Author: emyd

I Brought Home a Puppy to be my Emotional Support

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Let’s make sure that my words mean more than my actions for this one. If you all start coming home with a bunch of 8 week old puppies at the ripe young age of 19, your parents are going to have a biiiiiig problem with you reading EmyD Blog. I also can’t be a hypocrite, though, because that’s exactly what I did. 

I’ve talked a lot about my depression. 2014, 2016, and maybe even 2018 are definitely competing for the title “Worst Year of my Life.” I followed all of those Daily Dose of Puppy accounts on Instagram. My family has a dog, Cooper, who is a sweet baby. But, I couldn’t get the thought out of my head that if I had my own dog, my depression couldn’t possibly continue.

Let’s keep in mind that I was 19 years old. Although I was working to keep myself alive, my parents also had a hand in that process. I was living at their house after my panic disorder made me want to start commuting. So,they’d have to be okay with a new, furry roomie. My dad was not having it. If you know me, you know that eventually I convinced him, but there’s still a running joke that he’s not quite okay with the dog. 

When Heather, an old classmate, said that her dogs were accidentally having a litter of teddy bear puppies, I couldn’t stop going back to the post. I mean, I couldn’t get a puppy. I was 19 years old. I found myself messaging Heather and asking all about the little babies: when they would be ready for new homes, about their breed, and about Heather’s dogs who had accidentally just had like 8 little polar-bear looking puppies. I started to think it might be a possibility. Heather and her family had a lot of people interested in the puppies – and wanted to find the homes that would love these little babies as much as they already did. I think my slight obsession with one of the little girls was enough proof that I would give her the best life and the best home. 

The hurdle of trying to convince my parents that this would be a good thing was a big one. But, when he met her, I could see my dad was slowly but surely on my side. Her little 3 week old body was tiny, but I was already all in for being her dog mom. 

At 8 weeks old, I brought home alittle white ball of fluff. She was 2 pounds that fit right in my hands. I decided to name her Nala after The Lion King, a Broadway show I would always share with my grandma. I loved my boyfriend, I loved my family, and I loved my friends. Loving Nala, though, was different. It was like this little life depended on me and no matter how many times I fucked up, she would love me just the same. 

I got Nala certified to be an Emotional Support Animal (ESA) so that she could live with us in our college apartment. I had depression and anxiety that I was being treated for. My therapist even thought that an ESA would be beneficial to me. Though I didn’t really understand how much I would need her until my whole world came crashing down around me. 

I hit rock bottom around the time that my 2 year relationship ended. Before that, I was struggling with depression. However, there’s something about begging for someone’s respect, time, and decency that just plummets you into the lowest of the lows. Looking back, I still don’t recognize the person I was at that time. Nala, however, was one of the only things that brought me comfort. The love coming out of that little tiny body was completely objective, undenying, and unending no matter where the demons in my brain had lowered me to that day.

Unlike with humans, your relationship with animals doesn’t need to be fostered. Once you have their trust and love, it’s pretty hard to lose it. In that time, I probably wasn’t the dog mom that she deserved – I wasn’t playing ball in the backyard with her, I wasn’t jumping out of bed to take her on a couple walks a day, and I wasn’t teaching her new things… But, she loved me just the same. I woke up with her at my feet every day. If anything, she depended on me for the basics of living, so I couldn’t get too out of hand.

Many dogs don’t need to learn skills like what to do if their owner is having a panic attack, but Nala knows. If she hears hyperventilating or even quiet sobbing, she’ll sit right in your lap. Nose to your nose, she’ll let her presence be known. 98% of the time I would describe her as a spazz – full of energy that I’ve seen since she was 8 weeks old. When I’m having those panicked moments though, she is so calm and gentle. It’s like she knows that all I need is her presence. 

It all sounds so magical and amazing right now. Nala truly was the best decision that I made. I thank my lucky stars every day that I could a) bring my parents to the dark side with me and b) a Facebook friend having a litter of puppies that included my little baby. That doesn’t change the fact that having an animal is a huge commitment and when you’re struggling mentally, you’re usually not ready to take on that commitment. Nala’s breed is really anxious. When it comes to Nala, my family dog, Cooper, eases her anxiety. As I got my mental health under control, said goodbye to somewhat regular panic attacks, and moved out of the house, I made the tough decision to let Nala stay at home with my parents and brother. 

Honestly, it is something that gives me anxiety. It makes me feel like I failed or like I’m not taking responsibility. Weighing the pros and cons, though, Nala needs the schedule of my parent’s 9 to 5. She needs a big backyard and a house to lounge in, not an apartment surrounded by zero grass in a big city. Nala needs Cooper just like he needs her. So, for the time being, Nala will stay where she’s most comfortable. I will never forget how she got me through the worst moments of my life, purely by being there.

What do YOU use for emotional support? Let me know in my DMs on IG, Twitter, or Facebook (@EmyDBlog) or email me at emydblog@gmail.com today! I’d love to hear your story! 

I Got Laid Off Due to COVID-19

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I’m doing my absolute best to remain calm. We’ve seen before that I’m not good at dealing with A) change, B) financial insecurity, or C) anxiety. So, this is a trying time for me. I’m trying to remind myself that I’m with my family and, if I do get sick, I have them. I’m trying to remind myself that my parents have already offered to help me out with my bills through the end of my lease; if it came to that, of course.

Life’s little St. Patrick’s Day gift to me and my coworkers was the restaurant most of us have called home for 30+ hours a week to-go food only. No dine-in guests means no servers and no tips. . Plainly put, the restaurant doesn’t need us right now. As of March 17th, I have been laid off from my job. I’ll have one more paycheck before I no longer have an income.

