Please Secure Your Mask Before Helping Those Around You...

Sometimes in order to survive, you have to be selfish.

When the plane is going down, what do you do when the air masks fall? You secure one on yourself before helping someone else because if you're helpless, you do no good to help others.

My selfishness in what I have been going through is not intended. I don't mean to grab my air mask before I put on yours, but I know that when given the right tools, I can help you later.

Last night I had another anxiety attack. It was absolutely horrible. I pretended like I didn't have an urge to throw up or scream or lose my shit. So I stood with an eerie calm which was probably bizarre to those around me, but it was all I could do not to explode on the inside.

I begged for a drink last night.

Had I been alone, I would have done it. My guy friends knew I would hate myself for giving in, so they refused to let me.

"If you're going to blow it, it's not going to be over one shot," Zach so wisely stated.

Good point.

But at that moment I would have done just about anything to stave off the nausea of my anxiety...the same anxiety that was brought on by the nausea. There is so much conflict going on inside that some days I think that my body is fighting against me. Screaming for the amber elixir that once used to make everything ok and then throwing a fit when it doesn't get it. And all I can do is wait for it to get tired and give up and leave me alone.

Sometimes it takes hours.

So back to being selfish. I had a fight with my brothers the other day. It was over something so ridiculously stupid, I don't even think it is worth mentioning, but I guess I have to.

This new job is probably the only thing keeping me going right now. Without it I have no idea what I would do. I only have one, so there is nothing to fall back on to get me through. So when I work, which is from home, I work my ass off. You can also imagine that in this job being so new, so stressful and so completely self-reliant that there was a lot of pressure on me to do good initially so that I could hopefully get to full-time. No time to talk, no time to play...so when my younger brother approached me one afternoon while I was working from my parent's house, I was short with him. And because of that, he snapped.

The Bromley men are sensitive. Yes, this is a fact. They are sweet, loving, caring and sensitive as all hell. Forgive me for being rough around the edges and a bit aggressive. This is my nature, maybe from living in cities for the past 10 years. I say what is on my mind and I do what I need to do to get shit done. If this includes holding off on pleasantries, I apologize. Unfortunately, my brothers do not understand this.

So when I got short with my younger brother, he got offended and brewed on it, later on calling me at work to tell me I hurt his feelings. I don't understand how a few seconds of time brewed into this overwhelming need for a deep discussion. I guess working for the Nuclear Fusion Professor made me a little callus, but still...get over it.

He didn't. In fact, it's gotten worse. And on that same day my older brother called for my mom and the conversation went something like,

Beau: "Hi"
Kyleen: "Hi, hold on, let me get mom"

That was it. But that too brewed into some horrible, ugly, monster. And now, according to them, I am a horrible, selfish, bitch. Yup. I have dedicated myself to becoming a better human being and in the midst of that, I am the most selfish, horrible human being you can possibly imagine. Awesome.

So here I am reaching for my mask so that I can then reach over and put a mask on them, and in the midst of it, I am completely berated, ridiculed and harassed. All for a single second of time. Funny how that works.

This journey has not been easy. All and all my life is spectacular! I have a great job, great friends, lots of love and time for the gym. For once in a very long time my life has settled and I am getting my shit together.

Finally.

In fact, some days I lay in bed and cry because of how overwhelmed and thankful I am. I recall the days I was tormented by my own thoughts and actions and how fucking hard I pushed myself to pay bills and just figure it out. There was just so much pain, so much anguish, so much stress, so much humbling, so much heartache...my soul was in disrepair and I was falling down this rabbit hole, praying to God I would just hit the fucking bottom so I could climb out.

The one good thing about hitting the bottom really hard, you actually bounce up. That's when you know you hit the ground as hard as you possibly can...when you are actually thrown back up by the momentum of your own weight slamming into the ground. You can either let the fall break you or bounce you. I used it to bounce back up as hard as I could. It hurt. Oh God it hurt something fierce. Feels like every bone in my body was broken. But whats cool about them healing is it makes me feel stronger.

