It’s like I know what to do but I just can’t do it. It reminds me of Kylo Ren in Star Wars.
The latest fun in my life has been getting a chemical burn in my right eye.
I used a 3% hydrogen peroxide solution for my contacts (soaked overnight in my flat case) and in the morning, like normal solution, I dropped some more in the contact and put it in my eye.
WOW–that may be the most pain I’ve ever been in.
My eye immediately shut, burning. I pried open my eye and grabbed the contact. I have no clue where it went; my breath was taken away because of the pain. With blurry vision, I reached for a towel and held it over my poor eye. I tried to scream for my friend to come “save me” but I couldn’t speak.
I wasn’t sure what to do, and I couldn’t see because I was contact and glasses-less. So, I made it back to my dorm and got my glasses and went about my life, albeit in pain.
My first class was torture! It was too bright for my sensitive eye and I was anxious about the damage done to my eye. During the class I decided enough was enough and I e-mailed my next professor and my therapist, telling them I could not come to class because of what happened. After class, I called my eye doctor (who is 2 hours away) and they told me I need to come in as soon as possible to be seen. I had driven 10 hours this past weekend and I really didn’t want to drive 4 more hours in pain to get seen. I found a local eye doctor and they fit me in and took care of me.
Now I have eye drops, steroids, and roll-up sunglasses to put under my glasses. I cannot wear contacts, and my hurt eye is super dilated. BUT– I’m fine. I’m going to be seen again in a day to see how it’s coming along and if I can wear contacts again.
Right now, I’m just uncomfortable and sensitive to light. I have to get blood work done today so I’m probably just going to be grumpy.
For anybody reading this–stay away from any contact solution with hydrogen peroxide in it. It’s dangerous and hurts.
Photo by Skitterphoto
Over the past year and a half, I’ve gone through a significant bra size change that would’ve rocked 13-year-old me’s world.
Personally, this dilemma started for me when I was a 32C. My bras started getting very tight and my immediate thought was, “Oh it must be because I’m gaining weight. Maybe I’m just a 34 sized band.” So I went to a 34C. For a while that was okay, but once again, they got too tight.
It didn’t even cross my mind at first that I was a D. In my head, D cups were the baseline of huge, pornstar boobs. I had it in my head what I thought D-cups were supposed to look like and decided that there’s no way that could be me. I thought, “I’ve always had small boobs, everyone has told me that, so how the hell could I be a D?”
Finally, I broke down after I got tired of red marks and repositioning my bra 50 times a day and went to Victoria’s Secret. (Not an ad.) I tried on a 32D “just to see” and I was shocked when it fit me like a glove.
That was great for a while, but I’m older now and it’s changed again. Recently, my bras started to hurt whenever I would wear them. I’m lucky I’m in college because I can get away with not wearing a bra (#FreeTheNipple), but sadly, sometimes I must wear one. For example at advisor meetings, professor meetings, presentations, a nice dinner, etc. I feel more comfortable wearing a bra than not.
Today I went to go get sized because I couldn’t tell what was wrong. I tried a 34C; way too tight. My 32D’s were way too tight. Walking in the store, I assumed my band size was just wrong, but I’m really glad I got sized because now I really understand what goes into a perfect fit.
Turns out I’m a 32DD. I would never have thought the day would come. And I thought D’s were pornstar boobs. I still don’t have what I picture as DDs, which I guess have to be FFF’s in real life, but I’m so much more comfortable now. And now I don’t have to go meet with my professors in a baggy t-shirt with no bra on.
Most women are wearing the wrong bra size. Do a quick search if you don’t believe me. Also, you’re supposed to get a new bra after ~6 months because of the wear and stretching.
The best, most summarizing piece of advice I have is to forget all of your preconceived notions about bra sizes. What you think a “D” is might be an “E”. What you think a “36” is might be a “32”. If you’re trying to find the perfect size for you, you need to let go of what you think you need to be.
