Dream . Create . Inspire
To inspire. To be inspired. To be a positive, infectious force.
Thursday, January 18, 2024
Death, Fear + Faith
Sunday, June 11, 2023
Adult ADHD, Anxiety + Depression
For several years I suspected I had ADHD, but I never did much of anything to address it because it didn’t seem like it was a serious problem until I started the nursing program.
I began asking questions about ADHD meds + treatment when I was still doing my pre-reqs at VolState, but my practitioners didn’t want to prescribe typical ADHD meds.
After a few years, I learned it was due to my anxiety. They didn’t want to prescribe a stimulant to someone with major anxiety. At the time I learned all this, I recognized my anxiety + depression issues trumped my ADHD, so I stayed the course I was on.
At the start of last semester - I started feeling off. - Like almost flat + emotionless. All I wanted to do when I had any downtime was sleep. - I started feeling like I was overly medicated by my anti-anxiety + anti-depressant medications.
In the Pharmacology + Mental Health courses I was taking, I started learning more about the drugs that I had been prescribed. I immediately recognized that my life circumstances had changed quite dramatically since I was first prescribed meds to treat my anxiety and depression.
I was no longer a struggling single mom, going to college, trying to make ends meet. And probably most importantly, I was no longer in a toxic, dysfunctional relationship with a man who would literally completely disappear from my life at the drop of a hat, for months at a time, then come back when it was convenient for him, only to repeat the cycle every few months, over and over again.
I’ve said it a hundred times already, and I’ll most definitely be saying it thousands of times more:
Thank the good Lord for Stephen.
He is the biggest blessing.
- Because of him, my stress + anxiety levels are no longer at 11.
- Because of him, I have financial security so I can work less and focus more on doing well in school.
- Because of him, I have EMOTIONAL SECURITY and SUPPORT + HELP with Xander when I’m stressed, sleep-deprived, and an overall hot mess when I’m in school.
- Because of him, I don’t feel like my circumstances still warrant the need for the heavyweight depression + anxiety drugs I was on for the past 5 years. During my spring break from classes in March, I decided to start weening myself off the meds so I could address the bigger issue at this particular time in my life: ADHD.
Once I was successfully weened from the previous medications, I began my ADHD medication journey.
I’m still in the beginning stages of trying out different ADHD medication combinations, but I also know that I only want to take them while I’m actively taking classes.
So I’ve had the summer off from all medications and I’ve definitely noticed as my levels have started normalizing back to baseline.
The first thing I noticed is that my general anxiety has returned. - Even though it’s not panic level, I definitely recognize the unhealthy thoughts my mind produces.
It looks like this: Worry. Incessant worry.
About: my health + well-being… my kids’ health + well-being… their safety… Stephen’s career… my career… my ability to be a nurse… what happens if/when I die… will my kids be taken care of… do I have enough life insurance in place… did I love them enough…
I could keep going… and going… as this list is very long but I know no one has time to read alllll of that, so let’s move on.
Something else I’ve noticed this summer is that the melancholy depressive vibes are definitely hanging around.
Nursing school is so isolating. You spend 16 weeks in your nursing school-struggle bus bubble with your fellow nursing school study buddies who have become like family to you. But then summer break hits, and you’re no longer in the trenches with your classmates, but you’re not hanging with them - or any of your non-nursing school friends - either.
I feel like my whole friend circle has completely shifted during these first 2 semesters in nursing school.
- People I thought were really good friends, aren’t really friends at all.
- It also feels like some friends were only happy to be around when my life was a complete dumpster fire - maybe because it made their life seem less bad.
- Like people stopped caring to check in because I have a really great life now.
- Some people who I thought would have my back no matter what, seem to not want to see me even succeed now.
Trust me, this isn’t a plea for a pity party. I am blessed and I know this.
It’s just a weird place: To finally be happy and feel secure in your relationship, but still feel super lonely and unlikable when it comes to meaningful friendships with other women.
When did making new girlfriends + maintaining friendships become so hard?
I don’t know, maybe it’s not.
Maybe it’s just me + my anxious, depressive thoughts that make it hard for me to trust people enough to open up and make true connections.
Depression + anxiety have a way of making you feel so less than.
Less worthy of all the things: success, happiness, even regular old friendships.
I struggle with my definition of worth + success on the daily.
Often times, my self-worth is directly tied to how productive I’ve been.
