Getting Back To The Basics


Lately, I’ve noticed something different. Something, small but, amazing. The moment I realized it was when I did my makeup for fun, not because I “had” to. What I realized is simple, I’m getting back to me. 

At first, I was going to title this, Signs I’m Getting Better (Even If I Don’t Feel It), but I figured that’s not the best way to describe what’s going on. I don’t know how long I’ll be “better.” I start a new medication tomorrow, it could take all of this away from me. Maybe I won’t start it, I don’t know. Anyway, I’m feeling pretty damn good today. And it’s rare that this feeling lasts beyond noon. I took my ADD meds at the right time, will take them again as the day goes on, and things seem to be looking up. 

But, how do I notice when I’m getting back to the basics of myself? What makes it obvious for me that things are looking up? Chances are, it’ll be different for everyone. But, maybe you can relate. Or, maybe you’ll begin to notice that things have been looking up for you, too. 


I look presentable. 

For the last few months it’s been nothing but no makeup or bare minimum makeup. Anytime I felt I had to go all out, I freaking dreaded it. And I’d never try anything new, it was always the same old routine. Now, I’m enjoying putting my makeup on for the day. I actually think about it, and try new ways of wearing it. 


I play with my makeup. 

I was in cosmetology school for a reason. And every time I get depressed, I lose sight of that reason. Truth is, I fucking love doing my hair and makeup. I find it creative and inspiring. Sure, in some cases it may be a bit vein but, if you truly find joy in something, do it. As long as it’s healthy for you. 


I write to-do lists. 

I write these even when I’m depressed but, they stress me out then. When I can look at a to do list and not feel anxious about it, I know something has changed for the better. And that I’ll probably complete it! (Btw, 10 Things is my list of 10 Things I’m Grateful For each day.) 


I walk my dog more often. 

When I’m feeling better, it’s easier to get out and go for a walk. I throw on my badass sunglasses and enjoy the sun on my face. Whether it’s to check the mail or just to get out, it’s beneficial. I do this even when depressed but, I’ll admit something. Some days he may only get one or two walks, others he won’t get any. It’s something I’ve had to work hard to become routine, but it’s finally working out. 


I do yoga. 

This is probably the most important thing on this list. Other than God, this is probably the reason the other things are even on this list. To be honest, nothing else was happening until I started my yoga practice back up again. I’m only on Day 3 and the mental and physical changes are amazing. I can feel my side muscles being sore, and my core tightening already. Other than that, it’s helped with my anxiety and created a more calm home for my mind. 

If you’re wondering what I do for yoga, I watch Yoga With Adrienne videos on YouTube. She’s the perfect instructor for me. She’s funny and kind. Right now, I’m doing her current 31 Day Challenge for the New Year. It’s helping ease me back into my practice. However, the other thing I love about her channel is the Yoga for Healing playlist. It has yoga sequences to help with anxiety, depression, anger, heartbrokeness, and even sleep. 

These are just a few things I’ve noticed about myself the past couple days. I’m excited to be able to write this post and I hope you all get to experience this joy of returning to yourself. 

-Liz

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The Escape


Today, I took my ADD morning meds. I drank a cup of half-caf coffee. Then, I drank another. And then, on my way to my coffee date, I had another coffee. Once I got to the coffee shop, the barista thought I said half and half, not half-caf. I ordered a large, I didn’t correct her when I noticed she hadn’t heard me. I probably had at least 3 shots of espresso. I went home, I had maybe 4 more cups of half-caf. I took my afternoon ADD meds, before noon.  I went to therapy, but stopped by Starbucks and grabbed a half-caf from there. I went home, took a nap, got up, poured another cup. Damn, coffee rules my dang life! I also made another pot of coffee. 

I messed up. I messed up when I let my social anxiety take over. When I didn’t correct the barista, I knew my day was going to be absolute shit day. Why? Because caffeine is one of the things that you can do that induces anxiety. Too much sugar? Anxiety. Too much exercise? Anxiety. Absolutely anything that increases your heart rate? Guess what, anxiety. 

The unable to sit still, the unable to focus, the dreadful migraine. It pushed me over the edge of being able to function. I laid down, and while I didn’t actually fall asleep, I daydreamed my headache and anxiety away. When I got up, I felt at peace. Ready to tackle the rest of my day. 

