Blooming in sobriety.

"It was a vicious circle of hurting, and drinking to numb the pain, only to feel hungover and even emptier than the night before."

I can’t say that I’ve just now hit rock bottom, because if I said that, it would be a lie. I’ve hit rock bottom before, and clearly by a show of messages, a majority of my Instagram saw it on IG Live. I drank so much that day that I answered the door to the police and I laid down on my floor yelling I didn’t want to go to jail. They had to convince me I wasn’t being arrested for drinking in my own home, and that they were there to make sure I was safe. I should’ve taken that as a hint to stop drinking that day.

That’s the funny thing about my relationship with alcohol though… On days where I’m hurting the most is the days I crave it the most, knowing full well that I’ll end up on the floor somewhere, throwing up, or crying my heart out to someone who probably would rather be doing something else… or embarrassing myself on live broadcast so my boss sees how pathetic I am on my days off.

It took one more blackout in a hotel, throwing up in a lobby restroom, and shoving a plastic bag over my head to realize that my emotions and alcohol don’t mix well together… And for someone with a plethora of emotions, alcohol should be the last on my consumption list.

“The urge is so strong, and the voices just make it so much harder to resist the temptation".”

With all of that being said, I don’t drink heavily very often. I’ll have a glass of wine or two twice a week, maybe throw back some soju to celebrate something miniscule. But when I do drink heavy, it’s always a problem. I have an issue with moderation when feeling the long term effects of C-PTSD, and if I want to combat that issue, I think the best way is to cut it all out together. Remove the poison. Ergo, stop drinking altogether. It’s just hard when I have pretty severe hallucinations, that worsen with alcohol…

I want to be the best version of myself for myself and for my family. Maverick doesn’t deserve to be raised by a mother who can’t control herself over a few shots of patron, and a few glasses of wine, and a few flutes of champagne… Honestly, he doesn’t need a mother who takes all of those together in a span of 6 hours. It’s already difficult for me to be a mother that suffers from mental health disabilities. Alcohol Use Disorder is the one thing that I can control. Well, try to control. Impulsivity is also a very strong aspect of my personality. It’s like my brain loves to be reckless when sadness ensues from emotional triggers. So here’s my pledge to be a better person overall.

I pledge to take control of my life and my emotions. I will do my best to abstain from drinking alcohol so that I can create a better life for myself and my family.

Things NOT to say to someone grieving a suicide, or anything really

It’s hard to take in that someone has passed away. Its even harder to try and console someone that was close to that person in the right way. 14 years of my grieving for my brother and grandfather, and 11 years of grieving my best friend. Every year, someone says something to me that is off putting even though they’ve got only good intentions. It’s hard, I know. So here are some things that I personally have not liked hearing. Sometimes when you know why its hard to hear something, you think twice about saying it again.

Everything happens for a reason

What are those reasons? The reason for my brother and my best friend? Depression. Feeling alone and unsupported. Thank you for reminding me that there were things I could have done to be there for them, but I failed them.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger

Are you saying that the person who passed wasn’t strong enough? Are you calling them weak because they couldn’t handle it? How moronic is it to say this to someone when they’ve lost someone to suicide?

God doesn’t give you something you can’t handle

Why would God give me this kind of pain? If he doesn’t give people something they can’t handle, then what on Earth did he give my brother and best friend now that they’re gone? Always be careful with religion. When grieving over suicide, religion and spirituality can be a very tricky topic to discuss. Especially since most religions state that committing suicide is a sin.

Time heals everything

This dismisses their feelings right now. When you’re grieving, it’s hard to see the end point of grieving. I’ve been grieving for 14 years and every year it still feels fresh. How long does one have to wait to accept a suicide or finally get over it?

New one: You have to be strong for your child

I dislike when someone tells me I have to be strong for my family or for my son, simply because it dismisses me as a person. Why can’t I just have this moment to be weak and vulnerable? Why does society place the pressure of being stoic and strong? Why can’t we have a moment of weakness? Also, this is usually accompanied with the phrase “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Which is even more annoying, tbh.

WEAR THE DAMN BIKINI

Most of the time, I hate exposing myself. Most of the time, I’m not comfortable in my body. All of the time, I’m worried about how I look. And damn, is it exhausting.

I used to spend no less than 3 hours at the gym before. I’d do cardio. I’d lift weights. I’d work my core till I could barely stand up. I measured my worth by how small my waist was, and whether or not I could fit myself into a size 2 pair of jeans. The number on the scale determined the amount of calories I ate for the week, and I’d say “it’s just water weight” and cut back on water to satisfy myself with how heavy I “really” was. I ran marathon races because running was the fastest way to drop unnecessary pounds around my gut, and I lifted weights because it was socially acceptable to diet if you were a lifter.

Why is that? Why is pushing ourselves to challenging diets okay only if we’re working out? “FuElinG my b0dY f0r hEaLth.” When does it become an eating disorder? Where do you draw the line? I used to purge when I was barely a pound over the weight I wanted to be. Everyone applauded me for being so disciplined with my macros, and even then, I never felt good enough. Then I got pregnant with Maverick, and Lawd help me with what I thought (and still think) about my body now.