For all intents and purposes, I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m trying to remind myself that I’m with my family and, if I do get sick, I have them. I’m trying to remind myself that my parents have already offered to help me out with my bills through the end of my lease; if it comes to that, of course. Sure, I’ll be in a financially uncomfy spot for a while. I also might go a little loco inside my childhood home for the foreseeable future. However, I don’t have a family to support. I don’t have a mortgage. I don’t have to provide food for anyone. I don’t have crazy loans… well, hold up, I do actually. But, they’re from school,  which means they can be postponed in situations like this.

Am I scared? Fuck yes. Am I nervous about what my life is going to look like in a month? Absolutely. Am I getting more and more anxious about this as information is released? For sure. I have not, however, had an anxiety attack. Every time I feel it coming on, I remind myself that I’m blessed for the position that I’m in. Though I’m absolutely allowed to feel nervous and validated in my fear, there are others who have less resources and less support.

I work with people whose entire livelihood is dependent on the business of the restaurant. They work at 3 jobs, all of which have been closed due to the spread of this terrible virus. Missing even one paycheck is going to be detrimental to their entire family. I have the option to apply for unemployment. For one reason or another, not everyone does. I have two parents who have a lot of job security right now that can offer me my old room back. They want me to temporarily move in and depend on them until all of this passes. They have the ability to help me with bills as I start to chip away at the money I’ve saved. Moral of the story: I’m okay. Others are not. Others need as much help and resources as they possibly can get.

COVID-19 is truly scaring the shit out of me. In the last 36 hours, our cases have doubled in Wisconsin. No, I’m not scared of getting sick because as the media says, I would probably be fine as a young, decently-healthy person. I have had a gnarly cough for about a month that feels exactly like the bronchitis I had at this time last year, so I know my lungs are feeling a little tired. Even after that, I’m still not scared of getting the virus. I’m scared for my mom, who has been working tirelessly to keep an assisted living facility on lockdown. I’m scared for my grandma and uncle who are extremely immunocompromised. I’m scared for my friends that take medications every day, which might make them an easier target for all of this.

As it has with the majority of victims, the infection will pass. The thing that keeps me up at night is life just grinding to a halt because no one really knows what to do. The panic that everyone is exhibiting is what goes on inside an anxious person’s mind at a majority of times. Usually, though, we can watch normal life occurring around us and use coping mechanisms to calm ourselves down. In this space, there’s no reassurance from the outside. Everyone is just as scared as you are. No one knows what to do just like you don’t really know what to do. It makes me nervous that American’s panic is not being met with secure plans of action or support for those out of a job. American’s don’t even have the privilege of believing their executive branch because it’s stance goes from “not a real threat” to “always knew it was going to be dangerous” in just a matter of days.

Panic comes from fear. There’s not a lot of things that are strong enough to fight that force besides kindness, patience, and empathy. This is not the time to point fingers at people across the world who are experiencing loss and uncertainty at rates even higher than we are. This is not the time to stimulate the bank accounts of people with millions of dollars, but the time to ensure that working class Americans don’t lose their homes or starve to death. This is not the time for a “every man for himself” mentality, but for us to help those in our community with any resources we might have a surplus of – even if that surplus is just positivity in the face of so much chaos.

So, yes. I was one of the thousands of Americans that was laid off from their job as coronavirus rages through each state. I’m one of the thousands that’s looking to our leaders for support, whether it be financial, information, or physical.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. My absolute favorite line in The Lion King is “I know that the clouds will clear and that the sun will shine.” This will pass. It may not seem like it now. It might get much, much worse before it gets any better. Until then, reach out to your loved ones, read a book, do a puzzle, listen to my podcast, learn a new language, play a video game. If the government urging you to do so isn’t enough, stay home because it keeps people that are at larger risk of dying from this disease safe from transmission that you may or may not be feeling. If that’s not enough, stay home because it sets an example for those around you that you give a fuck about this. And if that’s not enough…. Stay home because it might allow people like me and my coworkers to get back to work faster.

Keep up with my social distancing on all forms of social media (@EmyDBlog on Insta, Twitter, and Facebook). If you’re feeling overwhelmed by all of this, please don’t hesitate to reach out! If you want to chat with me via email, you can do so at emydsaliby@gmail.com.

Your Mental Illness Does Not Need a “Cause” to be Valid

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I’m annoyed…pissed off even. Usually, that means that I wouldn’t blog and I would just write a really long journal entry and call it a day. But, I’m not happy with how much I’ve been blogging lately, so maybe this will make it a little more real for you all.

I spend a lot of time online. Can’t you tell? I’m trying to start a damn business for God’s sake and it seems like the big way to do that is through social media. For a while, I was following a bunch of people just to get follows back, but also just see what the online community I was getting into was all about. On EmyD especially, though, I’ve been really quick to unfollow people who aren’t aligning with how I feel about mental health, acceptance, and being an ally.

So, that being said, let’s jump right into it. I’ve been reading a lot of posts about people blaming their current mental illness on a family member, ex, or toxic friend. Today, I felt my hands clench when I read that phrase “my ex caused my anxiety”. Or, I recently read “my best friend gave me depression”. I mean, the foundation of your mental illness is for your own analysis… so, maybe that is how you feel. It’s definitely possible that you never felt the symptoms of anxiety, depression, or other mental health problems until some negative person triggered them. But, let’s get something straight here. Mental illnesses are not gifts that you just hand out. It’s not weight that you can just gain and lose as the wind blows. You have anxiety because you have anxiety. Your ex might have put you through some traumatic events that now trigger those attacks – but you have anxiety because your brain chemistry. Believe me, I want to blame my fucking ex for my mental health issues too, but I can’t because he isn’t to blame… my brain is. Your best friend might have made you really sad, said some shit, even bullied the fuck out of you… but she did not give you depression like the common cold. You have depression because your brain is not producing enough serotonin.

