First and foremost, I must give myself my own damn shout-out. I’m currently in mid-terms for my last semester at SF State. I checked on my Western Art History results and I got a perfect score, 50 out of 50!
I….am….a bad ass! *does goofy twerk dance that should NEVER been done in public because it’t really sad more than anything*
I won’t know about my Queer Art History class until after spring break, which I currently am enjoying!
I really need this break. I’ve been having a really tough time lately mentally. After having a bad experience back in mid February, my panic and anxiety attacks popped back up with a vengeance because, let’s be honest, when one is under normal stress what they REALLY need is that minty fresh scent of panic and anxiety to make things all awesome and shit! For about a week I was having constant issues with getting to sleep where I was having the same fear over and over again,…..if I fall asleep, I will die, so not only was my normal random insomnia there, but now there was sprinkles of my death lingering in my head!! It’s like,…..having to eat the driest meatloaf known to all of mankind, but all I had to drink in order to choke it down is grape flavored NyQuil! My chest would occasionally tighten up like an elephant was sitting on me. Frakking damn panic elephant! At the moment, I have just suck it up and deal as Hubby was laid off at the beginning of the month, but found a new, better job a week later. which means we lost our insurance for this month. So, no therapy sessions to help me get through it and no ability to get some temporary prescription help either. And my special chocolate sometimes makes the anxiety worse depending on which one I use. So………..yay. With this spring break, I can relax a bit and not feel like I’m running out of time constantly. Hubby also told me to go get a massage treatment as that does help get the muscles all bound up from freaking out constantly to calm the fuck down. A beautiful spa day for little ol’ me? BEST HUSBAND EVER!!
On Monday, my daughter turns 7 years old. Lost story short:
Found out I was pregnant 6 months in. (Again, long story and I’m shortening it) We’re not parenting people so we made the decision to find a couple that are. We did, and her daddies are the best thing that has ever happened and give her the life that we know we would not be able to.
She’s ridiculously adorable, undoubtedly a result of my own cute genes, and she’s freaking unstoppable in her brains, the gift from her father’s own genius genes. I found the perfect gift for her this year and I can’t wait to see how she likes it. She’s my solid ground for whenever I get really low. I never want to see her in pain and that constant reminder is the rope that I cling to whenever I get too close to the edge. I want to see her get old. I want to have conversations with her like Lorilali and Rory Gilmore. I never want to see her feel that pain that comes with loss. So, I cling to thoughts of her and I pull myself up.
For the next week, I’ll try to make some art as I haven’t done so in awhile and its making my skin crawl which is never a good thing.