The beginning

I'm never sure how to start a blog.  I've started them in the past but never kept up with them  This one will be different!

Recently, I've started changing things in my life.  It's been a long, rough road to get to 40.  Yes, the big FOUR OH.  In December of 2018, I turned forty.  And looking around at my life was the most depressing thing I'd ever done.

Single, childless, living in a small apartment in a small town, working an okay job...and I was sad as hell.  It took me forty years to accumulate a lot of trauma, a lot of sadness, a lot of guilt, a lot of pain and a sense of humor that borders on darkness and self deprecation.

On the outside, I'm fine.  Hair mostly done, make up on, clean clothes, on time to work every day, paying my bills, doing this adult thing. On the inside, I'm a broken mess of mosaic pieces that haven't fit together in a very long time. But, I see my therapist every Friday and take my little green and yellow pills and keep it moving.

2019 was going to bring change.  And I had to fight for it.  I needed my inside to match my outside.

Buzz through January.  No change.  More of the same.  I spent the start of the year helping a friend recover from her double mastectomy, cried through the three year anniversary of my Cindy's death and my company moved into a new building on the other side of town.

February rolls around....I'm in Florida for my brothers birthday.  I'm miserable and bored.  I spend a lot of cold, dark days in the confines of my apartment, watching Netflix and annoying my cats.

The new office building comes with a bunch of new, fancy other offices.  Including a dentist office, a real estate agency and a counseling center.  I would never dream of leaving my current therapist or making any kind of change in my unhappy life so I dismissed the idea of a new, fancy counselor.

One day, I decided to look up this new, fancy counseling center.  After a half hour on the internet, I made an appointment.  WHAT!  No.  There I was, at my desk, penning in my appointment in my trusty planner.

February 20th rolled around and down the hall I went.  This isn't going to work.  I was doing just fine.  But, we'll see how this session goes and never see her again.

An hour later and a half of box of tissues down the garbage, I was making my second appointment and settling into the idea of "trauma therapy."

I'm currently four sessions in and I'm getting comfortable with my new fancy therapist named Carrie. And the changes are starting.  Trauma therapy is a new thing to me.  It involves a lot of work, emotionally and mentally.  It will involve getting into my "core beliefs" about myself, where those beliefs came from, time lines of my life to include the highs/lows, sitting in my trauma, conceptualtion (which I'm still wrapping my head around that.)

I have home work now.  I have to make lists and search inside myself.  And it's really fucking hard.  The timeline is the worst. Writing out my life, in chunks of time and listing the lows (bottom part of the sheet) and the highs (top part of the sheet) and seeing that my life, in blue ink, is made up more of lows then highs.  And those lows started when I was so small, that I've carried that damage into every faucet of my life.  My life, in blue and white...the trauma was palpable.  There are things on this time line that are never spoke of.  They are like "trauma which shall not be named" and my life is some sort of twisted Harry Potter book.  Minus the happy ending.  I do have my own bald guy though, or did.

I tell myself the work will be worth it.  I've started posting (each day) a positive thing on Instagram.  I try to do it each morning, to set the tone for my day.  I find myself looking and seeking out positive things so I can post them and improve myself.  I write myself notes each day.  (This makes me feel so lame) I make a list of things I need to do that night (chores) and I leave myself a little note that says "You got this!" or "Get it girl!" and I smile a bit when I cross off the chores I've done.  I feel accomplished.  Just last week, I cleaned my entire apartment in just an hour or two a night.  I showered four times last week.

I know these may seem like small things to most but when you're so deep into your depression, the little things stop mattering.   Like showering more then twice a week.  And fixing my hair.  And cleaning my bathroom and doing my dishes.  No one sees the inside of my apartment.  So, what does it matter?  Well, I'm not caring for myself and it shows in my environment.

I have such a fear of the unknown.  My anxiety is high.  I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I do have a small spark of hope with these small changes but I've been down this road before.  I want to do the work now though.  I'm so tired of feeling this way and my mental illness lying to me.

On top of my positive Instagram, I've limited my screen time with Facebook because it sucks and I'm going to give this blog a go.  Maybe I'll help someone.  I've had a few friends (and MY SISTER!) reach out to me to say they see my change and they are rooting for me.  Two friends have said I'm inspiring them and just this morning, my sister revealed her own fight.  Anyone who knows me, knows my heart is in helping people.  So, if my transparency and fight help others, then I'm going to go for it.

My whole life has been intense.  Hell, I'm intense.  Keenly Kopp seemed fitting.

So, here we go.  Thanks for reading all this.  Thanks for being here.  I figure if you're reading this, you're my friend or related but thanks for reading all the same!

We're all on this roller coaster together and no one gets out alive.  Let's help each other! Start today.