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Emotional Overwhelm

I’m trying to mentally prepare myself for the day. Every morning I sit and reflect on the day ahead. I try to remind myself of the good things that I have to look forward to and brace myself for the obstacles I will encounter. I am not doing a great job at seeing the good this morning. My anxiety is through the roof. I’m on edge and have been since the moment I opened my eyes.

I tossed and turned all night. I keep attempting to predict the potential outcomes of my next decision. I am mulling over and over analyzing every single detail. Going to court with a narcissist isn’t an easy decision to make. Deciding to fight against a narcissist in any scenario will lead to disruption in your life. Their manipulation and ability to sway people to their side is on another level. I’m not sure I can win this battle, but I feel like I definitely need to stand up and try.

My hope is that my narcissistic ex husband will see I’m not backing down. I’m praying that he will be too proud to allow his facade to be shattered in court and he will give in. Either way I’m not going to roll over, not this time. I may be anxious and scared to speak out in court against the man who has abused my threefold and I for years, but I know that I am stronger than I was two years ago when this all began. He can’t intimidate me into silence anymore. My truth and the truth of my threefold deserves a voice and my voice is the only one that can speak it.

If he settles with me now then I will breathe a sigh of relief, but if he doesn’t I will do whatever I have to do to protect my threefold. He can play games, tell lies, twist the truth, and try to manipulate the situation, but I feel I can show that I have been the best mom to my threefold while he has been only looking out for himself through this. I won’t lie to protect my image, as I know I’m not perfect, but the truth will destroy his image completely. Nothing is more threatening to the narcissist than exposure.

Send all the good vibes and positive energy my way. Pray for me or send the juju of positivity and calm to me. I’m scared out of my mind for this fight, but still I will keep fighting. I fight for my future. More importantly I am fighting for the future of my threefold. Here’s to hoping the fight is in my favor. In the meantime I’m trying to stay positive. I’ve got this! ☮️❤️😊~M

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Forced Silence & Seeking Support

This will read like a rant from the pity party parade. It’s written with frustration for those like me who suffer from and/or care for those suffering from mental illnesses. I’m in tears right now as I write this. I’m spiraling into the anxiety of the situation I am currently in. The truth is most people will never understand. This won’t be a plea for support and understanding. This will be another issue that is swept under the rug by the society who forces us to stay silent. It won’t be shared across the world or spark the social change that needs to happen or stomp out the stigma surrounding seeking help for mental illness. I will be labeled, criticized, judged, and scrutinized for how I choose to raise my threefold and for how I mom mental illness while managing my own from those that have no clue how real the struggles are. Yet still, I feel like I am obligated to speak up. If not for myself, then for my threefold, because at the end of the day I’m the one left advocating and fighting for them. Even when no one else will.

I’m in tears, not because I feel sorry for myself and feel the need to place blame. I’m crying because I know how hard this road is. It’s not a road I would wish on anyone. Yet, it’s my reality and the reality of my threefold. I have just admitted my youngest daughter to an inpatient acute psychiatric facility. We walk down this road of life with mental illness weighing us down. I am too familiar with the inpatient stays, the safety plans, the medication management, the highs and the lows of bipolar. This isn’t my first rodeo with admitting a child or myself to a psychiatric facility. We’ve been here before. We’ve battled the suicidal ideation and self harm demons before. It wasn’t that long ago. It’s not a fun ride on the bipolar express. I’m not going to sugarcoat the truth and paint pretty, positivity filled pictures with sunshine and rainbows about overcoming the obstacles. The obstacles we face are ominous, over whelming and either over criticized or completely overlooked by the society that surrounds us. Ignoring and judging is not helping anyone, it is silencing our voices, while the screams inside our head are so deafening. The stigma is real. It’s a social injustice. I don’t say that lightly.