I went outside to smoke a cigarette, where I currently am. When I finished, I just looked inside. Wondering, what was I going to do after my cigarette… I was going to do something. “Oh, yeah. Get more coffee.” I looked down, my coffee mug still full. God, I swear I’m worse than a Gilmore Girl! Thank goodness this is half-caf. Which I’m pretty sure Luke was secretly giving Loralei all those years. 

My to-do list popped into my head. I thought, oh, I should work on that! Then, I realized that’d mean leaving my patio. Going inside. Sitting at my messy table. Most importantly, not smoking. Then, I looked at the time. Well, shit. It was 5:30pm. The anxiety back in a flash, “You’re a fucking failure.” The depression to the defense, “Just do it tomorrow morning.” The realization, I have plans tomorrow. I need to do these things now, I needed to do them weeks ago. Do I put them off another day? Another two days? Or do I bring my stuff outside and do it outside, since I’m so desperately dependent on my smoking addiction. Which has taken a turn for the worst, 2 lovely packs a day. Sometimes, 2 1/2. The stress from last week got to me, the smoking from last week never quit. 

Now, I sit here. Outside. Debating whether to light another up. I’m hungry, my ADD medication isn’t working. I have about 5 other stories plus 10 drawings and the random urge to sew all taking up my mind. Everything. At once. Which do I do first? Do I write the letter to my future boyfriend, or do I write about my recovery week? Maybe I should draw some more as words have been difficult for me lately. 

I think I’ll just take my dog for a walk, he’d like that. I’d like that. 

-Liz

The Attack on my Mind

This is something I’m incredibly excited to write, yet terrified to begin. I knew from the moment I felt the slightest bit uneasy, that last night would become a blog post. 

**Before I begin, there may be triggers in this piece. I talk about self harm and abuse. And I would like to clarify, I myself am not a danger to me or anyone else. I am not suicidal nor looking for an escape. If any of you are, however, suicidal or self harming I encourage you to reach out for not only support, but professional help. I am not a professional, but will stand by you if you need a supportive voice in your life. I am currently seeing a therapist and fully plan on talking with him about everything and more that is in this post. Thank you.**

My day started out fine. I went and met up with a guy I met online (yeah, I know I said I was done) and we had some great coffee and conversation. I went and saw my best friend for a moment, and then went on my way to another date I did not want to be on. The social awkwardness from that alone was enough to send me hiding back at my apartment, but we just had to go and watch a damn movie.


Fancy theater, lucky number 4, seats so big I don’t have to worry about accidentally touching my date, and a movie from a book I’ve read. Nothing could go wrong, right? 

I had forgotten just how much mental illness, drinking problems, and abuse were apart of that story. We saw, The Girl On The Train. About halfway through the movie I was extremely uncomfortable. Not just because of the sex scenes, but because of the abuse being portrayed throughout the movie. Self destruction, mental mind games, physical abuse, and sexual abuse. All of which I have previously struggled with. I was done. I had to excuse myself at one moment to try and keep myself from crying in the damn bathroom.

Suddenly, I was no longer watching a movie, but my own life. When the man yelled at his ex wife, it was my ex boyfriend yelling at me. When she found out that he’d been lying to her, I was watching myself realize my mother had been lying to me. I couldn’t stand to watch this movie anymore but, again to save someone else from being uncomfortable, I sat through it.

Let me make one thing VERY clear. Be strong enough to leave the movie early. The person you’re with does NOT need an explanation. You’re uncomfortable? Be brave enough to change the situation. Don’t worry about the other person’s comfort. If they’re important to your life, they’ll understand.


After the movie, my date bought me Starbucks. I knew I was going to have to chain smoke my way home to keep from panicking, so I needed my coffee. We sat there awkwardly for a moment, I explained that the movie brought up bad memories, and he walked me to my car. Shyly, he asked for a kiss. Unfortunately, I have no plans of seeing him again and I was not in the mood to be touched. Thankfully, I took my own comfort into account and told him that he may not kiss me. Felt so proud of myself, guys. 

I got into my car and called my parents. They were about as helpful as ever. “Go home and distract yourself.” Normally, great advice. However, I needed to know how I’d make it home. I was panicked not only from the movie, but because my ex has been in contact with me again. This always raises my anxiety levels to unhealthy amounts. I feel as though there’s no getting away from him.

