Category: health

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advice comedy health lifestyle self help Uncategorized women

Self-Care

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I went to one free meditation class offered through my work and now all I want is to get seriously jacked on self-care.

I want to be rubbed in essential oils, go on a silent retreat, and be healed by crystals.

I am officially 100% drinking the kool-aid on this one. I was driving home from my families this weekend and thought, “You know what I should do? I should go to Peru and take Ayahuasca.” So yes, you could say that I’m pretty into this.

This will be an interesting journey to follow so if you haven’t already subscribed to my blog, well hot dog, now would be the time. Part of the reason I stepped away from blogging and comedy for a while is that while I have an easy time admitting my neurotic tendencies and general fuck-uperry, actually trying to do something about my negative behaviors or “Sadness kinks” is going to be a whole different ball game.

So after I made the decision to get, like, super fucking healthy, I did what I always do when I get excited about something. I go all in babyyyyy.

So far it’s been a wild ride. On top of my therapy and a daily dose of Lexapro I decided to quit drinking, which is swell. So swell, that when I got sober and had nothing to blame my negative feelings on, I got a tidal wave of anxiety and had to call the mental health line, get on a waiting list to see a physiatrist and eventually a drug and addiction counselor.

Dear readers, there is nothing that makes you feel worse about yourself than taking the steps you need to take to feel better about yourself.

First, you have to hear the phone recording say, “If you think you are having a psychiatric emergency, please call 911.” Like, okay, listen up ma’am, I can’t tell you how many times I have thought I was having a psychiatric emergency. If I called the cops every time I cried at a commercial or slept for 13 hours they would be like “Kaylee, we told you the last time, please stop calling here. This is not an emergency.”

Once I finally got an appointment, I had to pee in a cup LIKE A GOD DAMN CRIMINAL (or someone with a self-diagnosed bladder infection trying to figure out if it is really a bladder infection.) I had to admit that I have an unhealthy relationship with alcohol. I had to answer a questionnaire that basically asked: “On a scale of 1/10 how likely are you to….you know…. *nurse practitioner whispers* kill yourself?”

I had to speak to my negative body image and when asked about how I feel about my body responded honestly with “Oh gosh, I mean I hate the thing. I really do sir, it’s awful.” More strangers have seen me cry in this past month than when I went to a  friend’s sisters wedding and was just “so *sniff* proud of her. *sniff*.”

Going through all of that sucked. It blew metaphorical chunks all over the life I wanted people to think I had handled. I had to admit to my partner I was struggling with addiction. I had to go through with my work holiday party knowing that there would be free booze and that I couldn’t have any, even though other people could because I had a problemmmmm ugh!

But here I am, 21 days without alcohol, snuggling my animals, being honest with myself and my intentions, and working out a plan. Because it’s important.

I think the absolute tightest part about self-care is the discussions that make you realize you aren’t alone, and that the crazy thoughts you have are in fact, not that original.  This will be the goal of my posts moving forward. To provide insight and a light-hearted look into mental illness, addiction, and self-doubt. Hopefully, it helps even one person feel less alone in their struggles while being (fingers-crossed) mildly entertaining.

More to come!

Milky

 

 

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advice aftercollegelife friendship health lifestyle self help Uncategorized

Over-achiever

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What is that crazy strain that us sentient beings have that makes us constantly unsatisfied with our current situation?

Here’s an example of what I mean:

I don’t have any friends in Portland and I want friends > I get friends > I focus on my job not being satisfying > I want a new job > I get a new job  > I focus on how much better my life would be with a pet >>>

Once we “level up” it’s an immediate switch to think about the next level. Maybe my experience growing up with a Sega Genesis has subconsciously affected my adult life.

Or maybe, there’s a terrible aversion that I have to settling.

I know there’s a whole world out there full of experiences and life and I’m woke to it. Woke to it as fuck.

Even if I eventually have the great job, the amazing husband, the 5 dogs, and the six-pack abs I’ve always wanted, there will always be this innate desire to have experiences outside of myself. Experiences where I feel alive, and well, different.

It’s that what those t-shirts and coffee mugs that say “Wanderlust” are all about?

As much as I enjoy listening to a podcast and cooking a meal, or sweating it out at the gym and feeling stronger, or watching 17 episodes of a cooking show in my underwear, those are not the things that get me up in the morning. Those are just tricks I’ve been slowly developing to keep me out of the Johnson Unit.

