made homemade chocolate chip cookies for his school for today. I was so stoked that I didn't burn them on the bottom (as I have now discovered the amazing properties of parchment paper). I spent an extra twenty minutes making sure they were all similar sizes. You can't have wonky sized cookies and give them to kids. Then one kid would feel bad and I can't have that. We even gave the bus driver one. I am just secretly praying none of my hair got in the batter. I had it severely plastered back before I cooked just to be sure. I think I need a hair net though. Like for anytime I cook....or go in the kitchen...or maybe just to wear constantly. I think I am shedding or going bald or molting.

The flu is going around and my wonderfully informative news has declared that the flu vaccine doesn't really work for this particular strain. So, there is that terrific bit of news. You're welcome. And supposedly there is also a 14 day stomach virus going around the school. The school bus driver is now wearing a face mask. She said the kids on the bus have been dropping like flies. I am not worried though.....okay that is a complete lie. I am a little concerned. Oh, who am I fooling, I am petrified.

How weird is it when it is 25 degrees outside and you think to yourself, "Huh, It's not that cold out here"?
As someone born and raised in Texas, I am pretty sure this shouldn't be a phrase I should ever be using. Apparently, living up north for the last thirteen years has changed me. I still refuse to completely acclimate to "yankee" (as my southern relatives would call it) traditions.  Like eating geotta- yucky- or putting spaghetti noodles in my chili.....what in the hell?  I still don't get some of the sayings and traditions. Like, "forgot crapped his pants" if you say you forgot something...I mean what does that even mean? But I guess that is par for the course. I mean, many of these people have never seen cotton fields, wheat fields, and bean fields. They find my accent to be strange and "funny sounding". Sometimes they do not understand my sayings and euphemisms. I don't know anyone from here that has seen a "Mexican jumping bean". Most people that I have met, don't like black eyed peas, or pea salad, or all of the bean laden meals I grew up with. Not a huge number of people have a strong hankering for fried catfish which kinda makes me sad. Even the Mexican food seems kind of off to me here. Of course, it is Mexican food in Ohio, so I guess that makes sense. Everything is pork here which after thirteen years, I still shudder at the thought of pork ribs. Can I not get some decent beef ribs for the love of God!!!???!!! The snow is pretty but I have learned to hate it. It's so cold and it gets ugly and dirty looking after the cars and snow plows run over it. It's slippery and I live in a constant state of fear that I am going to fall. I fell on a bunch of acorns on the side walk on a perfectly clear Fall day, once. True story. So you can see how thrilled I would be to walk on slippery surfaces that appear to be clear but are actually black ice. I think I should by soccer cleats to get to the bus stop safely. That being said, I like it okay here.

I used to dream of becoming a piano bar singer. Is that weird? I wanted to dress up in beautiful dresses and sing Billie Holiday songs in a club. I visualized soft lighting and grand accompaniment. Smoke filled rooms and the gentle clinking of glasses while I belted out my rendition of Gloomy Sunday......Now, I dream of owning a Christmas tree farm where you grow trees and let the families pick them out and cut them down to take home and make them even more beautiful. I would always have that gorgeous smell of evergreen. I would make a Christmas shop in my barn and sell handmade ornaments and decorate trees in different decorations to show how they would look. We could even have a Santa come and take pictures with the kids. It would be wonderful to have that Christmas feeling for a longer period of time and be able to help share it with others. Lights and hot apple cider and red and green mittens and garland made of popcorn...  And in the Fall we could grow pumpkins and make corn mazes and have hay rides. And I would drive out to the mailbox on a unpaved driveway in my 1950's old beat up Ford pick up truck that is  two toned powder blue and white with scratches on it. I would only go to the mailbox though because I don't see well enough to actually drive. I know this is a lot of work and frankly, I know nothing about farming and this is all a pipe dream but it is my pipe dream dammit. So I can pretend, right? Since it is a pipe dream I could be both a Christmas tree farmer and a piano bar singer. I could sing like Billie in a fancy dress that just happens to smell like one of those little green Christmas tree car air freshners but "fresher". That could work, right?