As I drove home, I chain smoked. And then, I was too close to home to light up another cigarette. I began to cry. My makeup burning my eyes. I began to not have control over my right hand, which had began rubbing my left arm. Soon, before I could stop myself, I was scratching into my skin. It burned and felt so good. The sting of my sharp nails, I felt in control. Even though I wasn’t. 


I parked in the apartment parking lot, and sat there for an hour. I cried, I listened to music, I continued to scratch my arm. I reached out to friends desperately, who all have their own lives and could not be reached. This photo is of me, mid anxiety attack. Covering my mouth because I’m insecure about that part of myself while crying. I ugly cry. My makeup is on my arm, all over my face, with mascara burning my eyes. I could barely see in this photo, and this photo makes me want to cry.

After listening to a helpful Christian song, I was brave enough to walk to my apartment. I lit a cigarette and walked home. I was afraid to get out of my car last night, afraid of the alcohol I still haven’t poured out as promised to you. I was afraid of the knife I keep hidden from myself.


I laid in bed and cried. I had flashbacks of all the times I had been emotionally and mentally abused. The times I had not fought for myself. The times I let people walk all over me. And, to be honest, I begged someone to kick me while I was down last night. Just one more punch and I’d be given a reason to open that Jack or find that knife. 

This morning, I got my wish. I let someone walk all over me. I let him kick me while I was down. And as he was kicking, I was the one apologizing. I was the one comforting him. I was still weak from the night before, with nothing left to give. I let him tear me down again, then I let him build me back up. The same old routine from the same old toxic relationship. It was comfortable, familiar, and gave me a reason to harm myself again. Which, I have not yet done today. I’ve been successful in the attempt to keep myself from causing me pain. Yet, I keep the conversation in my head just in case.

I have plans tonight with a good friend, tacos and a movie. A good movie, one that will help. I can’t be alone again tonight, thankfully he is there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without his support today. I’m not sure what my next step is, I don’t know if I’ll keep in contact with that toxic relationship. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do a damn thing to help myself tomorrow. But, I’ll try my best. And hopefully, I will be able to begin my count of days since I last harmed myself.

Again, if you or anyone you know is struggling with self harm, suicidal thoughts, abuse, or any form of addiction please, PLEASE seek help. Whether it be a parent, trusting friend, doctor, or whomever please seek help. Most importantly, do not be afraid of professional help. It is there, you can find it, and it only shows how damn brave you are for fighting this battle. I am not a professional and this experience was my own and not meant to reflect others’ experiences. 

Do feel free to contact me at:

positivelywildblog@gmail.com

-Liz

Growing into Someone New.

It takes away your identity. It strips you of everything you once were and leaves you clinging onto anything. It exposes every weakness. It turns you into emptiness. It takes your mind and forces yourself against you. It becomes your worst enemy. It makes you lonely. It makes you terrified. It makes you helpless.

It is depression.


Depression effects many people in many different ways. For some, there’s a logical life event to create it. For others, it’s simply a chemical imbalance (which hilariously enough, always seems illogical). And for people like me, it’s a combination of the two. I have Major Depressive Disorder  (MDD). This means that even when life is perfect, I can still get depressed. This means I have a chemical imbalance. However, I’ve also suffered through my fair share of heartache. 

I’ve been depressed since I was about 10. This was the time my grandpa, Papa Leon, or as I called him, papa Elvis, had passed away. We were traveling to California a lot, my grades suffered. I was a student who made straight A’s. Not anymore. I had changed friend groups, and became friends with two girls who would prove themselves to be bullies. My anxiety attacks had just started and I was convinced I was mentally insane. And I had just suffered from severe dehydration, which left me in the hospital for many days. To top it all off, I was suffering from undiagnosed ADD. 

Back then, my parents still cared. They still supported me, they helped me try to help myself. They took me out of school in 6th grade. I haven’t had a decent education since that day. But, it was better than spending every day hiding with the nurse or locked up in the counselor’s office. I lost all of my friends except for one, but she still had her own life to live. She cared and always will, yet she couldn’t understand at that age just how badly I needed her. I became close friends with my stuffed animals, I became an avid Days of Our lives fan, and I ate ice cream for almost every meal. I was truly living the dream for anyone my age. Yet, I still suffered.

Every night I would have a panic attack. I couldn’t sleep alone, I couldn’t stop feeling sick. I was keeping my parents up at all hours of the night, every night. Some days my dad went to work without a minute of sleep. My mom would have to entertain me as she laid on the sofa half awake. I felt so guilty, so ashamed, I began to hate myself.

