Authenticity

I've always said that in order for this blog to mean anything, in order for these words to hold any weight with anyone, that I have to remain authentic. You guys as family, friends, and readers need to know that I am telling you the truth. I also feel that there may be a line that I'm not sure I should cross. I share my life with you, but only snippets. You see Chiefs games, classroom updates, brunch outings... but is it fair for me to expect understanding and grace when I feel differently about things than people think I should? Is it fair to expect anything? After all, this is just a blog, right?

This is an internal debate that I've had with myself for a while now. When is it okay to stop, breathe, and realize that you need to ask somebody to listen? When do you decide that it's okay to ask for help? I find myself needing to feel and be human, so that brings us to this point. In order for me to be authentic, as I always promised I would be, I have to get this out there.

While most of you know that I am dealing with the medical issues that I am, I find that most don't know how much of an impact these things have on my every-day life or mental health. Since being diagnosed with my first chronic disease five and a half years ago, it has been a struggle. I have seen therapists, been on anti-depressant medication more than once, and spent many nights crying. Last night was no different. I don't tell you these things so that you'll pity me. I understand what is happening to me is nobody's fault - genetics just suck. I tell you this because I think it will help others to know why I am the way I am.

I keep myself busy because if I'm busy than I have less time to focus on the things that are going wrong in my life. I work two jobs, sponsor a class at school, am a member of numerous committees... you get the point. I've always been this way. In high school I was a member of every club and organization under the sun so that I didn't have to deal with the issues with my dad, and now as an adult I cope with my medical issues in the same way. This time... it came back to bite me in the ass.

As some [or most] of you probably already know, on Wednesday while working at Old Navy I had intense chest pain and ended up blacking out and hitting my head on the concrete floor. I had never had 911 called before, I had never ridden in an ambulance before, I had never been to the emergency room before. They ran tests, did scans, and ultimately decided that this episode of syncope was caused by being over exerted, stressed, and dehydrated. I had been running myself ragged for weeks, working extra shifts, going to extra meetings and I ended up putting myself in danger because I didn't care about ME enough to say something to someone about how I was feeling and what I was going through.

I'm scared. I am overwhelmed. I am exhausted. I am sad. I am so many things. Having chronic diseases at a young age that prevent you from living the life you want to takes a toll. I hit rock bottom last night. I told my mother and Ben that I didn't want this life anymore; I told them that I was done, I was too tired. I know I don't really mean it, but in that moment, I did. That's scary to me.

I've decided to take a break from some of the things that cause me frustration and stress in life. I've decided that I'm going to take some time, reach out, and get some help [both medically and from people I love]. I will be deleting all social media save Instagram, and I don't know how often I will be updating this blog - at least for a while. It's time for me to focus on me and being healthy, rather than trying to do everything for everyone else all of the time.

Thank you for sticking with me. Thank you for the understanding and grace as I move forward. Thank you for allowing me to be authentic without judgment.