I am a single mom. I have three girls that I lovingly and sarcastically refer to as my threefold. They are me, and then some. They were cursed by my genetics and an illness that was passed down to us from the generations before us. It is what it is. The cards have been dealt and we are forced to play this hand or fold. Folding for my family is not an option. I will fight for us to survive. Even still I would be lying if I didn’t state that my own inner demons are begging to run rampant and it’s taking everything I have to hold it together.

I could sit and pretend that I have it all under control. I could act like I’m the picture of mental health leading my threefold on a ‘live laugh love’ journey through their mental illness struggles. I’m barely holding on right now. My grip is slowly slipping and I’m on the tipping point of an episode. I’m not sure if I’m cut out for this. I feel like I’m failing. I feel like I have very little support to make it through this day, week, month year. I’m silenced, because no one needs my sob story about how hard my struggles are. People have their own problems. I’m just a drop in the bucket of like. No one is going to save us, that’s all on me.

Seeking support seems like a great concept in theory. no one is jumping up and down to be friends with someone who has children in tow 24/7. I can’t go out, mom nights are nonexistent, and my threefold is more important than those things. Yet it’s lonely. When there is no family support nearby, it’s all left to you. You are responsible for every therapy appointment, psychiatric consult, evaluation, treatment team meeting, and every single hospitalization. You don’t get the break from school IEP meetings, teacher conferences, and the carline. Days off surround seeing how many appointments you can squeeze into a single day.

It’s not easy Mommin’ mental illness when everything costs money, especially the treatments required and the medications needed. Therefore I work, hard. Every phone call from schools or hospitals and every appointment means I lose money. When a child goes inpatient it only increases your mental stress because now you’re overloaded and overthinking every path forward. There is no rest. Even when you try it’s futile. You are left tossing and turning with anxiety as you worry about how you are going to do everything. Alone.

My relationships suffer, because not only am I completely wrapped up in my own children’s life, but now I am not a nice nor fun person. I’m angry and I’m emotionally drained. I’m overwhelmed with anxiety and I want to be alone. Until I don’t. Then I am needy. To top it off I don’t want to share my spiral with my family. I don’t want them to see me fall apart. I don’t want the ‘everything will be ok’. I want it to be ok now.

We hide these struggles from outsiders because we are already being ripped apart as if I am being pulled in a million different directions at all times, but right now the last thing I need is society’s stigma ripping me apart too. People don’t see the bravery and strength it takes to seek help. The balancing act required to keep it all from crashing down on you. They instead want to pick apart your past, your flaws, your parenting and your children until they can find a reason to blame for the mess you are in. I know my guide to Mommin’ mental illness why managing my own was just right here…oh wait I didn’t get my copy. Can I borrow yours, judge Judy? That’s what I thought. We don’t need more judgment.

That’s not even close to support that’s shoving the stigma in our face. So we swallow that stigma and suck it up. After all, we can beat ourselves up without having others do it for us. We are black belts when it comes to beating up on ourselves and we can kick ourselves when we are down. No extra help is needed in that department. If you think I don’t cry alone as I try to figure out how I messed up this bad. Then you are mistaken, I’ve been blaming myself relentlessly. Even when I can rationalize the why and the purpose for the pain my guilt still follows me. Pretend I’m the bad guy, it’s ok I play that part of the villain of this story in my own mind over and over. It’s not going to be the first time I’ve been validated by society that my self deprecating thoughts are true.

So why should we even speak up? Why seek support? Why shouldn’t we just fight our invisible enemies solo? This fight, the one that is life or death, needs support to be victorious. this isn’t a singular battle we are fighting. This is a war. Sometimes we are our own worst enemy and we need the support of others to fight for us when we begin fighting against ourselves. It’s not fair. How childish of me to say. It’s not something everyone can handle. It’s not easy to understand. It is a real fight everyday to not give in.