Geeze, what did I write? This post is so all over the place. I guess it is just one of those days where I don't have anything really important to say so I say whatever pops into my head....lol. Makes me sound kind of neurotic....

Anyway enough of this babbling, I will post again on Tuesday. Hope you all have an amazing weekend.

Neurotic Nelly

You Just Can't See It Yet......

I keep seeing this floating around on the internet and it bothers me...

Gag...I am not a feminist, at least I don't think I am. I kinda feel like if you are a feminist, you know you are such. Right? I don't think I am a feminist but I am a realist. I don't blame men for everything. I don't feel like they are the cause of all evil or that everything wrong with our society is entirely their fault. No it is all of our faults. Both men and women.

This sign bothers me for many reasons. What does this even mean? Is it implying that you are fragile trinket that has fallen from a shelf? That you are a broken vase that needs to be glued back together with love and gorilla glue? 

I get irritated by this saying and it's notions. Like the fact that it implies that to be whole you have to someone else fix you. Or the fact that it seems to imply that one should just wait around while their broken pieces lay all over the place until your knight in shining armor comes to your rescue. Or even, that you need to be saved in the first place.....

I don't agree with this odd notion that you have to be rescued from yourself by someone else. That is simply not true. There are tons of people in this word that seem to think this way. That they just need someone else to save them or to make them feel "complete". I see this a lot more in younger women and girls and it perplexes me. They are constantly waiting around for Sr Galahad to come traipsing out of the wood riding upon a strong white steed, whilst saving you from your own self esteem issues, emotional baggage, and whatever else is tormenting you at the moment.

Here is something that these over romantic, immature, ridiculous memes don't tell you, you don't need to have someone save you. You have to do that yourself. You have to put in the work. You have to look at yourself and work on your issues first, before you even think about getting involved with someone else. It is not their place to fix your broken pieces, it is yours. Don't wait around for a knight in shining armor to come to the rescue because sometimes your knight in shining armor turns out to be just an idiot wrapped in tin foil. What do you do then? Who is going to hold you so tight your broken pieces fit now? Certainly not Sir Galahasn't. Take it from me. I dated him in high school, married and divorced his cousin Sir Galacan't, and I have went out with a bunch of Sir Gala-not-worth-the-time-I-spent-fixing-my-hair. It is not their fault that it didn't work out as much as it is my fault for thinking I needed them to complete me in the first place.  

What I have learned in my "old age" is that the things I deal with, my issues, my "broken pieces" don't need to be held together my someone else. Hell, they may not even need to be held in at all.  Sometimes it is perfectly okay to let them lay around on the floor and let me look at them so that I can decide on how to fix them. I can decide on if I need to glue them back in place or not. What I have learned is that, relationships are hard work and if you are too busy hating yourself, then you can't let anyone else love you. You don't have time to keep up the relationship because you are always expecting the other person to heal your wounds and make you whole. In realty, you should choose to be with that person not feel as if you can't live without them. You can. You can stand on your own. You can be whole without being in a relationship. You can conquer your fears, your issues, and your baggage all by yourself (and maybe with some therapy). 

If I could interject a better meme it would say something like this:

"Love yourself. Heal yourself. Know your worth as person. For one day you will hold yourself so tight that all of your broken pieces will fit back together. "

Because you don't need saving. You don't need the proverbial  mythical "someone" you just need you. 

Because you are strong all by yourself. You are brave all by yourself. You are capable all by yourself. You just can't see it yet.

Neurotic Nelly

An Ember.......

An ember is a glowing, hot coal made of greatly heated wood, coal, or other carbon-based material that remain after, or sometimes precede a fire. Embers can glow very hot, sometimes as hot as the fire which created them. They radiate a substantial amount of heat long after the fire has been extinguished....

The holidays fast approach us all. And although many are thrilled and caught up in the excitement of red and green, present wrapping, Christmas tree decorating, or candle lighting. As many of our houses smell of cinnamon, hot chocolate, and evergreen. As an electric cheer seems to snap through the air touching everyone in some way creating an unidentifiable warmth that spreads from person to person, I know that not everyone loves this time of year. For many it is not the best time to celebrate. To some this is not a holiday of giving and peace but a holiday full of triggers and pain. Feelings of loss. Feelings of failure. An extreme overwhelming sense of loneliness.

