Simply

Just another manic Monday


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When I start to pace…

***I wrote this on December 11th, 2016. I’m going to post it as is, I won’t add to it.***

I keep pacing the floors of our house, repeating the same thing over and over and over again. I’m anxious, unfocused and can’t sit still. I’ve looked in our fridge over 10 times in the last 20 minutes. The contents don’t change, they stay the same. But my mind tells me that I haven’t done that yet and so I remember I’ve looked in the fridge as I’m standing looking into the fridge. 

Most times when I get like that I force myself to sit down and do mindless tasks. But even that seems like too much. I’ve closed and reopened the same app at least 20 times in the last 10 minutes. And now here I am going through my blog, reading old posts and remembering what was happening to me at this time last year or even the year before. 

I think I’ve done the November blog post a day the last couple of years. I signed up for it this year and because of where I was mentally and physically I just opted not to write on the blog. I spent countless hours writing but saving it on my phone, uploading it or writing it with pen and paper. It’s always interesting when I’m done writing to see how many pages of paper I’ve filled.


The last one I did was 19 pages front and back. It was me writing out how the last session with my counselor would go, what my responses would be and what I wanted to talk about. I can laugh about that now… it never goes as planned, as the way I have it written down and hoped it would go. 

When I got to my session, I looked at her and literally pulled out my stack of 19 pages and said this is the conversation I had with you last night. It went great and I think we figured out a lot… but things never go as planned do they?! And then we chuckled, me more because I was irritated that I was about to cry and I felt so incredibly bare. I.Love.Control. Anyway I can have it I take it. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart, of my past and the such. I need to be able to control that part of me. And she (meaning me) just doesn’t like to listen to reason. So I end up feeling small and alone and vulnerable. I don’t like that. 

Anyway…
Namaste my friends,

I

Underneath it all…

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It’s been so long since I’ve sat down and written a story for my blog. I’ve been writing and writing, just nothing that I am willing to share quite yet. It’s been a rather interesting month and a half.

I successfully (but with major scars) made it through the month of November. I spent the first part of my birthday taking photos for a wedding. It was small, quaint and full of love and support. I feel truly blessed that I was able to be there to capture it for them. I’ve seen majority of the pictures and can’t wait to edit them.
Thanksgiving was a conundrum. Because our littlest one had the most insane skin flare up ever. And so there was a moment that we thought she would need to get admitted to the hospital because of how bad it was. Not only that but that morning I woke up happy and excited and by the end of the day I was fighting off triggers and depressed feelings. It got pretty scary.

I try to be an open book when it comes to my journey but in reality sometimes I’m just not because it’s easier to keep it bottled up. But for the remainder of that week and for at least a week to follow I fought hard feelings of committing suicide. I have had flashbacks, and smells and sights. But I’ve never had a trigger as strong as I did, where I was so completely lost and confused on where I was in time. The only thing that kept reminding me where I was were my kiddos and my favorite calming song, Sitting on the Doc of the Bay… 

Because the trigger was so strong, the side effects have lasted for weeks. I’m tired emotionally, physically and mentally. I feel like I am on alert at all times, but also like I am trying to forge out calm. It is such a weird place to be in. Of course my sleeping and waking stages are off, and that alone is driving me crazy. I finally realized it was time to call my PCP for some type of medication when I had serious thoughts of voluntarily committing myself to an inpatient hospital so that I could not hurt myself.

I’ve officially been on medication for a week, I don’t like any of it. It makes me tired, which I guess is good because my sleep was lacking. But now I’m so tired I just crash every night. I haven’t remembered one dream over the last week. Last night I forgot to take my medication and I woke up this morning and had a small memory of my dreams. But what I noticed the most was underneath it all, underneath the medication, the sleep, the tiredness, etc… I am just incredibly sad and exhausted. I’m managing my days well mostly. My energy is low, so I’m trying to work on that. Initially I tried with caffeine. That doesn’t do anything. So I’ve been doing it with food. Not unhealthy food, which is a good start. I have been eating almonds, carrots, snap peas, salads, etc. I would enjoy some grapes but they are a hit or a miss because they aren’t technically in season.