If the options are to lose everything to save one of my threefold or lose one to hold everything together then I know what I’ll choose. I’ll lose everything before I let this invisible enemy win. Even if it means I go down with the darkness myself. I’m not afraid to fight. I’m afraid to fight this in silence alone and fail. I’m not sure what enemies are lurking in the shadows that will darken my doorstep. I refuse to let those enemies take my threefold captive without seeking support and rounding my troops. Until I can find our path forward again, I’ll be here fighting. Fighting for all of us. I will continue to speak up and stomp the stigma surrounding mental illnesses. Failure is not an option.

☮️❤️😊~M

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Don’t Shame Me for Seeking Help

🚩⚠️ Trigger Warning⚠️🚩

This is my Threefold. This is my threefold. That’s the resounding thought in my head as I sit scared out of my mind because # 3 of my threefold {my youngest daughter age 10} is currently alone in a strange bed. She was admitted early yesterday morning to the psychiatric children’s wing. I am beside myself with anxiety. She is only 10. I can’t be with my baby. This is too surreal. This can’t be happening…again. I’m not ready and she is too little. She’s just a child. She is my baby.

If you have been following for a while you’ll recall my post regarding #2 🚩⚠️ My Child is NOT Attention Seeking. My Child is Seeking Help 🚩⚠️ trigger warning ⚠️🚩 {please do not click this link if you are triggered by self harm or content pertaining to suicide.} this post described my experience with admitting #2 of my threefold {my middle daughter, 13} to a crisis intervention center. Here I am again speaking about the same content and a different kid. I am dealing with the same situation. I guess this is just another day in the life of the trauma drama bipolar momma bear. I am Mommin’ mental illness. I’m here to tell you, this job is hard. I’m not prepared or I’m overly prepared. Either way, this is the really hard part about being a mom. Getting help when you start realizing that you are not able to give your own child the help they need. The worst part is watching them suffer through the pain of their mental illness. They are too young to understand what is happening.

#3 has had a really rough time trying to adapt to my divorce. She is the youngest of my girls and was only 8 when I left her dad. She had begun acting out more prior to the separation. She was running away, displaying anger and struggling dealing with the pandemic. Virtual schooling, lack of interaction with peers and isolation only compounded the underlying issues that were left untreated. I’m sure this is true for a lot of children. I attributed many of her symptoms to the ‘Covid Crazy’ diagnosis. {My personal term for what we were all experiencing during the shutdown}

I was wrong. Her grades fell dramatically with virtual school. I left my husband. I couldn’t continue watching my threefold and I suffer from the actions and inactions of my ex. I needed to get out of that toxic cycle and show my threefold another way. Pro tip: don’t marry a narcissist and if you’re already in that relationship…LEAVE.

#3 had no help with school and with untreated ADHD it was nearly impossible to keep her in her room or in the living room with a laptop listening to some teacher talk about things that were of no interest to her. It was torture for all of my threefold, but she was in 2nd grade and lacked any self-discipline. It was obvious she was missing fundamental learning. It wasn’t until later I would realize that her education had been hijacked and her foundation building years of reading, comprehension, writing and math were stolen from her when her education went virtual during 2nd and 3rd grade.

When I left my ex, I sought therapy for my children and I. I was aware that my divorce would have a massive impact on their mental health {no diagnoses for my threefold yet other than #2, who was diagnosed with ODD and ADHD at the time which was untreated} I knew I would also need a sounding board myself to vent my frustrations and work through my personal feelings on leaving that relationship and the implications that decision would have on my threefold. We have maintained that therapy throughout these past couple of years. This led to psychiatric evaluations and medication therapies to help my threefold and I balance out our brain chemistry.

My threefold did deteriorate more post separation, but for reasons that I didn’t expect. I was right. They had needed treatment and therapy earlier, but due to my own untreated mental illness and the psychological abuse we endured, we swept our issues under the rug. They had needed help for years, but we all were too scared to ask for it. We knew how that conversation would end. A dad-diagnosis and more hell to deal with. It wasn’t until I got them help and they were safe to express how they always had felt that the trauma begun to unravel and the symptoms became more prevalent. They had been forcing themselves to cover the mental illness as a way to keep the peace in our unstable lives. I will forever have guilt over not seeking help and leaving sooner.