It’s really easy to want to blame someone else for your mental health struggles. When you can put a face to it, hate someone for it, and just curse at someone rather than the intangible thing that is the universe, it feels a little bit easier. Sometimes, those people were literally devil’s spawn too. They did everything they could to make your mental health worse. I get it. That dialogue, though, is really dangerous. There is a difference between someone being a trigger/detriment to your mental health and blamed for its creation and continuation.

How can this be dangerous, you ask? Well, its true that some people did get put through some trauma at the hands of family, friends, or other loved ones that led them to mental illness down the line – that’s just a fact. But, for those going through that, it makes it really confusing as to why their illness isn’t getting better even if those people are out of their life. If you have a platform and constantly say that your mental illness falls into the hands of someone else, it encourages everyone else to try and find that as well; rather than holding it close, seeking out help for yourself, and loving yourself through the flaws.

I have had anxiety for literally all of my life. I wasn’t diagnosed with it until I was 16 years old, but I can look back and realize that there were moments during swim or school that I was absolutely going through an anxiety attack. At the moment, I couldn’t put those feelings into words. In those times, mental illness wasn’t as talked about and I was pretty young to be able to see that within me. But, after struggling with it for years, I can recognize moments that I absolutely had anxiety/depression in middle school or early high school. I was diagnosed with panic disorder as well – which is something I grew into as I struggled to internalize my mental illness. I am one of the ones that read those posts and was just defeated.

Clearly, that dialogue pisses me off now, but for a while, it really got to me. I had an amazing childhood. I know that I’m one of the ones that was blessed to never have experienced serious trauma or abuse that I could name as the foundation for my mental illness – so dialogue like that made me feel really invalidated. I wanted to blame someone, anyone. I tried to blame bad friends and my ex for mental health, but none those people caused the chemical imbalances in my brain. Sure, they weren’t beneficial for my recovery, but they didn’t give me this illness. There were even moments when I told my ex he was the reason for my depression/panic disorder. If you’ve kept up with this blog at all you know that he absolutely did not help those things, he did put me through some trauma, but it was completely unfair of me to say that – no matter how shitty of a person he was toward me. In those moments, it gave me an out to not have to deal with my mental illness. As long as I was thinking about him, I could push the blame onto him rather than taking responsibility for not doing all the things I had learned in therapy & not being true to myself.

And this is not me blaming the victim!! This is not me saying if you’re getting the shit kicked out of you that you’re not allowed to feel depressed. No, absolutely not. This is me saying that people on these platforms need to be talking about the wins and losses even after the triggers go away. Validating the entire process – because mental health is just as valid when the triggers are staring you in the face as when you can’t even identify what your triggers are.

For so long, I’ve been on this journey just trying to get people to understand that anxiety and depression is not something I wake up and choose to have. Even more important, we’re all on a journey that no one can replicate, match, or really understand every aspect of. So, if you’re still in the part of your journey where there’s resentment and anger in your heart because you have a mental illness & it’s easier to blame someone – I get that. I totally was there, but it wasn’t a healthy place to be advocating from on a platform. But, we’re in a world in which some people still don’t understand that people can’t just wake up and not feel anxious. Some people don’t understand that I can’t just roll out of bed and not feel depressed – so creating a narrative that mental illness comes and goes as easy as the douchey guys and bitchy girls from your 20s does nothing to validate this community.

Here’s my point: Share your story and normalize mental health always. But, if you’re going to get online and preach about to a lot of followers about positive thinking , keeping it real, and being an ally…. you have to be willing to take hold of mental health by the horns (yours, mine, everyone around you). Be the Hercules, in that situation. There’s no right or wrong way to do this. We’re all fucking up all of the time – I promise.

Biggest thing is that as someone with a mental illness, I have the ability to relate to someone. That experience can either be a positive or a negative one. I control that with what I write online, what I post, and even what I repost. Is my content always positive? No. Do I make mistakes and have areas where I need growth? Of course. But, if someone is going to relate to me because of diagnoses that they share with me, I want it to be because they see someone who’s struggled just as much as they have/are and who’s constantly working to get better. I want them to see someone who doesn’t really have any trauma or abuse to pin my mental illnesses on and felt invalidated for a while, but finally found footing in this community. I want them to relate to me because I am taking my anxiety, depression, and panic disorder in my own hands – as a part of who I am, but not something that defines me. You feel me?

So, watch what your posting. Think of the angry little girls that are reading it and might be getting the wrong idea. Spread love and positivity. Most importantly, be your unapologetic self and the internet (and world) will reward you for it. THAT’S my rant of the day. I feel better.

Thanks for all the love! Comments, questions, concerns? Hit me up on any of my socials @emydblog for Insta, Twitter, and FB. Or, you can email me (emydsaliby@gmail.com) to chat as well – I’d love to connect with you!

A Month Dedicated to Women

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I don’t know if you guys have gotten the memo yet, but there are a lot of really strong women in my life. I mean, I wouldn’t be this bad of a bitch if there wasn’t!!

This year, I spent most of International Women’s Day at work or napping my long shifts after work. But, I just love that day so damn much. Part of the reason why I chose my major, Political Science, was that it’s particularly dominated by men and that didn’t really sit right with me. I wanted to be part of a wave of a generation that changes the tides. I wanted Women’s Rights to become a top priority, income inequality to become a thing of the past, and reproductive rights to finally be given as the human right. I haven’t gotten overly political on this blog (yet!), but the time is coming folks!

Now, getting a B.A. in Political Science as a woman does not suddenly make me the feminist that everyone should strive to be. Absolutely not. Acknowledging a problem from the safety of a classroom or behind the screen of your Twitter does nothing. What am I actually doing to change the tides for women in politics?

I’ve grown up hearing about some pretty badass ladies. Sacajawea, Rosa Parks, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Malala, Eleanor Roosevelt, Frida Kahlo, Michelle Obama and so many more cultural, social, and political icons. These women changed the tides. These women woke up in the morning with a fire in their bellies to change something – so they did. They used their art, words, sports, education, or body to stand up to show the world a women that it previously had not seen. Here’s why a month of celebrating the women of the world is such a kicker for me: there was nothing that marked these women as “different” as they were born. As infants, they were not suddenly destined to change the world, they made it their purpose.