As years went on, I eventually moved and got new friends. Myspace and Facebook became a thing. And all of my friends were like older brothers to me, or so I felt like. As things worsened at home between my teenage acting up, the undiagnosed ADD, and the anxiety, my depression grew worse. I would post to my social media sites in hopes to find peace. To find a helping hand, a friend to comfort me. I didn’t find that, I found hate and anger. Bullies once again appeared, only this time they were anonymous and online. I couldn’t escape them.

I became friends with this sweet girl, she was going through depression as well. We became best friends and confided in each other. She shared how she would self harm, how she drank and smoked. I hadn’t even thought to do any of these things. My one vice I had will remain a personal one. Cutting yourself was getting popular and was everywhere online. I was so surrounded by it, I decided to try it.

When I would self harm, it started out as a pair of scissors and just barely scratching my leg. Then, I found a craft knife. I used it to cut my leg, then I began carving words into my thigh. “Bitch,” “Whore,” “Slut,” these were some of the words I remember. The funny thing is, I wasn’t a bitch. I just was angry at the world for not helping me. I wasn’t a slut or a whore either, I had only kissed one boy. He was my boyfriend when I kissed him. Eventually, I tried cutting on my wrist. I did it on the top of my arm because I didn’t want to accidentally die, I just wanted to feel something.  My parents knew, my friends knew, my church knew, and my therapist knew. I was 15/16 and to this day, I have still never gotten help for self harm. The only help I’ve gotten was from myself and God.


By the time I was 18 I had refused multiple different medication offers. Taken and quit Xanex. Started smoking cigarettes. Started binge drinking. And had begun to start using sex as a new way to self harm. 

I partied with my friends every possible chance I got. For the most part, it was all innocent for me. I only drank, the kids that did drugs were respectful and hid to do them, and the worst state I woke up in was cuddled up with two of my best guy friends. Nothing had happened between us.

Eventually, I got a boyfriend. He moved to Arizona to be with me, that’s what he told me. I found out he was planning on cheating on me, he had been talking to other girls. Even after knowing this, I stayed. I gave him a second chance, my heart stayed with him for 4 years. In between our many on-agains I fell into deep depression. 

When we broke up the second time, I lost it. I lost myself completely. I had just been kicked out of my parents’ house, this time for something more legit than laundry, and I was in my own apartment. I worked 2 jobs to support myself, I was never home. I began to wonder why not just sleep in my damn car? I broke down the day my dad helped me put my bed frame together. He and my mom had brought me Chipotle and I took one bite and threw it up. I was so upset. I even kicked my mother out of my apartment just to spite her. As if moving out on mother’s day wasn’t bad enough.

I wasn’t me, this time, I was a bitch. I was hurt and broken. The man I gave all of myself to, he didn’t want me. My mother had kicked me out, she didn’t want me. Thank God for my father. He’s always wanted me. 

Shortly after moving into my apartment in the shittiest part of town I could afford, I began going up to the college town up north. I was there every weekend, then every other day. I’d sometimes drive up there and call out of work, yet again, with food poisoning. I was so ashamed of myself, yet I kept on doing it. It came to a point where I quit both my jobs, ended my lease, and moved up north to party constantly. I made it sound okay by telling myself and others that I would get a job, live with a friend, and start community college. I did get a job, a delivery driver for a sandwich shop themed around smoking pot. I did live with a friend, who seemed to constantly lock me out of his dorm room. And I did not go to school. Instead, I partied. And I partied hard. I fell for the first guy to give me attention after my ex had left me. Then, I fell for another guy, who was in a relationship with someone else. I was put in a position to do drugs, to drink constantly, and to ruin my life for the next 5 years.

Depression, in this moment in time, was from a life event. From outwardly feeling unloved and unwanted. But, two things saved my life. First, was God when he planned the night I was to be arrested. Secondly, was the best person I had ever met in my life. 

After I was arrested, I spent a couple more nights drinking until I had to pack my things and move back in with my parents. My best friend, Traci helped me get through this tough time and many since then. My depression was far from gone, but it was becoming manageable as I was no longer drinking.


Fast forward to 2015 and you’ll find my next greatest depressive episode. I had moved out to Tennessee to live with th same man that had taken my heart a couple years before. Again, I told myself it was the right thing because I was going to get a job and go to school. This time, I did actually do those things. They weren’t enough.