For those that feel this way about the Christmas/Holiday season, this post if for you more than anyone else. I know the frost in the air freezes to the bone. I know that instead of joy you only see a gray expanse of nothingness. I know that all of the carols and wishes of good cheer fall silent in your mind. I know that you feel like no one on the face of this planet understands you, knows how you feel, or gets what you are going through. That nothing can reach your heart because there is so much pain. Too much pain to accept anything else.

To those people I want to say that I was you once. I have been there. Many of us have. You are not alone. People do see you. People do understand your pain. And it is simply not true that you are a failure or that your life goes unnoticed. You matter even if sometimes it doesn't seem like it.  You are important. The people, the world, the universe needs you. You are here for a reason. We do not understand how the world works or for what reason we are where we are but that doesn't mean there is not a reason. There is and you are here on purpose. You belong here. You belong. 

I don't expect a blog post to make you feel less alone although I sincerely hope it does. And I don't expect you to change your whole feelings about holidays just because I wrote a few words. What I do hope is that this little message of support I am sending out to the world, will touch you in some small way. That it can be a little spark of hope that could turn into a tiny little burning ember. An ember that could in time, become a raging fire of self acceptance. 

I hope that this post reminds you of how important you are even if you have forgotten in the mess of things. I hope that you can start to see yourself like I do. As a strong, intelligent, magnificent human being. You are not just a person lost in the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. You are the stars that light up the sky at night. You are the magic that flows through the leaves hanging on the branches of the world's strongest tree. You are what makes the world a unique and wondrous place. You are worthy. You are important. You are not alone. You matter.

I hope this post becomes an ember that reminds you are just you and you and you are magnificent. Thinking of all of you this Holiday Season. Take care my friends....

Neurotic Nelly

Just Stop It Already....RANT......RANT......

Thanksgiving was interesting. My Grandma was sick and had to go to the hospital the day before Thanksgiving. She was in the hospital up until today. She is now going to a rehabilitation to help her regain her strength.  God only knows how long it will be until she gets to go home. I am worried about her which triggers my OCD medical fears about myself. We spent three days at my mom's and I helped clean my grandma's apartment after which I took a shower and then spent twenty minutes trying to remove a comb I was attempting to brush my unruly mane with, from said unruly mane. It was firmly implanted in my hair like I was born with it there. (This is why I carry my own hair comb but I forgot it this time.) Then after we returned home I started to decorate out new Christmas tree we picked up Saturday, only to somehow manage to get the string of Christmas lights entangled in my hair as well. I guess I am just having a bad hair week. Or maybe my hair has Pica or was super hungry...who knows.

The tree is decorated "Old World" style. I used to read Christmas books as a child and I always loved the illustrations with the Christmas trees that had garland and red and gold ornaments. My tree looks good but I need to get those little white candles to put on the tree. Fakes ones of course, because real ones are a fire hazard and I am extremely clumsy. I mean, I got the lights tangled in my hair, just imagine what I would be like around lit candles..

Am I happy with the tree? No because it is never perfect enough. And that is how OCD works my friends. It has to be perfect but it never quiet reaches the mark. It is something all OCD sufferers learn to live with.

Then I got on the internet to search OCD news and I ended up reading this article with the title "Khloe: I'm an OCD Freak."

It's about Klohe Kardashian ( I have no idea why I bothered to read such drivel) and her Thanksgiving table and plans. There were these pictures of a grand and intricately decorated table and here is what she says.


