Just another manic Monday


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 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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Life is Interesting.

My heart is ready for love and to be loved… Leela James

It’s so interesting… Yesterday during counseling I realized something. It sucked and it hurt and I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with what I had learned. 

And so I kept it to myself, I didn’t tell my counselor, my husband or even my friend. It hurt too much to even acknowledge it. It cut through to the essence of why I am where I am. But I was trying so hard not to take it in and believe the stories that I spun about it. 

If you haven’t realized I’m an excellent story teller. I’m a freaking skilled master at that shit. It sucks, because the stories that I’m telling don’t feel like they should even be true. But I feel like they are 100% all of who I am. 

Anyways, before I venture down a path I can’t see myself coming back from. 

I went to group tonight. I love every single one of those ladies. I wish I could package them up and carry them around in my pocket all day. They are so helpful and they remind me that I am not alone. 

That even though I’ve been crying and super emotional lately, it’s ok. I have that right and I should use it all. Because dammit, they’re my feelings and I can cry if want to. Doesn’t mean I want to cry, lol!

It was nice to know I wasn’t the only emotional wreck so far this week. It helped to have one of the women say, I’m so happy I’m not the only one doing something that gives me panic attacks. And we laughed together, because only someone whose been through it can understand. She hates group, I can deal with it. I hate individual counseling and she loves it, lol! Go freaking figure!


Anyways, this picture is my interpretation of my intention for the week… To breathe…

To be fully present with the things I’m going through and dealing with. I noticed myself not breathing so well today during group. Someone was recounting their history and it resonated and it caught my breath. 

This was supposed to be short and sweet & here I am 50-11 words later. I’m tired and going to bed!

Thanks for reading… Love and Light my friend! 

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Today has been an experience for the books.

I dislike counseling. I have almost no issue with group therapy, but just me and the therapist… Yeah, not my cup of tea. I like group because I can melt off into the background almost unseen if I so choose.

With just me and the counselor, I can’t hide behind the curtain. I feel so incredibly bare and naked. It’s a strange feeling. I can’t answer questions coherently. I say I don’t know more times then I care to admit, I blurt out things that I don’t want her to know. My mind goes blank, I forget the question I’m answering. Or what I’m saying. My face gets hot, my hands have to find a spot otherwise they don’t stop moving. And when I stop talking, so does she… The space gets loud and every sound is intensified. 

I know that trick, I’ve used it. But it’s not a trick, it’s just honoring the space I need to answer the question. And the blank stares are given back to me. Ahhhhhh! I’m like a babbling hot ass mess that can’t think because I’m trying not to get lost in the memories…


I was asked to set an intention for my week regarding self-care. I said its to remember to breath. When things get tough and I can’t see which way is up, I lose track of breathing. It’s kind of funny, or maybe not. But breathing is an automatic thing, until you are hurting, sad, angry, etc… 

My breath catches in my chest, each breath is short and shallow. Almost hyperventilating in a way. I’m going to be intentional in taking deep breathes and allowing. It’s hard and tiring and all I want to do is sleep it away. But my three children and husband tell me that I can’t do that. And so I just be in the knowledge that I’m alive and though I would much rather tune the world out and just sleep. 

I’m going to at least make it to bedtime. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night. I’m hoping to keep insomnia at bay, but she keeps poking her ugly head up.

Until later my friends… Love and Light!


And sometimes… It’s like.

And sometimes…

Depression is simply acknowledging the feelings you are experiencing at the moment. 

Every single one of them! And then figuring out what to do with them once you’ve looked at them for a few days.

It’s tiring, it takes all of you to be there. When all you want to do is run the other way. To find a dock along a bay somewhere and sit there to waste time.

Today, today I could muster enough strength to sit on the back patio, soak up some sun and stick my bare feet in the grass. It felt great. I felt level for once over the last few days.

Depression is encompassing, filling every single crevice of your body. Leaving you feeling anxious and unsettled. Pacing the floors of your house, feeling restless and not being able to focus. 

Wanting to sleep and remove the world but not being able to because the world keeps knocking at your door. Actually, banging! Refusing to walk away even when you don’t answer it.

Depression is a catch in your breath because you can feel the tears getting ready to fall but wanting to catch them because you’ve done enough crying to last a lifetime. 

But, tomorrow is a new day and the sky keeps wanting to be purple.

Love and Light…

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Staying present…

I walk through the door and take a deep breath…  
I made it, I think to myself. I made it to this moment and now I can commence to freaking out in real time.
I sink deeply into the couch, lightly touch the Kleenex box and then reach into my pocket for my fidget. I know it is going to be rough, I just want to be able to stay right here. Right now in the moment. 

When shit gets hard I tend to wander, to some distant land far into myself. Everyone ceases to exist except the place inside of me that no one can touch or reach.

She starts us off, that makes it easier. It’s not as if we don’t know each other. It’s just a routine, kind of a brining you to the moment type of thing. 

Oh shit, she’s going to pick me next isn’t she?! Damn, I knew it. I could feel me coming next.

Hi, my name is Iiona. Today, today I’m tired. I don’t want to be here and I had to talk myself into coming, you know?! 

Oh, what do I hope to get out of group today?

Hmmm, I, I just hope to stay present. It’s been a rough day. Thank you…

Life as a sexual abuse survivor… That is so weird and hard to say. But it is truth.

And as the rest of the group goes around, I sink deeper into the couch, I take a deep breath, lightly touch the Kleenex box and begin to fidget with my fidget…