If anyone has ever called you crazy, this is for you. You’re not alone.


5 Things to Do to Avoid a Full-Blown “OMFG Please Kill Me NOW” Panic Attack

1. Stop listening to the thoughts that are racing by. Acknowledge their presence, but don’t buy into their story.

2. Start talking out loud. Find a phrase and repeat it (there’s no place like home there’s no place like home there’s no place like home).

3. Go for a walk and/or “shake it off.” Literally pretend you are shaking it all off of your body.

4. Scream as loud as you can into a pillow, or if no one is around to call the police, don’t even worry about finding the pillow.

5. Hug yourself. Validate your feelings as you do so. For example, say: “I’m feeling frustrated! It’s frustrating when I feel like no one is listening.” Be loving and understanding toward yourself.


It’s true.

there is always hope
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An old tumblr post:

As I’ve probably mentioned before, rejection is the feeling buried deepest into my cells. Thus making it the most difficult to chisel away at.

In the past it has sent me into blind frenzies which usually resulted in seeking revenge. It never reached the point of physically harming anyone, though the thoughts were always there.

I dug into my arms, my legs, my chest with whatever I could find. Be it finger nails, broken glass, safety pins or my personal favorite, ripping apart a 3 in 1 blade and going to town.

When that didn’t work, I would just scream until my throat hurt, cringe, tense up, check out.

My practice has become to stay with the feeling no matter where my mind takes me, no matter the things I’d like to say to make myself “right.”

Today when I got triggered, I chose to walk. Usually that helps me stay in my body, but this time I was unable to stop the thoughts.

Racing racing racing by.

Why do I believe them?

I get angry that the feeling is lingering longer than usual. I’m frustrated. I cry. I courageously march up the stairs, when my body wants to fall to the floor.

Is the floor always this loud?

God, not going into avoidance is quite the challenge.

I feel like a warrior, the battle against myself is only half over and it could go either way.

Quick, do something Carrie.

Move your arms, stomp your feet, just feel.

Well that took care of the judgment part of it. Turn on that song. That one you really love.

Now dance.

I walk over to the mirror, I see the light. I am the light. A glow now surrounds me.

As I stare deep into my own eyes, my face begins to morph into bravery, victory, certainty.

I am whole. And the seeds I’ve planted into this vessel have begun to grow.

Albert Camus quotes
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I’ve always liked words.

Saying them, writing them, contemplating language itself. I wanted to be a linguist. Anthropological linguistics was one of my most interesting college courses.

I’ve been interested in so many things over the years which has made me very knowledgable and interesting to talk to but rather intolerable at times due to a sort of need to know everything.

I suppose what I’m getting at is that the uncertainty or rather lack of specificity of my “future” has the potential to create and recreate an uneasy feeling that I often perpetuate by deliberately thinking about it! Whew!

All these days of minimal adult interaction cause me to think and think and think and then of course if my thoughts are vibrating at a particular frequency of worry and doubt my body will say hey! this is familiar! yay! Well creating a new dialogue winds up making me feel bipolar and the repetition is enough to drive a Gemini insane!

Only to realize that this whole fiasco is only mind made and my higher self, god self, spaghetti self is sitting inside a dark room which is my body going “hm, wonder when this broad is going to wake up” and then lovingly and ever so gently tapping me on the shoulder because that’s the trigger that must be pulled in order to remember.

Love is the absence of judgment
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My most important job is to love myself no matter what, to accept that I make mistakes and to carry on. A happy mommy will automatically create a happy baby. Dwelling, worrying and obsessing do not change anything. I will remind myself of this as often as necessary. I am happy.

Take some deep breaths. Everything is alright. No need to play the same story, no need to make excuses, no need to justify. What’s done is done. I can’t change the past. If I need a moment, I’ll take a moment. I’ll have reactions, I’ll have thoughts. I’ll laugh at the irony of how uncharacteristic of me some of the thoughts I have are. I don’t have to panic. I don’t have to torture myself. I do have to accept myself. And also, not make assumptions about the future.

This is an opportunity for me to love myself and in doing so I am learning to love and forgive and even understand my parents, which is what I’ve been wanting for a long time. It seems as though, as children, we sacrifice and endure a lot for our parents’ learning. And yet, this is all part of some unspoken agreement.

I will thrive on purpose. Search for it until I find it and trust that my child knows that he is loved and nurtured and cared for. I want him to know that. And even though this (being a mother) is going nothing how I thought it would (idealistically), there is some inexplicable, honest and dare I say perfect element to all of it that I could have never conjured up. This piece cannot be accessed nor understood by the mind. It can only be discovered when not looking. It can only be stumbled upon in the most awkward and unpleasant moments.

Affirmation for self love
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Not Sorry for Being Me

I’m sitting in the car (the mom van), with the warmth of the sun infusing only the left side of my body. I’ve arrived at my destination, the Cure playing softly in the background, but I am sitting in the parking lot because I need to write a letter.

It is to you, reader of this, it is to peers past and it is to myself so that I can see that the past is history and today is a new day.

I want to say that I’m sorry. I want to say that I am sorry that it has taken me so long to reach this point, this perspective, this understanding of myself.

I want to say that I’m sorry I was so self destructive and I’m sorry that I took you down with me.

(I lower the music so that I can type more authentically, so that the sound of my own thoughts are dominating what I’m creating, so that I AM creating rather than being the destructive force).

I’m sorry that I hurt myself.

I’m sorry if that hurt you.

I’m sorry I didn’t try to understand where you were coming from. I’m sorry that you couldn’t understand where I was coming from.

I’m sorry I didn’t see my own value and I’m sorry I was unable to see the value of our relationship.

I’m sorry that I didn’t know how to say what I wanted to say. I’m sorry I never realized that I was enough. I’m sorry for lying. I’m sorry for cheating. I’m sorry that better choices were seemingly unavailable to me during that time and that you suffered because of it.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t love you completely. I hope you know it’s because I couldn’t love myself. I’m sorry I manipulated. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you your opinion more often.

But, for the first time in my life, I can honestly say, I’m not sorry for being me. You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. And yeah, so am I. So. Am. I.