014. A Group Effort

Related image Yesterday was awful.

I’m not even sure I have words to sum up how I am feeling today. One thing I can say for certain is that it took every little bit of will power I had left to get myself out of bed this morning.

You know what’s frustrating? In the midst of me having just a bad week (and yes, it’s only Wednesday morning currently), grief has moved its way to the front of my brain. And that’s not all. There is a lot of trauma that I’ve suffered over the years and I have never fully dealt with any of my issues. And so, when I find myself surrounded by my own negative emotions, grief, trauma & anger come creeping in. Before I can even realize what is going on, I am completely encapsulated in these tormenting emotions.

So there I was, in the storage closet at work, sobbing like a toddler. I kept thinking to myself “This is it. This is where I lose it all. This is my breaking point.” And if I’m honest, it was. I had finally reached a point where I knew something needed to be done. I picked up my phone, dialed a number I knew all too well, and put my name on a list to join a support group for woman; woman who have survived sexual violence.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified. Because I really am. Putting yourself out there like that is not easy. Even if you don’t contribute to the group, just being there means your character is tattoo’d with “ASSAULT SURVIVOR #605”. That’s something I am struggling with. I do however find some comfort in knowing that all the woman who will be there, are there for the same reason. We want – we NEED – to heal.

I know that the assault caused a lot of problems in my life. It’s taken over the kind, strong, independent aspects of my being and replaced then with their polar opposites. I am hoping that through group I will find support in woman who have unfortunately experienced similar things as I have and together and find healing.

If you’re reading this and have been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out and get the help you DESERVE.



013. Survival



*disclaimer: it is actually “girlfriend” in my case, I just couldn’t find the lesbian version of this quote. *

I like finding quote pictures to insert in my posts as I find it to help foreshadow what the entry is about. When I was googling “quotes about friends who have passed on” this is one of the first images I got. I read it, and it struck something inside of me.

2130 days. That’s how long I have spent on this Earth without my best friend. In truth, I have not “fully” mourned her loss. Recently, her absence has been hitting me harder then ever.

How do you survive without your best friend? 

Honestly, I have no idea. I don’t know how I have managed to go about my day to day life.

I know that I am too good at hiding deep, strong emotions. Emotions and events that are closer to the surface tend to be the ones that everyone sees; happiness, joy, anger at current situation, etc. Things like loss and deep routed sadness are things I push far under the rug. Defense mechanism perhaps?

I can still remember that day so clearly; the day we found out about her death. I, and about 6 other people, were at an old friend of mine’s house. We were all piled onto her bed telling stories and sharing laughs. All of a sudden one of the girls got a text saying a young woman had passed away in an MVC earlier that day. Curiosity set in as between the 6 of us, we knew a lot of people from that city. I heard the girls phone ding, and I remember her saying “I don’t recognize this name, it’s not any one I know. Here – take a look.” Although the spelling was way off, I can still feel the knot in my stomach as I read her name on the screen..

Oddly enough, what I remember so clearly was franticly running around trying to find news articles, calling friends and family, even calling news stations. I remember finally getting a call back from my mother, “I’m so sorry, it’s her. It’s her.”

2130 days. 2 months shy of 6 years. I can’t believe it’s been so long. My heart aches thinking of where she would be right now. I picture her married to her then boyfriend, maybe one or two kids. I picture her being a beloved teacher. I picture us talking endlessly every day about non sense like we always did. I picture long, tearful reuinions. I picture laughter.

I miss her everyday. I miss my person.

& with that, if you’re still reading this, know that I like you, I appreciate you, thank you.


012. Truthfully, shameful.

Related imageMaybe it’s starting the laundry you let pile up for 2 weeks, or the dishes that are starting to form a colony of molding crumbs, or even cleaning out that it-doesn’t-belong-anywhere-so-I-will-put-it-here “Monica Geller closet” you’ve been meaning to de-clutter.

Regardless of the reason, getting started is always the most difficult. For me, I always find myself struggling to find the motivation to begin any task at hand.

The problem I am faced with now is that I am INCREDIBLY inspired to make healthy choices and to live a better life. That being said, I am having trouble finding the motivation to just get up and do it.


I logged in to my dashboard for the first time in a while and I found this in my draft box. I find it rather ironic that I talk about how getting started is the hardest part and then I just disregarded this post, tossing it aside into my drafts.

I’ve been struggling.

I feel like everyday I am slowly being consumed by this BED problem. If I’m honest, I’m just plain angry.

I am so angry that it even got to this point. I am the heaviest I’ve ever been, I’m miserable in my skin, my anxiety is through the roof and I’m just at a loss.

