I Am So Much Better Than Before

"I am so much better than before" after watching an off-broadway production of Legally Blonde The Musical. I honestly didn't think I'd have as much fun as I did, but it is truly an entertaining, feel-good experience. And the songs are freakin' catchy.
I haven't had much to write about lately..well, actually, I've had enough to write about but no motivation or stamina to form complete thoughts. I'm kinda forcing myself to write at this moment even though I'm exhausted. Things have been going pretty well, but I keep letting the little things get me down lately, and that definitely goes against my endorsement of simple wins in life and the power they hold. Little positive things can make someone's day. It can leave such a profound impression on a person's mind no matter how minuscule it may seem to others.
At my last job, I was a cashier, and one day at work a lady came through my checkout line with her son (who was about my age), and she looked at me and said:
"This is probably going to sound strange, but I just feel like I gotta say it. You look like you could be a movie star. You just have that glamorous look. Like, old Hollywood glamour."
Her son's face turned bright red, but she didn't mind. I didn't mind either. She probably had no idea how amazing her comment made me feel. I saw her one other time in the store, but I don't know her name, and it's likely I'll never meet her again. Still, I think about that from time to time.

I have so much to be thankful for at this point in my life, and I only have the Lord to thank for that. There's part of me that still holds back a bit from living a life 100% committed to Him and keeping my focus on Him, but I love Him. I love Him more now than I ever have in my entire life, I'm convinced. But I still let myself get caught up in stress and deadlines and sadness and people and work and school and whatever else, and I give him my sloppy left overs. It does no good to feel convicted on Sunday mornings only to spend time with God. I want to be free from condemnation.

"There is therefore now no condemnation for them which are in Christ Jesus who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit."

After all this time, I can't believe I still remember those lines from Romans 8 since I learned them in the 6th grade. I barely remember what I did two days ago.

I have so much more to talk about, but the words just don't want to come out right now, I guess. Thanks so much for all of the lovely comments to my posts, you guys. And dudee, I have 45 followers now. Considering I started out at zero, and since my blog isn't exactly a blog of interest but more of the ramblings of a chick who doesn't know her left from her right some days, I'm pretty thrilled.

Go make someone smile today.
Grab a cup of coffee first, if you must.

Cheers,

Dani

Skeletons Are Icky

Hey hey hey. It's late. I'm sleepy. But I had a lightening strike of inspiration for a free form poem and had to get it out, unedited, before I changed my mind. Let me preface this by saying, for those of you that know me personally, I wrote this to help clean my closet a bit. There are some skeletons that I need to get rid of because a) skeletons are icky and b) I'm making steps rid myself of emotional baggage I hoard because I don't know what else to do with it, but I don't want to carry it with me to this next phase of my life. Especially because I'm traveling with another :] But here it goes:

We had our go
until you decided it was time
to see other people.
It would have been nice
If you had told me so
Before you set your sights
On another.

But we were so young.
One can hardly be blamed
For childish mistakes.

A year later,
Your eyes were back on me,
And I was skeptical,
Yet a hopeless romantic
Who wanted to change you.
Seventeen Magazine said
I could change you.
One night you followed me home,
Got out of your car,
And kissed me
long and hard
without a word,
then left,
My mind replayed it over and over
And my mind cast you as the leading role
Of my thoughts.
But sometime between then
And the next time we saw each other
Your mind retreated.

Maybe you were afraid of commitment,
But I was sure you were just afraid
Of being seen with me.
I was a good idea,
But I didn't quite sparkle
Like a trophy should.

I would like to say
That all of this is not intended
To bring you down
Or make you look like the bad guy,
But I'm a woman of integrity.

Now you say you consider me
A close friend
And that I'm fun to be around.
I grin and say thanks.

You say you're lonely these days
Even though you are surrounded by friends.
I say that's too bad
And that I'm praying for you.
I'm a woman of my word.

I'm praying that you get your act together,
but not before you realize
You can't fix everything with charm.

That's a horrible thing to wish someone
especially one you consider a friend,
But I can't find it in me
To consider you anything but a regret.

But one day,
Some day soon I'm sure,
I'll think of you with warm regards
While I sit in the warmth of my new love's arms.

Dermatillomasaurus

    WARNING: LONG POST

    Ughhh, I'm sorry it's been so long since I've written anything. I've been wayy busy. Currently, I'm at work, my bosses are in a meeting, and I am at my desk doing "homework." I've made an honest effort at my math practice test, honest to goodness, but so much has caught my attention this morning.
     For one, I found an awesome resource for Dermatillomania/CPS/compulsive skin picking, etc, whatever you want to call it. I've had my dukes up against this battle for a year or two now, but if you saw my legs you'd think I'd been at it for numerous years. Though I've made some drastic changes to my thinking/behaviors, I'm still not free from CSP. It's nearly impossible to explain to someone who doesn't have any form of OCD or anxiety disorders what it's like to not be able to control your own behavior or suppress destructive urges. My mom keeps trying to scare me out of my skin picking. She's a physical therapist and a specialist in wound care, so she has seen patients who have had to have limbs amputated due to an infection from skin picking. I wrote about it three months ago when my mom first started noticing my sores:

