tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57264845562303976182024-03-13T16:20:08.569-06:00Beautiful WorldYou cannot find peace by avoiding life.
--Virginia WoolfSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.comBlogger961125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-90651241963033896632022-02-24T14:12:00.002-07:002022-02-24T14:12:19.710-07:00Accepting Changing and Ending RelationshipsThis has been a tough one for me, probably because I've always had a deep-seated belief that no one will stay. Darrin has definitely proved me wrong, and my children seem to continue to enjoy spending time with me even as adults. Covid-19 has created difficulty in maintaining relationships outside of my family. We tried, at first. But there was too much risk, too much unknown.So now that Covid isSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-49582354184800020042022-01-14T10:13:00.001-07:002022-01-14T10:13:18.403-07:00Accepting Past AbuseAccept that I was an abused child. I was. I knew this. There was no denying it. But I did not want to BE an abused child. I wanted to be cherished and loved and protected. That cannot happen. I was not. But accepting this does not say anything about ME. It says a whole lot about the people who raised me.Parenting does not come with a manual. That's not to say there aren't a million books that Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-2749590469270794102021-12-31T09:24:00.001-07:002022-01-14T09:30:06.092-07:00AcceptanceI suppose, if I have to assess where I am right now, I would say I am more calm. About pretty much everything. Tolkien boy once told me that there is value in acceptance. I resisted that for a very long time. Acceptance meant acknowledging that some things are real and cannot be changed. However, not accepting reality means I am stuck in the wish-world. There is no growth there. There is a Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-29813446914019405362021-12-14T08:16:00.004-07:002021-12-14T11:26:54.872-07:00Therapy Assignment the first I'm fascinated and a little aggravated at how my subconscious does not want me to return to this. A couple of weeks ago, my therapist gave me a task. It was small and involved simply thinking about something. But in the ensuing week, each time I would try to remember what she had asked, it was as if someone slammed a very heavy door in my face. I would absolutely be unable to remember what Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-6405207094943900152021-10-30T13:47:00.007-06:002021-12-14T07:25:36.846-07:00Back in the Saddle AgainI'm back in therapy. It will be vastly different this time. Years ago when I started the first time, I began my first blog. And people came to visit me. A huge, supportive group of people. That doesn't happen anymore. No one blogs. Years ago when I started the first time, I gained beautifully close friends who walked with me, followed my progress, encouraged me. That won't happen this Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-5258084264209847082021-09-12T14:35:00.000-06:002021-09-12T14:35:02.169-06:00I finally watched my friend's memorial service. It was predictably Mormon. I wanted them to say more about him. I miss him.Tolkien boy agreed to watch it with me. He said it made him think about the things he did NOT want at his own funeral. I don't think I care what goes on at my funeral. I don't actually want to have one.I'm sad today. Not just because my friend died, but there are so many Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-9125838957203977652021-07-06T12:14:00.004-06:002021-07-06T12:18:48.987-06:00Saying Good-ByeI feel like I've done a lot of that lately. A wonderful friend of mine passed away earlier this year. It felt like my heart would break. I was supposed to call him, but I put it off. I won't every call him again. The other good-byes feel less tangible but equally as potent. I don't really have words to describe those moments or events, but I know they're endings. Sometimes I'm ready for thatSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-30016254768158111702021-05-07T13:50:00.009-06:002021-05-07T13:58:07.821-06:00Hi Blog! It's been a long time! I survived 2020. Just wanted to put that out there.Why am I back here? Well, during my decade of blogging I learned a great deal about myself, my past, and my relationships, and I became Samantha. Good things, all. And I made some amazing friends, learned more about people, in general, and questioned everything I thought I knew about life. Mostly good things. But now it's been a decadeSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-16754728088090171932019-04-20T17:50:00.001-06:002019-04-20T17:50:28.554-06:00So Many ChangesAdam calls me Robohips. And he's married now. That's weird.
We're moving again. This is a very good thing. We need to be away from my father-in-law. The three years we've spend with him have taken a huge toll on Darrin. Their relationship has never been great. But I've watched my husband's self-esteem disappearing as the days with his father have continued. The past does not erase simply becauseSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-62936756078133523502018-11-09T10:30:00.001-07:002018-11-09T10:30:56.659-07:00Today is a rock bottom day. You know when you get to the place when even crying feels like too much of an effort? I'm there.
The job is still good. I like it. It allows me to recover from last year. And it has good benefits. And DJ works there, too, now.
But my other hip needs to be replaced. I'm really trying not to let this be huge.
It's huge.
And it makes me super depressed.
DJ keeps Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-83502345859622996762018-07-26T10:19:00.001-06:002018-07-26T10:19:38.536-06:00I have a new job. It's good.
I'm finally well enough to use running as an effective tool to manage PTSD again. What that means is, when I run, I don't end up exhausted and comatose. And there are endorphins. And I have energy.
I've also realized that I'm in that stupid place where I don't know who I am anymore. This is only in relationship to other people. Inside, I know who I am. I have a verySamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-69658689246322100702018-06-26T09:25:00.000-06:002018-06-26T09:25:22.972-06:00I stopped writing. Real writing. I mean, you have to write stuff at work-- lesson plans, email, shopping lists. But all the things I've been doing here for more than a decade, I stopped. I wanted to understand why I kept coming back. I wanted to know if it was helpful, or cathartic, or just a place for me to be moody and brooding and maudlin.
Also, I got to a place where functioning at all was Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-82801193590344876572018-03-21T22:00:00.000-07:002018-06-26T09:25:40.679-06:00Two MonthsThat's almost how long it's been since I came here. I have a number of reasons for staying away, the first of which being that I just became exhausted.