Currently, #3 is diagnosed as having depression, ADHD and Oppositional Defiance Disorder. I am familiar with the nuances of these diagnoses. I’m sure ODD will change into disruptive mood dysregulation disorder {DMDD} but what I don’t know for sure is if she will be saddled with the diagnosis of bipolar disorder that her sisters and I have been told we suffer from. At her age, that is unlikely even if she is presenting at this age just as #2 did. Same diagnoses and same behaviors. I should’ve known this would happen. I was in denial that all of my threefold would be cursed with my genetics. what I hadn’t prepared for was how difficult it would be to see my threefold spiral into periods of depression that make them feel like they need to hurt or even delete themselves to fix their problems. Life isn’t supposed to be this hard at ten, thirteen or seventeen.

#3 is a spunky girl who loves riding her bike, playing outside, jumping rope, TikTok, martial arts, doing crafts and stitch {from the Disney movie.} She has a hard time with making friends, because she is extremely bossy and territorial. She isn’t scared of a fight. She is pretty aggressive when she is upset and angry. Punching, hitting, kicking, throwing and screaming are her go to behavior when she gets upset. She is destructive when she is angry. These reactions and outbursts are mostly disproportionate to the situation. A simple request for her to go to bed, take medication, clean a mess or her room, and going to school can spiral into a knock down drag out fight from #3. Then after the aggression is the comedown. Tears, guilt, shame and regret mark the feelings from the fallout. It’s hard to parent, but I can only imagine it’s harder for her to understand what is happening inside her brain. She ends up feeling like she is just a bad kid, that this is just how she will always feel, she can’t be helped, and that she would be better off if she was no longer here.

These past couple of years have been quite the ride on the bipolar express. From #2’s struggles for nearly a year to help her get back on recovery road. A lot of issues with #1. More therapy hours than I can count and a million other issues that have come up 2021 was a hell of a ride. I was looking forward to a bit of peace and to be swimming in calmer waters. Instead I’m back to drowning.

I guess because I knew what to expect after the inpatient treatments that #2 underwent that I would be better equipped to handle #3’s admission. It’s strange, but this time it’s worse than before. Before I didn’t know how difficult that road to recovery would be. I didn’t know what I was up against. I was forced to take the uncertainty and roll with it. Sometimes it rolled over me, but I made it. More importantly #2 made it. This time is different.

I am more anxious now knowing what happens when your child goes to inpatient care. I know now that it’s a long and hard process. I know now that quick fixes don’t exist. I know this next week or two will not be the only time we need a higher level of care. I am uniquely familiar with the amount of time and energy that will be needed to make sure we are getting help. More than anything else, I know the toll it will take on my threefold and I as we walk this path again. I know that we could have the domino effect that results in relapse. This all makes me even more scared.

Before you go to judging my child and I let me tell you some facts. ADHD and ODD are marked by impulsive behavior and an inability to regulate emotions properly. My daughter doesn’t need to have ‘her ass beat’ or ‘taught a lesson’. She doesn’t need to be told, nor I that she is ‘a brat’, ‘a terrorist’, ‘spoiled’, or that she is ‘attention seeking’. She is not going to get better by being told how bad she is. I’m not going to parent better because I’m told that I’m screwing it up or how this is my fault. I am perfectly capable of beating myself up, I definitely don’t need the outside help with that.

I am sure there are a million things that I could do differently, but the fact that my child will suffer from mental illness won’t change. Fun fact. My parenting didn’t cause my child to have a mental illness, my genetics did. I’m positive that my actions and reactions can exacerbate her symptoms if I don’t handle it properly. I will be the first to admit that I have mishandled and missed the mark on occasion while mommin’ mental illness. After all, my handbook on the rules of parenting was just as nonexistent as yours.

