Scrapbooked Expressions

I am a 24 year old artist, writer, and mother. I’ve come a long way and learned more in a few years than some do in an entire lifetime. I’ve created this page to share some of my life experiences, the lessons that came with them, and how they all connect to who I am. The is the “social media-fied” version of my blog. Eventually all the segments of my life will be put into chronological order and put into a book to be published as a whole, until then, enjoy this, and ALWAYS feel free to ask me questions or share your own thoughts, experiences or situations. This is how I’m growing. From caterpillar to butterfly. Through art and writing. Welcome to my blog. **warning for explicit life experiences**

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Pregnancy this time hasn’t been as pretty as it looks but here’s to the final weeks. The finish line is finally in sight.

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I’m stuck......

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I’ll write for this later, until then enjoy some photos I took on our camping trip 🌿🌳🍃🧘‍♀️🦋

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Just Recently I’ve finally subjected myself to talking about my paranoia. Something I’ve never openly stated about myself to anyone. Maybe because I wasn’t aware or maybe because I was denying the facts, but Doing so was one of the scariest, and most difficult things I’ve ever done or tried to explain to someone. It came with a lot of tears, confessions, and anxiety. None the less, the talk happened and that in itself was a HUGE accomplishment to me. I’m Taking this accomplishment a step further by opening up about it and talking about the ways I’ve coped with this mind tricking..... condition, and where it came from in the first place.

Being paranoid isn’t just the thought someone is out to get you. It’s not just a fear that something bad is going to happen. It’s a lot more complex than just that. Being a paranoiac comes with a lot of baggage. It’s actually more exhausting than most people realize. Being paranoid is never being able to go in public normally. It is CONSTANTLY analyzing your surroundings. It is ALWAYS knowing where the threats lie. It’s moving without being seen but still seeing everything. It’s watching what’s in front of you but listening to what’s behind you. It’s your mind constantly running and making up “what if” scenarios in your head that you know will never happen, but needing to be prepared for it anyway. It’s lashing out at the guy behind you because you prepared him to be a threat, but was actually just a fellow shopper tapping your shoulder to return something you dropped behind you. It’s believing ANYONE at any moment is going to be the one to get you. Being paranoid is preparing for the worst without any evidence or reason to believe the worst is even coming. It’s a lot of battling yourself on what’s realistic and what’s not, and then seeming crazy to others that are subjected to all your nonsense. It’s knowing it IS nonsense but still not being able to turn it off.... because...well, what if? Being paranoid is never trusting anything or anyone, but still trying to live a normal life around it. Being paranoid is hiding your paranoia all together. It’s buying lipstick for your doors instead of your lips so you’d know if anyone came in. It’s balancing coins on window sills and a padlock on your bedroom door, outside AND inside. And self medicating because you’ve never had the chance to explain it to someone who will listen. It’s a lot to live with...

I’ve lived with this unjustified,maybe even unrealistic, extreme distrust in people for about 15 years now. I’ve never even openly talked about it until now. Recently I’ve come to believe that keeping it in has actually been really destructive to my own peace of mind and mental stability. I think a lot of my paranoia stems from what started as PTSD, and never getting the help I probably needed with that. over time I subconsciously developed my own ways of coping that probably weren’t the most healthy. Looking at this piece of me through a different lense has been eye opening.

There’s so many stories that tie into this post it’s almost impossible to know where to begin so eventually after I’ve written most of these short posts I’d like to put them all in chronological order and publish them in that fashion to give you guys as my readers a better understanding of how I’ve become this way. It will take time but if you keep with me until I’m through I will have written a book of my life in segments....And I honestly cannot wait to share it as a whole one day.

I’m not sure where I go from here or how I’m going to continue to grow from this. Just talking about it I think has been a step in the right direction. Being that it’s been 15 years with this I don’t think that it will ever completely subside but I think learning more about it and just being aware and noticing my own patterns and behaviors will help manage the symptoms. I’ve finally come to terms with seeking help from others with this. Even though the trust isn’t there now, doesn’t mean it can’t be built.

I’m going to be continually taking steps until I get where I’m going. This is only my beginning.

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Your purpose in life is not to love yourself but to love being yourself.

If you goal is to love yourself, then your focus is directed inward toward yourself, and you end up constantly watching yourself from the outside, disconnected, trying to summon the “correct” feelings towards yourself or fashion yourself into something you can approve of.

If your goal is to love being yourself, then your focus is directed outward towards life, on living and making decisions based on what brings you pleasure and fulfillment.

Be the subject, not the object. It doesn’t matter what you think of yourself. You are experiencing life. Life is not experiencing you.

