One Day At a Time

Going into this experience with anti-depressants, I only had negative personal experience to relate to.

Now that I’ve been taking the medication for just over four weeks I think I’ve come to fully recognize some of the side effects that I’ve experienced.

The most noteable is the dry mouth. I can drink a whole bottle of water and still feel parched. Which isn’t so bad–it means I remember to drink water more often.

The second side effect I’ve noticed is constipation. I’ve increased my fiber intake and managed to regulate again–but the first few days were not fun.

The final side effect I’ve experienced thus far is an increased sex drive which is definitely welcome, but uncommon. From everything I’ve read and been told a decrease is to be expected–at least in the beginning.

Side effects aside, I’ve continued to notice an increase in my ability to handle stress-inducing situations. I still have bad days where every little thing annoys me, but I’ve found that even on those days it doesn’t take as long to calm back down.

Obviously these are just my experiences and each person will have their own unique reactions to anti-depressants. I am just here to share my experience and take this road to self-acceptance one day at a time.

Drug Me Up.

Everyone is different, and as such everyone who is affected by mental illness has different experiences. Even those categorized as the same.

For example, just because you have anxiety, doesn’t mean you can fully understand what someone else, who also has anxiety, is going through.

But that doesn’t mean that we cannot relate to one another.

To relate to someone, on any level, is one of the most basic human needs. We crave connection, however temporary, to prove that we are not alone. Those of us with mental illness often need that connection more than we even know.

I guess I truly realized this a couple of weeks ago when I finally decided to go talk to a psychologist. His knowledge of things I had previously felt as exclusive to me and my struggles gave me the reassurance that I can work through this.

Socially, those who don’t understand mental illnesses try to convince you that you don’t need drugs to be ok, that there are other options that work just as well.

I personally had a bad experience with medications when I was in my early teens, so for most of my life I felt that I had to suffer alone, since those ‘other options’ didn’t work for me. When I realized that I’m not alone in this illness, I made the decision to try medication again.

Today is only day five, but I can’t begin to explain how much better I feel. The changes that I have felt even after just one day. My results are not what everyone will experience, but if nothing else has worked medication is worth a shot.

Ink’d

This past week I surpassed a huge hurdle for me, I got a tattoo. For over ten years now I’ve wanted a tattoo to represent my grandmother, and I finally did it.

I think I’m still in a bit of shock about it. It’s hard to believe that it is now a permanent part of me.

Thanks @thewolfrosario and @lifertattoosstudio for #myfirsttattoo ⭐️😍

A post shared by Katlynn Parsons (@momma182) on

I choose the star for a few reasons.

Firstly, my grandmother and I spent some of our time together up at the cottage. While we were up there she and I sat outside looking out at the stars; it is one of my only good memories with her and everytime I look at the stars I can’t help but remember her.

Second, all through school I would doodle. I would doodle on everything and anything. From textbook covers to tests and exams, everything. My go-to doodle was a simple star. My grandfather once told me to stop doodling so much, and my grandmother stood up to him for me.

Lastly, this star is simple, small, and highly unlikely to offend anyone.

I think this piece of my past applied in such a permanent way is a symbol. It’s the beginning of the new me. If I can fight my anxiety and decide on, and get a tattoo, I can do anything.

Here is to the new me.

@mander1806 that's the finished piece.

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Family Secrets.

Growing up, I was the oldest of three girls. My mother and father had me, and then almost four years later, my little sister Zoe. They later separated and my mother married Ed, my Step-dad. They had my youngest sister, who is ten years younger than me, Mackenzie.

I guess you could say on the outside my family looked like any other split-parent family. I had two of almost everything, split my weekends between my moms and my dad’s, and rotate holidays.

As I got older, I stopped seeing my dad on a strict schedule and spent more time at his house, just because.

My friends and I would take the GO Train out to his place (two towns over) and spend the weekend out there. I was during one of these weekends that my friend Brittany and I were talking to him about half-siblings.

A little backstory: Brittany had just found out her brother, who they were under the impression was her father’s son–was not. He was actually her half-brother.

It was during this conversation, in 2005 that my father jokingly said, “who knows, you may have a half-brother out there somewhere”.

Flash forward nine years, my sister, Zoe, just came home from a trip down east to our family property in New Brunswick. She comes to me and says, “I just found out that we may have a half-brother named Charles, who lives in New Brunswick”, she then told me that dad told her he had “heard of” the rumor that he may have a son back in 2001.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more upset with my father than I ever have been in my life. How could he of kept this from me, from us. We had gotten so close, yet I felt that he broke that down with this one secret.

A Little Piece of Myself.

I’ve been writing poetry on and off for over a decade. Some poems I think are childish, others I think are amazing. I’ve been told I am my harshest critic. I figured, since I’ve broken the silence about my mental disorders, I may as well share my poetry.

I’m thinking of starting with once a week for poems. Let’s say Sundays. They will be a mixture of old and new poems; all written by me.

M.I.A.

So, it’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything (personal or book review), and I wanted to give a bit of an explanation.
A lot of big things have happened for me over the past few months and I am working on writing those experiences out, but for now here is the short versions.

I was fired from my job–minor customer dispute nothing horrible on my part, but I was super stressed there, so, hey good riddance. [Beginning of April]

I left the country for the first time ever to go to Disney World with my son. Florida was amazing and we had a blast. [End of April/ Beginning of May]

My future brother in law was arrested. (No I won’t go into too much detail, but yep it sucks.) [Beginning of June]

I went to New Brunswick to meet my brother, whom I just found out about (and he’s the same age as me!), and see some family I haven’t seen in five years. [Middle of July]

All the while I’ve been struggling with severe anxiety that I’ve never really told anyone about, which all changed a couple of days ago when I saw a Psychologist for the first time.

I know I have a lot of work to do, mental illness doesn’t just go away after you tell someone (oh god, I wish) but I feel like a weight has been lifted–at least a little.

I went far too long not really realizing that my ‘issues’ were not something to be ashamed of and that I CAN get help for, and start to control them.

More to come.

Lifetime Bucket List

As a lifelong learner and lover of books I figured I should have a bucket list. A list of goals that I would like to achieve in my lifetime.

  1. Become a wife.
  2. Become a mother. [August 2nd, 2012]
  3. Stand under the Eiffel tower.
  4. Fly in an airplane. [That I remember: April 28th, 2015]
  5. Bungy Jump.
  6. Visit Mickey Mouse at Disney World. [May 4th, 2015]
  7. Own a house.
  8. Swim with Dolphins
  9. Be a bridesmaid

Have you ever wanted to travel back in time?

Recently I’ve been thinking about how different I used to be– even just a year ago. My thoughts, my likes (and dislikes), my life goals. Although I have yet to invent actual time travel– I think I have found a way that I can take a peak at my past self.

I’m sure there are plenty of people who started a diary or blog of some sort when they were younger and have managed to write in it on a consistent basis. I however am the complete opposite. I find myself with a craving for a blog, start one–and it usually lasts about a month. A little while later and I do it again, except this time I’ve forgotten about my first one and start new.

At this point I’m sure there are multiple blogs floating around the great wide web with one of my (many) usernames attached to it.

I am going to attempt to join them all here. For anyone interested they will be categorized as Past Lives.