the update nobody asked for

Well it’s been a year and a half and I am happy to report that I am back (after much turmoil involving this account) and I wish I could tell ya this was going to be a super inspirational post but tbh it probably isn’t. Or at least it isn’t going to start that way. So buckle up, my dudes.

I’m going to say something that no one wants to hear but I know anyone who’s experienced loss will agree with: if I can’t go back and prevent Taylor from passing away then I’d take the next “best” thing. Going back to the weeks after he died where I didn’t have to move on. Just existing was enough. I didn’t have to worry about accomplishing anything aside from physically getting out of bed to show I wasn’t going to let the overwhelming depression get the best of me. The problem is that overwhelming depression and sadness never goes away. It’s been almost two years and I still struggle, especially this time of year. It doesn’t get any easier, it just gets manageable to the point it looks like I have it all together. If you know me, and even if you don’t I’ll go ahead and let you know anyway, I do not have it all together.

They say comparison is the thief of joy and, let me tell ya, it’s the honest truth. Even before November 28, 2020, which marked a year since Taylor died, I was berating myself for not having my shit together like most people my age. I didn’t have a house or a family. I’d spent most of the summer sitting on the couch and watching every cooking show available because COVID drastically changed the taproom operations of the brewery I work at. I had so much free time and I still didn’t have anything to show for it. For some reason I was putting the pressure on myself that I would never put on anyone else (this is not the first time this has happened). And honestly I’m probably being way too hard on other people without knowing what they might be going through. It all takes me back to that awful day in December 2019, shortly after Taylor died, when I went to Target to try and get a few Christmas presents for my family. I was so overwhelmed by ALL OF THE THINGS that I froze in the middle of the store. Everyone was in a hurry, everyone was so excited about the upcoming holiday that I couldn’t keep up and my body physically froze in an isle and I started crying. That was one of the many low points I’ve had in the last two years. I never want to be the person who makes someone feel the way I did in that Target. I’ve learned a lot about myself the last year and I truly think the biggest takeaway is remembering how I felt that day and knowing, at the very least, the best thing I can do to help someone else struggling is to be patient and understanding. There was nothing anyone could have done to help me. I just needed a minute to catch up. And I did. It just took way, way longer than the minutes I spent in that stupid aisle crying surrounded by strangers buying Christmas presents. I am still catching up, I just don’t need to stop and cry it out as often. And I definitely don’t let my stupid OCD brain try and tell me that I am falling behind on all of the life milestones when I made it through absolute hell November 2019

It is almost impossible for me to tell you the significance of me finally being able to log in to this blog today. Two years ago today this picture was taken.

Both of the people in this picture were struggling. We were overwhelmed and depressed and didn’t know how we would ever get out of it. The problem is I didn’t realize the struggle Taylor was dealing with. Part of it was his pride, but the kind of pride where you feel like you have to be the support for everyone else, and part of it was me being so wrapped up in my own shit that I didn’t really see how much he needed help. I have spent so many days and nights thinking about anything and everything I could have and should have done differently that night. Things were bad. Since I can’t go back and change the past, no matter how much I would if I could, the best thing I can do now is to use whatever tiny platform I have to tell anyone who will listen to reach out. Reach out if you are worried about someone. Reach out if you need to talk or if you are struggling. Just please, please reach out. Life is crazy and there is absolutely no reason any of us should be doing it alone.

please don’t stop reading now because I still have more to say and it isn’t quite as depressing

Oh yea! This is a blog about OCD. I almost forgot since I haven’t created content, especially OCD related content, in so long. It’s actually kind of funny and I’m sure someone way smarter than me with some sort of fancy degree would be able to explain why the obsessions and compulsions seemed to take a back seat after losing T. I only have a geography degree but I can confirm that the obsessions and compulsions took a back seat. HOWEVER I can also confirm that they have started to slowly creep their way back in the more comfortable I feel. Comfortable? I don’t know if that’s the right word. The more normal? I don’t know how to describe it but I’m hoping y’all know what I mean. I started working full time again (hello production team!) which meant I was back to a routine. I have the distraction of work, which is great. But as we all know with the great comes the bad and, for me at least, the bad meant I started using work as an excuse to ignore all of the things I knew I couldn’t ignore forever. For example, I have started checking to make sure the stove is off before I leave for work (this actually poses even more of an issue because I have to be at work at 7:00am and my ability to sleep has not improved at all. My picking has gone into overdrive. Sooo I think it’s safe to say I’ve been distracting myself from truly dealing with/feeling the things I know I need to deal with/feel.