Photo by fsHH
I’ve always been interested in crystals and stones because, well, they’re beautiful and I’m a geology nut, but also because of their natural healing properties for living things. If you haven’t read it yet, I recently had my first selenite wand experience and WOW. I couldn’t have made it up if I tried.
So under the advice and guidance of my local wizard (lol no just a healer) I’ve been healing with chakra stones and some others.
Here’s my arsenal:
- Root – Red Jasper
- Sacral – Carnelian
- Solar Plexus – Citrine
- Heart – Adventurine
- Throat – Sodalite
- Third Eye – Amethyst
- Crown – Clear Quartz
- Tree Agate
- Black Tourmaline
Something “weird” that happens to me when I use my crystals for healing (rather than just holding on to them) is that I cry. Not sad tears, not angry tears, but happy, relieved tears. I called my guy and he said it’s totally normal, it’s just the kind of person I am. (I believe he was referring to me being highly sensitive but I’m not sure). Tears just come out, unforced, which is weird for me, and my spirit is lifted and happy. I rarely ever describe myself as happy or cry, which now that I think about it seems a little contradicting. It’s almost addicting to feel this good. I’m glad it’s stones and crystals rather than meth lol.
There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that we are connected to the earth, so of course we are connected to crystals and stones. Shit, did you know ice is a mineral? Geologists argue about it, but it has all 5 of the characteristics that make up a mineral. And what are we made of? WATER. Like, come on. I don’t see how some people refuse to connect the dots and take the information laid out in front of them.
“Holy shit,” I mumbled as my body started to tingle. When the shop owner was detecting my negative energy on his own I was fine, but when I took the selenite wand into my own hands I immediately felt it sucking the badness out of me; my left hand and right shoulder to be exact.
My legs started to give in and blood felt like it was rushing to my head. I became hyper-aware of how my body was feeling and all I could say was, “I’m going to pass out. I’m going to pass out.” All because I was holding a selenite wand in my hands.
“Just hang on a little longer,” The shopkeeper, Paul, said to me. Eyes wide, I obviously wanted to shove it back into his hands, but I was frozen in an equal mixture of terror and amazement. I didn’t expect this to happen; not because I don’t believe in “this stuff” but because I know some practices are questionable. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but that was not it.
After the cleansing was over and I settled down a little, my recent behaviours started to make more sense to me. When I was in the shop holding the stones that I wanted, all of a sudden I started to get a panic attack (which isn’t rare for me) and I wanted to flee the store. I’m convinced that the negative energy sensed what was coming for it and tried to get me, and therefore it, out of “harms” way.
When running the wand over me, he stopped at my left palm.
“Is that a real tattoo?” He asked in regards to my faded “A”.
“Yeah, I have 3.” Which I’m now realizing isn’t even true, I have 4.
He keeps going along my wingspan, passing my bee tattoo, and stops at my third, my poodle.
“There’s some right here, too.” Paul said, wand hovering.
“My poodle?” I joked, frowning.
“No, no,” He started, “It’s not the tattoo itself, the symbol, or the meaning. For some reason, bad energy just likes to go to them.”
He also detected my stomach problems with the wand, which I had never mentioned.
That’s when he passed the wand on to me. I had watched the woman before me hold it and nothing happened to her. She was free of negative energy. After me my father held it and he too was free of negative energy. They’re very rare– 1/1,000.
I also learned that while empaths and sensitives are very similar, they are not the same.
At the end of my trip I got a sage mist, chakra stones (red jasper, sodalite, aventurine, carnelian, citrine, tree agate, and crystal quartz.), labradorite, selenite, angelite, amethyst, and black tourmaline. Paul cleansed my stones for me with selenite and my hand started shaking because of the stones vibrations.
This was one of the most unexplainable, spiritual things that have ever happened to me. I know it’s going to sound like reaching to most people, but I’m serious. None of this is fabricated– it’s my real life experience that happened to me about an hour ago.
And get this– Paul is a friggin engineer. Out of all of the people that could be into this, an ENGINEER. I love it.
Photo is from Poshmark
I don’t even know where to start.