While I loved that man with all my heart, things began to fall apart after the 2014 holidays. He was working the most, and I had a little part time job. My nights were spent waiting for him to come home from work at 1-4 in the morning. I tried to work on this very blog, nothing came of it. I tried to clean, but I was terrified of being home alone. I spent my nights binge watching the same season of Gilmore Girls over and over. I spent my days having panic attacks after fighting with him because I didn’t keep the house clean. 

While I truly believe this wasn’t his intention, I found myself in an emotionally destructive relationship. It fed my anxiety, it secured my depression. What I mean by that is, this relationship told me everything negative that my brain was telling me. It was confirming all of my depression’s lies.

A year ago this month, I made the decision to end my relationship and, yet again, move back home. This time, I wasn’t allowed back at my parents’ house until my friend had decided to kick me out of her family’s house. Just a short week after living with my parents and I was being kicked out again. I had started using drinking as a way to escape the pain again. I lived in two different hotel rooms for two weeks all while going to school. I kept my head above water, and I survived with the help of one of my now best friends. He was there when literally no one else was to be found, I’ll always be grateful for that.


Now, in the present moment, my depression still lingers. While I consider myself to be on the path to recovery from my previous depressive episode, it shows up every once in a while.

I still have my vices, they’re a bit more healthy. I drink half caf and decaf coffee, I write about my personal life, and I have an Instagram about mental health (living.positivelywild). There are still some bad vices, I smoke too much, I occasionally drink, and I procrastinate my ass off! I’m getting better, though.


Depression looks like a living room full of boxes from when I moved in. It looks like a giant pile of laundry and two unpacked suitcases. It’s a sofa I hardly ever sit on. 


Depression is a table full of decor and clutter. It’s a shelf full of unread books. A stack of movies to cheer me up. It’s a positive sign that I spent $70 on because I was depressed when I bought it. Depression is hope buried under a mess.


Depression is cigarette butts and empty packs covering my patio floor. It’s a blanket of ash that gets my bare feet dirty when I step outside. It’s a lonely dog looking through the window wishing his mommy could take better care of him. It’s wondering why I can’t move from this spot even though that poor dog’s face makes me cry.

(For the record, Warren gets fed daily, spoiled with toys and treats, and cuddles every night. He is not poorly taken care of. I’m just unable to play and walk with him as much as he’d like.)


Depression steals your face. It takes away every ounce of who you are. You can’t enjoy a damn thing. You can’t even enjoy taking a nap. Sometimes depression leaves you feeling absolutely nothing at all. It can also leave you feeling like you’re drowning in saddness. Depression makes you desperate. I get desperate for someone to love me, for someone to show they care. I post to social media for encouragement, I beg my friend to come stay the night. Recently, I’ve contemplated going to a hospital, I did my research. My depression likes to sneak up on me in the middle of my days. It likes to steal all joy from my soul.

I keep going. I’m stronger each day. I fight harder each time. My mornings start out happy, my afternoons a little down, and my evenings are left up to fate. I pray each day for God to continue working in my life. I’m determined to not let this illness I have go to waste. I long to inspire and be happy. I want the people in the world to know they aren’t alone. I want the little kids struggling to grow up to know there is help. I want the strong men to know it’s okay to cry. I want the perfect women to know it’s okay to be broken.

There is help for us all, but we can only fully receive it when we are willing to let go of who we’ve been to grow into someone completely new.

-Liz.

When Mental Health Makes You a Hot Mess

I’ve lived with depression, anxiety, and ADD since I can remember. Well, I had no idea about the ADD until I was 22 years old. It’s strange growing up with something so apart of you, yet you’re so unaware of its existence. 

For me, I always knew something else was wrong. Throughout my constant anxiety attacks and beginning depression, I could feel something else. I could only explain it, at 10 years old, as feeling mentally insane. I felt like I should have been locked away and the key lost forever. It’s scary being a child, feeling like there’s something mentally wrong with you and not knowing what to do about it. 

My parents, as difficult as they may be, tried their best. My dad was always willing to pray for me and my mother willing to send some… um… tough love my way. I was unable to tell them throughout my teenage and early adult years why I acted the way I did. I kept getting kicked out for not doing my laundry, I started acting out and partying, I began being hateful. I’m not a disrespectful person, I’m actually quite caring and sensitive. Yet, I was so angry that no one could see the little girl inside me dying. I was so angry because I could see that little girl, there was nothing I could do to save her myself.