I know that sounds a little ridiculous. Getting up every day and saying that you’re going to change the world, right? We have to remember though, that it probably wasn’t their lifelong goal either. Rather, they saw something that they didn’t like. They saw someone being treated poorly. They saw injustice. Instead of watching, throwing their arms up, and assuming that they had no role in the change, they took charge.

You guys know that I haven’t always felt that way, nor have I wanted anything good to come out of my life. For a long time, I truly didn’t really care what happened around me. That’s just an honest and brutal truth of crippling depression.

So, International Women’s Day is about all that came before me. But, it’s also about all the ridiculously strong women that I know, love, and constantly surrounded by.

To my best friends, whose hearts are so open and loving for everyone around them. Most of them having gone through some serious shit, but still dealing with life with such grace and beauty. All of which with such a serious fire for their unique passions including nursing, writing, fashion, education, family, and so much more.

To the women of my family, who have taught me how to navigate this sometimes cruel world. They have picked me up after the nastiest of falls, dried my tears, and kept me going when all I wanted to do was fall. Not only me, but everyone in their lives. They have changed the lives of everyone around them simply for being in them.

And especially, to my mom. Who has made the life that I’m currently setting out to live possible? She is a woman that taught me never to be ashamed of my own voice, education, or body. At the end of the day, it’s her that I turn to when I don’t know what the proper dose of medicine is, or I don’t know how to handle professional situations. She is my biggest fan (I mean, my dad too but it’s about the women today) and I truly wouldn’t be here without her.

Lastly, to me. When everything in life seemed to be crashing down, you still did it. When those little thoughts told you that it would be better to just be done, you still did it. You graduated Magna Cum Laude with two Bachelor’s degrees, one of which in a field that doesn’t have a clear path for women. You’ve been published and paid for what you’ve written. People love your photos and you’ve captured so many memories to cherish for a lifetime. You’ve spoken in front of thousands of people. You’ve been a part of protests. You’ve worked your ass off. You have the world at your finger tips. Maybe you don’t feel an unbelievable surge to like go and end world hunger every time you get up in the morning, but for the first time, you’re doing something that actually matters. You did it.

I follow in the footsteps of those before me and those around me in the best ways I know how. With so much love in my heart for life, people, and this Earth. I walk forward with this urge to change something. Change someone. Not so that I can be one of the women you study, but so that I know that I fulfilled my purpose on this Earth.

On International Women’s Day, and everyday, I’m fucking proud to be a strong, independent, badass woman!

Girls Gotta Stick Together

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I don’t know if you guys get this vibe from me, but I’m definitely one of those girls that’s let the phrase “it’s so hard to get along with girls,” come out of my mouth. You know the type. My best guy friend when I graduated high school was a dude (shoutout to MC).

Don’t get me wrong, I’m dramatic. Like I’m the definition of the word. BUT, I always found it easier to get along with guys than I did girls, again you know the type. Growing up, I was closest in age to all my boy cousins – so I always wanted to fit in with them at family events. I wanted to joke around, like get all gross, and play a really rousing game of kick soccer balls as hard as we could at each other. It was fun at the time.

Lynds, Syd, and I are definitely queens in our own right, but you can see how the cousins are a little male dominated.

In middle school, I had my first super close group of all girl friends. We were all really involved in our sports, some of us were in theater, we had the cheerleader. But most of all, in that phase of our life that everyone was supposed to be like wearing the darkest shades of lipstick they could find to attract all the 6th grade boys – we were much more concerned with having fun in our little group. We went to different high schools, grew into different people, and were never nearly as close as those formative middle school years, but damn if those girls didn’t set the standard for the kind of girls I want in my life.

Keep in mind, again, that I’m dramatic. Okay? We’re all on the same page there? Cool. I was on the girls swim team and in a lot of theater. It was definitely the environment I was in and a terribly depleting self confidence level, but I kind of started to see girls as constant competition. Like, there was always something better about the girls around me. I mean, in swim, it came down to literal times… numbers on a clock. So essentially, everyone that wasn’t in your lane was someone you wanted to touch faster than. For theatre, everyone that auditioned was someone that could get the role or the spot over you. You just had to be better.

I don’t necessarily think that that mindset is isolated to young women. Young men are in constant competition to be the best in those formative years too. Regardless, it’s a fucking exhausting mindset to be in and it’s a truly a never ending race.

It’s hard to unlearn that behavior when you’ve been doing it for so long. But, right now, think of the coolest person that you possibly can. You don’t have to have met them. In your head, you probably imagined someone who’s able to relate and get along with everyone, right? The coolest people around aren’t the one’s that are mean to everyone or constantly at people’s throats. They’re the ones with genuine hearts that shine threw when you desperately need them.

I say this a little bit in a podcast about toxicity in one’s life (which you can find here: https://open.spotify.com/episode/6lTH6P96KvyRNyVgTqDIqW?si=lzAd0x8rStWNaqgo1b9AhA) You’re not going to get along with everyone. There are going to be coaches, coworkers, and bosses that you really don’t like. Part of growing up and showing maturity, though, is being able to communicate with those people in a civil way. Especially for women. We’re already at odds in the workplace and society – showing respect for everyone is just one way that you can be an ally!

Also, this is not to be confused with the fact that you should just stfu and not speak your truth. Civil disobedience has made some serious changes to this world. There’s a difference, though, between speaking up for your injustices or for the voices that aren’t always heard, and trying to stifle out a voice.