It’s hard to talk about it, too. When you want to reach out, something inside of you whispers “DON’T. They won’t understand.”. Truthfully, I believe that voice. It’s as if there is this emancipated section of my brain that takes over from time to time and makes believe that I am forever alone with my struggles. Every time I feel as though I am making progress, everything crashes down again.

This feeling isn’t for lack of good in my life. I have so many things that I have to be grateful for; my partner, who is hands down the best person on this earth, (most of) my family, a great job with great benefits, food in my fridge and a warm bed to sleep in every night. I told this to my therapist during a recent session and she mentioned that maybe I am filling a void that I am not aware of.

What first crossed her mind was my best friend; who passed away almost 6 years ago. She theorized that I was filling that void with food. Makes sense, seeing as the bingeing started around the time of her death.

I’m not sure if I’m ready to go into that just yet. I see my therapist tomorrow and she may push for me to write about her. If I do, I will likely post something here as well, as I am trying to post more often.


As always, if you’re reading this, I like you, I appreciate you. Thank you.

– Dani

009. My Inconvenient Truth

c1c84a993204f9997cc9d95c6d0fa1e1--alcohol-recovery-quotes-drug-recovery-quotesAs I had stated in entry 010., there was a post in my draft box waiting to be published. I read through it today (with intent of publishing it), and realized that I wanted to take it in a new direction.

The post was basically about my struggles with weight loss. Now instead of glamorizing the struggles, I want to give it a more raw approach. I want to vent and I want to be angry. I want to express how I feel without having to apologize for it. So here it is.


Weight loss journeys SUCK.

I’m not sure what more to say then that. Weight loss journeys are such roller coasters; one minute you are motivated enough to fun a marathon, the next you’re being a “Debbie Downer” because you remember why you are on this journey in the first place.

That is something I wish people would have told me each time I have tried to shed some lbs. You don’t really expect that something that is suppose to improve the quality of your life to be so emotionally exhausting.

I guess for me, the worst is knowing that I am battling myself. I have recently been diagnosed with BED (Binge-Eating Disorder). Although frightening to have been told this, it really has given me some clarity as to why I behave certain ways.

For anyone who may ask, I am seeking professional help with this issue. I have begun therapy and have absolutely NO intentions on quitting.

I would also like to draw attention to an excellent resource that has given me piece of mind in knowing the in’s & out’s of BED and other eating disorders; NEDIC.

National Eating Disorder Information Center‘s website is an amazing information hub packed full of articles and resources to help you get educated on many different types of Eating Disorders.

If you or someone you know suffers from an eating disorder, please reach out and get the professional help you need. There is no shame in recovery.

&as always, if you have made it this far, know that I like you, I appreciate you.


011. It’s Dani’s NEW Life.

Today, I bring to you some VERY exciting news.

Today, is the 1st day of the rest of my life.

Today, I start my journey into health (& fitness!).

Last night I was looking for inspiration. I was searching through all social media platforms I had an account with. I finally came across the YouTube channel “FatGirlFedUp” aka Lexi.

Lexi is a 26 year old Indiana woman who amazingly lost 300 lbs since January 1st 2016. AMAZING! Not only did she get control of her life, but she did so along side her husband Danny (who lost 86 lbs !) and they both did this with diet and exercise ONLY!

Let me give you a little disclaimer; in NO WAY am I discrediting anyone who has had to opt for weight loss surgeries or any other means of weight loss that is not the “traditional” diet/exercise combo. The reason I say that I am so inspired by Lexi & Danny is that I am far too scared to try more invasive methods to shed the lbs I need to lose.

Now that that is out of the way, I’d like to explain my plan, goals.

I am a firm believer that setting small, attainable goals is the best course of action, for me anyway. I would much rather meet 15 small goals then to never reach 5 bigger ones. So to start, I want to first be going to the gym at least 3 – 5 times (3 being the minimum) per week. To go with this goal, I want to make a side goal of being able to reach 10 minutes on the elliptical. I have very weak and problematic knee’s and I need to start working them!

I’m going to give myself 2 weeks to make it to 10 minutes. After 2 weeks, I will post to update and keep track of my progress.

Aside from blogging, I will be documenting my journey on Instagram @itsdanislifee . I can’t wait to look back months & years from now to see how far I will have come.

If you have any pointers or advice for a health/fitness newbie, please let me know!!

Cheers to a new journey *



010. Stand Still Sadness

I had another post ready to publish today, (in case you noticed I missed post # 009.) but since I am in such a shit mood, I figured I need to blow off some steam.