I am currently trying to work on my selfishness. When you're in survival mode you forget about others at times and do all you can not to drown. For a while I went into hiding so I wouldn't take anyone down with me. It was really hard and no one really understood why, but I knew I had to do it. I just didn't want to take others down with me. It was a fight and in being so social, it was not easy.

But that was one of the times I reached for the mask. I did what I could to catch my breath so I could come back. It was hard when others were trying to take it away from me, not understanding that it was a survival technique. This whole time I have been grasping at something to save me, something to help me get the fuck out of the hell I was in.

Now the only hell is the anxiety attacks at night. They suck and they make me feel weak and sick and dizzy, but I can survive them. It's not easy, and I get desperate, but when I had someone there to keep me strong during one of my weakest points so far in this journey, that made it ok. I was scared, and I panicked and I was willing to own up to admitting I got weak, but I had someone there. And whether or not they know it, they helped me get through one more day. And right now, that is all I can ask for.

This experience makes me appreciate those who are supportive in my life more and more. So if I seem a little more loving and caring, don't be afraid. There is something about finding the love of your self that makes you want to share that love with others...so enjoy it...

Weaker Than My Weaknesses...

Fuck.

I need a drink.

Also, if it wasn't evident, I have given up on caring whether or not I cuss in this blog. It's therapeutic. I gave up drinking. Trust me, you'd curse too.

There is something to be said about giving up something that was once a comfort. It doesn't matter how much it hurt you. You don't think about that. All you think about is the fact that it staved off the things that hurt you (even if after it made things worse). Sometimes just a few minutes of peace feels completely worth anything that follows it.

But that's addiction for you.

Look, I didn't drink to the point of vomiting, or passing out in gutters or flashing cops or meter maids. I just drank to feel good. I never stumbled around downtown like an asshole pissing on myself. I just drank. And maybe drinking isn't the vice I should have given up. Maybe drinking is the vice I took up to get past some other addiction. Some other beast that still haunts me.

And now that I gave up drinking, I can see The Beast clearly. It is there every day, taunting me, fucking with my head. Tormenting me. Just enough out of reach, yet close enough to burn me. Time and time again. And even though I thought I staved off The Beast, I have not. I thought drinking was making me miserable. It wasn't. It was just a way to cope with all of the continuous heartbreak, and anguish and self hate that The Beast contributed to my life.

Now, the real test of inner strength is to get past this Beast and move on.

This Beast, this horrible putrid thing, is probably the truest form of evil. The deceiving part about evil things, is they put on a facade that they are something splendid and beautiful and your heart "sings" when it is around and until you get that fix of whatever evil it may be, you feel incomplete, frustrated, angry, and hateful. THAT is an addiction.

Addictions come in many forms: drugs, sex, alcohol, porn, computers, television, adrenaline, hoarding...ANYTHING. That's the scary part about addictions. We all think it's as simple as alcohol or drugs or sex. But that isn't the case. Sometime people even have addictions to another person. An addiction can be anything in your life that hinders the way you would live your normal life if that addiction were not there.

For a while I thought it was alcohol because when The Beast was "doing it's usual thing" to me, I would cope and drown it out with alcohol. Sometimes it would help, most times it would make it worse. I would use alcohol to sleep to tire my mind from thinking about it. I would use alcohol to deal with it and make excuses of why it was still in my life. Alcohol was my scape goat. And now that it is not there anymore, all I have is me and my own weaknesses. And nothing is worse than being weaker than your weaknesses.

So as I stood in the kitchen this evening with my roommate, she listened quietly as I tried to explain the evil that was in my life. My eyes were wide and welling with tears. My arms and hands tried to tell a story my mind couldn't wrap around. The moments I took to pause to gather myself, she stood there, in silence, trying herself to figure out a remedy. But she herself was as perplexed as I (and the many others I have told my story to) was. We stood for a moment and I looked at her, and in the most honest and heartfelt way asked,

"That is the true essence of evil, right? I mean, the truest darkest, most bizarrely tempting, slimy essence of evil."

