For those of you that don't know me, I'm Brooke, and I blog over at Tales From My Fairytales (which Whitney waved her pink sparkly wand over and made look absolutely fabulous).

I'm a cowboy boot wearing, southern speaking, sports loving Kentucky girl with jacked up to Jesus hair, a deep love for Jake Owen, all things outdoor, Mexican food and chocolate. In no particular order.

If you've been around these parts for long, y'all know that our girl Whitney has been blogging about anxiety  - so while she's out doing sparkly princess things - I'm here to talk about how she can pump the brakes on her overwhelming feelings of anxiety.

One

We all know Whitney loves her boxed wine. And who doesn't? But sometimes you can't roll up into the movies, sporting event, trip to the mall or hair appointment with a box of wine the size of small baby. 

I have the solution.

These are roughly 3 glasses of wine - or one and a half Tervis Tumblr's full - they fit in your purse, and are a great way to get your buzz on.

Two

Drown your sorrows in a bathtub full of bubbles. Because don't we all look like this in the tub?

PSA: do not google image bubble bath at work

Fill that tub full of bubbles, turn on the musical stylings of Mumford and Sons (or Lil Wayne), sip a glass of wine and feel the anxiety leave the tips of your toes. If you can find a hot man that resembles Jake Owen to find his way in the tub with you, well, I'm not one to tell you how to spend your time.

Three

Go out dancing with your girlfriends.

Nothing helps me more than dropping it like it's hot. Busting a move or just simply getting my groove on.

Four

Text your girlfriends.

It's team no judgment around these parts. It's great to have a set of girlfriends in your back pocket that you can text about ANYTHING. So if you feel like your curling iron is still burning - text your girlfriend. If you feel like the man behind you is following you - text your girlfriend (that way the police can trace your phone and your whereabouts, duh).

I promise there will be none of this on the other end.

Five

If all else fails - head straight to Chipotle, buy the biggest burrito they have - and eat til your heart is content. 

I'm all about eating some carbs when the troubles of the world feel like they are weighing your shoulders - may as well move that feeling from your shoulders to your stomach. 

Hope this solves all your anxiety-ridden problems today, pretty princesses!

Until next time,

Brooke

Guys. GUYS!

Yesterday? Yesterday was by far the most amazing day I have experienced as a blogger.

So many amazing stories, so many beautiful new faces I got a chance to interact with.

Thank YOU all for sharing your personal stories with me, it was a really incredible day for me.

Here is just a small sample of some of the amazing feedback I received, amongst so many personal emails and comments...

Seriously though, I can't express how grateful I am for each and every one of you stepped forward and found a way to make me feel so normal and not alone. This blogging world is really, really amazing.

With all of that said, I think I have one more thing to cover on this topic before I shove it aside and go back to writing about how I returned a stale box of wine last night...

The inevitable.

Here is my list of the inevitable facts of being an anxiety sufferer:

**Disclaimer: this is all in good fun and is not meant to be taken seriously what-so-ever.

1. You absolutely did leave the oven on and your house is burning down as we speak.

Also, your hair straighteners, Scentsy warmers, irons, etc. They are all on, even after you've checked them 3 times over before you left the house, and you need to go check just one more time because your house is definitely going to be ashes when you get home and your pets will be gone. 

2. Those emails in your inbox will explode permanent ink all over the place, like those security tags, if you do not check it right now.

Yep, that's right, the world can not go on if you don't check your email at 3am, when you wake up tossing and turning, because there is most likely something life threatening in there.

Or, you know, just an email from your long lost Arabian relative who has a large fortune to send you once you respond with all of your personal information.

3. That unsaved number calling you is absolutely an evil monster calling to steal your virtue.

Or your first born, which ever comes first. Yes, unsaved numbers calling your phone are always means for a minor panic attack. I mean, there's no chance it's just a spam caller - even if you are on the national "do not call" list.

4. That semi truck approaching you in the next lane over is absolutely going to tip over on top of your car.

Speed up, immediately think of excuses to tell the cop when you get pulled over and get the hell away from that evil truck. You and your vehicle will be mashed potatoes if that semi gets anywhere near you. Also, don't forget to get out your spare napkins from your glovebox because I know you are perspiring like a whore in church right now.

5. You know that vehicle behind you that just made the exact same 3 turns as you? Yeah, they're absolutely following you.

ABORT MISSION and start making weird turns around the neighborhood until you lose them. This is not a joke, this is serious business. I mean, I know you don't actually watch many scary movies because they evoke many, many feelings of anxiety but this has to be what those movies are about.

Today is going to be one of those days I take a break from my typical light-hearted jib jab.

Why? Because there's a real life person that lives under my sarcastic skin, I promise.

A vulnerable and sensitive post.

Oh boy, here she is...

Anxiety. I've got it.