I have been in communication with my counselor, so she knows. She is sweet, she has built in a weekly check-in between our visits. I understand why she did it… But doesn’t mean that I like it. LOL! She also highly suggested that I voluntarily hand my weapons over to someone that will put them away and not tell me where. I just want to say I feel completely naked without my knife. That has been my comfort for knowing that I can protect myself if I needed to. But I guess something that protects can also cause harm. And so I am slowly learning how it feels to be naked and vulnerable without my protection. As of now my mindset is, “It is what it is…” and all of these people are truly annoying me. Like enough to make me say something but not enough to be rude or disrespectful. Because I am trusting that they have my best interest at heart.

Anyways, today is another ‘slow’ morning. I’ve been cleaning to clear my mind, lol! I hate cleaning. Or more like I dislike cleaning with a passion. I’ve been making small check off lists and crossing things off. It feels good to be able to do that. It’s the small victories. I got up and brushed my teeth. I ate some food. I helped our elves make muffins for the kiddos. I got five kiddos off to school with little fanfare. And now I’m planning to go get a few more things for our elves so they can do more fun things this weekend. I’ve been slacking on that end and the girls miss it tons.

I think the weirdest part of this whole experience over the last week is we took in an emergency respite placement of two kiddos. They are older than what we are used to and they are older than what we would ever want in our home. The girl is 11 and the boy is 12. Having the girl in the house is like looking in a mirror. She has been through a lot and has experienced even more. I can see that she is a fighter, but I can also see where she is just plain tired and exhausted. Since being in our house she has slept longer and seems a little more chill. But this is also the honeymoon period. It’s only through next week, but Ike and I have been talking about whether we want it to be more long term. We can see their potential, but we are not oblivious to the amount of work it will be to help them reach it. If not with us, we truly hope they are reunited with their momma. They both seem to want to go back, but they haven’t been with her in such a long time that I’m not sure the girl is entirely sure anymore.

I am asking for prayers, for myself, for the two kiddos we have in our home and of course for my own children and my other half. There is a lot going on, somethings are known and some things not everyone knows. Eventually I think everyone will be caught up to speed. But for now slow and steady is also my mantra.

Love and Light my friends, Namaste.

I


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It is not…

Whatever it was… it is not. 


I’m hovering between panic attacks currently. I’m mostly okay with that, but mostly just not. Only in the last 10 years or so have I been having them, for a while they stayed dormant. I liked that stage. The quiet of not having to pay close attention to or watch my every word. 

They’ve been intermittent for the past two years, me mainly ignoring them and the issues that come along with them. I’ve been somewhat forced to start dealing with them since December, mostly because they started a pattern. I don’t like patterns when it comes to those types of things. 


In January I made a conscious outloud decision to deal with the panic attacks and the real reason behind them. It wasn’t a light decision. I started out with just saying I was going to seek out and find an affordable counselor. That was handled by me finding SafePlace. I’m glad I started there, though the journey since has been incredibly intense and annoying and interesting. I am happy that was my first step. 

My next verbal step was 30 days of yoga and meditation. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but let me tell you… those 30 days were long, intense, educational, life altering, interesting most days just downright comical. I only say that because how else does one laugh off their own fears and insecurities?!


I believe by day 10, I was FOR ABSOLUTELY SURE that I had lost all of the marbles I had in my head. Some days I still wonder if I got any of them back. I can’t explain to you what sitting still is like. But give it a try. Sit with yourself, no distractions, no music, no phones, nothing. Just sit for 5 minutes everyday for one week all by yourself, with nobody but you and your thoughts. If you keep an open mind you can learn so much about yourself. Yoga is similar in that way as well. I’ve been told the poses that are the hardest for you tell a lot about you and how you deal with things when life gets hard. I can atest to that 100%. There are some poses I refuse to do, just because I know what my reaction will be and I am not ready to deal with it or myself. Yoga is an extension of meditation. Another way to quiet the mind if done fully and correctly. Let’s just say I’ve had several panic attacks and crying on my mat… in a studio setting… not my cup of tea, but I was caught off guard and so there I sat paralyzed to my spot fighting through the emotions that came up. When I’m off, I try not to go to a studio. I don’t like dealing with my intense emotions out in public. You know being all vulnerable and shit…

Here’s my biggest fears when it comes to the panic attacks I have… my biggest fears are not being able to function as an adult, as a parent, as a spouse, as anything that has to deal with the many hats I wear. I fear not being able to drive myself where I need to go, I fear not being able to control the attacks, I fear being placed on a meditation to help. I fear having panic attacks on a consistent basis like I’ve been having over the last week. My biggest fear with that also, that I am not given a warning sign anymore when they will start. They just start. I have come to realize that is not okay.