So, this piece is about my current struggle with ADD as a 22 year old woman trying to get her shit together. Please be respectful and considerate of my stories and photographs. These photos are sensitive because of the subject of this piece. It is meant to get people thinking about just how raw and emotional things can get for those of us with ADD/ADHD. These are stories from my own personal experience and does not reflect the experiences that others have.


My days start out in this spot. On my patio of my apartment is where I have my most precious moments of my day. I take my cup of coffee outside and sit and wait for my first ADD medication to kick in. I chain smoke, I post to my Instagram accounts, and I call my grandma. This is the moment I need to get my day started correctly. It gives me time to be with myself and process my thoughts one at a time until my medicine begins to work and I can think clearly without effort.


My patio has become a bit of a mess. I’m ashamed of it. I clean it, and within a week it’s a disaster again. Due to my excessive smoking habit. Why do I smoke so much? Because I need something to constantly do with my hands. My brain is working in over drive all of the time and if I stop moving my hands, I shut down. The cigarettes keep away the anxiety. They keep away the panic that I can’t control my own mind. My medicine hasn’t been working too well this past week. Between the couple drinks I’ve had and too low of a dose, it’s been difficult. I’ve spent all day, every day on my patio. With the exception of sleep and a couple outings, I stay put right where I am. It’s safe there. There’s no dirty dishes to look at, no to-do lists, and no dog to take care of when I’m outside. There’s no pressure except of what I make myself.


Yeah, I sit there and look at the garbage bag that holds the outcome of the last time I cleaned my patio. ADD is full of unfinished tasks. We start out with great enthusiasm and motivation until it quickly fades and we’re left with a half completed project and sleepy eyes. Then, sometimes depression likes to sneak up and ask us, “Why f*cking bother?”


This is the most honest, painful, raw, and emotional project I have ever attempted to complete. Before I continue, I’d like to share what’s behind the images. The reason for the editing. I chose black and white, not for those colors but for the gray. ADD is like living in a gray area of super productive and astonishingly “lazy.” God, I hate that word. To the world, we look lazy, messy, like a hot mess. When, in reality, we know all the productive things we could do, and want to do, but can’t. We’re stuck in the gray.

I chose to keep some photos dark as to show pieces of depression that can easily coincide with ADD. And the blurry focus is there on purpose, as well. It’s to show that life is such a blur with this illness that you can’t just comprehend that one thing to focus on. And, I kept the highlights in these photos bright, because it’s not all darkness in our souls.


Our bodies are important to us. While we may not be able to take the best care of them, it is the part we can control. I love my body because it tells me when I’m tired. It let’s me know when I’m nervous. My body is beautiful, and not just in a sexual way. It carries me, it keeps me going, and it holds my heart. Being a woman in general, we get a lot of attention solely based on our looks. And in the past year, it’s gotten increasingly more common for me. While I don’t mind if someone tells me I look pretty, I’m waiting for the person who compliments my hot mess of a mind. That’s the person I’m keeping around.


Living with ADD is one thing. But opening up about it as I am, is a whole other story. I’ve had people leave the deepest cuts when using my mental illnesses against me. Having a mental illness makes you vulnerable. I’ve heard this from others, ADD/ADHD increases our emotions. We have the ability to feel so incredibly deep. My happy moments all feel like the happiest ever, I get extremely easily excited at the slightest thing, and I love with every ounce of my soul. However, that being said, I feel saddness like no other, disappointments come as easily as the excitment, and heart break is something that makes me feel dead inside. I’ve been told I’m overly emotional, as if I’m supposed to be ashamed and change that about myself. Well, no. While it’s smart to not let emotions control your choices, emotions tell us very important things we cannot ignore.


ADD can leave you feeling vulnerable, scared, and alone. Much like anxiety and depression. I get easily overwhelmed. I can’t do the things I usually do daily anymore. I can’t focus on conversations with friends, and I sure as hell can’t live in the moment. I can get so overwhelmed that I shut down. You can see it in my face. It looks much like the one in the photo above, only more empty. In reality, I’d be staring at an object, trying to focus on it. While my thoughts race around without a break, I look like I don’t have a thought in the world. This is because my physical body can’t keep up with my brain. It just can’t, and it knows it. My body will shut down, and once that point hits it’s hard to do anything for the rest of the day.