She looked at me and said, "Yes".

And even as I write this. Even as I have been told this and said this and stood in my kitchen a millions times before and came to the same conclusion that this Beast is killing me, I still have an addiction to it. Even if it is killing me, and ruining my life and destroying my self-esteem. Even if it is the thing I truly in my heart believed was good for me, it has just become the purest form of evil. So why then does its presence in my life seem to be the only thing to give me comfort?

That's the shittiest part about addictions. Not only are they inexplicable, they can control you and make you feel weak and vulnerable without them. They can make you feel both elated and devastated. They can tear you into a million pieces and make you feel like the strongest human being ever.

They will straight up, fuck you up.

A lot of you are speculating on this Beast. A lot of you who are close to me know what I am talking about, many of you do not. There is a reason for that. I may never admit what this beast is, and I don't have to. It is my fight and my struggle for sanity and you can speculate and ponder and worry and care all you would like, but in the end it is my fight and my choice to divulge the details. I have given you a lot in this fight. I have bared my soul and stood here naked in front of all of you.

In saying that, please respect this struggle and fight for my sanity and do not ask me about this Beast. I doubt any of you would really ask, but if the thought were to cross your mind when you drunkenly stumble into me at La Salles as I stand there sober, hating life, and you ask me, I will not hesitate to punch you right in the mouth. Addictions can be funny, but not really. I can joke because I am going through it, but really, it fucking sucks. This has been the hardest fucking thing I have ever had to do and I watched my mother wither away and die of cancer. So in saying that, yes, this fucking sucks.

So, if I joke or make sarcastic remarks, just go with it. From the feedback I have gotten from a lot of you behind the scenes, I know I am not the only one who is going through or had gone through this, and for those who have been strong enough to stave off your beasts, you're my heroes. I am here now in the trenches and just trying to stay alive. Those of you who are with me in this fight, no matter what your addiction, I commend you and am right there with you.

As I embark on this emotional roller coaster, which has become a lot less fun and a lot more frightening, understand that putting this out there is not easy. But I know that in the end, after going through all of this that maybe I can save one more person from the evil thing that torments their life. And maybe we can walk away from all of this, maybe a bit bruised and torn up, but definitely stronger and wiser and a fuck ton happier with ourselves...

It's Not Pretty...

My friend Adam is in Panama right now. The things he sees and lives with are beyond anything I could understand or handle. A foreign country with a foreign language, foreign customs and foreign parasites swimming in your gut.

It's not pretty.

And though it was his choice to go out there, it doesn't make the fact that I complain about stupid shit any less stupid.

Don't cry over spilled milk when the cow is being slaughtered.

I know, what?

In other words, what you're going through is beans in comparison to the bigger issues of the world. Not that your issues in themselves are any less significant, but really, there are so many more things to be grateful for than to complain about. And really, if you look at the basis of your issues, most likely they were your initial choice, so there is no one to blame but yourself.

That being said, I have come to feel extremely grateful for many things, and in letting go of the negative, I finally came to a realization. The thing I had always wanted to do. The one thing that makes it all worth it.

(we'll get back to that in a moment...but first...)

I gave up drinking because I started drinking (just go with me on this). I realize that the things that have made my life so miserable were choices that I made. I made the choice to come home. I made the choice to make rash, irresponsible decisions. I was the one who made the choice to be miserable. No one did that to me. No one said I needed to hate myself. I was the one who made the decision that I wasn't good enough and I was the one who decided to throw myself a pity party.

So, needless to say I must apologize for my last selfish rant. Not just because I had no right to ask for anything when I myself didn't give anything, but for not giving credit where credit was due.

