Can’t sleep

I hate this feeling. I always thought it was gone. I’m happy now. I have a great life. But three days without my antidepressant medication and I’m dizzy, irritable, and easy to cry.  I also keep getting flashbacks. I’m trying to sleep and I’m haunted by that twisted face pinning me down and wailing on me. Whipping my arms with a hanger. The scene keeps playing everytime I close my eyes. I feel like damaged goods. 

I went Friday on my day off to pick up my refill only to find out my doctor never called it in. The office was closed when I called and closed until Monday so I guess I get to feel like shit through the weekend. If I’m able to emerge from this by Monday feeling better I’m dumping the doctor and not going back on the medication. I just need to find my strength and pray the dizziness stops. 

Also I’m sorry for not posting all last week. My new job does not allow for recreational internet access and I work late hours so I’ve had to adjust my routine. I have a post nearly ready and I’ll get that to you sometime tomorrow. 

As you can imagine I’ve been very upset thinking I was over all this crying all day crap. I feel like a fraud with my positivity challenge. Maybe this lack of medicine causing my crying and general emotional rollercoaster is all my head. I pray that whatever it is be lifted from me because I hate this feeling. 

A to Z guide for a more positive life: A is for Affirmations #AtoZChallenge

A to Z guide for a more positive life: A is for Affirmations #AtoZChallenge

I feel like I say this often but I am sorry for my absence. I am in a couple of life transitional phases that I will be talking about as they become confirmed.  One of them, as you may have guessed from my previous post, is that I am changing jobs. I will be starting my new librarian job next week. I am full of nervous energy but that is for a later post I have been working on.  Continue reading

My First Post Revisited

My First Post Revisited

One of my longest blogging buddies Giggling Fattie tagged me for the #MyFirstPostRevisited challenge.

I will be stealing What Sandra Thinks corrected rules! I want to participate but then my annoying inner insecure self doesn’t want to bother people. I never get bothered by these just so you all know! I enjoy them.

Here’s what I’m supposed to going to do…

» Copy and paste your old post into a new post or reblog your own bad self. (Either way is fine but NO editing.)
» Put the hashtag #MyFirstPostRevisited in your title.
» Tag five other bloggers to take up this challenge.
» Notify your tags in the comment section of their blog
» Feel free to cut and paste the badge to use in your post.
» Include the rules in your post.

I think a reintroduction is a great idea. My blog has grown significantly since I began nearly a year and a half ago. I think at times I have stepped away from what I said my goals were when I began. However, the more I thought about it the more I realized that this blog often flows with the way my mind works… jumping to random topics. I have worked all that out… after all it is my blog!  Without further ado here is my very first post But let me first write an introduction. It was done probably 2 to 3 weeks after I signed up with WordPress. I was overwhelmed by the emptiness of my newly minted blog that I waited for one of the Blogging 101 classes to begin before I posted anything. It was a fun class that brought me to many of you!

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I would like to begin my blogging adventure with a short introduction and intent for what I will be sharing with whoever stumbles across my ramblings. My name is Stephanie and I am 33 year old woman from New York City. Like so many people I have had a life long struggle with allowing others to shape my opinions of myself. Over the past year my life has changed in so many profound ways that I have had this nagging feeling to write about it. That is why I have begun this blog. I am blogging publicly because I want to join in the body positive revolution by contributing my story and journey in hopes of helping others. I also want to contribute to the fight to end emotional, mental, and physical abuse. I hope to inspire others to do the same because no two peoples’ stories are the similar. We may share in the struggle but we each handle them in our own unique ways. We can learn from one another. Form a community with a stronghold of support. It took me decades to finally get a grip on myself and now I want to extend the invitation to join me on my journey to sustainable happiness and self-acceptance.

The title of this blog, “When I thought I was fat,” was born from my constant complaining about how “I wish I was the weight I was when I thought I was fat.” A mouth full I know, hence the shorter title, but for me, there is no truer statement. Ever since I was around six years old I believed myself to look like a “rollie pollie.” This was a result of how adults spoke to me and how it made me feel. From my cheerleading coaches to family members, no one was exempt from my overpowering abilities to let the words of others shape my self-esteem as I grew up.

Yet now when I look at old photographs of myself I do not see a “rollie pollie.” I see an active child. An athletic child. A child capable of doing all the same things, and sometimes even more, than children that were considered “thin” or “light.” I see a young high school girl that wore clothes that were entirely too big to hide this hideous thing people called “fat.” Yet I sit here now typing my first blog 70 pounds away from my high school weight wishing so bad to get that number back.

I began diets every Monday. Meal skipped. Joined a gym. Began weight watchers. Gave up. Rejoined a gym. Rejoined weight watchers. Starved myself. I was stressed and living in an unhealthy environment where I was made to feel worthless by a man who claimed to care for me. I wasn’t good enough as I was. I wasn’t pretty until I was thin. I didn’t deserve the respect of a man until I was thin. Everything was just on the other side of the “until I was thin.” All this accumulated to my highest weight of 338 lbs. Last June I joined weight watchers for the last time. Ditched the gym because I discovered long walks worked best for me. Through the support of my family, friends, weight watchers groups, and therapy, I have learned to take things day by day. I learned that I am more than just a number on a scale. I learned to be happy with myself as I am now. I have not mastered self-acceptance perfectly but I am so much stronger than I was two years ago.

 

Spiritual abuse and my fallout with religion

Spiritual abuse and my fallout with religion

Every time I have a question about the abuse I went through I turn to my handy dandy book, It’s My Life Now: Starting over after an Abusive Relationship or Domestic Violence. This truly has been a wonderful resource and has made me realize what I went through was not unique. Many of the situations mentioned in the book I was able to check off.  From the book I was able to identify the physical, emotional, and financial abuse that I was subjected. Today I ruminate about a recent discovery. Another set of dots I can connect on trying to figure out why my attitude and feelings I have changed Continue reading

Developing claustrophobia as an adult

Developing claustrophobia as an adult

I have a question for you all. Over the course of your life has your reactions to things changed? Maybe it is just me but I have noticed as I get older I am changing. For instance, food is beginning to betray me.  Ice cream and I used to be best friends. It would be a cold and yummy treat… I would eat it and be happy… now I eat it and less than 10 minutes later my stomach is hurting.

Continue reading

What emotion is in the driver seat?

What emotion is in the driver seat?

Well yea that featured image blew the suspense but who are we kidding? Hello my name is Stephanie and I have lived life thus far driven by6206c0894633a7ace84739e9f5ebdfa4Ahhhhh! I have been a walking chicken shit. A scaredy cat.  A yellow-bellied fool that coward more times than she can count. Granted some of it was legit fear, but in all honesty a lot of it is a bunch of malarkey. Continue reading