“A sneak peak of my craziness today. I know you see my OCD in high gear when you look at my cookie jars,”

“I have a problem... I know... but I like everything neat and in its place. This kind of stuff makes me SO happy!! #HappyThanksgiving”


Yea, because nothing says happiness like OCD. Hell, I know that my life with OCD is all shits and giggles. I couldn't be happier that I spent six hours today trying not to obsess over whether or not I have thyroid cancer because I am being triggered by holiday stress. I am so glad that Khloe Kardashian knows my pain..... I now feel complete.....*snicker*

I am so sick of hearing how liking things orderly is OCD. Sick to death of it, seriously. Stop it already! You don't have OCD because you like to line up your cookie jars a certain way. What you might have is a plethora of self importance, narcissism, delusions of grandeur, and possibly some serious self esteem issues but the one thing you do not have is OCD. You do not say that OCD makes you so happy, if you actually have it. Because if you actually had it you would understand what a fucking horrible burden having OCD is. Here's a tip, there are actual words used to describe OCD. I won't burden you with the long list of what they are but I will tell you what they aren't. They aren't words like happy, or cool, or fashionable, or fun. It's mental illness and it blows. Okay? Is that so hard for people to understand?

And further more, I really don't want my mental illness to be sullied or trivialized by some small minded idiot who only got famous because her sister is famous for a sex tape and or possibly being peed on. I am so tired of seeing everything these ridiculous self absorbed people say plastered all over the news as if they have a fucking clue what they are talking about. They don't. So please for the love of all things holy, stop it already.

I think what bothers me the most is that this year has been the hardest for me OCD wise. I have been battling OCD for as almost as long as I can remember and I have been unmedicated for over three years now, but there have been a ton of stressers this year. Deaths in my family, diagnoses of medical issues, relearning how to function on somewhat of a schedule which truth be told, has never been my strong suit. And to have to read something so asinine as my mental illness/mental hell being reduced to something as paltry as lined up cookie jars just really pisses me off. As if it would make sense out of all of this pain and frustration if I would only be famous, ridiculously rich and stupid, and just line my crockery in eye pleasing patterns. Then and only then I could be "so happy". So no, I am not really happy right now. Especially, after reading an article that calls OCD sufferers "freaks"....(Gee thanks. That really bolsters my self esteem.) Or having to read ridiculous claims made by morally inept morons as to why their Thanksgiving preparations in any way compare to the absolute hell I have been living with the last thirty one years.

I mean, I think we as sufferers of all mental illnesses deserve more respect than that. We deserve to be treated like what we have is an actual illness and isn't something to be used as a general term for something odd or quirky. Just because you are having a bad day doesn't make you " Bipolar". Feeling paranoid does not make you "Schizo". And lining your cookie jars up in a row clearly does not make you "OCD". So stop it. Just stop.

And just so you know, poorly written news article author: We are magnificent, brave, courageous, intelligent, and strong individuals. We are many things to the many people in our lives. We are important and we matter. We are not "freaks". We are human beings. So, educate yourself because smearing us with words like "freak" shows your ignorance and bias. And I don't think anyone who suffers form mental illness finds your title amusing or cute.


Neurotic Nelly

Unacceptable.....

 I was watching The View and I was quite flabbergasted. They were talking about the allegations about Mr. Cosby and the fifteen, I think it is now, accusers that say he raped them. I was upset at the side talking and swaying of the issue. Now, I don't always agree with Rosie O'Donnell's views but in this case I agreed wholeheartedly. The other's seemed to side track the issue and remain muted on the actual subject of rape. They made it about media slander and if there is a media slander going on anywhere let me tell you, just read the comments people are saying about these women accusing Mr. Cosby of rape.
It is beyond disheartening the way other people have dragged their names and assumed personal characters through the mud.

I do not know if Mr. Cosby did what he is accused of.  I do have an opinion on it, but that isn't even the point of this post. The point of this post is to clear up the overwhelming amount of ignorance there seems to be in the mass public about sexual assault and rape. And as sexual assault victim it really bothers me.

The things I have read and the victim shaming and blaming really upset me. Questions like, "Who waits thirty years to report a rape?" or "Why didn't they go to the police?" It seems like these would be easy questions to answer but they aren't.

In this country, 60% of sexual assaults are not reported to the police.  I know I did not report my assault. I was young, I was scared, and I was ashamed. I never spoke about it in a public way until last year. That means I didn't openly discuss it for...21 years. That in no way means that I made it up or I wanted attention. I only decided to post about it earlier this year because  one of my dear friends convinced me to in hopes that it may help someone else struggling with sexual assault issues. Otherwise, I may have never discussed it all. Not because it didn't affect me but because it did affect me and I don't like to relive it.