I got the international women’s sign behind my ear as my fourth tattoo because I wanted another tattoo. I wanted something behind my ear. I was feeling like a strong ass woman. Truthfully, I forget that it’s there, but it’s moment when I’m standing up for women, spreading my arms, or giving love to those who need it that I know I made the right decision.

My ex’s ex recently came to me apologizing if she had overstepped for sharing a story about her experience with him. Someone had pointed out similarities and said she was “copying” me. Nah, she just also had the unfortunate chapter that involved the same narcissistic abuser. I’m not the first to feel that way, nor am I going to be the last. Sharing my experience does not mean that hers didn’t happen! It got me thinking about how quick people are to pin women against each other. Online, in person, whatever.

We know that some of the most powerful moments are those that we support one another. A strong woman can change the tides, but a strong woman and her army??? DAMN.

As I’ve grown up, I still find it really easy to get along with guys. Now, however, I have a fierce urge to stand up for, connect with, and love the women around me as well. I have been on this earth for 22 years dealing with just some of the bullshit that women have to go through – having each other as allies just makes this world a better place. So, yeah, that phrase that the nicest person you’ll ever meet is the drunk girl in the bathroom is totally true. What if we didn’t live in a world where alcohol was needed to break down those barriers? What if showing sincere affection and compassion for others was what was ingrained, rather than hypothetical competition? Just food for thought.

Find a crowd that makes you feel good & that cherishes you for being unapologetically you. Ladies, I can promise you that there’s nothing better than walking into the function with some of your best friends, looking great, and knowing that you all have each other’s backs.

Who’s your girl group? Who makes you feel like a badass bitch? I wanna hear about it! Let’s celebrate womanhood!! Slide into my DMs on Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook. Or, email me at emydsaliby@gmail.com to chat with me today.

Let’s Talk Migraines!

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First of all, any of you that are about to say “migraines are just really bad headaches…” I’m gonna need you to exit stage left. This blog’s is not for you. I could rant and ramble through all the facts on why that’s wrong and I won’t change your mind. But, if you’ve ever had a migraine before, witnessed someone with a migraine, felt chronic pain, or feel empathy for others this one is for you, my little angels.

I didn’t start getting migraines until senior year of high school. I thought I did because I’ve always been really sensitive to light and sound. I got a LOT of headaches because I was swimming so lots of long days in chemical filled rooms with loud starts and yelling. When I wasn’t doing that, I was on a stage with bright lights, loud music, and microphones. Genuinely, I don’t remember a time that I wasn’t getting headaches at least a couple of times a week, but ibuprofen could usually knock those guys out.

I know you guys live for my throwback pictures, so don’t say I never gave you anything.
Two in a row!! I must be feeling some kind of way

So, I thought a bad headache was a migraine when I was like 16. It was my head and it hurt. What’s the difference, ya know? DUDE. I got my first migraine in the winter of my senior year. I had just finished a dance camp for show choir where we do like day long camps to perfect the show. It’s long, grueling, and kind of stressful because you know you have to compete in like two weeks.

I’m not sure if it was lack of water, stress, the seasons changing, my depression, or a mixture of a million other things, but my head started to feel a little tight. Like, my neck and my shoulders felt like they were carrying a bowling ball and about to crack under the pressure. I tried to sleep it off and I could even move without sending shooting pains from the base of my head to my temple to right behind my eyes and all the way back around. The tiny little lights that showed that my phone was charging was like someone flashing a strobe in my face. It was kind of like I had super sonic hearing too, I felt like I could hear the neighbor down the street cough and it was being amplified right into my eardrum. This wasn’t like anything I’d ever experienced.

I’ve already kind of talked about pain in a blog. But, you body does everything it possibly can to get rid of the pain it feels. That’s why you feel fevers or your blood pressure spikes sometimes. It’s those little cells fighting off the ones that they don’t necessarily recognize or like. When I get migraines, my body usually tries to ward off the pain by making me really nauseous, giving me a fever, or making me light-headed.

If you’re someone who’s dealt with chronic pain or even like pain from a surgery or something, you know that ibuprofen can only do so much. It can only take so much of the edge off and it can only last for so long. After suffering for hours, I started to see these little spots in my vision. It was like I had starred into the sun. They were little gaps in my vision where there are bright spots – I later learned that people call those auras. I’m pretty familiar with those now.

My parents took me to the hospital when I genuinely couldn’t stop crying and every time I sobbed my head just sent a shooting pain around my head. I had my first ‘migraine cocktail” at 17 years old. It’s an IV mixture of Benadryl, anti-nausea, and another hardcore painkiller. It’s uncomfortable to say the absolute least… you have an IV in your inner arm and cold fluids coursing into you. It’s not amazing, but not having a migraine is worth it.

It’s been 5 years since my first migraine. I’ve gone through about 4 different kinds of medicine to try and get rid of them. I talked a little bit about this in a past blog, but I had issues like weight gain, irritability, and other really shitty side effects because of medications used to prevent migraines.

It’s scary when it’s your head too. You can get an Xray to look at the bones in your arm, but when it’s your head, it’s your brain. You can’t see it. You have to get in a big tube to diagnose it. It’s just always a little bit more scary.

Right now, I take about 100 mg of a drug called topirimate. It’s also been helpful when I was waking up in the middle of the night and eating a bunch of stuff. It’s been the most successful of everything that we’ve tried.

This is the most recent time that I’ve needed to get a migraine cocktail. Pardon my french, but it’s the fucking worst. Lately, I’ve been losing my vision in my left eye, sometimes in both. Which makes literally everything that I’m used to doing virtually impossible.

I don’t get them a lot anymore. Which means that the medicine is doing it’s job, thank god. But, as with any medication, there is some hiccups. I would say I get maybe one migraine a month. Which is far better than getting one to two a week as I was. When I do get them, my coworkers have been so helpful in getting shifts covered last minute and understanding that I’m pretty much a walking zombie.