When I'm bored, I feel unproductive. When I feel unproductive, I get antsy. When I'm antsy, I habitually pick at my skin. That's embarrassing to admit. But there it is. Merry Christmas.
Really, though, I've had an anxiety disorder for as long as I could remember. But it has changed over the years. First, I was insecure and depressed. Then, I was moody and mercurial. Now, I'm anxious and stressed (hopefully it goes without saying that this is not all the time. I am a fairly content person, but I go through temporary happiness eclipses).  I've always had the habit of biting my nails, but now, I've altered the habit to picking at my nails. Also, I pick at the skin on my legs. It's gotten so bad that I have sores and bumps. I don't like wearing shorts in public. I finally have the healthy, thin shape I've always wanted, but I can't show it because I have to hide my skin. The only place I felt safe from judgment was home until recently when my mom began noticing my skin.
"It makes me sad just looking at those," my mom said a couple of afternoons ago when I entered the room.
"Looking at what?" I asked.
She lowered her eyes to my legs. "Those sores." She continued to tell me how scary looking they had gotten and, honestly, she may as well have said that my legs were ugly now and that it was all my fault.
 "You could lose your legs, Danielle. If they got infected and it spread, you would have to get your leg amputated to stop the disease." By this time she had raised her voice to the point of almost yelling at me. "Do you want that? Do you want to lose your leg from MRSA or a staph infection?" She was yelling now. "Stop hurting yourself!"

My mom and I have an open, honest relationship, and I'm aware of and thankful for her protective nature over me, but I was now the bug under the rock who looks up to find a little kid standing over him instead of the rock. I know how it feels to be poked and prodded at when all you want to do is burrow yourself into some moist dirt where no one can examine you.

I've tried explaining to her that if I could stop, I would have a long time ago. If my health was enough to stop, I wouldn't have these sores and scars. I'm driven by the desire to have clear skin; maybe it's a touch of perfectionism. Ironically, though my mind is convinced that picking will solve my skin issues (acne, ingrown hairs, etc), it is the very thing causing my skin to deteriorate and become irritated. I know it to be a fact that picking will not fix my skin and that it is hurting me, but stopping cold-turkey only causes me to become more frustrated and antsy.

     I'm sharing all of this now because a) it's a major part of my life now and shouldn't have to hide it and b) resources for CSP self-treatment is so incredibly limited. The resource I found today is the first I've seen to actually explain the disease from the perspective of someone who has been afflicted with it, and it provides ways you can combat it.
     The thought of ridding myself from CSP thrills me and scares me at the same time. But I want to be able to say I conquered it so that I can be living proof that you can be free from the daily torture. I want to help people living with Dermatillomania and similar disorders to get their lives back. We could start a club, even. Secret handshake and all (and provide hand sanitizer afterward for those among us who don't like to shake hands).

I love this song. It's so uplifting. Ch-ch-check it. 

Potpourri

I haven't posted anything in foreverrrrrrrr, so this may be a long post, but I'm going to try to keep it short and sweet for those of you, like me, have little patience/short attention spans. Just want to give a little update on what I've been up to. I'll keep the ranting to a minimum.

So college is off to a busy start and has unrelentlessly consumed my thoughts, schedule, conversations, and now my social networking. Cheyeah. It's that bad.
I'm finally feeling like a part of the UA scene. I've lived about fifteen minutes from campus for twelve years and have not once felt comfortable walking around campus up until this point. Now I feel a stronger sense of "we're all in the same boat, just trying to make it to class on time" instead of "I bet they can all tell I'm an underclassman." I've made immense progress with my anxiety since starting college. Big places with lots of people used to intimidate me, but I'm coping with those circumstances more frequently now and trying new things.
Speaking of anxiety, it's getting better, but I'm still working on it. I haven't tried the West Side Story or Inuit Relaxation techniques yet, though. My counselor tells me over and over that anxiety is and will always be a part of my life, so I have to make friends with it and accommodate accordingly when I know I'll have to face a stressful situation. I'd like to commence this new friendship with a swift kick to the balls, but that might make the relationship a little tense in the future.
My new job is a total God-send. I work 8+ hours twice a week which gives me time to get some homework done and make a little cashhmoneyy at the same time. Plus, my boss has given me a task which requires me to organize data from one system and transfer it to another for event/class room reservations. It's right up my alley! I love making lists and compiling data (I used to play a game with my cousin where he was the big CEO of a publishing company, and I was the secretary that reviewed emails of authors and who transcribed letters for him. Oh my gosh, that sounds so totally psycho. We were weird, okay?).

There's so much going on at once these days, but I'm guessing that it will level out soon. I'll write more as my thoughts become less jumbled.

Peace, Love, and Hugs,


Dani