Dear Readers:

Did you miss me?  Did you notice I wasn’t there?  I remember many times when I would write someone and wait for a response. 

These thoughts would run around in my head.  Now, this post is going to be a roller coaster ride through my mind.  So buckle up and hold on tight.  Grab a box of kleenex because it might be needed at some points.  That is right this will be that kind of post that is me trying to get what is in my head out on the screen.  Ready, set, and away we go…

When I was married I lived in an extremely stressful and anxiety-ridden relationship.  This was brought to my attention when I went to my counseling appointment.  It was a few days before my anniversary of leaving my son’s father.  Every year about this time I go through a mourning and anxious moment in my life.  Was it real?  Constantly would go through my mind.  Sounds of cars and trucks backing up suddenly.  The sounds of doors slamming.  It all triggered fear in me.  My body would cringe or jump at the slightest sound.  Why are you scared?  There is nobody here who would hurt you.  My ears would hear the words yet the rest of me just wouldn’t believe it.

When I was in my job training class they taught us about good and bad stress.  My heart raced at the thought.  Even the word stress scares me.  Life for me was a need to know basis and well I didn’t always get to know.  Others were in the know, yet why wasn’t I?

I tell people who I used to be a confident woman who took care of herself and appearance.  I didn’t worry about little things and loved the thought of doing something nice for myself.  What happened?  He happened.  He tore me down with his words.  Teased and insulted my family and looked at me as if I dare you to argue with that?  How could I?  I was afraid for my life and the child inside of me.  I don’t mean my inner child.  Yes, my son who was yet to be born.  He grew in me as I tried to figure out what to do for our life.

Why am I telling my story now?  Why not.  I have had years to think about it.  Days to draft it in my mind.  Now its time to actually type out the words before my memory wipes itself clean until the next time I get the chance to try again.  I lived with extreme stress and anxiety.  The prize I got was Chronic PTSD.  I am afraid. Afraid of everything.  I was afraid to sleep in case my child needed me.  Every time I apply for a job and the chance I get an interview or better yet the job I get scared.  Will I be able to get there in time.  Will they accept my sabbatical time I took to take care of me.  Will my anxiety peek out and whisper to me?  “Molly will you be able to take care of yourself or even your child?”  With anxiety came depression.  Depression brought either the lack of eating or eating more.  Which is why I take medicine to help me sleep and the side effect I gain weight.

For the last couple of months, these things robbed me of summer dreams.   I felt guilty and then couldn’t enjoy the little things.  Would I have the money for that coffee?  Should I buy the food I want to eat?  Is that going to cause my stomach to flare and get gassy?

So I decided to post my work on Medium hoping maybe I could write and earn some money.  My writings were all I had that didn’t cause that much anxiety.  I earned 20 cents the first month.  Wow, it was a start.  So I didn’t really understand the rules so I kept thinking up stories and importing my best posts from here.  I know that I have saved up money.  People give me gifts too.  But it is that darn anxiety that makes me think “You fool!”

So now you know what is going on in my head and where I have been.  Do you still wonder about me?  Do you care?  I have thought about starting a Patreon or something else.  I have applied for cashier positions or openings that I hope will get me something.  Part of me wants to cry right now.  Because I am bearing some huge things.  I am lucky I have a friend who has been giving me a place to rest my head and a shoulder to cry on.  She took me out yesterday so I could keep my mind off of the anniversary.

Signed sealed and delivered.

Mahlet Sebhat/Sara Gamachu