After I had posted my "bitter" (albeit satirical...mostly) Valentine's day blog, I headed over to a very handsome and sweet gentleman's house, the one I call The Tall Pretty One. I was told the week before not to make plans on Valentines (yes, I laughed when he said it too, cuz really, what plans?) I didn't even know it was Valentine's since what he actually requested was that I not make plans on Tuesday. Also, who makes plans on Tuesday?

Either way I said "ok".

So, all day I was kind of butt-hurt because I wasn't even getting texts from my friends after I had been asking them how their day was. I was bitter because, yes, deep down inside, I wanted to feel loved. There. I said it. Yes, cold-hearted Kyleen actually wanted some attention. Don't go tellin people.

So that night after I finished my blog I went over to The Tall Pretty One's house and when he answered the door, he had a bouquet of a dozen roses. Yup. And on the table? 2 pounds of chocolate. Yes. 2 pounds. And not just chocolate, but Truffles. Instantly I felt like an asshole. I really did not give The Tall Pretty One enough credit. And that was unfair of me.

And of course he proceeded to make me an amazing steak dinner. Yeah, I know. The guy is legit. I felt like even more of an asshole. And mostly I think I felt like such an asshole because I didn't do a damned thing for him. I honestly didn't even think about it, and that's what makes me the asshole.

Look, don't make a holiday where people are supposed to emphasize love with a lover and not expect 68% of the population to get pissy.

Needless to say, The Tall Pretty One really didn't get a quarter of what he desereved. I was so shocked and so blown away, I honestly didn't know how to react. I didn't think to do anything for anyone because I had been single for so long, I never thought to do anything for anyone else on a day like that.

Of course, as a little topper to my childish and selfish little rant, apparently my cell phone was broken and was sending texts, but not receiving them. So it wasn't until the next morning when my phone turned off and turned back on that I saw about 15 text messages from people wishing me a happy Valentines and even extending an invite out.

Yeah. I'm definitely an asshole.

So this was a little bit of a learning experience. And a bit of a wake up call. I complained for so long about not teaching and blah blah blah when really, what did I do to get there? Nothing but complain, really. So that brings me back to my main point. I finally remembered what I wanted to do. And this really isn't a surprise if you know me, but the Tall Pretty One reminded me again what I want to do in life, and that all my passion for it is still there.

I want to finish my book.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking and frankly, it doesn't matter. All I ever wanted to do was finish Kayden's Toby. It's been at least 7 years and I know I will finish it, I am just not sure when.

Maybe it's the fear that I won't perfect it. Or that later I will have wished I had done more with it. It's scary to put a lot of yourself into something you believe in, just to have to find others' approval to get it out there. I am sure there is a way I can do it, and one day, I will. This has been my dream my entire life, and I believe in it. Not just for me, but I know that in the end, it will help others. And I want to get out of my selfish ways from fear of getting hurt either emotionally or physically. Adam selflessly gave his body (including his intestines) to help others. I can't ever imagine giving my body in that way, so I will have to find another way to help, maybe by giving my mind and knowledge. Even if it's just one book. One story. One blog. One moment where I actually do something life-changing for someone else, maybe then I will finally get to that place I have always wanted to be...

and maybe not drinking for the rest of the year will be absolutely worth it...

Might Have to Sit Today Out...

Valentine’s Day single and sober….not as much fun as Valentine’s Day single and drunk.

Right about now I would be in Safeway buying my bottle of Jameson and a box of cordial cherries and a really girly movie about a chick who finds her independence just to get a guy.

But being single and sober really isn’t all that fun.

Another thing that sucks sober is just about anything else right now. Yes. I said it. I’m not upset that I am not drinking, but man, I did not realize how much it is so prevalent in my life. Some days I just want to relax and have a beer to take the edge off, you know? But just in saying that, I already feel myself leaning back to that dependency feeling. That need to escape everything and just zone out. And I am not ok with that.

I have anxiety attacks at night now. This weird nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach that just makes my body feel really weird.