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Reposting this for relevance. ❤️

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Nayeli 🦋

Nayeli is a Native American name that means “I love you” I want to talk about this name and what it means to me.

Earlier this year I miscarried what would have been our third baby. Most people don’t know this about me because Ive felt so limited on talking about it. Even though I want to talk about it, it doesn’t come easy because you just wouldn’t believe how some people would expect you to feel about it. I understand that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but they can’t tell you what you should or should not feel.

I think some people get confused on this particular situation because for one, i didn’t know I was pregnant at all when I lost the baby, and two, I was on birth control, I didn’t want or plan for another baby. But just because I didn’t plan for a baby doesn’t mean I would love another baby any less than my other two children. No I didn’t plan it. Nor did I want it. But once it was there, and gone just as fast, I’ve never wanted anything else in the world more, than to be able to save my baby. My heart is hurt.

Even though he or she never made it past 7Weeks 5 days gestation, I named my baby Nayeli. Because I want them to know that I love them. With all my heart. And I wonder often what he or she would have been like.

I think what bothers me the most about this is the way it all happened. After I had my daughter only 14 months after my son, I started birth control almost immediately. I really liked this birth control because I didn’t have to think about it, I didn’t have to take a pill everyday, and I didn’t even realize it was there. I still had normal periods but was told that eventually, they could stop and I wouldn’t have one at all. Another plus to this birth control. My periods just suddenly stopped one month, and I just assumed it was my birth control. No biggie. But really, all my birth control did was make my body kill my baby.

The point of birth control is to prevent pregnancy from happening in the first place, not to kill the baby after it’s already obtained life and started to grow. My birth control was not placed properly and allowed me to become pregnant, but still stole the things the baby needed to survive. To me, that’s just not fair.

Another thing that hurts about this, is the way people so openly express how they think you should feel about it. I cried on my couch every day for weeks after I miscarried because I was so broken about it, yet everyone else thought I had no place to be sad or hurt about it. “Imagine losing them at 20 weeks” “you didn’t even want another baby” “why are you sad? The last thing you need is another baby””it wasn’t even a baby yet” quite frankly, if this is what you think, excuse my language but please kindly FUCK OFF. I don’t want to imagine carrying them longer because it sucks that I couldn’t. I didn’t plan for another baby and I didn’t want one but I sure as hell would have loved one! And I’ll be sad because yes my kids are chaotic now, but what’s a little more chaos? It may be chaos, but I’ve never been more alive, or had more love in my heart for it all. My baby had a beating heart, developing eyes arms and legs, and even a growing brain. He or she was doubling in size every day right up until they died. What is that if it isn’t a baby? My love could spread to any amount of children I could have, And for anyone to try to tell me otherwise is just crazy to me. Even the doctor that told me I miscarried was this way. And I can’t for the life of me understand why.

I know Nayeli would have been so beautiful, smart, and strong. Just like her siblings. And I’ll look forward to meeting him or her until it’s my time.

P.s.-I dont don’t want anyone to take this post as one of those anti-abortion posts cause that’s not my views at all. Just because it wouldn’t be right for me doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be for someone else.

Also, I’ve had this written for weeks and fought myself for weeks about posting it. But again i want this socialmedia-fied version of my blog to be everything I feel and everything I’ve been through. I want it to tell what my heart says. So this is it raw.

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Sorry

I’m only writing this quick post to say sorry for being inactive for too long. I’ve written my next post already, but I’m having a hard time actually posting it. I’ve read and re-read a thousand times, but the truth of the matter is, that most of my posts are about things most people don’t know about me. Im essentially Sharing my “secrets”. And the deeper my “secrets” get , the harder they are to share.

Also, I originally wanted to keep this blog regularly active at least once a week, but I think I’ve also set that bar too high. Being a mom takes up most of my time and finding the time to write,or re-write, is harder than I initially thought. So I apologize for that too.

Stay tuned guys. Please. I will post it. I promise. Just bear with me while I fight with myself over it for awhile. I’m not giving up on this one. I’m promising that it’s coming soon. As soon as My heart is done battling with my brain.

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Butterflies

After making you all uncomfortable in “my truth”, I want to brighten things up a bit, to remind you that the entirety of this blog is NOT about depression and how I got there. So yes, I want to talk about butterflies. 🦋 something beautiful instead.

I’ve always had a little bit of an infatuation with butterflies. I was always running around catching them as a kid(along with other grosser bugs) I would put them in my little bug cage and study them with a magnifying glass. I liked to study all the patterns, and the powder on their wings. I liked to watch their little straw “tongue” roll in and out as they pick up the nectar of a flower. Kind of like one of those little party horns kids give out at their birthday parties. No two butterflies are the same, and something about that satisfies my soul.

