I don’t always share for fear of sharing too much but there are things I need to say so if you don’t want to know or read my thoughts…please exit here.
In listening to the soundtrack to Hamilton, I heard a line that struck me. Dying is easy, living is hard. My soul was stirred with that. I thought about how suicide while the answer for the one doing it, leaves the ones behind at a loss. We wonder why, or why didn’t we see the signs. We question how we could have helped or done more. Therefore the living is hard because there will always be some level of guilt by some because they will feel responsible. It’s called survivors remorse. It makes so much sense to me, my thoughts were once in that dark place. It’s not fun there, I got out of the mindset enough to live but it still needed to be dealt with. Self care, an important aspect for healthy living.
We must learn to address our elephants in our rooms. Whatever they may be, those things we suffer in silence with that nobody knows but God. In order to help others we MUST heal ourselves. Talk therapy, I promise is worth the co-pay. Your mental self deserves to be healed. It won’t make that situation go away but it’s one less thing to be bogged down with as we already carry so many burdens, most of which may not even be our own. I have as of late decided to get rid of some mementos that I had for years. I decided that I needed to let them go in order release that segment of my life. Although I was a little girl when the memory was created, going forward and once I had come to terms with some things, those trinkets held negative energy and memories. It was time to release them. I did and it was done. Cleaning our mental house sometimes means we have to get rid of physical things that keep those memories alive and present. I am a sentimental person and keep things given to me by people throughout my life. I have had to pray and let go of a lot of mental things and some physical things too. In the end, things are things, my mind (what’s left of it) needs to be preserved.
We must learn to be empathic and realize that even our strong friends have storms and that we should be able to be there for them and help them through. Stop being selfish, learn to listen more and talk less. Let somebody else be the center of the story…it’s not always about you.
We have all come up short on something we wanted or tried to do. You are only a failure if you do not try again. Only when you have given your best efforts, enlisted help and exhausted all of your resources to no avail do you then stop. Only to reset and find another way around. Quitting is never an option. I speak in terms of goals that are obtainable, not things that are so far reaching you need to hit the lottery to get (I want to own a penguin – but ummmm he can’t live with me all year and I am not moving anywhere colder). Therefore I get a stuffed one and keep it moving. There is more than one way to skin a cat (per my mother – although I never asked why we were skinning it to begin with), so there are various work arounds. Never stop believing in yourself. You are a force to be reckoned with and you must not forget that. Surround yourself with people that make you happy, believe in you, cheer you on and tell you when you are wrong. Those people are important because they should be willing to call you on your mess, maybe tactfully maybe not, nonetheless you think about what they said and move a little differently going forward.
It’s important to show love and allow others to love you. We are all worthy of love and it is up to us to be that what we wish to attract. Just clearing my head. Thanks for reading.
Ohhh the thoughts I have, make me wet, I want you. The first time I saw you and you spoke, yep I was intrigued but you were not on my touch list. I can dream though and that I have, countless times…your lips, damnit them lips. I can’t help but wiggle a little imaginging them like butterfly kisses all over me. Damnit, I close my eyes and my heart begins to race because the visions I have are so damn hot.
I am compelled to pleasure myself while I hold the many sexy pictures of you in a mini slideshow to play on a continuous loop until completion of my task at hand (pun intended). I start slowly cupping my breast as you would, I can even suck my own nipple (dirty little secret) as I envision you kissing my neck slowly and then exploring the rest of me. Your tongue is the tour guide and my curves are the map.
You start the tour with the final destination of euphoria. I imagine your scent as I inhale you deeply, deep inhalations to feel your body next to me. Your hands as a navigation center that hug the map firmly with purpose and destination satisfaction.
The more I imagine the deeper my fingers go into my sweet spot as I dream of you finding your way to the secret treasure that is now dripping to receive what you have for me. As your guide finds its way to the prize I can’t contain myself any longer. I shake with the satisfaction of release as I envision you deep inside of me taking me to new heights as you moan quietly in my ear, and I in yours that yes this all belongs to you.
There is a poem floating around somewhere that I wish I had in my possession with this title.
39 years ago today my life changed. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 11.