It’s really hard to explain. It’s really hard to go through. But, as with anything on this blog, the sun will shine through tomorrow. It might be shitty now. It might be painful, confusing, and just annoying… but damnit, we will prevail, my little angels.

What do you want hear about next? What’s going on in your life that you might want to read about in a blog? Slide into my DMs on any socials or email me at emydsaliby@gmail.com to recommend a blog!

Pain Meds and an Addictive Personality

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I think I’ve kind of eluded to this on here and the podcast, but I have a really addictive personality. Not in a way that I have ever gotten caught up in serious substance abuse problems, thank god. But, I have seen my addictive personality come out in other ways as I’ve grown up.

I first started to feel a little bit of an addictive personality when it came to show choir – I know, I’m a nerd. Guys, I fucking loved that shit. I was actually really really good at it too.

I loved the rush of performing and putting a huge smile on my face, even when everything felt wrong in the world. It was like a high. My Junior year, I was named a dance captain and I felt this surge of energy go through my veins in getting validation that I was good at something other than school and swim. I’ve always been REALLY competitive. I get that endearing (and sometimes highly annoying) trait from my father. But, I was felt a little addicted to having a hand in the success of the group… and learning how to be a good leader through that overwhelming and obsessive feeling.

Now, I hold a manager position at my job and I’m not really like that. I’ve always considered myself a leader, but my addictive personality has found something else to kind of focus on throughout the years. I’ve gone through: boyfriends, food, and mental illness. It’s so important to be able to see those addictive personality traits in yourself so that when you are using something that could really be a trainwreck, like pain medication, you’re really careful.

So, I didn’t really realize the show choir thing was obsessive until I was more analytical about my mental illness recently. I just thought I was competitive and very possibly, I was just a combination of the two. One way I know I was addictive in a toxic way was with my last long term relationship.

Again, broken record over here, but you know some of the details of that relationship. Very bad. Abusive. Yadda yadda yadda. One of these days, I will take the time to write something out start to finish, but that require remembering everything and dealing with those emotions again in a new, healthy way…. so, for the purpose for this story, it was NOT a good situation. We were not together anymore, but we were very seriously talking. I was under the impression that we were working towards a relationship. He obviously was not considering he was talking to both his most recent ex and the ONE girl he promised was just his friend (who he’s now dating) but that’s irrelevant. Despite how shitty that relationship made me feel, how much I cried, and how much I lost myself in that process of trying to be with him, I was genuinely addicted to trying to get him to love me.

I would say and do just about anything for him to spend time with me or give me attention. Again, he didn’t make me feel good and the relationship wasn’t good. No one approved of us even spending time together after all the bridges he’d already burned, so why? I was just addicted. I was addicted to the idea of someone wanting me. I was addicted to the chase. I was addicted to the idea that I could get him back. Most of all, I was addicted to blaming myself, so I was always trying to right those wrongs… even if there really wasn’t any solutions to be had there.

I wasn’t addicted to our relationship. Truthfully, I don’t even think I really wanted it in the capacity that I once had it. I was addicted to filling the void. For example, people with nicotine addictions don’t like love that they are addicted to nicotine or want to constantly want a cig. What they want is that high, that feeling, that fills the void – even if it’s just until you light up the next one.

Like I said, I used food to fill that void too. Sometimes, I still do. But, there was a time that I was addicted to eating food – way too much food. Honestly, I’m typing this after a night of binging on Reese’s peanut butter cups… so I don’t know if I’m totally over that addiction. I know that it’s been much worse – where I would turn to it out of boredom, stress, happiness, and even just because. Now, its just a remaining issue with a poor relationship with food.

These days, I would say that I most struggle with an addiction to my mental illness. I know that that’s a little confusing when you’re just reading it, but let me explain. For so long, I’ve not been okay. I genuinely don’t remember a point in my life where I didn’t hate myself, my body, or my mind. I’m NOT saying that as an invitation to my pity party – just the opposite actually. Because I haven’t been okay for so long, I started to get a little addicted to my mental illness in a number of ways. I started to get addicted to stress because I was scared of depression and sleeping my days away again. Maybe it’s not always a bad thing in this chosen path, because it can help me fixate on one thought, feeling, or emotion until I’m able to blog or podcast about it. But, it’s always hard to then leave that in the past.

As I said before, I’ve never really had a substance abuse problem. I have had little benders when I would get way to drunk literally every single time I drank, but part of that was just being young, stupid, and depressed. I didn’t HAVE to have a drink in the morning to function or to spill my emotions to the first person that would listen. That doesn’t change the fact that I have to understand that my addictive personality COULD make that a very easily habit to pick up.

I recently got my wisdom teeth out. Yes, it is as bad as they say. No, I didn’t get dry sockets. But, it hurt like a bitch to put it lightly & they gave me hydrocodone to deal with the pain. In my defense, they gave me 8 pills and I could take them every six hours…. so I was supposed to be not writhing in pain after 48 hours? I call bullshit. They said the swelling wouldn’t even start until after then!! So, I wanted more hydrocodone that I could take before a super long shift…. and it got me worried… was I developing an addiction? Was I dependent on these drugs to feel normal? I mean, I had tried to go just to ibuprofen and I couldn’t get through my day…

It didn’t help that my dad kind of joked about the same thing when I came home to get some stronger pain medicine. “It can happen to anyone,” he had said. It was clear that he was kind of kidding, but also a little worried about pain management while being stressed, taking other prescription medications, and living alone.

If I would have sent this to my oral surgeon, do you think he would have refilled my prescription?

Listen, to say that I struggled with pain medication would be a lie. I didn’t. But, it really got me thinking about how having an addictive personality can be both tangible and intangible. You can see the side effects of withdrawal from medication that’s no longer pumping through your system or you can feel a withdrawal from not having a toxic relationship constantly in your life. You can take a pill or puff to get your fix, or you can stalk an Instagram or maybe even eat 10 portions over what’s recommended.