A butterfly spends majority of its life as a caterpillar. They just inch away, dragging themselves along working day in and out trying to grow as big as they can before they age too far. Much like how I feel life has become for me, Working everyday towards a bigger and better life.

They finally grow tired of the work and “shut down” they build themselves a secure home and they don’t come out for weeks. To the outside world it would seem as if they’ve given up on the life they’ve spent their whole life working for. But within the solitude, much to dismay, they’re still working. Constantly. Day in and day out, still growing. The outside world never sees them. They cut themselves from everything around them, and focus on building themselves before they reappear, completely transformed. Because sometimes that’s what it takes to grow. Solitude. Quiet and calm, solitude.

When a they finally reappear to the world, they come back more beautiful than ever. They’ve grown wings to fly. No more dragging fat caterpillar bellies across the ground. Now they get to soar. They finally get to live their best life. The life they’ve worked so hard, their entire lives for.

I love butterflies because I hope to live my own life this way. For now I may be ‘just’ a caterpillar.... but soon enough, I’ll grow my wings, and live the life I am pushing towards.

I took this picture a couple weeks ago because this butterfly was different from the rest. This butterfly wear his life across his wings. You can see every piece missing and every scratch in the fine powder on its wings. He stood out from the rest to me because he just sort of floated through the air(rather than fluttering). There was just a grace about him that I was drawn to. He seems as if he’s lived a hard, yet beautiful life. And I can only hope to be the same way one day.

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I always liked butterflies but my obsession with them began about 3 years ago, when I became pregnant with my son.

Short story time.

About 6 months into living on my own in my first apartment, I started a new relationship. This was something brand new, so I wanted to take some precautions. Even though I had been told multiple times by multiple doctors that I had very slim chance of ever becoming a mother, I still went to get birth control. Just to be on the safe side.

After about two weeks of being on the birth control, I started noticing some of the side affects that they warn you about. Swollen breasts, bigger appetite, no more period. Man, this birth control stuff is great! I never thought twice about it. One Sunday changed my mind pretty quick that this wasn’t the birth control doing this to me.

I woke up one July Sunday, and noticed a bunch of butterflies perched on my bedroom window. I sat there awhile and admired them. So pretty, and SO blue. Eventually they all left and I continued on with my morning getting ready for work.

When I left my apartment I was pretty much attacked by butterflies right outside my front door. They were fluttering around my head so fast I’d never seen anything like it. They followed me all the way to my car before they gave up on chasing me. They must have liked the perfume I was wearing.

When I got to work and parked my car, two butterflies immediately landed right on the hood of my car. What’s with all the butterflies today? I didn’t have time to stop to admire so I left them alone and went into work.

When I got to the front counter I saw the biggest most beautiful blue butterfly I’d ever seen, right smack dab in the middle of the window. He stuck around for awhile before he finally floated away.

It was a really nice summer day that day, I thought some fresh air sounded nice so I opened up the garage door in the back of the store. As soon as I pulled the handle to lift the door there was butterflies waiting there that rushed right into the store. They weren’t hurting anything so I figured I’d take care of it and get them all out later.

Those five butterflies that made their way into the store fluttered around me like flies swarm dung. This was starting to get annoying. Just as I went to grab the fly swatter to take care of the problem, they all landed on me before making their own way back out of the garage door. Well that was just weird. I’m never wearing this perfume again.

As my night came to an end I clocked out set the alarm and locked the door behind me. When I turned around to my car the same two butterflies were still sitting on the hood of my car. This is getting strange.

Before I went home I stopped by the store to grab something to make for dinner. Two butterflies almost followed me right into the store,and then waited for me and followed me right back to my car. What is going on here? This is crazy!

I got home and butterflies followed me to my front door of my second story apartment. I just can’t shake them. Where are they coming from? And why are they following me?

I ended my night by eating dinner folding some laundry while drinking a couple glasses of wine. I don’t know about you guys but I’ve never seen a butterfly out past dark until this night.

When I went to bed there was one big blue butterfly floating outside my bedroom window. I layer there admiring all the way until I fell asleep. While I was asleep, I had a dream. One I’ll never forget. I had a dream that I had a baby. A beautiful, curly haired baby boy. We were sitting in the grass playing when a big blue butterfly landed right on his little nose. I instantly woke up. Like one of those sit straight up, out of breath, scared, sweating, like I was waking up from a bad dream kind of thing.i knew right then and there I was pregnant. I threw my birth control in the garbage and left my apartment at 3:48 in the morning. I went to the 24 hour drug store and got a three pack of first response pregnancy tests. ALL of them came back positive. I WAS PREGNANT!