The extra skin that folds over when I sit down, when it used to be so tight. The extra cellulite on my legs when I’m not flexed. The extra love that is constricted by my high waisted jeans because I’m too embarrassed to admit I have a postpartum body. I gave birth to a human. My body was adored for growing this human, and now, I scorn at it when I pass by a mirror after I shower. My heart pounds when I step on the scale (especially this week since I gained +4 pounds). I suck in my stomach to feel smaller, even though no one sees beneath my extra large t-shirts.

So this past weekend, I decided to challenge myself. I wore the damn bikini and decided to try my hardest not thinking about my body and what I looked like. I tried my hardest to be present with who I was with, and I tried my hardest to feel good about myself in clothes that didn’t hide me. And honestly…

It felt fucking great. I ate great food. I didn’t hold back on treats. I drank merrily with my family. And even though I’m back in the mindset of wanting to get smaller (it’s a hard mindset to escape for very long), I’m happy I was able to enjoy my time.

Here’s to trying to overcome diet culture and self-loathing behaviors. Here’s to trying to have confidence in myself because I’m a damn good person, and none of that is measured by my waist line or my weight. Here’s to putting on the damn bikini and enjoying life, because my son doesn’t care what his momma looks like… he cares about her being present and engaged. So PUT ON THE DAMN BIKINI GIRL.

the one

I love life.

Or at least I used to.

I mean, I think I did.

When I think back to my childhood, it’s just mixed feelings of,

being smart and successful and helpful,

but all of that backed by feeling worthless and never good enough.

It didn’t matter how many awards I had, or what my grades were,

I’d always be second best, because there was always someone as number one.

And I wasn’t that one.

I am never number one. Hell, I’m never the one.

I’m the stepping stone so people can become their greatest potential,

all while I’m left in the rubble, piecing myself back together,

because I’m just never,

good enough.

My childhood troubles and why today is so important

May 7 is Keiki (Children) Mental Health Awareness Day.

I was thinking about my childhood and how much my friendships had affected me. Honestly, I didn’t hold too many friendships in high school. Not very strong ones at least. There are only a few people I still talk to today from high school, and I could name them on one hand. These ladies know me like we just met in 7th grade yesterday. Outside of that circle, everyone knows my life from what they read on social media, which isn’t too much.

I was actually bullied in high school when I moved to Japan. My junior year wasn’t bad, but when it got to my senior year, it was really bad for me. I remember when I was on myspace one day, I saw a song on someone’s page. I listened to it, and it was a rap that three boys had made… it was about me. I knew it was about me because they spelled my name backwards in the song, and told me to tell my boyfriend at the time to go back to Hawaii. It was a diss rap and honestly, it was really hard to fathom that someone would take the time to record it.

I was really distraught after that. I remember my dad being so mad for me, and we brought it up to their parents because of the status one of the boy’s dad held on post. I remember being shoved around in the hallway for no reason. I remember getting thrown into a bush on my way to the library. I remember eating alone in the library because I had lost my friends to those bullies. They had all known each other for so long, why would they leave their side for me? I was a loner my senior year, and I tried to say I was okay because I had my boyfriend… in Hawaii…

I remember that year, I stopped eating. I’d tell my mom I had eaten when I was cooking so I wouldn’t have to eat dinner. When they’d all go to sleep, I’d throw up what I ate. When I couldn’t stand the hunger anymore, I’d eat Honeycombs cereal because they were empty calories that were easy to vomit. I remember taking solo trips to Shibuja and Shinjuku just to feel surrounded by other lonely people.

I don’t have a lot of memories of my senior year except sad ones. I lost my best friend to suicide (OD), and that’s when a majority of the bullying had picked up. I wanted to kill myself. I don’t think my parents really knew the extent of my sadness and depression then. I started smoking and drinking. I didn’t care for myself anymore. It didn’t get any better when I moved to Seattle to start my young adult life. If anything, it had gotten worse. I started hanging with the wrong people. I started smoking and drinking more, and eventually started smoking pot.

Anything felt better than what I was doing. I was promiscuous. I’m not going to lie and say that I was an angel. My life was in shambles, and I didn’t feel worthy of anything. I didn’t feel worthy of love. I didn’t feel worthy of trusting relationships. I stayed the night at one of my auntie’s house, who was at the time, married to my childhood molester. He tried again when I was there… He had my photos up on his big screen TV and was looking at my photos. He said I could use his tablet but when I opened it up, it was Teen porno. That’s when I tried to kill myself again, because what was my worth?

My childhood is nothing too good to think about… It’s hard to notice the positivity in my childhood when the trauma is so strong. I guess my biggest point of this post, is to be kind to those who you don’t know much about. You never know what people are going through, and if you are the person to make their life worse, you never know how far off the edge they really are. I know there are positives in my life that I appreciate. After saying all this, I have to tell everyone that I am grateful for what I had in

One of the people who used to bully me, apologized to me last month when I lost my shit on Instagram. It was nice closure to a hard chapter in my life, but still, the scars still carry.

So be kind, to anyone and everyone. No matter how annoying, no matter how loud and oboxious, no matter how rude… Because you never know what is causing them to be that way…