*Took this right after putting this post together to prove the picking is still just as bad as ever*

I’m not sure where this post was supposed to go. It has been so long that I kind of just combined the 5+ notes I created on my phone when I couldn’t sleep for the last year and a half. I suppose it was more of a venting session to show I am doing my best but also because I know I’m not the only one who feels like they are just doing their best right now. Doing our best is better than doing nothing and I am in no place to tell you otherwise. Personally, I think doing my best is better than doing nothing at all because doing nothing at all just made me feel even worse. The biggest thing is that I know I am going to be ok and I hope anyone else going through a rough patch knows they will be ok too.

-A

**Things got a bit real in this post and I feel like it is important to include this information** If you are struggling with your mental health and need someone to talk to please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or click here to start an online chat for free and confidential support. You can also contact the Crisis Text Line via SMS message at 741-741 for free crisis intervention. *please note that the numbers listed above are available resources to those in the United States*

I hope you’re still here because I had to add this little at the end of all the serious stuff because it made me laugh out loud when I realized I had to update my About Me since I am no longer a twenty-something. Time flies ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Spotify users! Be sure to follow my UPDATED SUPER AWESOME obsessive-compulsive diaries playlist for some of my favorite groovy tunes. It is a delightfully random mix of new songs and old songs from a bunch of different genres. It’s a great playlist if you need a good dance party or if you need a cry. Or a crying dance party.

the caution tape wrapped around my brain has continued to stay

TW: this post talks about drug addiction and losing a loved one

I want to start off by saying I’m really proud of how we *vaguely gestures to surroundings* have shifted our views on talking about mental health and addiction. Until recently it was so taboo and weird and disgraceful that it was always just swept under the rug and ignored. For example, I created a blog about my life with OCD (which has evolved into struggling with anxiety, depression, and loss) that I share on social media without worrying about backlash, which is pretty cool.

But I feel like one of the best ways I can help with this platform is to share my experience, and unfortunately it isn’t a great one. If this is your first time reading then you can read up on my background and why I started this blog because things have taken a pretty massive change since then. If you’re still on board then here we go…

On Thursday, November 28th, 2019 my husband, Taylor, passed away from addiction. Taylor was incredibly successful and excelled at everything he did. He was fun and outgoing and never met a stranger. He was also the last person anyone would expect to be struggling with addiction. Over the course of a few months I, along with our family and friends, witnessed how addiction takes every aspect of someone’s life. I know for a fact that the motivated, driven, life of the party man I married was still there but the motivation, drive, and life had dwindled. I hate thinking about the weeks leading up to his passing. I have a lot of regrets, and I’m sure he would too, about how we acted and how we handled things. We would argue but we would apologize. He would promise to quit tomorrow and I would promise to stop nagging him about quitting. Everything came to a head the night of Wednesday, November 27th. I fell asleep watching tv in our spare bedroom and woke up to him yelling for help. I ran into the bedroom and talked to him, assured him it would be ok, and called 911. After the dispatcher had medical help on the way she said “they will be there in 5 minutes. If things get worse, call us back immediately”. We hung up, I put the dogs in the spare room, and went back into the room to wait with T. He wasn’t breathing. I absolutely panicked. When I called 911 back they told me the paramedics, fire department, and police were at the gate to our apartment complex and walked me through CPR but it was unsuccessful. I knew I hadn’t been able to revive him and he was gone. The following few hours were a complete whirlwind. I remember getting to the hospital in the front of the ambulance and seeing my brother. I remember the doctor coming in and telling me that my husband had not survived. I remember Atlanta Police detectives coming to ask me about the circumstances and going to search my house, then coming back and confirming the accidental overdose. I remember just wanting to go home and be with my animals, laying in bed for what felt like a few minutes, then immediately needing to leave. We packed up the essentials and I never went back. I sobbed in the car the entire ride back to my parents house while on the phone with family and close friends having to confirm this was actually happening. It was a true nightmare but it was a nightmare that I somehow survived after three years thanks to our incredible family and friends and even complete strangers. I am forever grateful for you all.

