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Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Terror on Court Street
So, my friends, I went through the worst thing ever today. I would have rather had to go through my entire divorce again than have to do this. Just the thought of this one thing puts me on edge to the point that I want to cry. I'm talking about going to the dentist... I know. I know. I'm an adult and I shouldn't be afraid of going to the dentist but I've had some really bad experiences before.
When I was a little girl going to the dentist was TORTURE! I remember having to get one of my teeth pulled at a young age so they could put in a spacer and that was before the braces. After the braces I ended up having my wisdom teeth pulled. After that I went to have a cavity filled and the dentist didn't numb me well enough. I was saying "OW." every few seconds and in tears. She rolled her eyes. "It doesn't hurt. Stop being a such a baby." To this day I can't believe she said that. It was beyond rude and SO unprofessional.
Today I got to my 1 o'clock appointment at 12:30 for two reasons. Number one is that's when Dad dropped me off because he had to get Mom her lunch. Number two is because I figured I would have some paperwork to do because I'm a new patient. I was so not going back to Western Dental. (Their stuff doesn't last.) I was locked out of the office until 5 minutes before my appointment. I filled out my paperwork and turned it in. Once I turned it in with my insurance card and ID, I stood there waiting for her to say she didn't need anything else. The receptionist looked up at me from behind her computer with a look that reminded me of a popular high school girl. "We're done..." she told me in a tone that more said. "Why are you still here?"
I went back to my seat and sat there... and sat... and sat...for almost an hour listing to her talk rudely to everyone that came in and everyone on the phone. Once she got a break I asked her how long it was going to be. She acted like I shouldn't even be talking to her. She said it was typical to have an hour waiting time that he always did a cleaning and all the work that day. I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT. Something inside me froze. I really didn't want any more work than necessary. I told her that I was having extreme anxiety about even being there and she somewhat tried to reassure me that everything would be fine.
About an hour after my appointment time I got called into the back. I thought "Finally. Maybe I can make it through this." They took my X-rays and all that stuff then left me to wait for the dentist. I waited for a while then he came in and did his thing. He injected me with the first shot of Novocaine and left me to wait.... and wait.... and wait.... During this waiting time I ended up having a major anxiety attack and started crying. The girls were nice and tried to comfort me.
By the time he returned I was already starting to lose the numb. He got to work and it hurt. He gave me another shot. It still hurt so he got a different kind of numbing agent. That worked! All the way up to my top eyelid was numb. He finished and one of the assistants cleaned my teeth and I was all done. I nearly ran out of the building and got into my dad's truck. "Get me out of here!"
When I was a little girl going to the dentist was TORTURE! I remember having to get one of my teeth pulled at a young age so they could put in a spacer and that was before the braces. After the braces I ended up having my wisdom teeth pulled. After that I went to have a cavity filled and the dentist didn't numb me well enough. I was saying "OW." every few seconds and in tears. She rolled her eyes. "It doesn't hurt. Stop being a such a baby." To this day I can't believe she said that. It was beyond rude and SO unprofessional.
Today I got to my 1 o'clock appointment at 12:30 for two reasons. Number one is that's when Dad dropped me off because he had to get Mom her lunch. Number two is because I figured I would have some paperwork to do because I'm a new patient. I was so not going back to Western Dental. (Their stuff doesn't last.) I was locked out of the office until 5 minutes before my appointment. I filled out my paperwork and turned it in. Once I turned it in with my insurance card and ID, I stood there waiting for her to say she didn't need anything else. The receptionist looked up at me from behind her computer with a look that reminded me of a popular high school girl. "We're done..." she told me in a tone that more said. "Why are you still here?"
I went back to my seat and sat there... and sat... and sat...for almost an hour listing to her talk rudely to everyone that came in and everyone on the phone. Once she got a break I asked her how long it was going to be. She acted like I shouldn't even be talking to her. She said it was typical to have an hour waiting time that he always did a cleaning and all the work that day. I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT. Something inside me froze. I really didn't want any more work than necessary. I told her that I was having extreme anxiety about even being there and she somewhat tried to reassure me that everything would be fine.
About an hour after my appointment time I got called into the back. I thought "Finally. Maybe I can make it through this." They took my X-rays and all that stuff then left me to wait for the dentist. I waited for a while then he came in and did his thing. He injected me with the first shot of Novocaine and left me to wait.... and wait.... and wait.... During this waiting time I ended up having a major anxiety attack and started crying. The girls were nice and tried to comfort me.