How did this happen while I was on birth control?! I was already pregnant before I even started the pill. I was already almost 9 weeks along! And I wouldn’t have know for weeks if it weren’t for all those butterflies.

I don’t know if it was the butterflies that could sense this, or if it was God sending me a sign, but either way I am grateful.

Never ignore the world when it sends you signals. It’s rarely ever wrong. It was right all the way down to the birthstone for my son, and the butterflies came in pairs when I was finding out I was pregnant with my daughter.

Mother Nature sure does have her way of creating something beautiful out of something so small. 🦋

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Where I’ve been to where I’m at

Where I’ve been....I didn’t want to start my first blog post introducing myself with how I grew up. I grew up average(For the most part I think), in the average house, with the average family, going to average public school. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Instead I wanted to start with where my life started to get a little more interesting. Where I started to become the woman I am today.

Skipping over the start of my anxiety and depression (we will get to that later), I wanted to start in high school. When I got kicked out of that same average home, when all my friends abandoned me (or maybe i did), and I clung to my only hope, the abuser.

Junior year of high school, I started dating this guy. I wouldn’t have described him as “my type”. Probably the opposite, really. He was hard and thuggish. He was one of those guys that followed you through the years with his persistence in trying to pursue you, no matter how many times or how hard you turned him down. Maybe that’s what started to draw me to him. The way he tried to impress me actually was starting to become kind of charming. I don’t think I would have been as easily charmed by him if it weren’t for my situation, and need of someone to lean on, But thus began the worst three years of my life.

I don’t want you guys to get me wrong here. He wasn’t the bad guy....not at first. He only became that later. At first he was the one that was there when I had nobody. At first he was sweet and understanding. At first. I want you guys to understand that he took care of me when I couldn’t take care of myself. I thought I was in love, And I thought I could make it if this was my life long partner. (But let’s just foreshadow a little bit again with...) I was so so so very wrong. The whole way through. It was a real life nightmare trying to get away from him, But again we will get to that later.

Growing up everyone carves this image for you. You’re supposed to go to school, get good grades, graduate, and then move on to college. You graduate college and from there move on with a family and a career. I literally did none of this. Or if I did, I did it backwards. I collected my lazily, and barely earned diploma and never walked the stage, and never moved on to college. Instead I moved on to live with my then boyfriend, and continued to royally screw up my life. So with this perfectly carved image, that I so crookedly tried to follow, nobody prepares you for the real world when that path didn’t work out. Nobody told me how hard it was going to be when I finally saved up enough money to move into my very first apartment and finally escape an abusive relationship.

40 years ago(the baby boomers age) life came fairly simply. You could get a minimum wage job and earn enough to buy a decent home and support a family. Now minimum wage barely affords a one bedroom apartment. I lived paycheck to paycheck for my first year in my first apartment, alone with my dog mokah, barely affording to feed us.

I lived my first year on my own constantly looking over my shoulder scared to death I would run into my ex. I lived in fear while also trying to gain back the life I lost while I was with him. It was exhausting. Not much had been accomplished that year, but the best thing that’s happened to me so far also happened that year. I reconnected with my now boyfriend, Jade. He showed me everything I had been praying for, and so much more. I fell so easily over him. This time, my “type” of man had been updated, redefined and totally redesigned. He was my godsend.

Jade blessed me (sooner than expected) with the gift of life. That’s right you guys, I was pregnant, and within the first three months of our “established” relationship.

Even though I was head over heels for this god given man, I was terrified. I’m only 20, how was I going to raise a child? We didn’t even have a solid foundation to stand on yet! How is jade going to react? It’s only been three months! Maybe I should abort. No, I couldn’t. I may never have this opportunity again.(doctors told me I’d probably never be able to get pregnant). My mind was going insane with questions that had no answers. But none the less we went for it. We had a beautiful baby boy, and three months later started it all over again with a beautiful little baby girl.

Now I get to finish writing this from my phone, in the bathtub in my own, three bedroom home, with a lemon bathbomb, and blue cornflower petals, while Jade watches our two beautiful babies in the other room. We used our circumstance, and created a solid foundation, and more importantly, a life worth living. This is where I’m at.

Though I am contented with the life we have created I know this is only the beginning of our journey. Looking back and seeing how far I’ve come, only makes me realize how much farther I can go. So though this blog is going to start with my past experiences, I also can’t wait to share my new journey and all the emotions and thoughts as they come to me. This is me. Scrapbooking expressions, From a caterpillar to a butterfly.