I have sat patiently and responded with calmness while being screamed at by my own child about how much she hates me and wished I was dead. I’ve been cursed at, kicked, hit at, and had things thrown at me. I’ve questioned my own parenting skills and abilities to manage my threefold’s mental illness. I’ve held my child after her outburst and told her it would be ok as she cried and apologized. I’ve taken tv’s, tablets, social outings, and the millions of other things she enjoys. She doesn’t care. She will tell you herself that those consequences don’t phase her or make her want to try to better. I get notes home from school about behavior and lack of effort. She doesn’t care. She has been in therapy for 18 months but I can’t make her participate or use the skills. It doesn’t work for her. Not when she is emotional and can’t regulate those emotions. She just does, without thoughts of how it will work out later. If you remind her of the consequences she will scream that she doesn’t care. So you can tell me I’m not hard enough on her. What do you do when hard doesn’t work, soft doesn’t work, and suddenly it’s like a ticking time bomb you know could go off at any time and you can’t change it?

I’ve tried everything from attention to ignoring, rewards and consequences, behavior charts, parenting coaches, family sessions and a million other things. I’m not sitting back just hoping this phase of life is just that, a phase. I need to find a solution but I need help. I can admit that. I can see this is beyond my own abilities. I don’t offer the help she needs. It’s time for drastic measures. Even if that wasn’t what I wanted to admit. Even if I tried amongst the recommended higher level of care. I just didn’t want this for her, not this young.

For those that are thinking I couldn’t handle my child and dropped her off at a facility to allow someone else to fix this problem for me. Think again. I was told she would need to be assessed before she could return to school after she had an outburst in class because she was frustrated with feelings of not doing an assignment correctly. It wasn’t by choice that I was in that same waiting room with #3 as I had been with #2 only 15 months prior shortly after this whole journey began. It was not my intention to to have my daughter admitted for defiant behaviors followed by suicidal ideation. Mental illness doesn’t discriminate based on age, it only presents differently. I knew she needed help, but I didn’t expect that they would be admitting her to the children’s unit of the psychiatric facility that my middle daughter had been a patient of during her first admission.

This battle of bedtime, cleaning up messes and reasons I couldn’t understand that seemed like nothing at all, resulted in these explosive outbursts. The behaviors have been increasing since she was 8. What once happened only a couple times per year has now been a couple of times per week for months. I didn’t throw my hands up and decide I couldn’t deal with her behavior anymore. Though believe me I’m not going to lie and say it hadn’t crossed my mind to do this or something else sooner.

I could write for hours and spit statistics at everyone and bore them with the details of the diagnoses from the clinical perspective. I don’t do that not because those facts don’t matter, but because it’s more personal and real than the statistics will give. Instead I share my personal story, the stories of my threefold. I don’t share for sympathy or for attention. I don’t share because I want people to feel sorry for us. I share our lives and our experiences because we have lived in the shadows for too long. I share because the stigma surrounding mental illnesses is that we are weak, lazy, attention seeking, and use our diagnoses as excuses. I share not to make myself or my threefold vulnerable to that type of scrutiny. I share this for the other parents caring for children suffering from mental illness who feel like they are alone in the fight. I share for the people who suffer. The isolation and the hiding our struggles doesn’t make this journey easier. I don’t want to feel like I’m not allowed to seek help for my threefold when they need it because people around me will judge me. There are too many parents who have the shame of this stigma surrounding their lives that their children are suffering silently. That shame will not make us more likely to seek help. I can only hope that sharing our story and struggles can help stomp out the stigma. We can’t keep silencing those that suffer. The stakes of that silence are too high.

