I've decided I'm going to start writing in this blog and keeping up with it. This year, is one that is going to be completely different than any other year I have experience in my life thus far. It will be nice to be able to look back on this blog, and see all of the things I've gone through (both good, and bad) in this one life-changing year.
So, first of all, I should explain as to why this year is going to be so much different than the others.
I just moved to Tampa, Florida, from Tennessee exactly one month ago today, (January 1st) and things have already been so much less stressful in my life. When I was living at home in Tennessee, my parents were always right there to tell me what to do, how to live... Oh hold on, my mom is calling me.
It's 2:11 in the afternoon here on a Monday, and my mom just called because she was worried since she hadn't heard from me "all day". I understand that it's normally in a mother's nature to worry, and be concerned for their child, especially since this one just moved 700 miles away. But she is TOO concerned. Now, I should get this straight first. I love my mom more than anything in the entire world, and I definitely had attachment issues when I was younger. This lasted all the way through high school. I would obsess with the thought of my mom dying (which stems from my childhood - and I'll get to that soon) and would call her anytime I was out without her if I heard an ambulance. Things were a little out of hand, and I ended up seeing a psychiatrist over my ridiculous worrying habits. I was diagnosed with OCD, and was exposed to other obsessive things I was doing, that I didn't even realize I was doing. I counted everything, especially while walking, shut and checked things 8-10 times, and my worst habit of all... pulling strands of my hair out, one by one. I still pull my hair out, but not on a daily basis, only when things get very stressful in my life.
All of my OCD tendencies started when I was about 8 years old. My mother was addicted to prescription pain killers, and was taking an insane amount of them at a time. Her speech would become slurred, she would fall asleep while I was trying to tell her about my day, and she just was not herself. I cried all the time to my dad who knew about this habit, but couldn't get her to stop. She wrecked numerous cars over the pills, and constantly lied and fought with my dad over them. I would listen to the fights, and often times cry myself to sleep. My dad was the only one in the household who worked, and kept everything running. Luckily my dad made very decent money, and my mom never had to work. My dad checked her into various rehab clinics, to try and get her help, but this never worked, because she didn't want to stop. At this time, those pills were more important than her loving husband, and child. Regardless of everything that was going on, my dad stayed with my mom (I think only because of me, and that he knew she'd end up on the street if he left her) but he knew something had to change. When I was 12 years old, on May 27th, 2004, my mom, dad, and I moved to Tennessee (I grew up in south Florida). I absolutely hated it there. I would take every chance I could to preach about how horrible that place was and how much I couldn't stand it, but eventually it made it's home a place in my heart, and I actually ended up liking it. My mom came off of the pain killers, and became my best friend. We still fought some, but it was normal teenage crap. Although, after she came off the drugs, she became strangely protective, and constantly worried about me. I know this came from her not wanting to lose me after finally regaining herself from the horrible habit she had.. and after I realized that, I became very much attached to her as well, and never wanted to leave her side. I wanted to make sure I'd never lose my mom to drugs or anything ever again.
So to make a super long story a little bit shorter, I went through 5 years of therapy trying to overcome my OCD. I take medicine (Luvox 150mg) daily, and have noticed a drastic change over the years. When my stress level rises, I notice my OCD actually flaring up, and myself doing things over and over, obsessively. I somehow managed to go through 3 years of college and maintain a 3.9 GPA. After those 3 years were up, I decided it was time to take a giant leap, and break-free from my parents. It was just that time. So I applied to a college here in Tampa, got in, and here I am. :]
This year is going to be one I will always remember, and I would love to share it with everyone on this site. Some days will be much better than others, but I will get through it!