Anxiety attacks are like feeling every single emotion you can possibly feel all at the same time. It’s horrible. And my usual fix for that was a shot of whiskey.

Now I just suffer through them.

And it sucks.

So here I am on Valentine’s, just as disappointed as I have always been on every Valentine’s, but now I am sober and completely aware of this.

I’m only bummed because it’s kind of like not getting a Valentine’s day card when you are in Elementary school. You see all the other kids opening up cards and chewing on chalky candied hearts, and even if you despise those, you’d really to feel included in some small way. If I didn’t know everyone else was getting love and adoration from someone else, I wouldn’t care. In fact I was TRYING to ignore it, but thanks to Facebook and Google, it was impossible to ignore.

And now I am annoyed at everyone’s need to throw in my face the things someone felt compelled to give to them. In all fairness I didn’t get anyone anything, so maybe I shouldn’t care, but more so, sometimes you just like to feel loved, you know? That feeling of someone big and strong holding you close, kissing your forehead and making you feel small and safe. It’s a nice feeling. It’s a feeling I didn’t really know I wanted until today.

Thanks Valentine’s Day for making me see the things I was missing out on. And now that I am sober, I can’t pretend today doesn’t exist. What I wouldn’t do for a bottle of Jameson and some chocolates right now…

Subbing Is Hard.

Subbing is hard.

Ok, so maybe I sat around and watched Daddy Daycare and Remember the Titans all day.

But not everyday is a movie day.

Maybe I'm a a little jaded from moving home and subbing for the past two years, but it might be all too possible that I am over my dream of teaching.

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE being in front of the classroom and inspiring students, but I want to do it without the tied hands. I want to be free to live my life outside of the classroom. I hate that people take me too seriously because I teach when no one really takes education seriously. I want to be able to do things outside of the classroom that don't effect what people think of me inside the classroom. I want to speak what is on my mind, do artistic projects and be free to be me. Unfortunately "me" outside of the classroom is not appropriate for "me" inside the classroom. Unless you work with kids, you can't explain what it's like to see them outside the classroom: when the kids see the "me" that isn't the "me" in the classroom.

This past December I was invited to my friend's Christmas party. I had just gotten off work from Forever 21 (yes, you need to have multiple jobs when you work in education), and after the day I had, I needed a drink. When I got there everyone had already been "having a good time" for the past few hours, so I had some catching up to do.

If you know me and have invited me to a party, you know when it comes to attire I never "disappoint". When someone says party, me and "the girls" will be there. Needless to say, on this particular night "my girls" and I were "hanging out". I assumed that it was just me and my friends at this party, so when it's an hour into the party and I am in the kitchen and I see some guys who look a lot closer to 21 than 30 (the hell if I know) I don't think twice when talking to them.

I have never been good with names, and I have never been good at guessing ages.

As I stood in the kitchen, one of my guy friends asked me when I graduated high school (a question I despise, by the way). Hesitating, I asked him first...then asked the other three guys standing around me. My friend said 2001. Not too far off from me. But when I asked the three guys in front of me when they graduated, they passed a glance to one another.

"2004", one of them finally said. I stood there for a moment. Something was not right. I asked again and they looked at each other and laughed. My brow furrowed.

"We're still in high school"

I froze for a moment. I think I dropped my drink. Or maybe I pee'd myself. I'm not sure. All I know is my feet felt wet suddenly. Or my knees felt weak. I can't really remember the details. The shot of whiskey I had taken earlier had just hit. At that moment I looked down at my dress and all of a sudden my outfit was no longer "age appropriate". The room was spinning and my eyes darted around to see if people were laughing at the funny joke these "kids" just told.

"Wait, what?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Yeah, we are still at PV", one of the boys shyly smirked.

"Wait, WHAT?!" I lifted my hand to my brow and at that moment, one of the kids saw my tattoo.

"HEY!" One of the kids called out. "I know you! You're MISS YOUNG!"