I remember my Aunt Oneida bawling her eyes out in our bathroom. I had been around long enough to know that if all the people were at YOUR house, the tragedy belonged to you. I got out of bed and found my mother. I asked what happened, she said as only she could (you have to know my mother), your father died Andrea. Just like that. Matter of fact…it was was it was. Death had come to 12818 Hlavin. That day like many others since then have been hard. I didn’t have much time to spend getting to know my father. At 11, there was still so much to learn. Lessons that only he would have been able to teach me. Instead I was taught by the cruel twins known as trial and error. Those heifers were mean. I digress.
I have some memories, not a lot but a few. Even those aren’t all great. I remember him snatching up this little boy at the day care that he drove for for being mean to me. He was a little mad, I was scared for the boy. He saved me from losing my hand when I rolled it up in the window of his burnt orange Pontiac, Lord what was I thinking. I remember him singing the Spinners, or Ojay’s he had a beautiful voice. I remember him issuing what will forever go down in history as the “Grand Bust”. I was however never the recipient of said punishment. This is when he would grab up the poor soul that got in trouble. I clearly remember my cousin Eric, getting it. It was just one lone swat…that’s all you needed, I guess. He didn’t have to give out many. I remembered when our house caught on fire, and I saw my father cry. That showed me that real men did cry. I remember him making me share my candy with my pesky younger (unwanted – I wanted a St. Bernard; that’s another story) sister. I was mad…heifer ate all hers and I had to share. So he in some ways taught me to look out and take care of her. I remember him tickling my mother in our kitchen. So I had a small brief glimpse of a happy couple. I remember Star Trek and Budweiser beer, which to this day I detest. My sister, yes the unwanted one tried to drown me by pouring it up my nose as I lay upside down on the couch (covered in plastic, that I wasn’t supposed to be on anyway) on the phone, (probably wasn’t supposed to be on that either). That’s one beer I will never drink. The memories…and my nose burns. Go figure.
Bowling, he liked that and he was good at it. Therefore I didn’t like it because that was a negative memory. Like the Budweiser, but I did or do on occasion bowl. I have a ball, shoes and everything. I can make it look halfway decent, but just like singing, I didn’t get that gift from him. I also didn’t get the height gene. He was a tall guy, well at 11 all adults were tall. He was handsome too. Great smile, thin and sometimes I can hear his laugh. Memories – that’s all I have. So on this day, I will not be sad at the fact you are not here but cherish the short 11 years that God allowed me to have you. I have so many questions, and so many “if he were here, this surely would have been different” moments. I just want to call you and say, Hey daddy, which sounds funny even to say it in my head cause I don’t remember ever saying it to you. November 1, All Saints Day, I always thought that was perfect for a day to die. It’s the Feast of all Saints known or unknown. It works for me.
I write this because I needed to get this out my head and on paper or digital format for prosperity maybe. I don’t know. I just know that it was necessary for me to pen this. Even all these years later…I miss you like it was yesterday. I remember it like it was yesterday. Pain is supposed to subside over time is what I’ve been told. I don’t know that I agree. It like anything else waxes and wanes. Some days are better than others. The days when nothing seems to go right or I am just over everything, to just be able to call him and gripe would be nice but alas, this is my path, a fatherless child, ok grown ass woman at this point but still. Inside, I am still that 11 year old girl who wanted to go to with her dad, in the casket. Clearly I wasn’t fully aware what that meant but hell, life as I knew it was over. Crazy thing is not even haven been that close to my dad, I knew I didn’t want to stay behind with my mean ass mother (I mean whose mom is not mean when they are 11 – don’t everyone speak at once). Anywhoozle, I might just be rambling at this point but I can it’s my post, blog or whatever the hell this is I am creating.
I love you Aaron J. Brewer, that’s all.
I’m writing this angrily as I have only myself to blame for this. One, I have to rewrite this piece as I didn’t save it the first time. Two, because I am at this juncture of my life…kinda not for the first time.
I have been married for 20 years.
Nice job right? Well only partially. That 20 years comes with a lot of baggage. Heavy, black garbage bag baggage. This marriage is a beacon on the hill of “cheating on each other was not our dealbreaker”. Maybe in retrospect it should have been. You see, the very thing I had been trying to believe was not the case, in fact, is the case. Once trust has been broken, it’s a wrap. While the surface things may be better and look ok to the naked unsuspecting eye, its the shit down on the inside that whoops up on you.