I struggle with comparison daily. I find myself having to take breaks from social media because I catch myself in unhealthy cycles of comparison that rob me of joy.
I find myself praying for opportunities to cultivate meaningful friendships.
I often wonder what people will say about me when I’m dead.
Will it be good?
Was I good person?
Was I a good friend?
Did I serve those around me well enough to leave a legacy of loving memories?
Did I apologize when I messed up?
Did I forgive and give grace?
Did I love like Jesus?
This list of thoughts that keep me up late at night is so long… too long honestly…
But it’s an everyday reality when you’re managing life with anxiety + depression.
I’m definitely more conscious + aware of my anxiety spikes without the daily meds, I’m just thankful I’m healthy enough to recognize when my thoughts are spiraling - there are good days, and then there are plain out really bad days too.
All of that to say, check on your people.
Just because things appear to be rainbows, sunshine, and positivity through the social media filters - that doesn’t mean they don’t need real connection with real people in real life.
We were wired for connection.
We were not meant to do life without a village.
Let’s build a village + build each other up.
Amen + Amen.
Monday, October 31, 2022
Favorite Beauty Products + Tools
Click here to see the most Up to Date List:
My List of Favorite Beauty Products + Tools on www.SylviaFox.com
Friday, April 8, 2022
1.30.2022 - I got Baptized
Strap in + grab a snack, Friends.
Friday, February 11, 2022
Recipe: Asian-Inspired Ahi Tuna
Zucchini & Plum Relish
• Slice zucchini (1 cup) and plum (1/4 cup) into 1/8 inch slivers.
• 1/4 cup coconut aminos
• 1 Tbls lemon juice
• 1 Tbls wasabi
Seared Ahi Tuna
• Marinate whole steaks in coconut aminos, lemon juice, and green onions for 20-30 minutes.
• Sprinkle with sesame seeds.
• Sear on med-high heat in a tablespoon of olive oil.
(Cook to Rare)
• Remove from heat and let rest for 5 minutes.
• Slice.
Tuesday, December 28, 2021
A Writing Assignment from my English1020 Class #2
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.
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Rewire
I grew up without
a dad. My mom and biological father
split when I was too young to remember him.
Years of
counseling and emotional therapy - all my therapists were fixated on - and
determined to - delve deeper into my long list of “Daddy issues”.
It wasn’t just my
father though. I have some major “Mommy
issues” too. My mother was jaded. - Extremely jaded.
Even though she
eventually remarried, she still wasn’t able to trust anyone again.
After she and my
stepfather split - for good- somewhere around the time I was in middle school -
she began to speak freely to me, offering up “advice” or tidbits of “wisdom”
about men and relationships.
For as long as I
can remember, I was told to be ready - to expect - to plan for - being left by every
man I choose to be with.
She imparted so
many little nuggets of wisdom: “Marry someone at least 10 years older than you,
so they won’t leave you for a younger woman.”
“Handle the family finances – and be sure to put money aside that your
husband doesn’t know about, so you can survive when he leaves you.”
She basically
programmed me from a very young age to believe that no relationship was going
to last.
Combine all these
little life lessons from my mom, with the severe abandonment issues I didn’t
realize I was living through from my father leaving us - and all you have left
is me: a brainwashed little girl who constantly felt broken, unworthy of love,
desperate to prove her mother wrong, forever anxious, and uber-clingy.
When I finally started
exploring the world of dating, I was such a mess. Insecure.
Jealous. Angry. Mean. -
Any negative quality you can think of to describe one of your craziest ex’s - I
was that - tenfold.
You’ve probably
heard the saying, “Your vibe attracts your tribe.” - That statement is so true. My crazy attracted more crazy. I found myself in a slew of unhealthy
relationships with emotionally unavailable, abusive men.
As I entered
“adulthood” - and I use that term loosely - by no means is anyone really an
“adult” between the ages of 18 and 25 - I rushed into relationships, jumping
from one, to another, to the next in record time. Looking back, I realize now that I had severe
commitment issues along with my abandonment issues. I was always trying to be the one leaving
before I could be left.
My dad passed in
1999. Five months shy of my 21st birthday. That threw me for a loop
I wasn’t prepared for. I had no idea how
to deal with - or even how to feel - any of the emotions I was
cycling through.