Sadly still in this day and age, many survivors do not report their rape or sexual assault. Even when they do only a staggering  3% of rapes get a conviction. That means that 97% of reported rapes and sexual assaults go unpunished by our legal system.

And why do survivors end up not reporting their rape or sexual assault? It hurts so much and the shame is so overwhelming. Having to relive the painful act over and over. Having to tell strangers or even worse our loved ones the unspeakable things that were done to us is devastating. The feeling that somehow it is our fault or that we did something to provoke an unwanted attack. After all, we are often times told by ill informed individuals, that if we had done something differently we might have been spared. Rape is an act not a consequence and yet often times it is implied that it is a consequence of something that we, the survivors, have done.

We don't report it for many reasons but a big reason is the exact thing these women are getting now with these comments. Victim blaming, "Why did she get so drunk then?" or "Why did she go back again?" or "Why did she take that pill he gave?". Sure things are better now in 2014 than they were in the 60's and 70's when it comes to prosecution of rape but lets be real for a second. How many times have you heard someone say it is a woman's fault for being so drunk? Or that she had some culpability because she was drinking, or walking alone at night, or dressed in a tight outfit? Like doing any of these things is a big sign that you are open to being sexually assaulted. Like these things make rape acceptable in some way. That kind of ignorance is still out there and it is still said out loud. Disgusting as it may be, there are people who still think this way. In the sixties and seventies there were no rape kits, no DNA evidence. It was his word against hers and the burden of proof would be hers to get him convicted or even at the very least, arrested in the first place. And just how easy do you think it would to convince a large group of people that some famous rich guy who everyone loves has raped you after you went to his room? And that you may have been drugged? And that you don't recall everything that happened because of it?

And let us not forget that as much as people want you to believe that women were," I am woman hear me roar,"  and "let's grow our arm pit hair long and burn our bras" in the 70's , at that time if your husband beat you, the police tended to consider it a "domestic issue" and he was often times not arrested. You were not necessarily legally protected from domestic abuse like you are now. This wasn't the television shows you see on t.v. This was reality. A reality that in the sixties women weren't even considered worthy enough to own the things we have now. You couldn't get a credit card in your name as an unmarried woman and your husband had to cosign it if you were married. You couldn't go to an Ivy league college, you couldn't serve on a jury, and you weren't even allowed to get the birth control pill unless your doctor signed off on it because you had extreme menstrual distress. There was no equality in the work place, there was no equality at all and yet some people still sit behind their computer screens and ask if these allegations were true, why they did not go to the police.....I don't ask why not, I ask why would they? What would have been done? Nothing most likely, except that other people would have blamed them, openly talked bad about them, and would have made misguided judgments about their character. (Guess that last part still hasn't changed much, has it.)

And rape isn't always like you see on television either. Not everyone screams no and fights. Some people don't fight. Some people can't fight and some people freeze. And no, not everyone runs away afterwards. Some people are in a state of shock that can take hours if not even days to really come to grips with what has happened to them. And for some people it takes years. So it is not that much of a stretch for me to believe that some of these women may have stayed in his hotel or condo for a few days after he left them there confused and sore. Especially, if they were drinking heavily or using drugs. They may have simply been so in shock that they were unsure what else to do. It happens.

There is still a double standard with these kind of allegations. There was no huge outpouring of comments claiming that the men who had been raped and assaulted by Jerry Sandusky were just saying that to get money.  Even though many of the claims had been done years after the assaults took place. There was an overwhelming amount of support for his victims. People were appalled. However, when several women come forward with disturbingly similar stories about Mr. Cosby all of a sudden it is not because they are victims, it is for their fifteen minutes of fame or they just want to cash in on it. They are all in cahoots. They just want to ruin a man they don't even know even though they receive nothing for their efforts. He can not be prosecuted due to time restraints. He does not have to settle in court for these particular allegations. What would be the purpose of raising these allegations if there wasn't some truth to them?