I took this photo because of how I was physically feeling at that moment. My heart was racing, it felt as if it’d just beat right out of my chest. Yes, taking these photos made me nervous, (even more nervous to post them) surprisingly the cause was much simpler. I took my second ADD medication and while I waited on that to begin working, I drank some coffee. Bad idea. It didn’t give me energy, or a boost. It did help my mood a bit, though. I freaking love coffee! It just happens to be one of the many things I’ve had to change about my lifestyle, though. No more or very little caffiene. Most likely you’ll catch me drinking decaf. I sneak a few half caf coffees in. Don’t tell my doctor! 


This photo absolutely breaks my heart in two. I wasn’t going to post it, until I saw the meaning of it. My intention with this was to have me looking at a book like, “Why can’t I focus on reading this?” Instead, I captured a pure moment of confusion from my fur baby. To me, he just looks so sad. It’s as if he’s wondering why his mommy doesn’t take him for walks anymore, why does his mom spend all her time outside, why is the only time he gets attention is when his mommy is napping or falling asleep. I hope he can understand that I’m not well. I know he does his best to comfort me. I apologize to him daily for not being an active mom, because I know how it feels for him.


Along with ADD comes the terror of the messy bed. Laundry doesn’t make it to the hamper, other things start to pile up. And then the dreaded time comes when it’s time to go to sleep. I’m able to tell when it’s going to be a good night and I can easily look forward to escaping all of the thoughts in my mind. But, I can also tell when it is going to be a bad night. A night when I lay awake day dreaming, thinking of every random possibility. Contemplating why I even try to sleep. Last night, my medication kept me up. I laid in bed for 2 hours before getting up and eating a snack. With everything that’s going on in my life, there’s too many things to think about when I’m left alone with my thoughts.


This is where I usually spend most of my time. I’ll eat here, I’ll read here, and I’ll work here. It’s usually the place where I live my life. Yet, for the past week I have been solely sitting outside waiting for the moment I start to crave being back in my chair. Lately, every time I sit at my table I’m discouraged, sad. I have a list of things I want to work on. That’s right, I WANT to work on them yet, I CAN’T. That’s what ADD is. Wanting to do the things that will help you, and not being physically able to.


Although, it’s not all down in the darkness. There are moments when it starts getting lighter. When I can feel the self love I have. I know I deserve to have happiness. We all do. Sometimes it’s a struggle to get to that point, but we can all make it there. You just have to help yourself.


There’s still love in our lives. Even though my fur baby doesn’t get the best mommy, he’s got the best love. And I may not be the best friend, but I’ve sure as hell got some best friends. I feel emotions strongly, love being the strongest of all. 


Things get lighter. They get brighter. The thoughts can calm down and I can function again. I was able to stay focused throughout this whole thing with no breaks. That’s an amazing accomplishment for today. On a day when I can’t even begin to look at my to-do list, I’m grateful for having been able to do this project. My hope in this is to inspire those with ADD/ ADHD and to share awareness with those who don’t have it. It’s not always a hyperactive disorder. I’m definitely not hyperactive. My mind is, though. 


Please excuse the middle finger, but at the end of the day I’m left with confidence. I’m left feeling more confident that I can overcome the next day, as well. Sure, there may be some feelings of defeat and saddness, a lot of confusion but, there’s hope. At the end of the day, put your middle fingers up and tell your mental health issues to f*ck off. They’ve got no place here. And even though we both know they’re going to stick around, anyway, it feels great to stand up for yourself with some badass attitude! 

Xoxo, Liz.

Life is One Crazy Ride.

  
As many of you may have noticed, it’s been quite a while since I’ve published anything new.  To update all of you, I had taken a leave of absence from school, as well as from other things.  I spent time getting to know myself again.  As of this past Tuesday, I began school again, was offered a new job, and began laying down a plot for the next chapter in my life.

 
 While I was on my leave from school, I spent time enjoying life.  I re-watched all 7 seasons of Gilmore Girls, made new friends, and visited old ones. The best thing to come out of my time off was a trip to California I took to visit the most important person in my life.  My best friend has always been there for me since kindergarten, she’s seen me at my worst and will be there when I’m at my best.  The connection we share is incredible and seeing her and her husband gave me the motivation I needed.  Also, visiting the town I’ve always called home brought me some peace.  There’s no reason to feel stuck, there’s no sense in being afraid of staying in a place that brings you pain.  I thank both of them so much for inviting me out to see them, I can’t wait to go back!