I’m finally sharing because, up until fairly recently, I avoided talking about the entire situation. My preferred method of coping is to ignore and isolate so that is exactly what I did. But if sharing my experience or sharing what I found helpful during my grieving process helps someone else then it is absolutely, 100% worth it. And, honestly, it helps with my grief too.

So now that I have successfully made everyone sad, here are three (and a half) things I found most helpful. They helped in the days and weeks after Taylor died and they still help now, 992 days later.

(quick disclaimer: I am not a professional. I brew beer and have a degree in geography so this is all based on my personal experience, not any sort of training or education on the subject ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

No need to apologize. And this one is hard because it is instinct. I do it, we all do it. When someone is telling us something traumatizing our gut instinct is to apologize. Not because we had any involvement in what happened but because we hate seeing anyone struggling with something so shitty. It wasn’t until Taylor died that I really understood why that’s the first thing that pops into my brain when I’m talking to someone about their trauma. I have always genuinely appreciated the I’m Sorry response because I know it is heartfelt. We hate knowing someone has been through something awful. I still catch myself apologizing but I try to follow up with understanding, even if it isn’t something I’ve experienced. Luckily we don’t all have to live out nightmare situations but we all understand the impact they have. This isn’t a comparison thing. Everyone experiences these things in a different way so there’s no need to undermine how someone else feels and reacts
Listen. Just listen. I’m a problem solver so this is equally hard trying not to apologize (fwiw I apologize about EVERYTHING. Walking behind someone at work? “Oops sorry just need to squeeze past ya!”, need to ask somebody a question? “Sorry, don’t mean to bother ya…” you know the drill). Talking about the way Taylor died is a lot, not just for me but for whoever I’m talking to, and it’s taken me a while (almost 3 years) to accept that some people don’t want to hear the details. That’s understandable and I like to think I can sense it preeeetty well
Share/enjoy/laugh about all of the good. This is the most important one. Because, no exaggeration, every time I find myself talking about the night Taylor died the conversation naturally turns to me laughing and reminiscing about all of the great times we had while he was still here, even if I’m talking to someone who never got the chance to meet him (which is a huge bummer because he was a truly incredible person). Sharing those stories has probably been one of the biggest reasons I’ve made it this far. To anyone who has listened and shared (there’s a lot of y’all!), I really can’t thank you enough
Know that all of these things take time. I’ve had three years to try and navigate it and there are still days where it all seems impossible. But it will get easier (this was the half thing)

So yeah this post was kind of a huge bummer but I know I’m not the only one struggling with these things and I hope it can be helpful, whether you are in it or trying to support someone who is. If you or a loved one are struggling with substance use or addiction, contact the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration National Helpline at 1-800-662-4357. Yesterday, August 15th, was Taylor’s birthday. I hope sharing our story gives anyone struggling with addiction or loss some comfort knowing they are not alone.

Lastly, the inspiration for today’s title. I didn’t want to include it at the beginning of this post, like usual, for obvious reasons.

-A

if i need to rearrange my particles i will for you

It’s been a while since I started a post without a “this is going to be a bummer/no positive updates over here” disclaimer but I am happy to report that things have changed. Kind of…this actually isn’t a complete bummer of an update but it might make you feel some feels, which is completely understandable. I’ve been feeling the feels since I started working on it a few weeks ago…