And probably the biggest thing that pisses me off about this whole thing is the idea that because Mr. Cosby has had such success and played such monumental characters that we feel like we know him or that he is like "America's Dad" people say he could not be a rapist. How could he be the thing that goes bump in the night? He could have any woman in the world why would he rape? ect. ect. ect.

We do not want to believe it and I understand that. I don't want to believe it either but not wanting to believe something doesn't make it not true.

Let me paint a different and yet oh so similar picture for you. There once was a doting father, a singer, a well respected community leader. He was a father of four. A "loving" husband. He was a former soldier. He was the ideal of what an "American Dad" should look like. He was holy and God fearing. Clean shaven and wore suits. He was even a well known Southern Baptist preacher in the area. Everyone loved him and he could in fact, have just about any woman he wanted. And he did have them. But that didn't stop him from raping and assaulting his two daughters from the ages of seven until they were sixteen and fifteen. Now, I don't want to believe that my grandfather was a rapist, a pedophile, a molester, a sexual deviant....but that doesn't make it not true. He was and no one on the outside looking in would have ever suspected it. No one would have believed it, and they didn't believe it when they were told. And just so we are clear, this happened in the 60's and 70's. So don't sit there and tell me that not only is it impossible that someone who is seen as a "hero" could easily get away with that kind of crime, but that you would be believed if you went to the police and reported it. Because I am here to tell you that is complete bullshit. And just to quell any questions about time being a factor in the truth of accusations, my mother and aunt waited almost thirty years before they started openly talking about it. The thirty years they did not speak of it does not make it any less true or as some commentators have suggested, made it any less devastating. Simply because someone doesn't report it for decades or even never reports it all, does not mean that it did not affect them in a horribly disfiguring way. That is just crazy.

I am not saying that Mr. Cosby did this. What I am saying is that the reasons people give for not believing the allegations are born of ignorance and bias. You can not say someone isn't a rapist because he/she seems to be the perfect father figure/mother figure. You can not say that someone isn't an offender just because of the wonderful success they have had. You can not predict how a rape victim will act or say how they should react to being raped. That is ridiculous. It's unfair and it is ignorant. You can not simply say an accusation is not true because the accuser acts in a way you find to be different than how you think you would react in that situation. Every rape is different just as every situation is different and unless you have been raped or assaulted then in my opinion you have no right to judge what actual victims do or don't do afterwards.


Being a survivor of a sexual assault, the daughter and niece of survivors, the great grand daughter of a survivor, the sister of a survivor, and the friend of many survivors I feel the need to stand up for these women. I feel the responsibility to stand up for all survivors of sexual abuse and sexual assault. Whether it be men, women, or children. For as survivors, if we sit on the fence or accept other people's ignorance when it comes to why survivors wait, or don't report, or allow others to victim blame then we have failed them and ourselves. Rape is not a choice. It is not a consequence. It is never okay. And those who report it should be looked upon with respect and compassion because they are brave. They were able to do something many are too afraid to do and they should not be punished for doing so. They should be believed and they should be treated like the human beings that they are. It is always easy to judge others form behind a computer screen because what they are claiming may not be what you want to hear, but I have to ask you this:

Would be so quick to judge these women if they were your daughter, your sister, your aunt, your wife, your girlfriend, or your mother?

Because 1 out of 6 American women has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape in her lifetime.

Would you look your loved one in the eye and ask the questions you keep asking these women? Would you ask your loved one if she was just "making it up" for fame or money? Would you tell her it happened to her because she was careless or asked for it? Or claim that it was just a "relationship gone wrong"? And how would you feel if someone said that about them after they had been victimized over and over again, first by their rapist and secondly by ignorant people that felt they knew how "a rape victim should act"?
Because when you judge these women that have come forward to tell their stories, that is what you are doing. Telling them that you know more about their rape then they do.

And that is completely unacceptable.

Neurotic Nelly

Feeling Like A Loser.....

Today was one of the days I hate....the day I have my three month Diabetes check up. I have to fast which makes me cranky. I have to have my blood drawn and my finger stuck, which doesn't bother me too much as  long as they don't try to press the diabetes stick needle through the other side of my finger. I hate just being in that germ infested place touching things and breathing the same infected air. Ugh.