Almost
immediately, I turned to drugs and alcohol to numb whatever feelings I was
experiencing in the moment. I threw
myself deep into the party scene. I
worked two jobs to support my reckless lifestyle. I worked 8am-5pm at my “grown up” job as an
insurance agent, 6pm-10pm as a server, and then partied every night until the
wee hours of the morning, slept for a couple of hours, and woke up to do it all
over again.
I dove head-first
into a “date safe” mode of operation - which at the time meant that I’d
purposefully date men who I felt were not attractive, or men who had major
character flaws. I reasoned this to
mean: They are not that
attractive + I am a pretty girl = They won’t be able to land someone better, so
they will not ever be able to hurt me.
My first real relationship
with someone who I thought could never hurt me proved that I was completely off
base with my thinking. It was about a
year after my dad’s death. I quit both my
jobs, moved across the country, and gave up every sense of security I had for
this man. I dove in headfirst. I wanted to make it work - no matter
what. However, despite my best efforts
to keep the relationship intact, this man completely gutted me and left me with
nothing. - Empty. - Completely broken - emotionally and
financially.
Despite my massive
“Date Safe” failure, I continued with this practice through several more
relationships over the next several years.
All of which failed miserably and left me more broken than I ever
imagined a person could be. Each
relationship chipped away at what little self-worth I had left.
In 2004, I got
pregnant - despite being on birth control.
- You see, when you party as hard as I was partying, you tend to vomit -
a lot - thus, rendering your birth control kind of obsolete. - I know, insert
facepalm here. - I was 25 - not young enough to be a complete embarrassment to my
family and fear being disowned - but old enough for it to not be a complete “Oh,
Shit!” moment. In hindsight, I can honestly
say that my daughter - quite literally - saved my life. - However, at the time, I had absolutely NO
business becoming a mom and entering a marriage with a man I barely knew.
I don’t know if
you know this or not, but when you have a child, you can’t really be a good
parent while being high or wasted all the time, so this forced me to seek out
some professional help. I started with
my ob/gyn doctor. He put me on an
anti-depressant. - Then after a few
months of being on the meds, I reluctantly enlisted the help of a
therapist.
They say when you
start getting healthier - mentally and emotionally - you start to notice other
people’s dysfunction around you. After
several months of therapy, I started seeing how unhealthy my marriage had
become and I chose to leave my marriage of 10 months to focus on becoming a
healthier version of myself for my daughter.
Of course, as
with any big decision in life, you often hear those wretched words ringing in
your ears, “I told you so.” Even if the
person you fear hearing those words from never actually speaks them directly to
you - you still hear them screaming them at you in the back of your mind.
First marriage -
Failure. Check. “I told you so.” - Mom
In a sense, after
my divorce, I was still trying to cling to my “date safe” method. It wasn’t going well. I was dating nice, generally good people, but
I wasn’t allowing myself to become invested.
I quickly got labeled: a heartbreaker; emotionally unavailable; even a
gold digger.
In my 30th
year, I endured another gut-wrenching breakup that left me completely depleted
and desolate. I thought I was going to get
married and live happily ever after. I
was so wrong. The way the relationship
ended blindsided me. He broke things off
by quite literally disappearing. He
stopped all communication with me and just disappeared. I was not okay for a very long time
afterwards. I was given no closure and just
had to basically fight through the hurt without any clear answers as to why it
ended.
Despite going to therapy
regularly, I was still drinking a lot - and often - when my daughter was spending
half the week with her dad. I didn’t
realize it then, but I had developed some awful patterns that would almost
always surface when I had too many adult beverages.
Drinking -
getting drunk - was a cycle - an unhealthy coping mechanism that would bring
out every single insecurity in me. The
problem would then escalate to my picking a fight - usually with my significant
other - but the problem was that I’d be too drunk to remember my actions or all
the mean and hurtful things I said the next morning. I’d wake up fine. Happy.
Affectionate. Only to be met with
a cold shoulder - major stink eye - or stank face - from my then boyfriend.
It was a real problem
I never realized I even had, until I went through that awful breakup during my
30th year.
Another
substantial relationship down the toilet.
Check. “I told you so.” - Mom
Even still, after
all of that, I didn’t start addressing the issue until later the following year
in August 2010. I decided to cut way
back on my drinking, reevaluate some friendships, start writing, and just
trying to get my head - and heart - back on track in a healthy way.