Trust by definition is the firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability or strength of someone or something. So clearly once one doesn’t feel that they can rely on you or that you are not truthful, you have broken the trust. I am telling you what I know not what I think, once it’s gone…it “appears” to be present; it’s a mirage. Here’s what I know this day. Even after celebrating an monumental anniversary such as a 20 year one, there is always the next corner, or the proverbial waiting for the other shoe to drop. It drops hard, it’s steel toed. The worse part as one who has cheated and one who as been cheated on, no matter the side of the coin, it still stings.
For you see, as it’s said once a cheater always a cheater, I guess that could be too. What’s interesting to me is once you been a looking for shit cause you been cheated on, you will continue to look. Now that, that shit…that’s the shit right there. So all off a sudden you find yourself not even sure how to feel. Your spouse tells you that “the devil was busy” that’s his way of saying it wasn’t his fault he went snooping in your iPad. Not even really sure what he thought he saw as the things he said didn’t make sense and you kinda feel like you can’t be mad…but why?
You claim the iPad was making noise and disturbing your sleep which I know is a got damn lie…nothing bothers your sleep. What you said about what you found again didn’t make sense. Here I am trying not to rock the boat and ask questions or even be mad. Why? Why not be pissed and go off…oh cause this fool slick as butter. He had just had a procedure on his heart…I got played. You claim you weren’t feeling well from that, you hadn’t pooped oh and yeah…you and this dude!! Are you fucking kidding me.
Wanted to know if we had lunch…negative chief dude live in Baltimore? Shit I don’t know Buffalo maybe. Then you had the unmitigated gall to ask if we had slept together…get the fuck outta here man. This pissed me off beyond beyond as I had just shared with him a piece of my life never spoken that would give that an automatic no and this is what you do?? What makes this worse is that I feel like how can I be mad? I guess I’m not mad but feelings hella hurt. We both have hurt each other and as that saying goes, hurt people hurt people. Well, that shit is the gospel truth. I feel as though I kinda set myself up, talking to a guy I NEVER DATED WHO KNEW I WAS MARRIED THAT LIVES OH 500 MILES AWAY. Yeah, I am sure that looks bad? Did I mention we never dated, so there was no rekindling of sexual escapades to rehash. The thought that we had lunch or fucked in our house…that got me right in the throat, damn steel toed boots.
Again, I’m not innocent as I stated we both cheated on each other…and we both lied after the fact. We both went on some form of a snoop feast based on whatever reasoning we had. The devil however ain’t make me do shit. I am nosey as hell and a time or two was just blatantly looking for shit. Nothing to find. The one time I looked and found again it hurt. I was with a woman you swear was just a friend…yous a damn lie. I said Yous I sure did. Details don’t matter but you seemed taken aback when I stated that if the shoe was on the other foot you wouldn’t be so gracious. Here we fucking are. Difference is you were planning to hook up with this broad, unless I was making a road trip then there is no way in hell I was having lunch in Buffalo. Am I entitled to my feelings? You got damn right I am. Are we both wrong, potentially. I guess an apology for looking in my iPad is just as useless as apologizing for talking to an old friend??
I don’t fucking know. I feel like I’m in a perpetual state of what in the fuck is going on now. My attitude has changed. I don’t really have anything to say to him cause I’m not sure it will be nice. My got damn feelings are hurt shit. Then I start that awful second guessing every fucking decision I’ve ever mad in my damn life. That’s bout as useless as tits on a bull. This is what I do. I call myself, or I told myself the lie of this is me processing this shit. Lies, it was a lie when I said it and it’s still a fucking lie.
So now what…fuck iount know. Ride this out til I got to therapy next week? I’m taking the approach if he don’t ask me nothing I don’t have to say anything,…I think that’s the definition of passive aggressive – yeah I looked it up. So what!! I can do what I want, now I sound like a brat, I don’t care!! Just when you think you got this adult bullshit figured out, the rug is pulled out from under your. Down goes Frazier and all the things you thought were ok. The house of cards is now just a pile in the middle of the floor. 52 card pick up…we start over yet again.
I believe theren is a saying about if you don’t like the weather in Cincinnati, wait few minutes because it will change. Same sometimes with relationships. I find myself in a quandary on how things or more how I manage to find myself in these precarious situations that question various aspects of my life.