I want to feel the way I felt when I walked through the Oxford street market, or when I climbed 300 steps to get the best view of the Paris streets, surrounded by a bunch of strangers, that for those 3 days, were my best friends. I want to camp in the woods with my friends and have a séance in the woods where we tell our deepest, darkest secrets.

I want to fucking live outside my desk, and more importantly, my head.

Of course, I need the security of a steady income and a roof over my head, so I don’t think I’ll be “Eat, Pray, Loving-it” anytime soon. Plus, maybe it was how hard I worked to get to the amazing places I’ve been that makes me appreciate it the way I do. If I flew to Paris every weekend, maybe I wouldn’t have wept at the beautiful site of the Sacre Coeur, and I probably wouldn’t have dared to give 3 strangers my phone number so we could meet at the Eiffel Tower at midnight.

I don’t want to always live for moments in the future, but having those out-of-yourself experiences is so important to me. I hope I can feasibly always have something scheduled to put myself in a situation that is new and exciting to me.

I want to have memories and experiences that are outside of my day to day work > grocery store > gym > home routine. I want to feel connected and alive and shit.

So how does that work, dear readers? How does one enjoy the present moment while also craving something more than being an Assistant and a dog-mom? I definitely don’t have all the answers. Maybe realizing that other people feel this way too and I’m not alone is a comfort in it’s own regard. Maybe being a little more conservative with my paychecks so that I can afford trips to new places is put as a higher priority. Maybe booking time for myself to go explore my own city or try a new restaurant is a reasonable step.

I would love to hear your responses and advice to this quarrel of the ordinary. Please feel free to DM me, dog. Or comment below.

XOXO,

Milky 

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aftercollegelife comedy fitness food health lifestyle medicine Uncategorized

Nature’s Medicine

I saw a naturopath, and I have to be honest, I don’t think I’m going to go back again. I just didn’t like the way she made me feel. Like, don’t tell me i’m an alcoholic and have diabetes and too much copper in my blood. It’s rude.

Apart from these diagnoses, she proceeded to give me advice about not drinking so much, by diluting my wine with tap water. This woman looked like she takes an IV of homemade kombucha and gets nourishment from correctly guessing the color of your chakra.

She then asked me about my relationship with my parents, and asked me if I ever thought about ending my own life. The answer at that moment, was a big fat YES.

She also gave me a reflex test. Which I guess is pretty standard, but she hit me with the mallet and I jump back in pain, and look at her shocked. She smiles, you guys, the smile of someone who spends their free time floating around as an orb of light in another dimension, and she says, “I know, you probably weren’t expecting that.”

No, bitch. I know how reflexes work. I frankly would be more shocked if my leg didn’t have a reaction. That would most likely be something we would need to address. The reason I am so up in arms right now is because I JUST told you 3 minutes ago that I had surgery on that knee because it was broken into four different pieces. I would appreciate it if you didn’t HIT IT WITH A FUCKING MALLET.

So the reason I go in is to get a food allergy test, to confirm my suspicion that I’m allergic to gluten. And I know, I know,  gluten is this huge blown up thing and half the people that say they’re allergic to gluten are really just ex-south beach dieters, but my situation is a little different.

I have a bite of toast and then immediately shit my pants. Sometimes even looking a bowl of cereal will set me off. I once had a boyfriend cut me out of a pair of shorts because I couldn’t get them off fast enough…..we are no longer seeing each other.

So I thought…maybe I should get that checked out.

After proving that I am in fact, not a zombie, and my legs do move after being hit with a hammer, I proceed to get my blood drawn by the designated phlebotomist.

Now, I’m not squeamish about needles. I in fact find it interesting that someone’s entire job in the medical profession is to take the life blood of another human being and put it into tubes. It seems counter-intuitive, really.

But you guys, this monster, took 6 vials of my blood. 6!

I see my entire life replay in these moments. I see me as a baby, me getting ready for prom, getting my college degree, and I start to close my eyes and accept that death is near, and it is inevitable.

But then I see this large ball of light that is coming towards me, but it’s just my doctor in her natural form. She slaps me on my broken leg and hands me a prescription for 16 different supplements she recommends for my copper blood.

I try to shake off an hour’s worth of traumatic experience after traumatic experience so I can walk out of there without these dementors knowing I lost my cool.
I get the results back the next week, and it turns out I’m allergic to corn and cinnamon.

XOXO,

The Weekday Hangover