It's been a very long time since I've been so sick for so very long. I lost interest in most everything. There were mornings when I was sorry I was still living. Some mornings I thought about ingesting everything prescription at once. That would Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-31338874038446291232018-01-01T02:02:00.002-07:002018-01-01T02:07:21.359-07:002018Sometimes you celebrate the demise of a year quietly. Outside there were fireworks. Some felt a little too close for comfort as the sparks hit our window for about 15 seconds. But inside was peaceful and calm.
2017 was yet another difficult year in many, many ways. There were troubling and frustrating things, but also triumphs and growth. 2018 will bring the same, no doubt.
I do not love my Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-34508181072805273602017-11-23T15:03:00.005-07:002017-11-23T15:03:45.093-07:00GratitudeGratitude is a funny thing. I talk about things that make my life better. I remember people who have helped shape my life and who continue to do so. I think about ways I have grown and opportunities before me. And I think those things are gratitude sometimes.
Today, though, I think it's something different.
Today I believe gratitude is the ability to wake each morning prepared to live the life Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-43665504447792820862017-11-23T14:50:00.000-07:002017-11-23T14:50:05.120-07:00So much on my mind today.
I stopped writing after my last post. Not just here. Everywhere. I have other blogs where I'm not anonymous and still others where I write really awful stories and poetry. But a number of things happened to me and I saw no purpose in writing anymore. That hasn't really changed. I'm not sure why I'm here today, but I think it's because one of the things that changed is Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-64572143479442918992017-09-10T09:38:00.002-06:002017-09-10T10:26:37.942-06:00In spite of my better intentions, I have been disconnecting. It would be very easy for me to talk about all the reasons this makes me a terrible person, but the truth is, it's not intentional. I'd like to pretend I have a great deal of control over it, but I don't. This is a stress reaction that is nearly as old as I am. Have I been trying to combat it? Replace it with a healthier coping device? Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-6133201284641829812017-08-26T00:16:00.001-06:002017-08-26T00:16:41.857-06:00Two things:
1. I'm exhausted.
2. PTSD is big tonight.
Most of the time I wait to write until the worst is over. And I really believe that's the best course of action. Tonight, however, I'm not sure what I'm feeling.
I was out with friends tonight. It was fun. Part of me enjoyed it.
Another part, however, kept questioning why I was there. I didn't belong. I couldn't connect. And words came out Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-16035049234788564292017-08-23T10:33:00.000-06:002017-08-23T10:34:00.416-06:00Every once in a blue moon I do something despicable. I don't know why I do it, and it usually involves someone I care about deeply. Like share a confidence that has been kept for years. Or throw them under the bus. Or ignore a plea for help. I am, in short, not a safe person.
Therapist would tell me I do these things because I still have trust issues. I'm sabotaging. I'm not sure he's correct.Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-14592896033006861062017-07-27T12:47:00.001-06:002017-07-27T18:05:08.623-06:00July is almost finished. I haven't written because I don't really know how to express what I've been feeling. Lots of things have happened. Lots of almost bad things, but they're tempered, so they're only sort of bad.
1. Adam found a flat tire when leaving for work. We changed it to the spare and found that the belt was coming through. It sliced up my hand nicely. We knew we needed to replace Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-50657169571635011972017-07-08T23:55:00.000-06:002017-07-09T21:37:47.886-06:00There have been a lot of days during the past couple of weeks when I have wanted to come here. But I'm working on something.
I am trying to teach myself to recognize temporary.
Hmm. That's not precise enough.
Okay. Long, long, long explanation:
Sometimes I come here simply to release stress. I say whatever is on my mind. Sometimes it's extreme. Also, extremely inaccurate. Not reality.
Well, Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-69362280380884960282017-06-25T09:48:00.000-06:002017-06-25T09:49:51.720-06:00Working on the impossible
All quotes are from the National Center for PTSD.
"Trauma survivors with PTSD may have trouble with their close family relationships or friendships. The symptoms of PTSD can cause problems with trust, closeness, communication, and problem solving."
Always. Always. Always. I'm so tired of this. And it's been the case for so long that much of the time I no longer address what's happening insideSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-56151744166841365892017-06-19T23:42:00.001-06:002017-06-19T23:42:27.041-06:00How to proceed?
I gave myself a few days for everything to calm down. I told myself to stop being dramatic.
The result?
PTSD management isn't even a thing anymore. Today was rather horrible. I spent the morning dealing with nausea from panic attacks that wouldn't stop. And I locked myself in my bedroom until 2:30 in the afternoon when I finally went to work. And I didn't answer the phone. I Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-20527762760331520822017-06-14T21:07:00.002-06:002017-06-16T17:19:06.601-06:00I had a friend once who read my blog. This was back when I wrote things of substance that were upbeat and sometimes even funny. He would read something and then, months later, say to me, "Remember that post you wrote about [insert topic here]? I know someone who could really benefit from reading that, but I can't find it. Am I just searching for it incorrectly? Can you help me find it?"
No. I Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726484556230397618.post-90403151178869397842017-03-12T22:50:00.003-07:002017-03-12T22:52:14.568-07:00Never go to the bathroom alone, Part 4I've put off writing about this because it causes all sorts of unwelcome and overwhelming emotions. Therapist assigned me to write down all emotions as they came. I didn't do it. I think it's because I'm still startled when the emotions come. And they're exhausting. I don't know. I just didn't want a written reminder, I think, of what's happening to me right now-- at least, not one like that.
I Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216416424593449924noreply@blogger.com1