Seeing Reality



I thought it was all over for me. 

At age 17, I met the love of my life. At age 18, I was in a relationship with him. By age 19, we had broken up twice and tried to move on. At age 20, I was moving across the country to live with him. At age 21, I was driving back home because I had left him. At age 22, I finally changed my number and lost all toxic contact with him. 

There he went, it was over. You’re lucky if a passionate love comes once, right? How dare I expect it to come again. I blew it, I lost it. I had love, but I left it. 

Today, as I write this, I realize, maybe it wasn’t love. First, let me say that yes, I did actually love him. I care about him very deeply and probably always will. But maybe I had confused toxic love with the “real thing.”

The only time he ever made me feel safe was when he was calming me down out of an anxiety attack that he had started. He didn’t make me feel loved or wanted, I was never undoubtably his only girl. Every day I wondered who he was hiding in that phone he never let me see. Then, I found out. I stayed with him for months after that.

I did however feel comfort, but it wasn’t good comfort. It was normal. I grew up with an emotionally abusive mother. I found myself in an emotionally abusive relationship. Why did I stay so long? Because it was comfortable, it was normal, it was all I had known.

I would like to say that while in fact both of those relationships were emotionally abusive, that does not mean they did it on purpose. That is something I will never know. 


Now, as I sit here with my fur baby in my lap, I begin to realize that I’m getting my second chance. Well, maybe that’s not the right way to put it. I’m getting another chance? No, I’m being shown reality. Yes, I’m being shown reality. 

I’m surrounded by a mess. My shirt has a stain on it, I haven’t brushed my hair, and my patio is basically one giant ash tray. But there’s a man out there who’s thinking of me in the way I wish I could see myself. He smiles when he’s with me, he doesn’t look at the mess with disgust, he looks at me with pleasure. 

It’s too soon to tell where this is going, it’s too soon to tell if this is going to be something more. But God, do I hope it turns out for the best. 

I’m being shown reality, and it’s not at all dark or mean. Yes, it’s a little scary. Yes, I’m terrified because I’m uncomfortable. But at the same time, I’m completely comfortable. I genuinely smile again, I laugh without worrying what my crooked teeth look like. I look into his eyes and I feel peace. This is reality, it’s not all hatred and pain. 


In the short time we’ve spent together, he’s shown me that there is still good out there. 

For those of you who have suffered as I have, who have been made to feel worthless by the people we love, have hope. You are not your abuse. You are not the nasty things people have said and done to you. In reality, you’re beautiful and deserving of happiness. We all truly are. 

Hang in there, keep fighting to find that confidence and joy within yourself. Know that it doesn’t have to come from another person. But also know, it’s okay to allow someone to make you happy. It’s okay to allow someone close again. It’s okay to trust someone new. Not everyone has an evil plan to use and abuse you. Not everyone is full of hatred. Sometimes, you just got to wait for the person that shows you reality. And I’m thankful to have a couple people that do. 

My Grandma, she checks in on my daily. 

My best friend, she is my soul mate. 

My best friend since kindergarten, she is my sister. 

The guy that makes me smile, well, he makes me smile. 

-Liz

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I am Not My Anxiety 


One of the hardest things to remember while I’m in recovery is that I am NOT my mental health issues. While in recovery I’m crazy aware of how each thing I do will affect my mental state. And sometimes, I forget I control myself. 

Yesterday, I was in a constant state of panic. Could have been caused by too much caffeine, not enough sleep, or the fact that nothing is wrong. I spent so much time making one little thing into this irrational state of panic, that I couldn’t do anything else at all. At one point, I couldn’t even smoke a cigarette. I had had it. I was fed up knowing the rational reasoning yet, still in a complete panic. 


This is what it looks like when I’ve about had it. I wanted so badly to just give in to the panic, but I couldn’t. I tried all day to keep it away, afraid I’d turn to someone for comfort when it was way too soon to turn to them. Eventually, I made a choice. I decided to force it. I decided not to give into the panic, but to force it to happen. This photo was going to be my “before a forced panic attack” photo. 

How do you force a panic attack? I’ve honestly got no clue. My entire life I have been accused of faking anxiety attacks to get attention. Then, I sat down and thought about it last night. I have no clue, after 10 years, how to force myself into panic. I had been right on the edge all damn day, I just needed something to push me over. I begged for something to send me falling into panic. 

I did what I knew had made me panic in the past. I turned off the lights in my bedroom, laid down, and turned up the music on my, “Cry, Cry, Cry” playlist. Name inspired by Johnny Cash, of course.