I’ve worked my way up to brewing at work (I work at a brewery, which is a relevant detail) and earlier this year had the incredible opportunity to brew on a collaboration with Bottleshare, the same organization that worked with my brewery to create a fundraiser to help me after Taylor died. There is absolutely nothing about the last two and a half years of my life that I ever expected to happen. As far as I was concerned I had my life planned out without really accepting it could all change. And…that’s exactly what happened. My life took a drastic change for the worse. But then there was a group of folks who came in when I needed it the most. A bunch of people were just there. They were there for me, there for our family. Just there to make sure we all made it to see another day. The family and friends who helped pack and organize a move so I never had to go back to mine and Taylor’s house. The friends who, without any hesitation, came to visit me every day after work to make sure I wasn’t alone all while dealing with their own grief over losing T. There are so many people who may have known me but might not have known Taylor, or may not have known me but did know Taylor, who donated to the fundraiser that helped me survive the worst thing ever. This collaboration was my chance to give back and attempt to return the support and love I felt after losing my husband. Losing your spouse shouldn’t be anything anyone experiences. It’s really, really shitty and I wish I didn’t have the firsthand knowledge to confirm it. If there is any positive from this post it’s to know you can help folks who find themselves in the unimaginable situation I was in back in 2019. The collaboration I was part of helps other people in the industry who are experiencing a hardship. I honestly don’t think there is any way for me to express how thankful I am for the support I received after Taylor died. It took a lot of stress off of my plate and I’m so grateful to be here to experience everything coming back full circle. Now get ready for a bunch of pictures because I am feeling all of the feelings ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

Taylor and I having a beer at SSBC with some of our favorite folks

I sure do miss that guy more than anything and I know I’m not the only one who feels that way. Taylor had a way of making sure everyone was having a great time and it is still hard to believe we’ve spent two and a half years without that positive, fun-loving person here with us.

The collab crew, minus a few out of town folks

I feel like it is only fair that I give you an update on my life and unfortunately that is where this post takes a turn like the last ones (unless you felt all of the feelings with the pics earlier). Things are….ok? I’m in a much better place than the last two and a half years but I’m still dealing with the OCD and the anxiety, depression, and insomnia that I’ve had since Taylor passed away. But I’m doing my best to work on it and that should be good enough. It is for me, at least, and it has taken me a long time to feel comfortable saying it.

Pretending like I have it all together. Or not. My face says otherwise

What an update, amirite? Probably not where you expected it to go, although TBH it’s probably better than the last few posts, but I hope it was still helpful. Or inspirational. Or whatever the point of my writing has been. Regardless, cheers to Taylor, to my incredible family and friends, and to every single person who was able to lend support with this collaboration. It was the most fun I’ve had at work ~~in a long, long time~~ ever. And that is a pretty great feeling.

Collaboration label. The beer release was on 2/22/22, the week of the brewery’s 90’s themed anniversary party

If you are interested in donating to Bottleshare, follow this link and let ‘er rip tater chip. If you’re over the age of 21, live in the Atlanta area/can pick up your online order, and want to buy a 4 pack of our collab beer then follow this link. If you want to support the cause but maybe can’t donate or purchase please feel free to share this post. I’ll be forever grateful and I know that the folks Bottleshare helps going forward will feel the same. Let’s raise glasses and save asses!!

For more information/updates on Bottleshare check out their Facebook and Instagram pages. If, for whatever reason, you want updates on this big ol’ loser and some of the beer stuff I work on then give me a follow on Instagram.

–A

I know I usually include the title inspiration at the beginning of my posts but it felt weird this time because the song really hits close to home with how Taylor died. Please give it a listen, though. It is absolutely worth it

i’m in love with my sadness

PTSD is the worst. In fact, it is a shitshow. Like Yakov Smirnoff opening for Spin Doctors at the Iowa State Fair kind of shit show. And I know this because I’ve been living with it for almost 5 months now.

Deadpool GIF to go with the Deadpool quote

Five months ago my life was turned upside down (I think that part is pretty clear at this point) and there are still so many times where I find myself questioning if what I am living right now is actually real. I’m a widow who is 4 months away from turning 30 who isn’t working (thanks Corona -__-) and lives in her parents’ basement. Add to that to the fact that the entire world is a hot mess right now (at least I’m not the only one, amirite?) and I haven’t really left said parents’ basement aside from a quick sojourn to Sweet Home Alabama to meet my new nephew. I’ve basically been alone with my thoughts, memories, and quarantine snacks for the last 5+ weeks. And let me tell ya, the memories on repeat aren’t the good ones. So yeah, sounds like fun right?