I had several panic attacks in session today, thought I was good to go by the end of session. Got in my car to drive home, ended up having to sit in my car for almost two hours until I was okay enough to get home. That alone freaked me out and I panicked even more. Let me tell you, being gripped by fear sucks ass. 


Having my life controlled (sometimes) by fear is not okay to be. It leaves me frustrated and angry. And with the overall feeling of this isn’t FAIR! Why, why, why, why…?! You know all of the WHY questions victims and survivors have. I won’t name them. 

I was asked what would it be like to really sit with that frustration and express it in any form that my body needed to. 

I.Refused.

I suppressed it, it felt horrible pushing it back down, stuffing it in a box on a high shelf. I didn’t close the door on it, I wanted to so bad. But I couldn’t. But I did refuse to express it. I let a handful of tears fall down my face, I took some deliberate deep breaths and I gathered myself all the way together. That my friends is not how to handle the situation. Don’t do what I did. Maybe next time I will scream, kick, thrash about and cry. Or maybe just maybe, I might hold my composure, let a few tears fall and suck it up. Because friends, that’s been my life. No time, space or energy to be sad and angry and upset. I always had to find a way to make it work, otherwise my struggle thus far was for not.

I’m hoping I will one day be able to feel safe enough to just express what I’m feeling. For now, I will sit with my panic attacks, sip my mason jar full of wine (because, you know a way to numb the pain away) and take pretty pictures.


That I am good at… 

whatever it is… it is not.


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Most times…

Most times I can skirt the news, the drama and the craziness of this world by not having live tv, by not watching tv at all, by not picking up a newspaper or reading online news outlet websites. All of it done on purpose. To avoid seeing and hearing things that can be activating for me. 

I need and crave peace, pretty things, love, fucking skittles and puppy dogs. But occasionally the world creeps in and I feel it. All of it. And it weighs heavy. As I try to grapple with ways to fix it, to fix the problem, to make all better in the world. And I end up sad, depressed, anxious and upset. And I walk around with a big ass attitude and fuck the world mentality, until someone, something reminds me. It’s not you, it’s not your feelings, it’s the feelings of those around you, of the world because you let them in…

Ike and I talk between ourselves, between my sister and her partner and we all end up pissed and angry. And so we shove it all away and say we can’t talk about this anymore. I’m mad and I don’t know where to direct my anger. And so because I don’t know where to direct my anger I need to push it aside. Move it, shift it so I can comfortably keep going through my day/week/month. 

But today, today… I am just stuck. Not only by what’s happened in the last 24-48 hours, but by the silence. The silence of those that aren’t brown skinned and are close to us and our family. By the lack of compassion from people who say it was their fault for being killed while black. For the idea that we have to paint these men, women and children in a negative light to make their killing FUCKING JUSTIFIED! By the blind eye that is turned every time a person of white skin is taken in alive for an offense TEN FUCKING times worse then reading a book, selling cigarettes or cds. But by fucking golly you should do what the fuck they tell you to do otherwise you’ll end up dead and it will be all your fault. But what about the people who followed the letter of the law and still ended up dead? I’ll wait. 

I’m so tired of well he used to do this or he used to do that, WHO THE FUCK CARES. Was he doing that the day he died? Did him reading a book require a fucking death sentence?

I’m so tired of well what about black on black crime? What the fuck about it? What about white on white crime, gay on gay crime, Muslim on Muslim crime? Why is it when a black man, woman or child is MURDERED the question always comes back to black on black crime? 

Why don’t we do that when a white person bombs a fucking building, kills a theater full of people, shoots up a FUCKING ELEMENTARY SCHOOL OR COLLEGE. Oh I forgot, he has mental illness. He wasn’t right in the head. 