My blogging
started gaining some attention in my friend circle, and then it started
branching out into the outer rings of friends of friends in my friends'
circle. Eventually, my writings would be
the basis of how my relationship with my second husband started. We bonded quickly over our struggles with
alcohol and the balancing act of trying to remain friends with the friends we
had during our binge-drinking days - which, coincidentally, turned out to be a
lot of the same people. He had been
warned about my past dating faux pas by mutual acquaintances. I think maybe that factored into him asking
me if I wanted to get married so quickly after we started dating. - Like if I agreed to marry him, I couldn’t
run away. Ultimately, I said yes, and we
were married 6 months later.
At the time, I
hadn’t spoken to my mother for almost a year.
She had - still has - a habit of getting mad at someone and not speaking
to them for months - even several years - at a time. - She’s a real special lady, I tell you. - She wasn’t informed of - or invited to -
the wedding.
We married in April
2011. If I remember correctly, things
did a total 180 within a month of our wedding date. - The how, when, what, and where behind all
of that is water under the bridge and would just be word-count filler at this
point, so I won’t bore you with all the petty details of my failed
marriage.
The gist was
this: I wasn’t happy - nor was I getting
the help - or love - I needed from my husband.
In 2012, for some
reason, we thought procreating would be a good idea. We decided to start trying to get pregnant -
which I did fairly quickly. I miscarried
though. - We waited a bit, and managed
to get pregnant again the following year and had my son in December 2013. - By the way, I was still not speaking to my
mom through any of this.
I think I nursed
my son for 16 months - those 16 months were a complete blur. I was working out of town a lot,
and just trying to be a good mom and produce enough milk for my son. It’s crazy just how much breastfeeding a
human alters your day-to-day life. - But
formula was so expensive and I knew it’d be a struggle to afford it. After I decided to officially ween my son, I
started throwing myself into work again full-force. I also started doing things that made me
happy - for me - not for anyone else – including my husband.
- Later that same
year, I finally asked for a divorce, but stuck with it for another year, and
then asked again the following year. I remember
talking myself down, and making the choice to stick it out one more year. I promised myself that I’d really throw
myself into my marriage - and at my husband - this time around to see if that
produced any change. I felt like I had
tried - or talked about trying - anything and everything one could imagine in
an attempt to rekindle our marriage that year.
Nothing changed though, and I finally decided to move out in November
2016.
Another failed
marriage under my belt. Check. “I told you so.” - Mom
About a year
after I left my marriage, I started dating again. I met a man who was hardworking, and a real
grown up - for a change. He didn’t make
fun of my “crazy” like all my previous exes had done. Instead, he fought for me and said, “Let’s
fix it.” We dated off and on for 2.5
years. Going to a couple's counselor off
and on for the last year and a half. We
struggled to understand each other.
Anytime we’d fight, he’d disappear - which would then trigger all my
past insecurities and abandonment issues - then our arguments would snowball
and spin completely out of control. It
was a tumultuous and trying few years.
As awful as our
fights and breakups were, for some reason, we always gravitated back towards
one another. I have a really hard time
giving up on people. - This man
especially. I wanted a partnership. A companion.
A best friend. - But throughout
the 2 years of being together, I never felt like we had any of that nor did I
feel like we were even working towards any of that either.
Even though it
took me a very long time to get to a point where I felt completely done and
over the relationship - almost 3 years - I did eventually get there on my
own. At the end of July, he had
retreated and disappeared from my life - and out of my kids’ lives - without a
word - AGAIN - and I finally had had enough.
I was done. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t hurt. I truly believed that we had done everything
we both knew to do, and it just wasn’t in the cards to work. I forgave him. I forgave myself. I gave it all to God, and let it all go.
More years of my
life wasted on a failure of a relationship.
Check. “I told you so.”
- Mom
So now let’s fast
forward a few months.
God’s timing is
something crazy sometimes. I somehow randomly,
and so unexpectedly, reconnected with a friend / major crush of mine from 20
years ago. This man is everything I ever
wanted in a life partner. Kind. Patient.
Committed. Secure in his
attachment style. Honest. Trustworthy.
Secure. Stable. He’s a Christian. He prays with me. He prays for me. He does bible studies with me. He’s making real and substantial plans for
our future together. I still cry every
day, but it’s because he speaks directly to my heart - instead of
saying or doing things that break it. I
truly do believe God orchestrated our reconnection with precision and
purpose.