I have always been the person who uses isolation as a coping mechanism (pretty sure I’ve touched on this a handful of times). I have used this time to justify not going to my weekly therapy sessions, which is probably the biggest mistake I have made so far. I do not recommend this strategy. I have made things worse for myself and I knew it would happen. But fret not, dear friends. I reached out to my therapist today so please don’t get on my case about it. I used to dread my weekly therapy sessions because I would have to acknowledge that witnessing my husband die is arguably one of the worst things that someone could experience and, more importantly, talking it through was really the only thing that would help me cope with the trauma of that night. So I threw caution and logic to the wind and said “to hell with it, everything is shut down and I don’t need to go”. It didn’t take long for me to see how this was a huge mistake. Massive mistake. I couldn’t sleep (still working on that part, btw) and the times I did sleep I would wake myself up crying or yelling or a combination of the two. I would have dreams where I was being charged with Taylor’s death because I didn’t revive him while doing CPR. Even just getting in bed and closing my eyes can trigger the flashbacks to attempting CPR and screaming/pleading with 911 to get there faster. It has been awful. Truly f’ing terrible, to be honest.

It wasn’t until just a few days ago that I was messaging with an old friend and realized the only thing that really helps is talking about it. Talking about all of the horrible things that happened that night and all of the emotions. Talking about the really hard stuff, the details of it all. Basically all of the things that most people don’t feel comfortable talking about. And I get that, it isn’t exactly what people want to hear. To be honest I don’t want to hear it either, my brain just doesn’t seem to cut me any slack. So today, after attempting to go through more of our stuff from storage (that process could be it’s own post entirely) and getting overwhelmed to the point of tears, I knew I had to get back into therapy. I need to have that outlet. It will only make things better. The last time I met with my therapist she was working on connecting me with someone who specializes in EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing) therapy. Pretty exciting stuff, right? Stay tuned for that roller coaster ride.

So anyway, that’s my update. It isn’t exactly a great one, seeing as I am basically admitting that I have dropped the ball in a major way, but I have to find a way to hold myself accountable. Even if it means admitting my failure(s) to the entire world (or the 17 of you who actually read my posts). Please don’t be a cotton-headed ninny muggins like me and let your mental health take a back seat right now. Make it a priority. The world is a crazy place right now so don’t let it distract you from what is most important (i.e. YOU). 🙂

-A

my perfect niece (Charlotte) & nephew (Will). also, guess who gets to finish her sleeve now?! THIS GAL

today’s blog title inspiration

**yes I know this is a cover but I really love it and mean no disrespect to The Smashing Pumpkins. It’s a great cover, you should check them out. ;)**

i walk the line

There’s a fine line between social distancing and social isolation. I am really struggling with not plunging myself into the social isolation side of that line. For as long as I can remember my biggest coping mechanism has been isolating myself. Healthy? No. Helpful? Also no. But it’s my go-to.

In 4 days I will be celebrating my four year wedding anniversary. Unfortunately I won’t be celebrating it with my husband. I have been dreading this day since the reality of his death and my situation became clearer in the days after he passed away. I knew that if I isolated myself on April 1st I would risk getting myself into a depression that would seem impossible to get out of. So I made a plan with friends to celebrate and go to all of mine and T’s favorite spots, eat great food, drink (likely one too many) great drinks, and end the night at the Clermont Lounge.

Then COVID-19 came along and completely decimated the plan and has now created the very likely scenario that I will, in fact, spend most of the day solo. I am dreading it. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to be That Guy who ignores the advice (or orders depending on where you are) to stay home. If the best way to move past this craziness is to stay home then I’ll do it. But I’m pissed.

Luckily I have the best family, friends, and blog readers to help me through it. Honestly this whole situation is following the theme of my life for the past year and a half (or so), which is you never know how quickly things will change. I’m prepared to spend my anniversary solo, or with 9 or less friends while we stay 6 feet away from each other. I have plenty of pickled jalapenos to eat out of the jar and enough Bud Light Lime to last me a few days (just kidding, kind of). I have animals to snuggle with and a blog I should really write more content for (accepting any and all suggestions btw). I’ve already made it 121 days so why stop now?