With positivity always comes some sort of negativity, as well.  It may be instant, it maybe around the corner, but it will be there.  A lot of times in life I’ve felt afraid to be happy because of this fact.  What I’ve learned is that, you can’t live in that fear.  The best thing you can do for yourself is remain confident and positive.  When that negativity shows up, remain strong.  For me, I find my strength in my faith in God as well as the many mantras I keep in my heart.  When I came back from my trip, I was forced with the task of having to move out of one of my best friend’s houses.  Her and her family had opened their house to me when I moved back to Arizona.  And as always, there comes a point when things come to an end.  I’ve temporarily moved back in with my parents, which is a challenge of its own.  In the past, losing a dear friend and living back in this house would tear me apart.  Admittedly, it took a couple days of binge watching Netflix to get back to life.  Also taking a couple mistakes to knock my ego back down a bit, however now I’m back stronger than ever.  I’ve learned to refuse to stay knocked down, I’ve gotten real good at building myself back up stronger.  With the help of God, family, and friends.

  
Words I choose to live by: Positive, Wild, and Wander.  We all get this one life, why should we spend it in misery?  Yes, shit happens.  You go out of your way for ungrateful people, you get disappointed, people get mean and spread lies.  No one is a perfect human being, if we could all stop blaming each other for our own imperfections, life would be much more enjoyable.  By all means, cry it out.  Take an hour, or a day to accept the fact that you have emotions and they need to be respected.  However, stay positive.  Life continues on and it’s much easier to continue with it, than it is to try and pause it.  

Be Wild!  Don’t take life so damn seriously!  Cuss a little, (responsibily) drink a little too much every now and then, (legally) get a little stoned.  When life gets sad, crack a joke!  The other people in your class get into an inappropriate conversation, sit back and laugh.  That d*ck joke your friend just made?  Admit that it’s funny and laugh your ass off! Come on, we all know talking about d*cks is hilarious. Bring out Cards Against Humanity and let yourself enjoy making fun of this ridiculous world.  For those of you who prefer a more subtle way of being wild, drink too much coffee and spend all freakin’ day reading a book!  There is no day wasted when you spend it going on an adventure.

Don’t forget to Wander.  In my book, a road trip is never a waste.  There’s always something new to discover.  Even if the plans you made don’t work out once you get there, make the best of it.  Jam out to some music, have a conversation with God, call someone you miss.  My favorite memories from this life are all from traveling.  Whether I got on a plane and flew to another continent, or I drove 5 minutes down the road to the river, it was all an adventure.  Hell, sometimes just going to Walmart is an adventure all in its own! Be sure to see things in this life, talk to strangers, be a light in this crazy world. 

  
Before you move forward, sometimes you need to look back.  Always remember what made you who you are.  In the photo above, I was able to go back to my favorite place in the whole world.  My home.  When I was little, my dad was stationed in San Diego.  I will forever be a California Girl.  That bridge you see in the background was “my bridge.”  It’s my fondest memory of driving with my mom to pick up my dad.  I was such a sweet and loving little girl, excited about everything.  I constantly strive to unapologetically bring some of that personality back to who I am today.  In order to move forward with who I want to become, I need to remain true to myself.

  
Lastly, I took confidence away from my break.  Not only in looks, but personality as well.  Instead of focusing on the negative, I focus on the things I like.  Accepting that I will never be perfect in my eyes, but am already perfect in the eyes of God and those who truly love me.  I may have a bad habit of smoking cigarettes, my makeup may not last all day, and that’s okay.  I’m socially awkward, I do things without thinking them through, and I say things at the wrong time.  Usually saying them way too loudly.  I tend to over explain myself, but you know what?  That’s who I am.  I don’t play games, I say what’s in my heart.  I care about people who have hurt me and I tend to take years to truly forgive myself for hurting people.  I make no sense, I love working in a customer service environment, yet I am a complete introvert.  Life is just one big book you’re constantly writing.  With chapters small and big.  Pages full of sadness and joy.  Don’t be too hard on yourself, take the time you need for self care. 

I’m excited to get back to sharing inspiration, love, and adventure! My new posting schedule will be, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  Please be patient as I try to create this new routine.  I love you all very much and thank you for everything you do!

Namaste. 

Xoxo,

Liz