It’s been a while, hasn’t it. A long while. Usually in these instances I’d write some long, drawn out apology and metaphorical explanation for why I haven’t been posting (and I definitely DIDN’T already do that once and delete it all), but this time I won’t bother. The last time I posted was October 10, 2017 at 9:34 a.m. It was an article giving you all the information I had in my little brain about norovirus. But, even though the posts stopped going live, I didn’t stop writing. The last post that I created, and never published, was January 19, 2018 at 10:26 a.m. The title? 2018: The Year of the Chelsie. I started off that post with saying that this was going to be my year, I could feel it. The pantone color of the year is Ultra Violet, and it was already half way through the month of January and it just seemed like good things were coming my way. I can’t tell you if that’s still the case, and to be …
Hello, and welcome #Fearless, a movement dedicated to sharing real stories, about real people, and their real life. We are focusing on a lifestyle that promotes the idea that being fearless isn’t about the absence of fear, but finding ways to power through regardless of it. We are hope, strength, love, courage, struggle & perseverance. Over the next few days, I will be releasing a multi-part series called Finding #Fearless, which is the story of me, my struggles and where I am today. It’s taking a look at the important parts of my life and the trials I endured that have laid the foundation for making myself a better me. It wasn’t always easy, but the road to a happy and fulfilled life rarely is. It takes hard work, dedication and persistence to achieve your goals, and Finding #Fearless is my personal road map.
It’s 2017. Freaking finally, am I right? But jokes aside, I’m very excited for 2017. To be honest, the excitement I’ve felt around 2017 has been slowly building since middle of December and I’m hoping that this excitement is almost a sign of what’s to come for the new year. Beyond what I hope will be happening in this new year, there are a few things that are for sure happening that are worth some excitement.
It seems fitting that my 100th post on this site is a reflection of where I’ve come this year. I think it’s appropriate of me to say that there’s a universal sigh of relief knowing that in just one day, we can put the past 12 months behind us and begin focusing on what we hope will be a much less stressful 2017. Because I don’t think anyone will deny that 2016 might just have been one of the toughest years this country, and world, has faced thus far. What I also think is fitting is how I find myself asking how did we get to this point so quickly, and in the same breath, how did it take so long to get here? It’s kind of funny how it works that way. And, my, what a year it’s been.
When I was a kid, I lived in a neighborhood that had this incredible hill that my siblings and I had appropriately named “Wee Hill” for it’s ability to make us say WEEEEE! as we went over it. It was a double hill, and on the second bump, it would always make your stomach drop, like you were on a roller coaster. The first time we went over it, it was startling but it quickly became an important part of each trip home. My mom, being the speed devil she is, would always speed up and hit that hill with everything she had. It was so much fun, and one time I’m pretty sure we got a little airbourne. But, sometimes that hill wasn’t fun. Like, for example, when you had a stomach ache, weren’t feeling well or ate too much at lunch, that hill was the last thing you wanted. We’d slow down to a snails pace to avoid any stomach dropping, and it became an added struggle in the already tough day.
Why does emetophobia exist? It’s a puzzling question that I think every emet has probably taken to asking themselves at least once. Of course, it may not come in such an existential way. It might take the form a little more like… Why do I have this phobia? What did I do to deserve this? Why me? If you talk to an emetophobia sufferer they will tell you two things definitively: they want to be rid of it and they wouldn’t wish it on their worst enemy. And, I think that for many emets if they can figure out the why’s and the how’s, they will be one step closer to understanding how to overcome this.
On a late night walk with my husband through our neighborhood while searching for Pokemon (Team Mystic!), I opened up to him that I was feeling a little down and frustrated. He asked why and I felt silly just saying it. I felt like with all the positive progress I had made, that I was somehow stalling and possibly starting to roll down hill. I felt like while I had conquered one major aspect of my phobia (others feeling sick), I was now wading neck deep in a reemergence of personal anxiety towards getting sick.
Sometimes, there are quotes, phrases or situations that don’t show their true meaning until the right moment presents itself. I’m a frequent flyer of the inspirational quotes on Pinterest, and while I have hundreds of quotes compiled on a board appropriately titled Inspirational Quotes<3, there are just some weeks those quotes are simply words. I know, in my heart, they should be inspirational, but they just don’t resonate with me. Whether that’s because they aren’t the words I need to hear or it’s simply something I’ll never understand, when you get right down to it, an inspirational quote only has meaning if it makes you feel something.
So, if you take a look at the picture to the right, you’ll probably notice a couple things. One being that my hair is no longer purple, but rather a nice sunset purple-red-orange ombre. It’s pretty amazing. But secondly, you’ll notice that I look pretty happy, and while that might not seem like a huge deal, for that moment and that picture, it actually was. To understand why, let’s take a trip back in time a little bit to this past Saturday. So Saturday morning I wake up, getting ready to head out with my friend and her daughter to a lavender festival about two hours away. I was feeling pretty confident, considering I was coming off a successful babysitting moment from the day before with the same little girl.
When I first started seeing a counselor, and even up into that first year, I made almost no true progress in overcoming my phobia and anxiety. It was a lot of finding my footing on this already uneven ground, and hoping that at some point I’d manage to either find my way to solid land or learn to walk on the broken concrete. Of course, I remember how proud I was at the end of my first year of counseling. I had gone from 90% constant anxiety to about 75% constant anxiety. That was huge for me, but in the grand scheme of things it really wasn’t much, especially where I’ve gone in the short time I’ve been doing EMDR. But that is a tale for a different day.