-A

Today’s title inspiration (obviously). Although, not gonna lie, “it’s such a fine line between stupid and clever” was a close second. If you haven’t seen This Is Spinal Tap then drop everything you are doing (probably not much given the current global situation) and watch it. It is one of my all time favorites.

Spotify users! I just updated the playlist before posting this! Be sure to follow my obsessive-compulsive diaries playlist for some of my favorite groovy tunes. It is a delightfully random mix of new songs and old songs from a bunch of different genres. It’s a great playlist if you need a good dance party or if you need a cry. Or a crying quarantine dance party.

pick apart the pieces you left

today’s inspiration

I have three notes on my phone that are ongoing blog posts that I am slowly but surely working on. None of them seem relevant. None of them really explain how I feel, although now that I think about it I’m not sure anything would really explain how I feel. I don’t even know if I can explain how I feel.

I go to therapy every Tuesday, which means Tuesdays are almost always my worst days. There’s a good chance I may have mentioned this before but my favorite coping mechanism is to just constantly ignore feelings and pretend I am 100% doing great when I’m really not. Tuesdays are now the days that I know I am going to have to face things. This week was when I finally admitted that I am angry (which is tied with Guilt for the top spot on my list of Least Favorite Stages of Grief).

I am angry. This is the angriest I’ve ever been. I feel like the grumpy old person who doesn’t want to see anyone having fun, the only difference is I don’t want to see myself having fun. Anger is my newest enemy and it loves to partner up with its BFF Guilt to come and ruin anything in my life that has a chance to offer me a temporary break from grief. And I need a damn break. Anyone who has ever experienced grief knows what I mean.

The worst part about this anger is that I am angry at the person who isn’t here. I am mad at Taylor. I am mad that I am left trying to figure out my new normal. I’m mad that I am left here to figure out finances and money and how I am supposed to navigate life without my partner. I’m so, so angry that I can’t sleep or start my day or drive down the road without having flashbacks of the night I found him. This is the absolute worst. I didn’t ask for this. No one would ask for this. But here I am, somehow making it through this nightmare I am dealing with now. The only thing that really helps are the times I find myself hanging out with people and temporarily forgetting about the bullshit I inevitably will go back to (and I truly cherish those moments, btw, if you are reading this and have spent any time with me where I can actually just be Happy Alaina). What makes me the most angry is that I am stuck here picking up the pieces of our life and he isn’t. And he is the only person I know who would know what to do, or at least know how to make me feel better, and he isn’t here. I am mad that I am left here to worry about it all and he isn’t. The worst part of acknowledging this anger? It is quickly followed by guilt. Because I am the one still here and it doesn’t seem fair to be angry at someone who isn’t.

I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I will say it again, but I’ll be okay. I just need to be angry.

-AK

all that i know is no way to fix it

Inspiration

You know the episode of The Office where Michael announces Mr. and Mrs. Bob Vance before they are actually married and then, upon realizing his mistake, he goes “uhhhhggshhhhhhhhhh” and awkwardly backs up to join the groomsmen standing at the altar? That’s me in every single aspect of my life right now. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’ve been living in a constant state of uhhhhggshhhhhhhhhh (0/10 recommend, btw). But this is my only option, unfortunately. The other day I shared this article on Facebook that resonated with me, and hopefully other people who have experienced loss recently/at any point will find it helpful too.

Unless anyone passing by looked deeply into my bloodshot eyes or noticed the occasional break in my voice and thought enough to ask, it’s not like they’d have known what’s happening inside me or around me. They wouldn’t have had any idea of the gaping sinkhole that had just opened up and swallowed the normal life of the guy next to them in the produce section.