I was more than a little freaked out when an elderly lady sat next to me, grabbed a magazine from the rack and proceeded to lick her finger and turn the pages one by one. Lick, swipe page, lick, swipe page, lick. ect. I was trying my best not to stare and cringe with every slow motion movement of her finger going to her mouth and back down to the magazine page. I was horrified. All I can say is I hope that lady got her flu shot already.....I really truly do.

After I used hand sanitizer because watching her do that made my hands feel dirty, I got my blood drawn and my finger stick done and my AC1 was higher than my last check up. It was a 6.6 and now it is a 7.2. I was upset. I have been cycling on my elliptical bike five miles a day five days a week. I haven't been as rigid in my diet as before but honestly, with the exercise I thought I was doing well. But I guess that is not the case. Now I have to be on a small dose of an ACE inhibitor to protect my kidneys for the next three months because having an AC1 above 7 can start to cause kidney damage. Hopefully at my next three month check up it will back down to where it was. I am so mad at myself right now. I am not sure what I could do differently but still I am beyond pissed. I am trying to control my Diabetes and get to where I don't need medication and yet now I have somehow messed it up and have to get on yet another medication. Double UGH!

Medications scare me. I have OCD worries about their side effects and I try not to read them because if it is bad, even if it is extremely rare, I will totally wig out about it. And I don't think I need to stress myself out anymore than I already am. I mean...Dear God. Now I am terrified of not taking it because of my stupid Diabetes could be hurting my internal organs and at the same time I am terrified to take the medicine because of side effects that most likely won't even happen to me. And I can't help but feel like this is all of my fault.

I feel really deflated. I am still cranky but now I also feel like a loser. I know that it is a small setback and I can most likely get my AC1 level back down but it just really feels likes I was punched in the gut. Like I can't do the simplest thing. Like I suck at being healthy. Like I just suck period. I think I am just going to have a good cry when I am done writing this. I know that how I am feeling is the negative self talk but that doesn't really make me feel any better at the moment. Triple UGH.

 Oh well, there isn't anything I can do to change the past. All I can do is try harder.....Hopefully I will be in a better mental state on Tuesday and have something funny or uplifting to write about then. Hope you guys have an amazing weekend.

Neurotic Nelly

Thankful....

So Thanksgiving is rapidly approaching and although I find "thankful" posts on facebook to be annoying and self serving, it is only because people feel the need to post them every day of the month of November. I just find them silly and quiet honestly over done. Usually they revolve around family, which one should always be thankful for in my opinion, unless your family is mean, in which case feeling thankful may be hard to do. And they always say something about the spouse being perfect or the children being angelic....No one is perfect and children are supposed to be little dirt spewing, world upturning, darling little monsters. They are supposed to be difficult and wonderful. They are children and children are miraculous little human beings full of crazed energy, innocence, curiosity and imagination. They are not angelic and that is okay because what they are is better than any words we could possibly dig up, scour through, or make up to describe them.

I guess the posts irritate me for their lack of detail and the implication that we forget to be thankful everyday and only remember now because some stupid trend arises on social media one month a year and that bothers me for some reason.

Maybe because I hate smarmy things that make me cry or maybe because I detect a slight air of bull shit when I read such posts. No one's spouse is the best spouse to walk the earth, they are the best spouse for you. They would most likely be a horrible match for someone else. That makes them the best spouse in the world to you, but alas, not the entire world. That is kind of a tall order and those shoes are too big for any human being to fill. Be real and say that you are thankful for your spouse because they make you coffee in the morning or they put up with your snoring or your PMS. Be less vague and more descriptive of why you are thankful for them because they mean a great deal to you and probably deserve more than just some generic post about how they are the bee's knees.

Children are wonderful, lovely, exhausting and exhilarating but they are not little angels.  They aren't angelic because they are human beings. Tiny human beings that drive you crazy but human beings none the less. Reality is you should be thankful for them because they are yours and they make you happy and you are a family but cut the bullshit already. You know  that your kids refuse to even let you sit on the toilet without asking you where the black lego piece went or where the cat hid, or without them sticking their tiny little fingers under the door just to remind you that you are not alone while you are trying to "do your business". Be thankful for them yes, but not the false advertisements you pretend they are. Be thankful for them exactly for who they are now because one day they will grow up and you will get to use the bathroom quietly because they are off to college and you will never again see their tiny fingers wiggling under the bathroom door....and believe it or not you will miss it. Be thankful for them because they are your children and your husband and you are blessed to have them, flaws and all, miracles and all, love and all.