It’s even worse when a female has been raped. Well, what was she wearing, did you say no, why were you there, were you drinking, did you ask for it, well it’s your husband can it really be rape? 

Black guy does it, lands UNDER THE FUCKING JAIL. White guy does it, oh poor Luke is too privileged to be in jail. Let’s give him a suspended 10 year probation sentence. 

I’m so tired of not being seen, of not having a voice, of being patted on the fucking head and said but you’re different. FUCK YOU AND YOUR DIFFERENCE! FUCK YOU AND YOUR, BUT YOU ARENT LIKE MOST BLACKS! 

What is that going to do for me if I’m found hanging in a jail cell? What is that going to do for my husband if someone deems him suspicious and kill him? What will that do for my son if someone says he shouldn’t be in our neighborhood because he’s too black. What will that do for my daughters if some pompous prick feels he is entitled to her body?

I know, what ifs. They are all none existent right now and I hope for the remainder of our lives on this earth. But it is a thought that crosses my mind every time my heart walks out of the front door of our house every day. 

It can be like PTSD hearing about the injustices happening, about how we are still not even considered human enough to matter. It’s draining, its anxiety ridden, it can be depressing. And so that’s why I stay unplugged. So that I may skip all of this while I work through my own personal issues. Because these issues and my own issues on top of that is crushing me. I’m doing lots of self care and showing myself compassion. BUT, I’m still saddened by the way of this world. 


It’s time to stop hiding, step up, step out, get uncomfortable and fully own your story. Whether it’s the story of the collective or your own personal story.    Own that Bitch! 

I know this could sound like a rant, but don’t do that. Don’t  belittle my truth down to the “Angry Black Female”. I’m speaking my truths, if you can’t handle it, if you want to add more to it that’s YOUR STORY NOT MINES. I have a right to be upset, scared and anxious. And I’m going to go with that. 

I don’t know what my piece in this will look like except to keep offering love. To keep teaching my children about Love and how to figure out who They are in this world full of noise and hate and scared folks not knowing how to say that out loud. 

Anyways, I would end with Namaste. But Nope. Ponder on the picture below.


✌🏾️Peace, Iiona


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I think…

It is only 6:15pm and I feel as if I’ve already gone through two days since 11:30am. I am tired and only wanting to shut the world and all of its stimulus out my going to sleep. But, life…

The youngest is with dad at gymnastics, the middle one is at the park with friends. And the oldest one is cooking us dinner, because I just couldn’t. Luckily there is freezer food and pasta to get us through the night. 

I am beyond exhausted, but have a laundry list of things that need to happen and keep piling up. I want to turn everything down, curl up on my bed & just stay there. But, life…

So I turn on my music that soothes and I start knocking shit off my list. Small at first, I can only focus on small. Nothing too intensive or that requires a lot of brain power. Because my brain is mush. 

I had an exceptionally hard therapy session today. I thought about just telling her I was completely happy with where I was at and that I think I’m done with therapy. But then I would of had to tell her that through the barrage of tears that refused to stop coming and as I dry heaved because I became physically sick to my stomach. This shit is fucking hard as fuck. I need to cuss to emphasis my point of how fucking hard this shit is. Like fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck…

Anyways, since then I’ve been combating feeling sick, feeling anxious, feeling overwhelmed. I’ve been dealing with some awesome sensations rolling in and out of my body at different times. It, All of it, can be so draining. I guess I would rather be drained because I purposefully took a box off of the shelf and started to deal with it vs trying to shove everything back into the box as it fell off of the shelf. 


I took a short nap, I need like 20 more of those. Bedtime will be sweet serenity… As long as the dreams stay at bay and insomnia doesn’t kick in. I figure if I drink some wine before going to bed I won’t be able to do anything but sleep.

Anyways, I’m praying for myself and sending positive vibes to my bed. There is where I will fight the most, dreams…

Well here’s a good thing so it’s not all poor me and I want to wallow in self pity as I go through dealing with being sexually abused. I’m an ass, I just realized that. 


But anyways, it’s Tuesday. There is a school dance on Friday and the twins (that used to live with us) have their second birthday party on Sunday! I’m excited, they are so sweet. Plus, I get to play with two of them tomorrow for a few hours. 😊

Namaste, I