Broken Crayons Still Color

I don't know if you're familiar with what it feels like to have an emotional hangover, but that's the state I am in right now. Yesterday I ran the gamete of emotions. I woke up early and happy. I read my daily devotional out loud to Matthew (and Wrigley), wore a fucking dress, got to work early, made coffee, and got busy. It all started falling apart shortly after. By noon I was in full blown panic. The worst it has been in a month or more. I took my shoes off. I walked laps in my office, took a break from technology, did my deep breathing exercises, and tried my best form of distraction. Nothing worked. I called Matthew. I went home to see my dog. I changed my clothes and went to a coffee shop where I feel safe. Still nothing. I emailed my therapist. I took a Klonopin and I worked on rebounding. I got myself together and functioned well for the next few hours. Eventually it came back with a vengeance and I ended my day in tears. I wrapped myself up in all of the blankets 

Over the past weekend Matthew and I participated in the adventure of a lifetime without leaving the city limits.  IT was Questival! Us and three of my co workers participated in a 24 hour scavenger hunt/competition with 522 other teams. We didn't know much of what we were getting ourselves into, but I agreed to it six weeks ago and Matthew didn't have a choice :) All we had to go off of until 24 hours prior to the beginning of said adventure, was reviews from other people who participated in other cities in the US. Some of them made this sound super scary, but mostly (to me) it sounded EXCITING! We didn't give a lot of thought to it or talk much about it after we registered, until about a week before it was happening. We literally went into this thing blind. Luckily for us one of my amazing co workers had taken the day off and was able to do a little prep work. After we got the list of (261) challenges I was scrambling in my head to figure out the logistics of all of this.

I've been keeping a secret for about three months now. When I switched Therapists in December it was for a reason out of my control. It wasn't my choice and it's something I have not talked about to many people (or anyone, really). I have recently just finished processing the change, after speaking it out loud in a safe setting. I am very scared to write this and put it out there, but I need to be vulnerable, so here goes. The week before Thanksgiving at my therapy session, my therapist took out the DSM-5 when I sat down in his office and in many more words than I can recall or care to type, told me he had been thinking about me and my progress (or lack there of) with him, and how he started doing some "research". He asked if I knew anything about Borderline Personality Disorder. I replied that I didn't know a whole lot (although I had read a pretty lengthy memoir about it last summer) but had an idea of the basics. He asked if I felt comfortable going throu

We did this thing.

I' wanted to post an update and couldn't narrow down what I wanted to write about. So today I'm going to hit two completely different but totally related topics. Grace. It is by the grace of God that I am where I am today. I often forget this. I had a suicide attempt 12 years ago and for some reason God decided that it wasn't my time to be with Him. I know there are several beliefs out there and many conflicting theories on where one goes if they commit suicide. Catholics believe in Purgatory and not all religions do. I am Catholic so, for the most part, that is what I was raised to believe. Suicide along with several other circumstances landed you in Purgatory and it was up to your family, friends, and the Lord himself to get you into those pearly gates. I am a spiritual person, not always outwardly and not always spiritual as I would like to be. But I consider myself as such. I also am not 100% confident about Purgatory and everything that goes along with it. Anyway