And I guess maybe I get irritated reading the simplicity of people's "thankful" posts. There is so much to be thankful for that they never seem to post. They have a whole month to talk about all that they are thankful for and it is always the same generic things everyone else blabs on their posts. Be original. Almost never do you see them being thankful for small things like being able to get out of bed in the morning. Because a lot of people struggle with such things and to be able to do so is something to be thankful for.

There is no thankfulness for food on the table when so many struggle to provide such for their families. No thankfulness for the job in an economy that has so little jobs available in certain areas. No thankfulness for the neighbors that may shovel snow out of your walkway just because they want to be helpful or thankfulness for the medications so many of us have access to when in many countries something as small as antibiotics are hard to come by. There are so many many things to be thankful for and they deserve to be thanked more than just one month a year. They should be thanked every single day because without these many things that make our lives bearable and easier, our lives would be completely different.

I am thankful for so much in my life and no I don't need to schmooze or be dramatic about them or use generic generalizations to describe them. I don't care what people think of just what I am thankful for or how it may appear to others. I am thankful for them and I am thankful for them every single day.

I am thankful for my family even though they are crazy and silly and broken and odd. I am thankful for my children who keep me on my toes and have shown me the true meaning of unconditional love. I am thankful for my husband who drives me insane and makes me mad and makes me laugh and is the one person in the world that knows me better than I know myself. I am thankful for my home and heaters and clean water and medicines and neighbors and pets. I am thankful for a pillow to rest my head on and thankful to be able to get in up in the morning and not let things like depression keep me there with my head on said pillow all day. I am thankful for my friends and my readers, and this blog. All of which have supported me and helped me to see things in a way I may have missed all on my own. I am thankful for the freedom of speech and God and the ability to believe what I choose and not have to be afraid that those beliefs would imprison me or endanger my family. I am thankful for the sun coming out today even though it was frigid outside and the ground was covered in ice. I am thankful that I didn't slip and fall on that ice even though I was expecting too. I am thankful for the internet and books and paper and pens. I am thankful for the flowers in Spring and the leaves that turn such pretty colors and drop to the earth in the Fall. I am thankful for the snowmen we will make in the Winter and the shorts we will wear in the Summer. I am thankful for music because it is one of the few things that drown out my obsessing about stuff. I am thankful for only washing my hands ten times today instead of the usual twenty times I wash them daily. I am thankful for being able to rant to my best friend so I can stop worrying over things that make it impossible for me to sleep. I am thankful for my Dad who listens to all of my medical fears and never gets frustrated with me even when I am disgusted with myself because I can't stop being afraid. I am thankful for my Mom and Grandma who understand what I go through and always offer support and acceptance. I am thankful for the many other OCD sufferers out there that go through what I go through and help me to feel less alone. I am thankful for those that fight the stigma against mental illness because we deserve to be treated like the wonderful human beings that we are. I am thankful for the  voice to speak and the words to write because for so long I felt I had neither of those things in my life. I am thankful for the struggles I have gone through because they made me stronger and although I hate the things my OCD does to me I am thankful that I will keep fighting because I know I have to. I am thankful for so many many things and I will be damned if I just think about them on November of every year. I will be damned if I make them sound paltry or normal of less amazingly life changing as they are. I will be damned if I post "thankful" posts on facebook in November because I am always thankful and I don't have time for that. I am too busy being thankful than to throw some regurgitated peice of fluff on a fb post and hope that it makes me fashionable and acceptable. I don't care if I am acceptable and I am thankful for that as well.

So, in short don't be thankful for what you have in the month of November. Be thankful for them always because even in the darkest of days, in the worst of hours there is always.....always something to be thankful for. You simply have to take a moment, breathe, look around and see it.



Neurotic Nelly