I have just come to terms with an atrocious act that took place during my childhood. It was never discussed or spoken of for obvious reasons. Then at the ripe old age of 50 I thought I would rid myself of the shame associated with the crime that was not mine to take. I was the victim and I should not have been held prisoner by that. Yet, as many before me that was the case. To come clean and talk about it didn’t bring the closure I thought would come. I even sent a message to the perpetrator that they may never read but I put it out there. Yeah, kind of a let down in the way I felt about it as now there were more questions than before. How did the women in the #metoo movement deal with their questions or emotions after opening up? Maybe it’s just the Jane Doe’s, you know the ones that were wronged by people close to them for no fame or fortune that are left in a state of what was the point, after being honest about it and to what end? There is no end game, no podium to stand to demand that the powers to be, be taken down. Not that no one cares so what’s it all for.
Then marriage. What’s that all for? Lord there are too many monkeys in that circus. The thing here is that when you do unto others what they did unto you it’s a problem. Now mind you we’ve done what is not a deal breaker to us already and all the petty shit in between. Here’s what I know about that. No matter the lies I tried to tell myself and I almost believed them, trust like glass once broken is never whole. There will be those little things, reasons, or prodding by the Devil, who gets credit for shit he don’t deserve, that will make you look for things. Now I am as guilty as the next trust-broken wife. So it will forever be the proverbial game of I trust you…today. It’s cool I get it. I played the game long enough it’s cool I get it, it was your turn. I can’t even be mad, why bother. I guess it was my fault talking to an old friend from school in a manner that may be unbecoming for a married woman. Let’s consider though I had just said to the schoolmate in question that I shouldn’t be talking to him this way as I knew it wasn’t right and if the shoe was on the other foot there would be an issue. Boom there you have it. It happened so quickly you tell me you don’t like what’s his name at a moment that was not even in context to anything. I have questions that I won’t ask because it really doesn’t matter. The situation has been properly handled. Lord the work that goes into marriage..it ain’t for punks.
As I close this whatever it is I will say this. If you are not willing to put in the work that marriage entails then RUN FOREST RUN!!!!
I am 25 days away from my 50th birthday!!!!!!!! Can I even get you to understand how excited I am about this milestone??? Heck no because sadly everyone doesn’t accept turning 50 well. Not sure why, but I am as the saying goes these days I am living my best life. I have done a few things for the first time in my life during this time, although my actual 50th year hasn’t started YET technically but I am taking the YEAR (started in January) to embrace it all. I have allowed myself to be free. Unencumbered by the prison I held myself captive in. I’m now free to change my hair color because I am in fact not too dark for a blondish color. I am free to eat caviar because you can’t really not like something you haven’t tried. I am free to do some self maintenance that hurts for a little bit but the end result is smooth and like new. I am free to be okay with a few extra pounds and buying the damn shoes and certainly eating the cake damnit!!! I am free to love myself, my children, my spouse and my friends in the way that only I can love. My spirit is strong and I am not afraid to say what needs to be said anymore. Sorry, not sorry. I am FREE!!!! Just to be me and for that I am grateful. Grateful to the people who stuck by me while I went through all the ups and downs of a potential failing marriage, bad ass kids, and growing pains of figuring out my own life. I am grateful for the pain that I have endured, to learn that in order to grow you must experience growing pains. I am grateful for the tears that I have shed because in order to grow you must cleanse your soul. I am grateful for the heartache I have endured as it has taught me that pain don’t last always and that our hearts are more resilient than we thought. I am grateful for the knowledge that comes from that dark place where you have to claw your way out of or give in to the darkness with no hope and remain sullen and miserable for the rest of your life.
I am here with a purpose, vigor and resilience to ride out the next 50 years (if the Lord says the same) kicking ass and taking names. Yes, to live my best life until the good Lord calls me home. Wasted too much time already crying over silly shit and spilled milk. Reclaiming my time and that time is now. I appreciate my biggest fan – ME.
June 9th, 2018. A trip to span the next 7 days is the trip of my marriage (thus far) that will e forever the best trip we have ever taken. We’ve been to Hawaii, on cruises, road trips, track trips with our daughter. Been places and seen things. This trip however was the best most fantastic trip of our lives.
After 20 years of marriage and several marital indiscretions we are certainly wiser than most. We have come to realize that everything that could or should be deal breakers are not but the work that goes into making sure you stay together outside of that is the hardest damn work that you will ever put in..