I think at that moment I actually did pee myself.

"WHAT?!" The room got real small for a moment. I had a sudden urge to run out the door.

"Yeah, the octopus tattoo!" He and his friends instantly got excited, bouncing around and all of a sudden they all remembered me. "I totally remember that tattoo...and that story about Da Kine! Yeah! I totally remember you!" The entire world around me changed. What was supposed to be a "let-loose" fun time with my good friends instantly became a completely different night!

"What the fu...!" I covered my mouth the instant the words slipped my mouth. I was in shock. The boys bounced around laughing, spilling their beers and making jokes. "Dude! We're partying with Miss Young! No way!" They laughed and I wanted to crumble up and die.

"Whoa, whoa whoa!" I cried out, putting my hands up to cover my bulging bosom. "There is no partying here! In fact, what the hell are you guys even doing here?!"

Apparently the brother of my friend's roommate was given the ok to come to the house and sit around til his sister came and picked him up. There was no agreement to have his buddies there, nor any agreement to let them join in the party.

As I stood there in shock, the night began to replay itself in my head. Were these kids there when I was dancing around and making crass and inappropriate jokes? Were they taking pictures or video? How long had they been there? Where was my jacket?!

It was soon evident my good time had come to a quick halt. The liquor did not care that I was mortified, instead it just influenced me to laughed it off, despite the fact that the sober me would have rushed over to my not-so-sober friend and bitched her out for letting this happen. Everyone knows I sub at PV, and everyone knows how I am at parties. It was a recipe for disaster.

The next day, while working at Forever 21, the brother had walked in with two other guys and called out, "Hey Miss Young!" I about died and ran over, noticing the other guys must have heard the news since they were all giving each other the eye.

"So, we heard about you last night. Trouble trouble!" I about punched that kid in the mouth.

"First off, " I corrected "Trouble begins if you say anything because those guys were NOT supposed to be there. Second, of all people in the world, they should NOT be telling anyone about this because what they were doing was technically illegal. Look, it's funny, ha, ha. But seriously, guys...not cool."

Ok, so maybe my speech wasn't moving, but it was evident they saw I was uncomfortable and backed off the subject. I shooed them off and for the next hour worried about them coming back through the mall.

Because it was the first week of Christmas vacation for the students, I had hoped by the time January rolled around they would forget they saw me.

We'll see.

Anyway, back to my point. I love teaching. I love being there for the kids. I DO NOT enjoy running into them outside of the classroom and having to be the "classroom me" they all know. I just want to be me. I know that is like how most people probably feel about their professions, but mine is hyper-sensitive because parents are involved. I know that parents judge me. I look 16. (ok, I'm flattering myself, I know, but I definitely don't look old enough to rent my own car). "Adults" don't take me serious because I look like a kid. Then again, I still feel like one, which I think is why I do so well in the classroom. And that's what sucks. I am a damn good teacher (or at least a damn good sub), but my fear is that I am not free to live the life I want for fear of judgement and the fear that people will not take me serious in a classroom. I am not ready for that kind of pressure.

If you know someone is wild when you first meet them, not much surprises you once you get to know them. If you assume someone is not wild when you meet them and they do something wild (which is normal to them, but not normal according to your assumption about them) it's shocking. Kind of like how my sweet, quiet new roommate just walked out of the shower with her boyfriend. THAT was shocking. I made a preconceived notion about her and so when she did what she probably always does, which is normal to her, it was almost heart-stopping for me.

It's, like, if you heard your first grade teacher cuss. It about shatters your world. I don't want to shatter my students' world, and frankly, I don't want them to shatter MINE. Living a double life is not easy. Subbing is not easy. I have one foot in and one foot out. One foot is dancing in heels and having a wild time, the other is standing properly in heels cracking "old man" jokes in front of kids. It's almost perplexing. Which am I? And I have to ask...which do I want to be...for the sake of a dream?