Stress has a funny way of taking control, doesn’t it? First it’s quite innocent – mild headaches, sporadic loss of appetite,  even short temperaments. Then, slowly, the momentum of the “symptoms” begin to worsen, and increasingly more frequent. Before you know it, you wake up one day angry at the world, anxious about every little situation, spewing hatred at all that cross your path. You look up from your tear stained pillow and notice that everything is normal; the world didn’t stop turning.

You look outside and kids are playing. You call your mom only to hear how great of a day she has had. You text your sister to see how her care free soul is doing and find she is at peace. Yet some how, when you bring yourself back to that pillow, the world seems still. Nothing progress, nothing regresses. Stand still sadness. I’m there.

It’s a surreal feeling. On the outside, things are seemingly great; I have a beautiful fiance (it’s a secret, but I’ll post about that later!), 2 cats I treat as my children, a large family, a great job. When you begin to peel back the layers, you begin to see the torment, the resentment, the pain I feel.

And maybe these emotions that I feel are not directly  associated with stress, perhaps it’s a deeper underlying issue. I can’t even bring my self to say it most days.


Could I be depressed? I have no idea. Do I want to know? I’m note sure. I can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that maybe I should be seeking diagnosis for the poor emotions I feel on the daily. That being said, I don’t want to have to use it as a way to explain myself. I see my sister and my brother do this and I want no part of it. I don’t want their misinterpretation of a very serious illness to be the stigma that plagues our family.

I can’t be like them. 

I guess I should give a little PSA ; in NO way am i insisting that depression or any other mental illness is something to be ashamed of. It isn’t. I am simply saying that my siblings have read up on mental illness, pick one from the list and convinced everyone that they are silently suffering, while in reality they are not. Yet here I am, silently suffering and have no outlet.

I used to be able to speak to my mom about anything. She was my confidant. The thing to know about my mother is that she is a mental health nurse. She knows when people are faking it, and when people are sincere. The problem seems to be that because it is my siblings seemingly dealing with these issues, I believe her to have clouded judgment. This makes it hard for me to approach her as she wants to believe they are lying, but they have her so wrapped around their fingers she can’t put two and two together. I can’t afford to be swept aside by my mother on top of all the medical professionals I’ve seen.

At this point, my words are jumbling. My thoughts are jumbled.

I’m exhausted.


008. Good Grief

In a few days, it will mark 1 year since my grandmother passed away. The picture I have inserted in this post is actually the picture I posted the day I found out she passed. This quote speaks volumes to me as I feel it to be so true; I’ve never really had enough time. Related imageIn regards to my maternal grandmother, there just wasn’t enough time to mend (or build, really.) a relationship that should have been.

I think this stemmed from the relationship my grandmother had with my mother. According to my mother, they had never gotten along, even when my mother was just a small child. My mother had always called my grandmother by her first name; I don’t think I ever heard her say the words “Mom” to her.

Although they had a less then favorable relationship, they did how ever find a way to get along. Whether that was purely for show for the kids is above my head, but it kept things normal for us kids. I will always be grateful for that.

The moments that have really tugged on my heart strings were moments leading up to her death. Dating back to when I was a child, about 13 years old, my parents (whom were already separated for 9 years by this point) had decided I was old enough to choose which house I wanted to live at. To make a very long and sad story short, I chose to live with my father due to the (seemingly) apparent fact that my mother and I just couldn’t get along. After a while of not seeing her, I had gone for a visit and she had expressed to me how much of a failure she felt. At this moment in time, she didn’t go much into detail about her feelings on this matter. I am assuming that being because I was a child and even though I protested daily that I knew everything and could understand everything, I did and could not. As I got older and these fights and confessions started to get more detailed, I quickly found out that the relationship I now had with my mom was quickly escalating (or decreasing, however you want to look at it) to mirror what was going on between my mother and my grandmother.

When I finally came to this realization, it destroyed me. The turning point was when I really got to see her pain. Circa 2011, when I went through a terrible tragedy, and then continued pain into 2012 when I lost my best friend to a car accident and my uncle to stage 4 cancer, my world was quickly falling apart. Aside from the pain from these events, I had the pain of seeing the pain in my mothers eyes every time I sought help in dealing with my problems (she works in the mental health field).

At first glance, I believed my mom to be sad about my grandmothers departure from this earth. In hindsight, although I knew that contributed to her sorrow, I knew other factors where at play. I think she felt similar as I did; that they never took the time to mend what was broken between them.

I feel pain for my mother, for the loss of her mother. I feel pain for her regrets and her endless supply of “what if’s”. I vow to never let us get to that point. I don’t want to find myself in her shoes, standing at the doors of her funeral and turning in the other direction and walking away.

Mend relationships that matter most.