Keeping It Real (Part One)

Hi.  As some of you may have noticed, I have been gone awhile.  


I've missed blogging but yet it was a break that was unintentional.  And no I am not pregnant. :) (I only say that because a lot of people tend to take a break when they are ending the school year or they are pregnant)


So, I have never felt the need to hold back on this ol blog, so I thought I would let you know what has been up with me.  


I haven't made it a secret (nor have a I really gotten in to it) but I struggle with anxiety and OCD.  My struggles for anxiety started after college.  I can't pinpoint when it all started but all of a sudden one little thing to worry about turned into unbelievable stomachaches, crying, and shaking.  Then the OCD came...  Eventually when I went to the doctor (years later) I learned that OCD is a way to deal/handle ones anxiety.  


My OCD isn't as bad at what you may see on the show Obsessed but it definitely has affected my life in a negative way.  If you want to know more about how it has affected me, go ahead and ask, but I won't get into too much detail here.  Mainly it involves: touching things, reading things, checking things, safety, and feeling "even".  I know that might not make sense to you, but if you suffer from OCD you might just understand.


I always thought I hid everything pretty well.  (I seemed to the OCD but apparently not the anxiety.) I started noticing comments from people that shocked me.  My dad told me "if you keep worrying so much you are going to give yourself an ulcer" (at this point I was 6 months pregnant), my former boss told me "you worry too much", and my family started keeping things from me, worried that I wouldn't be able to handle it.


After my son was born and all of a sudden I became a stay at home mom, things changed.  It was the summer and Mason had just turned 2 months old.  I was used to doing things, going outside, and all of sudden I was stuck inside holding a baby all day long.  During these summer days all of sudden I was feeling like I couldn't breath, shaking, pacing.  I soon came to realize I was having panic attacks.  Then, I finally bit the bullet and went to a doctor.


If you look back at this post  (an actual funny one about myself being a "Doctor Killer") I went to see my Physician.  He recommended therapy and started me on fluoxetine.  Honest to God, within a few months I felt awesome.  I know the meds helped tremendously but the therapy was the best.  I had a therapist who was young, funny, and I knew under different circumstances we could be friends.  Plus she was giving me all these great tools to be less co-dependent and stop with a lot of my OCD rituals.


Well after about a year, I got news I was being dropped by one of my forms of insurance.  The one who pays for most of my therapy appointments.  At my last session my therapist actually told me she had accepted a job in a new town.  (Refer back once again to my "Doctor Killer" post).  So of course we didn't accomplish anything that session because I bawled the whole time.


Even though I really missed her and our sessions, I thought I had the tools to help myself and carry on.  This June it had been 6 months...and things were starting to change.  And unfortunately not for good...


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I'm not trying to make this a mystery post but I have already posted too much and want to focus on the next part with its own post.  I realized this has been long but I have really felt the need to get it out there. 


Come back tomorrow if you are interested in hearing the rest.  Especially if you are feeling the same way I am.