Step 1: Let man stab you with 24 tiny needles. Step 2: Fix Diet
I've been wanting to write for a long time now. I've been struggling with what to say and how to say it. I have a lot to say so brace yourselves.
As many of you already know, I talk to my cat. A lot. In fact, if I ever do write a book it's probably going to be addressed to my cat. It's just a lot easier for me to talk to Daisy. She doesn't judge me.
This is going to be difficult to write because it's difficult stuff to talk about and my thoughts are all over the place, but here I go. I'm not doing well mentally. Physically I'm doing pretty well. Mentally I'm completely unstable. *CLICK IMAGE FOR FULL BLOG POST*
I like to simplify it by saying sometimes my body digests way too fast or not at all. I also have IBS. So my stomach is just as sensitive as the rest of me. But here is the really crappy part, I get horrible pain with it sometimes. Sharp, stabbing pain in my lower abdomen that also shoots into my lower back. *CLICK IMAGE FOR FULL BLOG POST*
My therapist always tries to normalize my condition. She will say, "Everyone feels the things you do, you just feel them on extreme levels." And I guess she's right. But how am I supposed to explain to someone without bipolar how things like death impact me mentally and emotionally. Not just personal death. Any death. Seeing deer dead on the back of a truck. *CLICK IMAGE FOR FULL BLOG POST*
Since I can remember, I've wanted to be a mom. I admire all of the women in my family who have raised, and are currently raising, amazing children. Back when I actually had friends, during school I was always the "mom" of the group. I was always making sure everyone was safe and happy and healthy. Today, I call myself cat mom and dog mom. And after talking to Ben over the past couple of months, I think I am ready to actually be a mom. *CLICK FOR FULL BLOG POST*