So then here lies
my question - circling back to why I started writing this piece:
All of my life, I’ve
been programmed to believe that no relationship would ever be for forever. I was raised to be self-sufficient - to
always be prepared for the ball to drop - to be ready to survive on my own when
whatever relationship I was in would inevitably fail. - And despite my best efforts to prove my
mother’s theory on relationships wrong, every relationship I’ve ever been in
has ultimately failed.
So how does one go about rewiring their brain?
How do I alter my whole way of thinking in
regards to relationships?
How do I stop waiting for the proverbial
other shoe to drop?
Years of
therapy. Years of counseling. Years of self-work.
Is it even
possible? - To rewire a brain - to undo
the jumbled, tangled mess of crossed wires and misaligned connections I’ve not
only been taught but have personally experienced firsthand all of my life?
I surely don’t
have any definitive answers. All I do
know is that I’m trying. It’s a constant
battle, a daily struggle to quiet my worrisome mind and anxious heart.
I think it’s a
struggle for most people to believe in things you can’t see - or have never
witnessed in your own life, right? - Isn’t
that the basis of faith though? - To
believe without question. - To trust. - To love without limits regardless of what
heartbreak the future may or may not have in store.
There’s a quote I
love by Alfred Lord Tennyson, “tis better to have loved and lost than
never to have loved at all.” - I pray over these words every morning
and then I ask myself; “Is it really better to have loved and lost than never
to have loved at all though?” and my answer is always, “Yes.” - So, with every new morning, I make a
conscience effort to believe - and to have faith - in God, - in myself, - and
most of all, in love.
Saturday, December 4, 2021
A Writing Assignment from my English1020 Class
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Worry
I grew up in a tumultuous home. My mother was a single mom, raising three
kids on her own, trying to do the best she could. I have vivid memories of her sitting at the
dining room table, crying over her checkbook.
I didn’t understand what that meant then, all I knew was that she was
hurting - so I’d run to her, put my head down in her lap, and ask if she was
okay. She’d always reassure me that she
was okay - shielding me from any understanding over her financial struggles.
I don’t think of myself as having grown up
always being an anxious child. I don’t
remember ever having to worry about shelter, clothing, or where my next meal
would come from - we were poor, but very fortunate in that sense.
We moved a few times from the time I was in
Kindergarten till I was in 2nd grade. - From Arizona, to California, then finally
settling in Florida. I will venture out
and guess that’s when the worry and anxiousness started. My mom and stepdad had separated. I started 2nd grade at a new
school, in a new state.
I recall struggling a lot in school that
year. - Never wanting to do homework, or
classwork. - Having to keep a daily
reporting notebook that went home to my mom every day with either a smiley face
or sad face depending on my behavior that day.
I don’t remember ever having that much trouble in school after that year
though.
My mom had a ridiculously bad temper, and an
extremely abusive, hurtful tongue. Her
words hit much harder than her fists did.
She and my brother fought so much.
He was 4 years older than me, very stubborn, and very strong
willed. He was just like my mom in so
many ways - which is probably much of why they fought so often.
Middle school was a turning point for
me. My stepdad and my mom had tried to
work things out several times over those 3 years but finally separated for good
after my 6th grade year. I
had experienced a lot of personal trauma during middle school that I wasn’t
dealing with - nor was I allowed to speak about.
By high school, my brother had landed himself
in prison. I was barely speaking to my
mom, and she was blaming me for everything that was going wrong in our lives on
a daily rotation.
I was told every day that I was a failure, the
biggest disappointment of her life - and if I failed anymore, she threatened that
she would kill me. After hearing that every
day of my life over a couple of years' time - I eventually started to believe I
was as big a mess up as she proclaimed me to be and thought that I might just be
better off dead.
I’m pretty confident that’s when my worry and
anxiety manifested itself into actual signs any healthy individual could
pinpoint and seek help for. With the
close of my freshman year approaching, I attempted suicide. I was institutionalized for several
months. - I received a lot of therapy
and counseling but I remember spending the whole time worrying about how my mom
was going to treat me after I was released and free to go home.
From then on, I think I managed to survive
the rest of high school purely by flying under the radar. - Speaking only when
asked specific things. - Respectful, but
short answers. I never offered up any
other conversation. I quietly refused to
share any personal thoughts or feelings with her. I didn’t trust her to receive them without
judgement.