That being said. We went to Cancun, Mexico for the first time. It was amazing. We stayed in the Dream Sands resort. All inclusive food and drinks. Sun and sand. Warm weather and seashells. Our story is not one of butterflies and rainbows. Well there were a few but they were sharing the space with dragons and hellfire. We been through some shit and I don’t say that without the full impact of knowing what being through shit looks, feels and smells like. It’s ugly, it hurts and boy does it stink, actually it stank.
So we had been looking forward to this trip for several reasons.
2017 was a trying year as my husband, almost died. MRSA had him down in Feb 2017 that shook up our lives into April (still residual affects). Then spring 2017 just about this time, he got sick again with an infection that was not so friendly. To boot, our family reunion that we had worked so hard for over a year, well we spent it in the hospital watching Facebook videos and pictures. That was pretty crushing. So needless to say we were due for some rest and relaxation based on that alone. 2018 starts with a scare a year to the date of the 2017 incident he passes out at a work function. OMG this can’t be happening AGAIN. It was a small incident to do with medicine and bad timing but nonetheless it takes you right back to the scary place. Spring brings different stress due to a co-worker being out for 6 weeks and all the work fell on me. That was enough to take me to the brink. I refuse to let a job make me cry but I swear to GAWD…there were times that I was ready to flip some shit over. I’m not crazy enough to walk off the job, it wasn’t quite that serious but it was stressful for sure.
So here we are packed and ready to GO. June 9th it was on. We had 7 days and nights to just SIT. That we did. We only did one excursion which was a sunset cruise on his 60th birthday June 13th. We did his and her’s massages which was amazing as well. We took the time to just talk. Well, mostly me I guess as I found out that my spouse hates when I ask him questions. That is the only way to find out what you need to know I told him and I will not stop asking questions if I want or need to know things. Questions like how can I be a better wife, or what one thing would you like to have me do better? Simple shit as far as I’m concerned but that’s another blog, I digress.
We talked and listened and then said nothing. It was important just to be present in the moment and enjoy our time doing the things we don’t get to do at home which is just be together in an atmosphere of not being responsible for anything or anyone but each other. That my friends was nice. That is what the epitome of a vacation should be. Being!!! Not necessarily ripping and running doing this thing and that but taking the time to just share space with your mate and listen not just with your ears but your heart to what they have to say or not say. Silence is sometimes the answer. I learned that that answer is not one I like though, In my mind and in my own opinion there is no question that has no answer. Again another blog.,
Vacation – necessary break from work and the ups and downs of daily life. It’s necessary to get away from those things but it’s also necessary to get away from the things that don’t allow us to spend the necessary time talking and more importantly listing to our spouse. This person that you have chosen to spend the rest of your life with should know the things that bother you, make you happy, make you sad, or whatever else. On the off chance of the opportunity to be on a game show there should be no reason to lose by not knowing the things that are important to the other person because you have in fact asked the questions and gotten the answers. There are always things to learn but at some point those things should be limited to whether or not they ever burned their tongue eating a sandwich or that the back of their hand itches every third Wednesday. Random shit. Things that matter should be discussed with no fear.
Vacations – necessary part of life. While you are at it make sure to take in some sights. There is plenty to see on various levels.
We knew it was coming just not sure how long it would take. The day when the baby bird would take flight, spread her wings and fly away…
Bout damn time. Yesssssssssss, I said it damnit!!! Lord it was the longest year of my life. Well, okay maybe not that long but still.
Back story: When our beloved little lady graduated from college last May…time flies, we or I at least only saw myself with this extra human in the house for 6 months…LIES!!! Now don’t get me wrong, we get along so much better now than we did when she turned 18. Good Lord I don’t know how I didn’t kill her. I also realize that I was far worse of a young teenager for my mother so I digress, a lot. Anywhoozle, I must again admit much like when she left for college I was anxious in getting her gone…not thinking that damn, she might be back. She came back – but it was different.
We had grown. It was good. We realized a great many things about ourselves and each other during this time apart (she didn’t tell me this but I know it!). When your children are actually smaller versions of yourself then things become real when you get to see yourself in action. I didn’t like her, well I love her but she tended to get on my nerves. I realized that I didn’t like her because she did show me myself. The attitude and mannerisms – yeah mini me in full effect.
As things go, it was discussion on a regular basis of being gone. Moving into her own space or me threatening to move. Yeah we knew the latter was not an option. It was stated though and let me be clear, she was not being forced out. We determined that it was necessary for each strong personality needed her own space and I already had mine so it was time for her to get hers, but, when she was ready. We talked regularly about the cost of being an adult. It’s not easy nor fun. So it would be at her own pace to move, but of course being who I am, she need to be gone soon.