Stay positive. We’ve got this ☮️❤️😊~M

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Real Talk Realizations

Normally I’d have some inspirational post to start off the month. It would be part of my ‘Goal Getters’ series. It would mention all the goals I made and how I reached each one. I would give little hints to how you can also accomplish your goals with a ‘Goal Getter’ mindset like mine. It would be a fluff piece, full of positivity. It would have promised that with a few changes you can live the life you’ve been dreaming of and you can be the person you aspire to be. It would be inspirational.

THIS is NOT that piece. I’ve warned you. I have no inspirational tales of how I accomplished my goals and manifested my dream life during the month of January. I have no motivational speeches where I spit all the shit you should’ve done and shouldn’t have done. My positivity push was completely flushed down the drain when the new year began. I’m not sure why I had such a rocky start. I’m not sure where my ‘Goal Getter’ attitude and my motivational mantras went. I guess I left them in 2021 with everything else I learned last year. I know my negativity is not needed in your world either, but I promised to keep it real and this is as real as it gets. Real talk.

I had high hopes and high expectations for 2022. It was going to be the year everything started falling into place. It was supposed to be the year that I took the lessons from 2020 and 2021 and found my purpose. My plan was big, but is it too big? Maybe I still have a lot to learn if I’m going to give up on my dreams and my goals after 30 days. Who the hell am I? That’s not the girl with the grit and grind goal getter attitude. I’m NOT a quitter. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a quitter. What the hell is happening?

I wrote three pieces, THREE, about my funked up attitude. I was aware that I was not on the right path to achieve my goals. I wrote eleven pieces in January. Seven blog posts of the eleven were not positive entries. The others could be positive, but mainly focused more on the past. I posted on Facebook for my page ‘My Threefold’ more than 30 times in January. Most were snarky posts I made about mom-life and men. They did well when it came to getting likes. They had a lot of humor, sarcasm and relatable anecdotes, but they were mainly negative.

So here we are. A month into the new year and I’m pissed off. I’ve failed miserably at making this year the year I found my peace of mind and my happy ending. I’ve been patient. I’ve been positive {mostly} for a whole year. I’ve made the right decisions and done my best even when I was at my worst. Yet here I am, still. Searching for the lesson in all this stressing! I feel, defeated. I feel, cheated. I feel most of all like maybe I’m not ever going to get to the good part. I feel like something is missing. What have I missed? Why do I feel like this?

After a long time of self reflection and trying to find the missing piece I was still none the wiser. I know I’m impatient. I know I have been asking for a lot over the past year. I’ve received a lot, so I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I just need to know what gives? What do I need to do to make this year THE year? What more do I have to do to prove that I’m a good person who deserves to get to the good part? When do I get back some of what I’ve lost and get to live out my happily ever after fantasy? When? I’m asking with all the faith I have left!

I was sulking and pouting about life. I was mad at the world for not working with me. I was sitting in the cold, in my truck alone, feeling sorry for myself away from the eyes of my family and the ‘calm down’ that I would receive as a well meaning reply from ‘E’. I didn’t want or need him to tell me ‘it will all work out in time.’ No, I wanted my happiness now. I deserve it. That’s when I found it. The answer. The missing piece. Alone in my truck. With no one to blame for not realizing it but myself. It was obvious. Too simple.

What was I not doing? I realized I had been too busy worrying about what hadn’t happened. I was constantly waiting for the next thing to fall into place. I was setting all of these goals. I was even accomplishing many of them, but I was quickly moving to the next one. ‘What now? What next?’ I was doing everything I was supposed to do and I was getting everything I wanted. I was working for all of it. That is all true. I was going through all the motions, but I wasn’t allowing myself to feel the emotions. I wasn’t celebrating my accomplishments. I wasn’t looking at all the good that came with my accomplishments. I just went straight into my next challenge. I couldn’t see all the good that is right here, right now. I was too busy searching and waiting for the next thing to give me that quick fix of happiness. The truth is I wasn’t enjoying what I do have.