By the time he returned I was already starting to lose the numb. He got to work and it hurt. He gave me another shot. It still hurt so he got a different kind of numbing agent. That worked! All the way up to my top eyelid was numb. He finished and one of the assistants cleaned my teeth and I was all done. I nearly ran out of the building and got into my dad's truck. "Get me out of here!"
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Why I Got My Tattoo...
I'm sure those of you who are reading this blog that haven't heard from me since high school never thought that I would ever get a tattoo. I was the girl who never cursed, went to church every week, four or five times a week. I was the one who was always cautious and loved the outcasts. I was a drama geek, in the choir and seldom went to school without my bible. There were christian CDs in my car mixed with pop and country. I was quiet and kept most of my ideas and thoughts to myself. Well I guess I have a secret that I've kept pretty hidden from all of you pretty well until now. I feel like now is the time to talk about something important before all of you think I've gone off the deep end.
When I was ten or eleven I started getting really sad for no reason. I was spoiled rotten. I had a tv in my room, a room to myself, a waterbed, and all the toys I could have ever asked for. I was in a good place physically but mentally I started slipping. One night before dinner I took my bottle of allergy meds and downed a whole month's worth because that was the only thing I could take. I started to feel excessively sleepy and didn't even bother to tell my mother what I had done. I didn't bother telling my mother what I'd done but eventually she found out when she read my diary. Shortly after she started taking me to counseling but I wasn't keen on the idea of talking to a stranger alone in a small room. I was put on antidepressants but they made me feel worse than before. I tried a few different types but none of them worked. I eventually stopped trying.
After a couple years my world got turned upside down. The only father I had known to that point started abusing me. I won't go into detail because I'm sure none of you want to read that. I told my mom and she kicked him out. Before my freshman year of high school things got really bad and I ended up having to stay the night in a hotel a couple times. I ended up going back to a psychologist and he diagnosed me with PTSD, severe depression and a couple other things. I still didn't like talking to a stranger about my problems. My problems were my own. That year my uncle ended up moving to town to be closer to family and it was a comfort having a man nearby that I could count on again while getting to know more of my family. During that year I tried to commit suicide again by taking a bunch of Tylenol. By that time most of my "friends" had moved on or abandoned me because I told them what had happened to me. I was in charter school because I couldn't focus in regular school. My freshman year was not my finest. Not only was I dealing with abuse trauma and what he was putting us through but I got into a roll over car accident that February and had a stalker for most of the year.
My sophomore year went a little better. I ended up going back to public school and reconnecting with old friends. Though I had a few episodes because of my PTSD things went well.
Junior year things started going a bit crazy again. I started dating this boy that I liked on the last day of sophomore year. He ended up going a bit crazy and getting himself kicked out of school. Our relationship got really strained and we ended up breaking up.
Of course Senior year is a mix of emotions for everyone but not all high schoolers find out that their father lives in Kentucky and they have 3 half siblings. Learning that kind of threw me into a tail spin. I didn't know if I wanted to talk to him or if I just wanted to stay the way they were... me and my mom. I finally made the decision to talk to him and asked him to come to my graduation.
Graduation week my parents got back together and my father moved back to California with a plan to move my siblings here ASAP. Once we moved for me to go to college things took another turn. I was having a hard time finding where I fit into my new world. My father was now in the picture and I was having a hard time finding not only a church but friends.
In one of my theater classes I meat a guy and we started dating. We dated for about 2 months and he never once took me out. All he wanted was my body despite his claims of being a devout catholic. I then met my now ex husband... We ended up dating and that's where I really got lost.
Somehow he convinced me to move in with him and I fell for him despite only knowing him for a short time. One day my mom called me and asked me to clean out my old room. He dropped me off and ended up taking his ex shopping for groceries... not only that but he hung out with her for a few hours after. When I called him to pick me up he refused and I had my parents take me home. He got home late and we got into an epic fight. During the fight he said "But I'm in love with YOU J***". Needless to say I burst into tears. My first name does NOT start with a J. He wrapped his arms around me and proposed then and there....
In my desperation to belong somewhere I accepted.
The next 5 years were full of abuse, neglect, and general nastiness. He led me down a path that I regret more than anything and he left me feeling unlovable. I attempted suicide twice during my marriage to him.