The first song that came on is one that usually makes me cry. “I Wonder” by Kellie Pickler. It talks about a girl whose mom wasn’t there for her, then she up and moves to Tennessee. My life, right? Well, usually it brings sadness but, ever since I was able to record a cover of that song in a studio, it brings joyful memories. Next, was a song called, “God Sent Me You.” Normally, this one makes me cry because, “I drink whiskey, and I’ve smoked weed.” The lyrics are also my life, and this man is breaking down calling out to God in forgiveness. And then, God sends him his angel. But, I don’t have my angel, so usually, I get sad. But this time, I was full of wishful thinking and hope. Nothing was working, and then I began to cry. 

Then, I got a text message. It had been one I had wanted all day to come. But, I know people have lives so I remained patient. Little does he know, not only did he save me from an anxiety attack, but he made me feel understood. We were able to talk about what was happening. I didn’t mention that I was trying to make myself have an attack, but I did say anxiety was kicking my ass. He put a smile on my face when there had been no emotions just hours earlier. I had felt like self harming again yesterday, I’m thankful I hung onto hope. 


While I’m not happy that someone else pulled me out of a panic attack, I’m also glad they did. What I mean by that is, I want to be strong enough to not have to turn to someone every time. It’s not healthy to have the number one thing on your go-to list being to turn to someone else. Because, eventually that becomes just one person. And if you turn to that person every time, you’re giving them too much power over your emotions. And, if they don’t answer, you’re stuck and it usually makes the panic worse.

However, I’m glad at the same time that it happened. I didn’t turn to him, he had no clue how I was feeling when he texted me. I was only honest when he asked how my day was. And he understood. I wasn’t desperate for his help, but I allowed him to help, even though he probably has no idea how much he helped. 


I could tell that something good was on it’s way yesterday. It may already be here, or it may be on its way. But, yesterday was too calm, the sky too perfect. When I looked up, it was as if God was trying to tell me to just trust in Him. Yesterday, I didn’t have the strength to. Today, I currently have the strength and will keep trying to remain strong in my faith. I’m giving my power of control over to Him. What happens next will not be because of my actions, but because of His grace and His promise. He truly does have a better plan for me, I just need to wait. 

I want everyone who is struggling to remember, these are just passing moments. The anxiousness, fear, doubt, whatever it may be, it’ll pass. Eventually, happiness will come and it will pass too. But, you can rest assured in hope that happiness will always find its way back to you. Why? Because we all deserve to be happy. 

-Liz

Getting Back to Me


    Good Morning! 

This past week I’ve struggled with what to write for my blog. Should I cuss? Am I funny enough? Is my life actually interesting? All I’ve done today is drink a pot of coffee…

I decided to throw out all me already prepared posts and just go for it. Live life freely, and write my blog just as freely. I don’t want the anxiety of having to have a certain post done by a certain time right now. In this moment in my life, I want to write about whatever happens to be on my heart at the time.

Damn… I need some coffee.

At the moment, I’m currently flying to Florida to visit some family. I haven’t seen some of them in years and I’m really thankful to be able to have this opportunity to go. However, my anxiety is very mad at me.

In the past few months, I have not been able to really leave my apartment. I just got to the point where I can go to the grocery store for short amounts of time, but anywhere else? No, thank you. Not without a trusting friend, anyway. This is not a good feeling for me, I grew up never wanting to live a life in fear. As long as what I was doing, I loved with my whole heart, then I was okay. I love going to concerts, but I had to make sure I brought someone I trusted. Even to go to target one day, he had to go with me. Thankfully, he’s a great person that’ll go with me about anywhere.

One thing I’ve learned from all of this is that the amount of time you’ve known someone has nothing to do with trust.  I trust my newest friend almost as much as I trust my best friend in the entire world. We’ve known each other for less than a year, but how great these past few months have been. We’ve had our moments, been a little too open and honest (okay, I confessed to him I’m crushing on him hard), and we’ve been through shit. He’s had my back through some tough times, since day one, really. And likewise, I’ve tried to have his back as much as I can. He needs a friend? I’m there. I need to cuddle and watch Netflix? He’s got Netflix and the best cuddles.


I realized this morning who truly has my back. My best friend texted me as soon as she woke up to make sure she told me to have a great trip. On my way to the airport, guy I’m crushing on texted me to say he hopes I have a good flight. They’ve got my back. I know this, because they both know just how anxious I can be. What they don’t realize is that just knowing they care enough to think about me, totally made my heart melt. As someone with anxiety, we tend to have the bad habit of thinking no one cares. So, the smallest little things mean the world to us.

It’s Come Our Time is meant to inspire. Not only those who read it, but myself as well. It’s Come Our Time to stand up for ourselves, stand up against our struggles, and believe in ourselves. 

Right now, I’m getting back to me. The best way I know how, travel. Fly as far as life allows. If this opportunity hadn’t come up, I would have driven to the mountains. Sometimes, you need to risk it all, take every chance you can. Get back to who you were meant to be. That’s why I’m flying for 4hours with my fur baby.

Xoxo, 

Liz