Losing T on Thanksgiving Day and then going through the holidays has given me a constant support group that reaches out to make sure I’m still hanging on (I am hanging on, btw) but the times where I feel most alone and isolated and lost are when I am grocery shopping or running errands. It is almost always when I am surrounded by people. The week before Christmas I went to Target and became so overwhelmed that I started crying in the middle of an aisle with a completely empty cart. There were so many people and they were all in a hurry and I felt like I couldn’t keep up. None of the people shopping at Target that day knew that my husband died. There wasn’t a way for them to know how hard I was trying to keep it together or that I didn’t want to get out of bed that morning. Even now, 33 days after Taylor died, I still struggle. I almost lost it at the grocery store yesterday because it felt like my brain couldn’t keep up. Everything was so overwhelming.

And while I didn’t want to physically wear my actual circumstances on my chest, it probably would have caused people around me to give me space or speak softer or move more carefully—and it might have made the impossible, almost bearable.

So strangers don’t know what I’m going through. And that is okay. They don’t need to. The best thing I can do is acknowledge that I am most likely not alone when I feel like crying over an empty shopping cart at the store. Just being aware that I’m not the only one struggling will make it easier for me on the days where things seem impossible and hopefully provide some comfort to the stranger who finds themselves in the same position.

It’s not all bad news, though. I’ve started settling in to what is my new life (at least I think I have?? Who knows. It isn’t exactly like I really had it all together when T was here if we are being honest). I’ve been spending time with friends, I started cooking again, I got a new tattoo (always a great pick me up, if you ask me), and next week I am going to start my slow, but much needed, return to work. I am allowing myself to have fun without quite as much of the guilt I would experience just a few short weeks ago. I know I still have many days of uhhhhggshhhhhhhhhh ahead of me but the fact that I can make through a day without crying seems to be a decent start.

-AK

Spotify users! I finally updated the playlist! Be sure to follow my obsessive-compulsive diaries playlist for some of my favorite groovy tunes. It is a delightfully random mix of new songs and old songs from a bunch of different genres. It’s a great playlist if you need a good dance party or if you need a cry. Or a crying dance party.

guilty

I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t concentrate. I’m miserable and that’s really the only way to describe it. There have been a handful of short breaks in that misery but, for the most part, I just feel stuck and there really isn’t much I can do to get unstuck besides reminding myself that it will slowly but surely start getting better. But the worst part is the constant guilt I feel. It never ends. No matter the situation I am, I feel guilty. I have guilt because I’m still here. I have guilt for not being able to help T before the paramedics got to the house. Then I have even more guilt because I’m still here and he isn’t. I have guilt when I get angry or frustrated with anyone, especially one of the many people who are just trying to help me. I have guilt for all of the times I was frustrated with Taylor for the smallest, most inconsequential things like waking me up when I still had time to sleep or making dinner plans and not telling me until the day of. I would do anything to go back and soak up every second of that time I had left. But the worst guilt happens when I drag myself out of bed in the morning and start my day or the moments I find myself smiling or laughing. Why am I the one who is still here but he isn’t? How can I enjoy anything without him here? I have guilt for being frustrated that he isn’t here to help me through this. I have guilt for not doing more to support our family and friends who are also grieving. I have guilt because I STILL can’t remember if the i or the e comes first in the word grief even though I know the stupid rhyme about it. Guilt even shows up during the off chance that I actually get some sleep. Even my dreams involve the many different versions of guilt I feel.

My last piece of guilt – there isn’t any inspiration or message behind this post. There’s no way to ease the guilt or lessen the severity of it. Right now this is just reality.

no need to cry, i already am

This blog has helped me a lot over the past year and I sure hope that continues because I need it. I need all of the help I can get. On November 28th my husband died. He died. And seeing/speaking/typing those words is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

I’ve lost close family members in my life but the physical and mental pain I am in now is absolutely nothing compared to how I felt during any previous loss. I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know anything anymore. My best friend is gone. The one person who I knew would do anything and everything to keep me from feeling how I feel now is gone.

I’m now part of a group that is almost exclusively reserved for those who are decades older than me. I am a widow. At 29 years old. I hate the word widow. It wasn’t until today that I even said it it out loud.