I guess the crippling panic attacks are a good start off?
So a little background information– after a huge hurricane decimated where I was living in 2017, I moved 2 hours away to move in with my dad. Life altering already, right? So I tried online classes since I obviously wasn’t going to school on campus anymore, and failed because I’m just not the online class type. I worked and worked and said I’d go back to school, but I was stuck in this bubble of fear, comfortable where I was. I didn’t want to go back to where I was living before. It was crazy, uncontrollable, and unstructured. I liked my peace and quiet working for $8/h at a coffee shop. I was engaged. Got a dog who I adore. I was happy.
Finally, a year and a half later, I found myself back at school because “it’s the right thing to do” and whatever. “It’ll be easy,” I thought, since I went there for 2 years already. *Record scratch* “Wow, I was fucking wrong,” I thought, 2 weeks later. Being in that hell hole away from the life I had started in my quiet little town was killing me. I was alone, stressed, and miserable. The only good thing about my dorm was that I didn’t have a roommate bothering me and I could decorate however I wanted to. I was taking 6 or 7 classes, wasn’t working so I didn’t have any money, and once again, was alone. I’m introverted and very picky, so reading this and being like, “Smh, dumb, why didn’t you just ~make friends~,” is pointless. I don’t wanna; that’s why.
So I think it was the first day of trigonometry that I got my first panic attack of the semester. I didn’t realize it at first because I thought my body was trying to make me faint, which in hindsight probably IS what was happening. Naturally, I called my mom: “Hey, I think I keep trying to faint. What do I do? Is that normal? I’m not dehydrated.” I don’t remember the whole conversation, but I ended up being fine, I think. Ah yes, I was shaken and called my old, local friend who I currently don’t speak to anymore, lol. So it was a great first day, right? It only got worse.
Pretty soon, I was textbook panic disorder. Emergency room with my heart rate at 150 in March, avoiding situations that would give me panic attacks (Sadly, class. *waves* Hi parents.), mild agoraphobia, etc. My first really bad panic attack happened in February and I was shaking– more like thrashing my body– uncontrollably and puking for three hours. I got extremely sick around April and my hypochondriac ass got panic attacks on top of that because obviously I’m fucking dying if I’m that sick. Not just sick, but sick and dying. For some reason I’m still avoiding therapy, too.
Flew to Vegas in the middle of this somehow, lol.
I don’t want to spill all the beans because I respect myself a liiittttttttle bit, but jeez I’m so stupid sometimes!!
Everybody: “No, Jaedyn.”
Jaedyn: *Loses hearing and judgement*
If it weren’t for my ONE friend, I probably would’ve died. I purposely have not looked up what the hell would’ve happened to me the day my heart rate was 150, but if I were truly all alone, truly friendless, maybe I would’ve died. I don’t know. I don’t wanna know. But- it’s a scary thought.
Usually I’m a straight-A student. Always have been, and I thought I always would be, but panic disorder has been one of the hardest blocks in my life so far. It’s truly crippling and terrifying. I bawl my eyes out in fear of it. I’m so scared to go back to school next semester. I’ve been crying more and more lately in preparation, I guess. Last semester I did alright, passed, but could’ve done better. “Hey at least you didn’t flunk out of school because of it,” yeah yeah but I have standards for myself. It’s hard to do amazing in a class when you avoid it.
Overall, this is a vent, a rant, and advice obviously doesn’t help me or I’d be fine. I guess I wanted to get this out for me, and also share this in case someone else with panic disorder reads this. It sucks, it really does, but I’m better than I was in the beginning.
Something that really helped me was joining the panic disorder subreddit. Knowing that there are other people that go through what I do, and that some of those people are almost “out” of it, made me feel less alone and more hopeful. If you’re going through this and need someone to relate to or, hopefully in the future lend advice, feel free to comment on this. According to a random Google search, panic disorder affects 2-3% of Americans. So while we’re few and far between, we should help each other when we can.
Alright, try not to judge me too harshly for this post.