I wouldn’t even call myself an addict, but I would absolutely say that I have a very addictive personality that can absolutely bite me in the ass sometimes. Like always, knowing my mind and body is so powerful in this ongoing journey toward better health. If sharing in this realization can get your little brain motors moving, well I just might have done my job today.

What do you want to hear about next? Hit me up on any of my socials to suggest a blog that might better relate to YOU and YOUR LIFE! Follow, like, and comment for constant

My Take: March for Life

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I know that not all my followers are going to agree with me here. I know that not even all my friends agree with me. It’s controversial – I’m not really sure why sexuality or reproductive rights fall under that hush-hush category, but here we are.

My hot take: Abortion is health care.

Listen, I’m so for collective, social action. The people that are in office are working FOR us. Our votes got them into their seats and their votes should therefore reflect those Americans. I’m gonna say it, though, I think March for Life is grasping.

I read a lot of news through the explore page on Twitter. It pissed me off to see captions that read “We are the generation for life.” I think that you’d have to be a literal psychopath to not want happy, healthy life for Americans.

Before we move forward, I should just make sure that I say that I consider myself VERY much pro-choice. I absolutely don’t want more women to get abortions because the circumstances that lead them to make that decision are just awful. So, fighting for that right does not mean that I want more women to do it. What it means, is that the choices about my body, my future, and whether or not I’m ready for a family will be made by me. At risk of sounding a little cold, Karen from Montana’s choices about reproduction do not affect me at all….. so who the fuck am I to stop her from doing what she feels is right? So, pro-choice is just that. If abortion goes against your morals or your religion, don’t get one. If you know in your bones that it’s the right decision to make based on the circumstances that got you there, you should have that right.

March for Life isn’t even about life, though. I mean, that’s a generalization, but if you talk to anyone that is fiercely “pro-life” they’ll start arguing that there are other options. “You’re old enough to have sex, you should be old enough to deal with the consequences.” and “What about the adoption?” Those would be really valid arguments, if any government money was then being allocated to social programs to help children in need or the foster care system? You can’t force women to have children when they would have chosen abortion and call that a “solution”, when the problem is that the needs of the child can’t be met for the next 18 years.

So, “pro-life” shouldn’t even be what that side is called. It’s pro-birth. You don’t want increase tax money that can go to resources to help these mothers in need. You don’t give a fuck that the foster system is one of the most broken institutions in our country. You want a woman to carry a sack of cells to full term just for the purpose of birth. I will add, the woman’s life is also a life, right? Or, does it only count as a life when it’s in someone’s uterus? If you’re going to state that you’re fighting for life, it’s gotta be for all lives involved!

I will clarify for some people who are ready to tear me apart in a comment or tweet. A) This is my singular opinion. It’s a personal blog. Chill. B) Of course, life has context that should be considered! Like do I think that they should allow a woman to get an abortion at 39 weeks pregnant? No. Like all rights and freedoms that we have in this country, there is reasonable and rational guidelines. For example, you have all the free speech you want until you start saying racial slurs in a mall, then your ass is going to jail.

The most important decorations at the bar! Planned Parenthood has a ton of cool mass mobilization initiatives & ways to get involved @PPact on Twitter!

I’m not even going to get into the broken record that is “What about women who are raped or victims of incest?” In my mind, all reasonable people are empathetic enough to understand that a woman should not be forced into motherhood as she was forced into a sexual encounter. So, I’m not even going to use that argument to backup my argument.

What I will say, is that 77% of Americans do NOT want to overturn Roe v. Wade, according to NPR and PBSNews. That’s a pretty hefty majority. So yes, there are thousands of people at this march – but there have been millions of people who’ve marched for women’s rights since the 1920s’. Honestly, I know that I’m on the right side of history here, but there was, at one point, a group of people that thought women voting was morally wrong as well. That is definitely comparing apples to oranges, but historical context – wins and losses from both sides – are so important in making these policy changes.

Overturning Roe v. Wade might make you sleep better at night or that a group is a bunch of murderers. It doesn’t stop abortions though. It opens the flood gates of unsafe, unclean, or at-home abortions that woman will see as a last resort. Which puts the life of the mother in danger and still terminates a pregnancy like this movement doesn’t want? I guess, I’m just confused…

If you don’t believe in abortions, don’t get one. If you think that pre-marital sex is a sin, don’t have it. If you believe that a sack of cells is considered a baby, more fucking power to you. But, just no one should be forced to get an abortion by their government, no one should be forced to be a mother either.

Slowly but Surely, You’re On Your Way

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The last month or so has been utter chaos. Some days, I’ve been thriving in it. Others, all I’ve wanted to do is shut down. No one likes that icky feeling of having too much to do and not enough time to do it. In moments when time does not seem to be on my side, I think of what my used to say when I was pressuring her about getting me to school faster in the busy morning hours of middle and high school.

Imagine this 8th grade face trying to hustle you drive them to school every morning. God bless my mother, for real. She’s a saint.

“Emily, the car is currently moving forward. I’m in the process of getting you there. I can only go the speed limit & I have to stop at all the stop signs. You will get there. I promise.”

In those moments, it pissed me off. Usually being late was my fault because I still sleep to the last possible minute of time. Honestly, that’s still why I’m late to this day. About ten years later, though, my mom’s words mean something a little different.

Time isn’t always on our side. Sometimes, we’re expected to do 100000000 things in time that doesn’t even seem like enough to breathe or think. It happens in our workplace, at home, and at school. When you have a hard time saying no, this problem only gets worse. Not only do you have all the responsibilities that come with just being you, but then you’ve added on some new ones that you resentfully said yes to completing.