Still to this day, I believe my inability to
communicate effectively when I’m emotional - or in a fight with someone - spurs
directly from never being able to say what I was feeling to my mother when I
was hurting. As an adult in my early
forties, I still have difficulty articulating what I want to say when the
conversations are emotionally charged topics.
I get tongue-tied and completely frustrated to the point of crying
because I can’t find the words that I want to say.
Looking back on my time at home with my
mother, I can see now how my anxieties were manifesting themselves. I struggled with constipation all throughout
middle and high school. It wasn’t till I
moved out that I realized people were supposed to poop at least every other day
- if not every day.
I struggled with patches of red raised bumps
on my tummy. My family physician called
them “stress bumps”. I had no idea
things like that - a product of stress - could physically show up on your
body.
My sleep schedule was erratic. I barely slept for weeks at a time. - Then all I’d want to do for several weeks
was sleep.
Shortly after I had my daughter, I began a
long journey of self-work. I dove
head-first into therapy. I had always
known I struggled with depression, but the thought of suffering with anxiety
never registered on my radar until later in my adult life.
I remember worrying over driving, accidents,
dying myself, or my kid dying in a car accident. - Vivid pictures in my head of those things
happening. - Of my daughter being
abducted. - Held hostage in someone’s
house. - Being forced into doing things
no child should be doing. - Again,
vivid, disturbing images in my head.
Worry - anxiety specifically - this was how
it was all manifesting itself in my life as an adult. I decided to speak to my doctor about
it. I was prescribed an anti-depressant
with an anti-anxiety medication combined.
It’s helped but I still struggle with incessant worry.
I now have 2 kids. - And I’ll be the first to admit, that I have
worried over the same things with my son that I worried over with my
daughter. - Accidents, death, abduction,
sex trafficking. - The whole gambit of
twisted and gory details no parent wants to see of their kids.
In addition to all those crazy things, I
worry like crazy over the normal stuff too.
- Bills, money, finances, Covid,
how Covid is going to affect the world - my job - my career - my kids - our
town - our legacy. I worry every day
about my son’s nutrition - his disability - my shortcomings as a mom to a son
with special needs. The only visual I
can give someone of what my worrisome thoughts look like in my head is
this: Picture the biggest plate of
spaghetti you can imagine - Extra saucy and piled high. - That is my brain full of unhelpful
worrisome thoughts - all day long.
It’s a struggle to say the very least. A few things that help me are as follows:
I meditate a lot. I have several meditation apps on my phone
that help me redirect my anxiousness when I need to, so I don’t spiral myself
into a full-blown panic attack.
I pray a lot too. I do bible studies geared toward anxiousness
and worry every week. One of my recent
bible studies had this to say, “Worry is our inability or unwillingness
to trust God.” Ooof. That felt like a sucker punch in my gut when
I read that. It affected me so deeply
that I had to share it with my friends on Facebook AND
write it down on a sticky note to have on my vanity mirror as a daily reminder.
I grew up in church. I was extremely active in my church youth
group. I’m still very close to my youth
director. I consider her my other
mom. I remember having conversations
with her in high school about worry. She
basically said the same thing back then about worry being your lack of trust in
God.
A little sidebar discussion for any readers:
I know I’m not the only person who struggles
with trusting God. I was taught - or
told - that I should think of God as a Dad.
- As my Heavenly Father - My Dad in Heaven - Daddy God, If you
will.
- I was also told in the same breath that
it’d be hard to trust “Daddy God” because I didn’t have the greatest examples
of what a dad or father should be here on Earth. - But I was never given the skills,
knowledge, or instruction on how to close that gap either.
If you don’t have the experience of trusting your
Earthly father, then how do you trust in a God you’ve never seen? This is something I still struggle with
daily. If you have any pointers on this,
please find me on socials and let’s discuss.
I believe in
God.
I believe in the
power of meditation and prayer.
I believe in
medicine.
- All of which
have helped me live with the incessant worry and debilitating anxiety I have
lived with for most of my life.
Healing and becoming
a healthier version of yourself is a lifelong journey.
What I’ve
learned is that it’s okay to misstep, backtrack, start over, or even try
something completely new.
It’s okay to
fall flat on your face - I’ve done this so many times - but if you just get up
and keep moving forward - it's all considered progress. If you learned something from it, then it
counts as a win, and it all should be applauded. One foot in front of the other, Friends.
Written on 12/7/2020