Being diligent she looked at different places to live. Apartments mostly. Then the opportunity that works out favorable for all parties takes place. There was a condo that was for rent by owner. Two bedroom. It turned out to be perfect. Although Domynique thought she would be living alone, God had other plans. Her best friend since second grade that she had been in college with (all five years) and had lived with was in a situation with her mom that she kinda needed to be out. Boom! There is it. Both my girls together again. Perfect. I was included in the process, only by going to look at it with her. To boot, the owner, very cool I believe loved the fact that even as a young adult had her mom involved in this process. In my mind I sealed the deal. So it was.
It’s now almost two months after the move and since I started this particular blog. I am happy to report that all is well. Of course the reality of settling into adulthood and paying her own way is in full effect and she gets it now. The full effect of being a said responsible adult. Overrated she concurs. Of course I miss her presence and the moments we would share of rubbing her hands (bonding) and scratching and oiling her scalp (more bonding that I actually enjoyed). She calls me not wanting anything but to hear my voice or see my face (FaceTime) and I appreciate that because I miss her too. She would never admit that’s what it is and that’s ok, I know it in my heart.
Our children are supposed to grow up and move out to be responsible members of society. They don’t always do what we want them to or how we want them to. Thankful to the God I serve that I can say I at least got it right with her.
Now, on to the next chapter…
My name is Drea.
I have anxiety and depression.
I am sharing this because I have had several experiences of major anxiety attacks doing common everyday things. The fact that I am sharing this is for my own therapy.
I go to the barbershop every two weeks faithfully. Now usually there is no issue, no there is never an issue. I absolutely love my barber, I always love my hair and the price is right. Now, for some reason this week as in past weeks I look at different styles on Pinterest to send to the barber for the vision of the week. It had happened once before but I kinda blew it off as potential excitement about getting my hair cut and colored. The intensity of the next few BIG chops as they are called seem to increase each time. Hence this week. I mean I’ve gone to the same shop to the same guy at the same time for almost a year if not more.
What the hell was the problem. I mean I sent him the pictures while chatting with my best good girlfriend on Facebook messenger about the cut. Normal stuff right? Sure; no problem.
Well as I ended my day at work, I just worked a little over to go right to the shop from work, why waste gas. You would have thought I was on my way to a firing squad. I got nervous, not excitedly so but as if I were in danger. My heart was palpitating and I was clearly aware that my breathing had changed. I texted another girlfriend either random or purposefully because I was able to recognize and own that something was not quite right. Even reliving the events my heart palpating is clearly noticeable to me . What in the hell? There is no rhyme or reason to that. My barber probably would not have noticed that I was a nervous wreck. Why would he? I’m on his book for the next year. I can’t begin to explain to you WHY in the world this hair cut was about to take me out of here. When you have anxiety there is not always a “good reason” to be in a state of panic as there is nothing that is “going on” that would cause for an anxiety attack.
There was another incident of a tattoo where it makes sense to have a slight seemingly anxiety attack. This case was probably more nerves than anything because unlike the lies people tend to tell, that shit hurts. So sure unless you into that kinky kinda shit then maybe it doesn’t hurt but I don’t like it, well I do like the end result but the process is not fun. So maybe that doesn’t count.
I just don’t know, I can’t explain it. I have come to realize that there might be something wrong (not really) with me. Most people get nervous flying – oh no, not this gal. I will get on the plane and might be sleep before the safety briefing is over. I mean if it’s my time to go, then so be it. I don’t know if this means I’m weird or whatever and that’s ok but I can recognize that things are not right. Seriously though somebody explain this to me? I want people to understand that anxiety has it’s own power over people in different ways. Normal things that should not cause any problems or harm can affect people in ways that make no sense to the “normal person”.
People think of anxiety attacks that involve stress at work, or issues at home or things that are more common to cause an increase of heart rate, labored breathing, chest pain, flushing skin and feeling as if you might faint. Yeah, sure car accident near miss, maybe that feeling is valid but a hair cut…what the hell?
I don’t have the answers and clearly am still working on me and figuring out my own issues. What I do know and want to express is that don’t be afraid to talk those feelings out. Get in therapy, some meds or something. Haircuts are not scary, haircuts are our friends…