Monday was my first day of therapy since losing T. I’m seeing a new therapist, which I feel is for the best because OCD is the least of my worries right now. Am I still struggling with my OCD? Absolutely. In fact, I’d say it’s gotten worse since That Day. But I don’t care. I honestly could not care less. I’m sure this is probably the complete opposite of the advice that should be given but, at this point, if picking or checking or any of the obnoxious/annoying habits my OCD has so graciously given me helps me cope with the loss of my husband then why would I try to stop them? I’m not using the teensy, tiny amount of motivation that keeps me going everyday to stop doing the things that I don’t even realize I’m doing because they are some of the only things that comfort me right now.

The only piece of good news in this post? I still have that teensy, tiny bit of motivation. Everything I’ve done since the day Taylor died has seemed impossible. I preformed CPR while pleading with a 911 dispatcher to send someone to save my husband. I rode in the ambulance while they were trying to revive him. I cried in the ER after the doctor told me “it was not looking good”. I’ve cried for hours and hours and hours until I fell asleep. I worked with a funeral home to plan a ceremony and cremation. I’ve spent days just existing because losing Taylor still doesn’t feel real. I wouldn’t wish the last two weeks on anyone. It’s been truly awful. But there is still that small bit of motivation that keeps me going.

Live like Taylor. Give 110% to anything and everything you are passionate about. See the best in everyone and be a friend to everyone.

ZTothPhoto_Taylor+Alaina_040116-1249 — 2016

One of my favorite pictures we’ve ever taken, inspired by iconic ATLiens (2019)

-A

Given the overall depressing nature of this post, I felt it was important to share this information again. If you are struggling with your mental health and need someone to talk to please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or click here to start an online chat for free and confidential support. You can also contact the Crisis Text Line via SMS message at 741-741 for free crisis intervention. *please note that the numbers listed above are available resources to those in the United States*

hello it’s me

today’s blog title inspiration

When I tell you that I have started the process of writing this blog post for months that is no exaggeration. I started one back in May by writing it down on paper but then I lost said paper and used that as an excuse to just give up. I didn’t want to give up on the blog, necessarily, but kept putting this intense pressure on myself to come up with a blog post that is helpful and not just me rambling to come up with content. I have had intense writer’s block for the better part of 2019. Actually, I’d describe it more like writer’s anxiety. I started this blog over a year ago (time flies when you’re constantly picking your fingers!) when I was officially diagnosed with OCD in August 2018 to raise awareness/laugh at my struggles but I had no idea that a few months later I would be struggling with such a deep depression that I would cry before I got out of bed every morning. I am not lying when I say my life has taken a complete 180 since August 2018. I was open about my struggles when I started treatment late last year. Once I left the program I decided to take a leap of faith and hit the reset button on life. I left my job and started working part-time, which turned into a full-time gig (which I could create an entirely new blog post on because I’ve never experienced things randomly work out so perfectly). I spent so much time thinking of all the things that could go wrong if I followed through with leaving my job that I didn’t consider the positives. My goal here isn’t to encourage people to make major life changes based on my experience. However, if I hadn’t pushed myself out of my comfort zone, I don’t know where I would be today. I don’t mean that in a bad way, I just don’t know if I would be in the positive, supportive place that I’m in now. I spent so much of my life (basically all of it seeing as how I’ve been checking for as long as I can remember) thinking that Anxious was a normal state of mind that it gives me anxiety to not have any anxiety (so much free time?? What do I do??). Sometimes it is worth taking the risk, no matter how scary and terrifying. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Don’t worry, friends. Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder never leaves. It’s an unwelcome guest that has overstayed its welcome but can’t take a hint. Do I still check the door before I leave? Yes. Do I still make sure all electronics are unplugged before I walk out the door? Heck yeah. Do I still pick my fingers endlessly? ABSOLUTELY I DO. I am torn because I would rather my life not be a giant ball of anxiety but without the anxiety how would I have content for this blog..?

-AK

PS: Back in May, when I took pen to paper to physically write a post (that I never typed or published), I wrote something that simultaneously stuck with me and made me laugh at my lame humor: “Basically I am a Mean Girl to myself. I am both Cady and Regina (and also Karen).”

It has been 364 days since this post, which is mind blowing to me. If you’re reading this, please know that I am so incredibly grateful for your support.