Birth of This Blog

My little sister Kimberly started a mission blog, which was wonderful to read. It inspired me, got me thinking. "What would I write about? My life is so boring and honestly all about Evelyn (my 18m daughter.) What do I go through that ppl might be curious about enough to read?" And so the idea came, My Anxiety and Me.

I've suffered from undiagnosed anxiety my whole life. I have no idea how mild-severe it would be categorized but it has crippled my life since leaving home. I always had it. I didn't know but the signs were there. I have chewed and fiddled with my nails uncontrollably, I bite and rip of hang nails to the point of bleeding on a regular basis, since I can remember.

I didn't know that it was a big deal all growing up. For the most part it didn't cripple me when I was living under my parents roof. Somehow my mom kept it under control. Or having my constant confidant, best friend, companion, comfort, and rock of a little sister Kimberly was enough. She kept me relaxed and happy. Little did I know how much I needed my mom, Kim, my job I loved, my comfortable healthy schedule, my youth, my strong friendships outside of home were enough till after I got married and left home forever.

My new husband tried hard to fill my gaps but he didn't know how and sadly it didn't come naturally to him. He just couldn't be Kim or my Mom. Sounds pathetic I know. But looking back I died inside. I totally lost who I was. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I thought my marriage had to be to blame it was only thing I saw that changed. But I was wrong. Everything changed. It was like the life I was leading before made me who I was and without it I didn't know what to do.

I have a hard time keeping myself on topic. So I apologize to whomever might actually be reading this.

Every day is an uphill battle. Important things like making sure Evelyn has clean cloths, diaper and fresh food I can do. Getting myself dressed has become a must because of taking care of Cosmo and our new back yard. If not for that I would prob not even get dressed because of my fear of hating the reminder of my size. I also am now putting make-up on for work and William has asked me to but if not for those things I would avoid looking at the mirror just thinking of looking at myself puts me in a dark place. To vague huh? By dark place I mean my heart starts to feel to big for my chest and my muscles all over get super tense and my hands start reaching for my scabs.

My scabs. Some have been there for months, since July. one as early as early May. They are my first go to.

Okay this reminds me (sorry for skipping around, I'm not a good writer) I'm am self diagnosed. I learned that my behavior was a bit extreme from the show Obsessed. I started watching it thinking OCD ppl thats not me. . . ya I was in for a bit of a surprise. A few episodes were of ppl like me. Cant stop shredding their body because its relaxing. I am truly comforted by the site of my blood and exposed skin and the crunch of my nails in my mouth.

This is gross and very personal. I feel that sharing it will help me, and help others to understand me.

I know I prob should get professional help, ok I know I really should get help. I am trying to control it on my own. I know of methods to help myself and maybe this blog will do wonders. We'll see. The honest truth is we don't have the money and I don't want the Church (LDS) to pay for it. Shrug. That's whole other topic.

To all those that are ready this please be respectful and learn a little about this before trying to give me advice. I just want listening ears. I only want a qualified psychologist to try and cure me.

Thanks. Love you all!