Lately, I’ve been trying to get used to a new place and new schedule in which a big portion of my time isn’t taken up by school. In a perfect world, I should be able to deal with chaos MORE gracefully than before. I mean, I have the time and the energy that I could turn my focus to it. Without a set schedule or syllabus to keep me in line, I’m feeling a lot of chaos that I wasn’t necessarily prepared for in entering this chapter of my life.

In my head, I thought I’d have all this time to plan out the blog, social media posts, and the podcasts. Since I’m not dragging around a backpack full of textbooks on public policy or astrology, I thought I’d have the opportunity to really lazer in on what I love without a second thought. Let me just tell you, it DOES need a second thought. All this time is amazing, but it’s easy to get sucked into like an addict and a substance. If you walk into the chapter thinking that all you have to do is sleep and work, all you’re going to get done is sleep and work – seems natural, right? There’s no shame in sleeping and working – you do you, boo boo. But, if you think that because the time is there, it’s going to automatically allocated to the new side hustle, hobby, or interest without a little bit of refocusing or recentering…. that’s just not realistic in my world.

I’ve realized this is kind of the same with friendships too. When I was in school, I was seeing the people I loved as much as possible but had these legitimate things in the way from me seeing them all the time – homework, quizzes, exams, whatever. I thought when I moved closer & didn’t have any of those things, I would see them everyday without any added effort.

Truth is, sometimes you have to kind of refocus your social life too! Like, if you want to see your friends more or want the invite to the bars & that wasn’t your scene in a previous chapter, you’re able to make it your scene now!

I had this big assumption that I would move and I would automatically fall into the perfect schedule for a new business and a full-time job and a more involved social life. I assumed that that would require little to no work from me. I was way wrong & it just kind of caused chaos that was hard for me to wade through and understand for a while.

Like my mom said, though, we are on our way. The car is moving forward. We might have to come to complete stops in understanding what’s holding us back or dealing with some trigger, but you are still in the car on the way to where you’re supposed to be. You also can’t drive way above the speed limit. Sometimes, we’re so obsessed with speed through life to get to a certain checkpoint, that we take the roads that we’re traveling in ways that aren’t safe or effective to us. It just causes more chaos.

We are all moving forward. We are on our way and we can’t just jump through this journey. So it might be bumpy or smooth, but dammit, you’re on your way.

What do you want to hear about next on the blog? Tweet me, message me, or slide into any of my DMs on socials: @EmyDBlog. You can also share your story and email me at EmyDSaliby@gmail.com!

I Fear My Own Success

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Recently, I’ve been listening to a podcast called “The RISE Podcast with Rachel Hollis”. If you recognize the name, it’s because she’s written books like Girl, Wash Your Face and Girl, Stop Apologizing. Her and husband also run a multi-million dollar media company that they essentially started from scratch aka MY DREAM.

When I listen to podcasts, it’s usually while I’m doing 15 other things to be completely honest. Like, I’ll be folding laundry or cleaning and listening. Or, I’ll be bullet journaling and “listening”. In those instances, I find myself missing some stuff and having to go back every so often. If you haven’t found out yet, humans aren’t good multitaskers (but that, is for another day, another blog.) With this podcast, I have to listen to it when I’m doing literally nothing else OR I have to have my iPad near me to jot down some notes if I feel so inclined. Listening made me realize that that’s the kind of information that I want to give you. Yes, of course there’s an entertainment level about all of this. But, if I want to start making a real difference, I have to pull out all the stops and just completely give you what I know.

I was listening to “What’s Keeping You from Making a Million Dollars?” when I kind of realized that I’m terrified of my own success. Not in a way that I don’t want money, I don’t want people to download the podcast, or that I don’t want people to follow my media platforms. No, I’m starting to realize that I’m terrified by what real success represents in my life.

This is because I’m terrified of both change and the unknown. I journaled about this today, so I feel like I understand my inner dialogue a little more. But, truthfully, I would rather sit in the comfort (or even discomfort) of where I am right now, then be successful and change my lifestyle. Think about it, when you’re abundantly successful, everything changes. Your home life, your schedule, your work load, your relationships, and everything in between. In order to be successful, you have to also welcome those changes. This is something I haven’t been doing at all. Like yes, I want to make more money, but I’m not willing to give up the flexibility in my schedule that I currently have if I do become that successful. Or yes, I would love to make this a more permanent livelihood, but I’m not sure I would be ready to move.

None of this is to say that you don’t have a say in how you are successful. You are the queen of your own journey – in whatever that journey is. BUT, it’s more a realization that with levels of success comes natural changes to lifestyle, schedule, work ethics, and just plain life. Fear of those changes will ward away a certain level of success that is absolutely obtainable if you’re “all in” as they say.

Since I was a kid, I have felt in my bones that I was supposed to be heard. When I was younger, that dream was about being a singer and famous. As I grew up and entered dark stages of my life, I genuinely didn’t think I would make it to a point that I could stand in front of people and be heard – so I wrote. In the last few years, I’ve gone from wanting to be a politician to just wanting to be an advocate for those struggling to find their own. Now, I feel this fire in my soul that what I have to say is meant for more than just a couple hundred followers. I have this eye on a prize of success, when I don’t really know what that means yet. I say this to my family and close friends all the time, but this journey really does feel like a time bomb that’s just waiting to burst onto the scene. Maybe, the reason this bomb hasn’t exploded is because my fear of the aftermath.

I’m writing this with so much certainty in my tone not because I’m naive of the chance of failure, but because this finally feels like the spark I felt as a kid is getting bigger. It finally feels like I’m growing into the person that 5 year old Emily would be proud of. When abundant success does happen, life will change. BUT, those key people, aspects, and players will change along with it; to adapt to this new found success. So, my little sweeties, this is the year I welcome success and consider all the forms it’s presented to me in. Change is scary as fuck – business or no business. But, the only way I can keep this spark growing is if I allow the flame to build and other parts of my life to catch on fire along with my soul.

So, I just realized I fear my own success… and I’m not scared anymore.