I’m not going to have it all at once. Hard happens even when we feel like we are doing everything right. Good happens even when we don’t see it. I don’t want to be so caught up in the grit and grind of goal getting that I forget the good that is happening all around me. So I’m skipping my ‘Goal Getter’ post for February. I will never stop working to be better, but I will start enjoying the person I am right now and the person I am becoming. I will celebrate my successes. I will be humble with a hint of Kanye about how there may not be an I in awesome, but there is me! I will choose to be happy with everything I have now and stop waiting for the good part. The good part is happening, and I’m too focused on the future to enjoy the present. That’s my new goal for 2022. When I accomplish that, I will have the year I set out to have. Stay positive! We’ve got this! ☮️❤️😊~M

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Trying to Bring the House Down.

If you want to know what it’s like to have ADHD as an adult. Here it is in all of it’s glory! You are so scatterbrained and unfocused. You don’t just lose track of time. You don’t just forget your keys in your room. It’s not just forgetting a drink before you leave. It’s not searching for hours for a key that you are the only person that has a copy of it. It’s not just locking your purse and everything in the truck. It’s next level scattered and unfocused. Stress only intensifies the scatter. That’s what January has been like for me.

One of my scattered mornings where I was rushing too much to stop and check my pockets, I locked my keys in my bedroom. Easy problem to solve right? Nope! My bedroom door can’t be picked with a skeleton key or simply unlocked with a credit card. My bedroom has a keyed lock that we installed to keep my ankle biters from creeping in and stealing our stuff. I couldn’t call the other person who had a key, because my purse was in my truck with my phone, which was also locked. My keys were behind that door and I was late for work. What was I to do? Well I probably could’ve done something else, but I did the first thing I could think of…I kicked the door in. I’m bad ass, but also have no time management skills in my possession.

A few weeks later I couldn’t find the key to the danger drawer. This is not a good situation. All my sanity and that of my threefold is locked in the danger drawer. I looked EVERYWHERE for that small key. My robe, nope. The sherage (my garage), not there. My traveling trash can (my truck), not there either! I cleaned my purse three times and checked all seventeen of its hidden pockets and emptied that black hole, still nothing. My jeans, the laundry basket, the kitchen, under the bed…no. I searched high and low. I even dug in my garbage, just to make sure. No dice. So ‘E’ had to drill out the lock and render the danger drawer unsecured. The next day it was found in my hoodie pocket that I had worn two nights before.

Probably the most dangerous conclusions of my absent mindedness came when I was pulling out of my driveway. I had realized as I was backing out that I didn’t have a coke for my afternoon caffeine kick. Much needed and very important piece of my life for full functionality. Well. What had happened was…I pulled back in the driveway and ran into the garage to grab a coke out of my outside refrigerator. I heard a crash. I came back around the front and realized I didn’t put my truck into PARK! It was rolling into my closed garage. Shiiiittt! Thankfully, my maintenance on my vehicle is pretty much nonexistent. So my alignment isn’t quite right. My Ruby {yes she has a name} took a slight left. And hit the three trash cans in front of the garage before coming to a stop at the wall. No harm. No injuries. Just some spilled trash and a lot of feelings of embarrassment at my brain malfunction. I got the coke though!

When I say all three of these events happened within weeks of each other, I’m not kidding. I have kicked off the new year and also a door in. I lost my key in a sweatshirt. I did not do this month right. I crashed and am crossing my fingers, toes, and legs {because I’m a damn lady!} that I don’t burn too. I am going to have to slow the hell down! My house can’t take the beating I’m giving it!

So that’s my recap for January. I did reach some goals, but mainly I just lost my train of thought. I was in a funk more often than I had anticipated, but February is here and it’s time to clear my brain fog! I am going to refocus, slow down and get my year in gear! January was my ‘free trial month’ for 2022, now the real deal is here. I am keeping the subscription so I’m going to use it more carefully! No option to cancel! Stay positive! We’ve got this! ☮️❤️😊~M