Blogging isn’t exactly my best “craft”…. so bear with me as my punctuation will not be correct.. I write like I talk and I call it like I see it and feel it.

I started going to my “confessionalist” about 1 1/2 years ago. She’s not really a confessionalist…she’s my counselor, but in the beginning that’s what I called her because it felt like I was going somewhere to “confess” all the things I had done wrong to get to this place in my life. It was recommended when I first started to try to learn coping mechanisms. Her first thought was to have me look at a picture and describe all the shapes, colors, items etc. that I was seeing ~ well that didn’t go very well ~ my anxiety went skyrocket….which brought on a full panic attack, bad enough that she had to go to the waiting room to get my son to come calm me down. If you have never experienced a full blown panic attack…let me just tell you! It is the worst you absolutely think you will die because you can breath in but you can’t get the air out and then that makes your thoughts even crazier because you can’t do any thing to help yourself. Since this has been going on for a bit, my son had gotten me out of a several panic attacks….to get through mine, I have to look into an immediate family members eyes as they coax me into calming my breathing down…freaked my confession lady out. Her next suggestion was to start a journal, well that just pissed me off and I hated it- I think because writing my feelings down meant “this” new mental illness is real and I didn’t want to admit it. I was happy going to my room putting on my noise canceling headphones and retreat from the entire world….yes, even my family.