And Away We Go!

Hello world.

A new day.  A new doctor.  A new blog.

This blog has been created as part of my "recovery process" and was suggested by my brand spanking new therapist.  Not that the therapist spanks.  This isn't 50 Shades of Therapy here...

Where to begin?  Well, let's see.  I am a thirty year old stay at home mother of 2, married to the Hubbin' for 8 years and several different varieties of loony.  I have OCD, and not the "ZOMG I am like, *tewtally* OCD and shiz you guys, LULZ!!!!" kind of OCD but the like, go to docs and take meds for it kind.  I have numerous little quirks that fall under this category, but for starters, I will share that one of my biggest is that I cannot stand to get my hands wet.  No idea why, but I hate it and you can't make me do it.  *pouts*  Even watching other people wash their hands sends my blood pressure soaring and I start shoving things between my fingers to redirect the stress.

What else.  Hmm.  Well, I have run the gauntlet of diagnoses in my life.  The OCD, severe depression, severe anxiety, post traumatic stress disorder, panic attacks, night terrors, and it has been rumored by one doctor that I am bi polar.  I really put stock into that during a particularly bad year during which the diagnosis was delivered but since then, other doctors have digressed.  Personally, I don't think I am.  I think I was in and out of a lot of near breakdowns that were misjudged as manic episodes. We will see how that pans out, I suppose.

So as you can see, I am a veritable whose who of the psychiatric world.  Holla at me, Freud!  I have tried numerous therapists over the last fifteen years or so and lord save me, I have the worst luck with them.  One, when I had detailed slipping back into the dangerous throws of an eating disorder decided to give me actual tips on how to vomit more efficiently.  True story.  Another, upon being informed of an event of sexual assault informed me that she had been raped and I spent the next 45 minutes counseling her.  When I asked her about this at the end of our session, she explained she considered me a peer.  Erm.  Okay.  Does that mean you have to pay me back the 75 bucks an hour???  No?  Okay.  Here's your check.

Today I met with my new therapist whom I sought out after finding myself terribly down as of late.  Like, loooooooooooow.  I enjoy Doc, as I shall call her for now.  Not sure that she is technically a doctor, instead an actual therapist, but in my head, she is Doc and it's my blog, so *sticks out tongue*.  I didn't have to counsel her on her 12 year stint as a prostitute in Vegas (Also true story from my last counselor...) nor did I have to cancel the appointment after she decided that she needed more time to prep for her book tour (Also happened.).  Needless to say, while I am cautious about the idea of a successful therapist relationship, I am not going to lie, I think I may be onto something with this one.

And so, on her order, I have created this blog, Chasing Pineapple.  As I like to write, and fancy myself a delightful pretend writer, she suggested using this happy place of mine as a therapeutic tool.  I am actually jazzed about the idea, to be honest.  Mostly because I will use any excuse to jabber on.  And on.  And, well.  Uh.  On...

I am not sure what things you will find to read here.  Some may be funny, some may be sad.  It is an interesting experiment on my part for sure.  I am optimistic with it's usefulness!

I hope this blog finds you all well.  All *none* of you that will read this as I am not advertising it anywhere, but in case someone has stumbled onto this little island of me, I will wish you a good day and pass you a smile for taking the time to read my ramblings.

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and Pineapples