Remember when I had lunch with Randy a few weeks ago? Something he said struck a cord with me. As we were parting ways, he said, “I had no idea that this past year had been so stressful and bad for you.” We spent the entirety of lunch talking about all the things I don’t mention on the blog. Or Facebook. Or Twitter. Or Instagram.

Social media is not my reality.

Every time I sat down to write a post this year, I thought to myself, “Do I want to write about what’s actually going through my mind? Do I want to bitch about how this has been such a difficult year on my mind and my body and I don’t know how to gain control over my own damn life?  OR maybe I’ll just talk about all the fun things I do – share pictures of all the festivals I’ve attended, hikes I’ve taken, and friends I’ve made – to cover up the stress and anxiety and unhappiness I’ve felt?

There are several reasons why I don’t share everything going on in my life.

1. I’ve been brought up with the “don’t wash your dirty laundry in public” mentality. There are certain things that just stay within our family. Over time, I’ve learned to let a few people in, but for the most part, my “laundry” is hidden. 
2. Part of me wants to look back at these blog posts with fond memories of the things I’ve done and the people I shared them with. I don’t want to be 80 years old and look back at a week where I cried myself to sleep every single night.
3. I’m afraid of how the message will be perceived. I know my family and close friends read this blog. I don’t want them to think that this stress or unhappiness is related to them in any way. Because it’s not.
4. Sharing things publicly can come back and bite you in the ass. There were several days that I would come home from work in tears because I felt a lack of support, a lack of collaboration, and anger toward individuals that didn’t have the kids’ best interest at heart. But I kept it all in. For fear that, by blogging about it, I would jeopardize my career in some way.
5. I worry that I am not living up to the expectations that readers may have of me. Back when I started this blog, I was training for a half marathon and experimenting almost daily in the kitchen. I was living a happy, healthy life and was so eager to connect with others who were doing the same. The half marathon has come and gone and I was too wrapped up in work to make the trip down to Long Beach to do it. I stopped taking care of myself and the mission of this blog started to seem so unfamiliar.

But today I’m airing out my underpants in public.

For the past two weeks (post-Vegas), I’ve been having that pain in my heart/chest area again. My blood test results came out normal but my blood pressure is higher than average. Part of it has to do with a lack of routine and just hopping from one city to the next, but it’s been brought on by this past year. I’ve made unhealthy choices out of stress and unhappiness and I lost the ability or rather, the desire, to navigate my own life.

I started medication for now while I make more natural changes in my life. I’m also getting an ultrasound of my heart today to rule out any other possibilities. I’m sure everything will be fine, but it’s always better to be sure! 🙂

For those of you who keep reading this blog, thanks for sticking around despite the fact that I lost sight of why I started it in the first place. I’m starting over and ready to incorporate a shit ton of happiness and healthiness this time around.

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I’m BACK on the best west coast. With much difficulty.

I’ve talked about my fear of flying before, but I don’t think people actually know how severe it is. I got a prescription for Xanax because I feel like that’s a healthier way to deal with anxiety when I fly instead of drinking 5 glasses of wine before I board the plane.

On the flight back, however, my mom convinced me not to take the medication because we paid an additional $180 to ensure our seats were together and she would “make sure that I was OK the entire flight.” And boy did she try. Before we even took off, she was talking a mile a minute to occupy my mind. She talked about all.the.things. I think she ran out of things because then she started listing off all the items in each of my sister’s cabinets at her new apartment and how she ended up organizing it all. I love her for trying.

But the minute the plane took off, I was a wreck. This grown-ass girl just broke down into tears and pretty much crawled into my mother’s lap for the first hour and a half of the flight. Take off is the worst.

So that’s how a typical flight starts off for me. 

Then there’s also these few things that happen every.single.time, without fail.

1. With every bump or shake, I grab onto the seat in front of me (as if that’s actually going to save me in the event of an accident). 
2. When turbulence lasts longer than 6 seconds, my eyes well up with tears, my heart races, and my palms become sweaty. This isn’t just a moist kind of sweaty. This is like full on water DRIPPING from my hands.
3. On the off chance that the flight is completely smooth for a while, I have visions of another plane just SMASHING into the side of our plane (On this flight I ACTUALLY thought that a plane was coming directly at us. Turns out that the “plane” was actually a cloud).
4. I also imagine that the plane just stops working and we completely plummet to the ground and crash.
5. When turbulence is really bad, I imagine that a wing will break off and we all die.

I’ve tried everything but my anxiety seems to be getting worse, not better.

I survived the flight. But I’m flying to Hawaii next week for Joy’s wedding and everyone keeps telling me that the flights in and out of Hawaii are pretty turbulent.

I know this may sound more humorous than anything else. And all of these things I experience seem ridiculously bizarre. But they are, in truth, my legitimate feelings each and every time I fly. 

Somebody fix me.