Prozac is Back

I started therapy this week. After a seven year hiatus, prozac is back. Prozac and a slew of diagnosis……PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Abandonment Issues, Eating Disorder (possibly), Panic Attacks-I swear I’m missing one, or two, or three. Hell I’m not sure. The one thing I know, is I held back tears and still acted strong. Still acted like what I was saying “I’m a domestic violence survivor”; was casual.  I trauma dumped for 30 minutes-then learned this wasn’t the therapist but the subscriber of the meds. I’m sure I sound like a train ready for derailment. Heading full speed to an open-ended cliff…

Is my life always this chaotic? No…am I starting over at 41? Yes.

Therapy has been in my vocabulary since 2nd grade. I was forced to go-I don’t remember the initial reason, but it somehow always translated back to being adopted. Yes I am adopted, might as well get that out of the way because it fills chapters of my life. I feel like looking back, that was a cop out. An easy excuse and answer to anything that didn’t fit the picture perfect ideals.

•Asking too many questions (questioning my identity) ➡️ Adoption
•Acting out and being rebellious ➡️ Adoption
•Depression ➡️ Adoption

I’m getting off track…I suppose that can happen when one is struggling mentally…

Who am I? (A hot mess) A mom. A mom to 5. Four that are walking and breathing and one who resides in the heavens. Being a mom is most of what I know, its where I feel like I excel. Where I am most comfortable, stable (maybe?), and where I thrive. 21 years of my life has held the title of “Mom”. So as one can assume, parenting and life experiences shall be shared.

A “wife” or partner of 20 years. Yes, 20 years to one person. But I’d hardly call myself a wife. I’m more of a roommate with the goals of raising our children and surviving one another. It hasn’t always been this bad-or maybe it has, and I was too weak to realize. We’re toxic for one another, maybe I am the only one who sees and realizes this, but its true. We probably should have left years ago, or maybe we shouldn’t have. Who knows whats right anymore. I know that the person who I fell in love with, is not the person I am in love with today. Reread that if you need too.

I own a business. But that won’t be the focus. It is my baby, my safe place, and where most of my time and energy go outside my children.

I’m a coffee-holic; its probably an addiction at this point. One that I am not willing to sacrifice. Too much medical evidence to prove I’m going to be fine. How do I take my coffee-lots of cream. Starbucks or Biggby is my guilt pleasure. If you wanna buy me a coffee 👉🏻 $ShowerConfessions (on Cash App)

So I hope this quick entry intrigues you to follow along. I used to say I was finding the I in beautIful. And maybe I am. Or maybe I have accepted its best to hide and keep the confessions a secret.