Leaving him was one of the hardest and best things I've ever done. I'm just now getting to a place where I can focus on myself and healing from the madness. Needless to say this is just the awful stuff... My life has had so many joys and moments of content that outweigh all of this negative but sometimes I still feel like that little girl taking the allergy meds just to get the pain to stop. Sometimes I am still the abused tween and wife. I know God has given me my life for a reason. He will not give me anything I cannot stand. This tattoo is to remind me in the middle of all that darkness and sorrow to be brave and give it one more day, one more week... to make a difficult change for the better.
― Meg Cabot, The Princess Diaries
When I was ten or eleven I started getting really sad for no reason. I was spoiled rotten. I had a tv in my room, a room to myself, a waterbed, and all the toys I could have ever asked for. I was in a good place physically but mentally I started slipping. One night before dinner I took my bottle of allergy meds and downed a whole month's worth because that was the only thing I could take. I started to feel excessively sleepy and didn't even bother to tell my mother what I had done. I didn't bother telling my mother what I'd done but eventually she found out when she read my diary. Shortly after she started taking me to counseling but I wasn't keen on the idea of talking to a stranger alone in a small room. I was put on antidepressants but they made me feel worse than before. I tried a few different types but none of them worked. I eventually stopped trying.
After a couple years my world got turned upside down. The only father I had known to that point started abusing me. I won't go into detail because I'm sure none of you want to read that. I told my mom and she kicked him out. Before my freshman year of high school things got really bad and I ended up having to stay the night in a hotel a couple times. I ended up going back to a psychologist and he diagnosed me with PTSD, severe depression and a couple other things. I still didn't like talking to a stranger about my problems. My problems were my own. That year my uncle ended up moving to town to be closer to family and it was a comfort having a man nearby that I could count on again while getting to know more of my family. During that year I tried to commit suicide again by taking a bunch of Tylenol. By that time most of my "friends" had moved on or abandoned me because I told them what had happened to me. I was in charter school because I couldn't focus in regular school. My freshman year was not my finest. Not only was I dealing with abuse trauma and what he was putting us through but I got into a roll over car accident that February and had a stalker for most of the year.
My sophomore year went a little better. I ended up going back to public school and reconnecting with old friends. Though I had a few episodes because of my PTSD things went well.
Junior year things started going a bit crazy again. I started dating this boy that I liked on the last day of sophomore year. He ended up going a bit crazy and getting himself kicked out of school. Our relationship got really strained and we ended up breaking up.
Of course Senior year is a mix of emotions for everyone but not all high schoolers find out that their father lives in Kentucky and they have 3 half siblings. Learning that kind of threw me into a tail spin. I didn't know if I wanted to talk to him or if I just wanted to stay the way they were... me and my mom. I finally made the decision to talk to him and asked him to come to my graduation.
Graduation week my parents got back together and my father moved back to California with a plan to move my siblings here ASAP. Once we moved for me to go to college things took another turn. I was having a hard time finding where I fit into my new world. My father was now in the picture and I was having a hard time finding not only a church but friends.
In one of my theater classes I meat a guy and we started dating. We dated for about 2 months and he never once took me out. All he wanted was my body despite his claims of being a devout catholic. I then met my now ex husband... We ended up dating and that's where I really got lost.
Somehow he convinced me to move in with him and I fell for him despite only knowing him for a short time. One day my mom called me and asked me to clean out my old room. He dropped me off and ended up taking his ex shopping for groceries... not only that but he hung out with her for a few hours after. When I called him to pick me up he refused and I had my parents take me home. He got home late and we got into an epic fight. During the fight he said "But I'm in love with YOU J***". Needless to say I burst into tears. My first name does NOT start with a J. He wrapped his arms around me and proposed then and there....
In my desperation to belong somewhere I accepted.
The next 5 years were full of abuse, neglect, and general nastiness. He led me down a path that I regret more than anything and he left me feeling unlovable. I attempted suicide twice during my marriage to him.
Leaving him was one of the hardest and best things I've ever done. I'm just now getting to a place where I can focus on myself and healing from the madness. Needless to say this is just the awful stuff... My life has had so many joys and moments of content that outweigh all of this negative but sometimes I still feel like that little girl taking the allergy meds just to get the pain to stop. Sometimes I am still the abused tween and wife. I know God has given me my life for a reason. He will not give me anything I cannot stand. This tattoo is to remind me in the middle of all that darkness and sorrow to be brave and give it one more day, one more week... to make a difficult change for the better.
“Courage is not the absence of fear but rather the judgement that something is more important than fear; The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not live at all.”
― Meg Cabot, The Princess Diaries
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