I've got the kind the doctor considers to be moderate to severe.

Moderate on my good days - severe on my worst.

I've got the kind of anxiety that proves to be an every day battle.

Anxiety is a massive bastard. Somedays he even introduces me to his colleague, depression.

It's a battle I didn't even know I faced until I turned 22.

22 is when I realized that getting cut off while driving is not means for a total meltdown on the side of a local highway. 

22 is when I realized that laying in bed at night, mind racing back and forth, panicking about an email box full of mail just wasn't normal. 

22 is when I realized that constantly thinking my house was going to be burglarized while I was sleeping wasn't normal.

22 is when I went and got help. 

Help meaning drugs, if we're being honest.

One drug by the name of Lexapro.

At 22 I began a numbing, empty relationship with a med named Lexapro that lasted for two years.

If you aren't a math buff, as I am certainly not, I'm 25 now and no longer in said relationship.

Why? Well, simply put... "I'd rather be crazy than numb." -My Ty Ty BFF

I am not saying the drugs are bad, because they aren't at all, they simply didn't adjust to my body.

For me the meds took the life out of me. I was empty.

Not sad. Not happy. Not overwhelmed, not underwhelmed, not even just whelmed.

Sure, the insomnia was cured. The panic attacks? They vanished. 

I had absolutely no interest in feeling anything.

I wasn't worried about anything. Ever.

Two years of numbness later.. I went off the meds.

Today? Today I have anxiety attacks regularly.

Anxiety attacks stemming from forgetting my lunch at home all the way to not having my rent check turned in at least 5 days prior to the first when it's due.
I still think there's always someone behind me waiting to attack, I still lay in bed stressing about my Brita pitcher that I forgot to refill.
I still carry around my pepper spray like it's a bomb that will inevitably save me from anything.

Yep, mostly I panic about things I know are silly.

Most nights, even with the help of melatonin, I wake up somewhere around 3am worrying about something. Anything. Could be something as simple as bringing something to the post office the next day.

It's a burden, it's an absolute thorn in my life's side, but at least I am feeling.

My relationship with anxiety is an absolute mind over matter thing.

I try meditating when I can't sleep.

I try taking very deep breaths when I feel overwhelmed. 

I try not letting little things effect how I behave.

I try reminding myself that anything good that can happen will happen.

Somedays are great, somedays are not.

Such is the life of the anxiety sufferer.

At this point in life, I'm happy to be able to feel these struggles.

One day? Well, one day I may be fed up with this anxiety and go back on the numbness train.

Today, I try my hardest to be as whelmed (also see: normal) as humanly possibly.

Hey friends, guess what?

Yesterday on my lunch break I went to Hob Lob in search of a tree skirt for Charles, my Christmas tree.

Turns out, tree skirts are a complete rip off.

I'm talking $60 for a piece of fabric.

I don't know about you guys but my budget doesn't have $60 to spare for something I will only use for the next month.

-Insert my ballin' on a budget mindset here-

So, I took a detour and headed to the fabric isle, trying my best to remember all of those things I learned while obtaining that degree I don't use in Fashion Design.

All I knew is that I was not interested in sewing so I really had to pull out my creative juices.

Today, I present...

Here's what you need:

3-4 yards of tulle

Straight pins

That's it. Guys, I made this for under $5.

1. Wrap tulle around the tree stand as if you were prepping to tie a normal bow.

Leave one "tail" longer than the other.

Be sure to surround the tree stand so it's fully masked with pretty tulle.

2. Take 3 straight pins and connect the tulle in the center - like this:

3. Form each side in to a bow shape using straight pins to help keep it's form. 

Be sure to pin the side with the longer "tail" last so that it's sticking out.

4. Wrap your long tail around the center to create the final bow appearance and pin in the back as much as necessary. 

Note: I used a couple of extra pins to tack back extra fabric that stuck out.

Let the straight pins be your amiga, compadre, BFF.

So, it's the day before Thanksgiving and, from what I can gather, the blog world will be dead tomorrow.

To avoid the risk of writing my super thoughtful, and not at all sarcastic, thankful Thanksgiving post and having no one around to read it, I'm going to post it today.

I know, don't all jump out of your seats at once. 

Notice anything new around here? No? Alright then, moving on.

Yesterday, throughout the course of my work day, I began to feel a little tickle in my throat. 

A very unwelcome tickle. 

I woke up this morning feeling pretty shitty and the tickle is a full on sore throat at this point.

Yep, a short two days before the day it's socially acceptable to stuff your face with anything and everything in sight and I'm popping vitamin C like it's my job.

This would shock most - unless you are me.

You see, my Thanksgiving track record is less than impressive. 

After last year's fiasco, I'm convinced I have some sort of Thanksgiving curse on me.

Last year my sweet mother and myself got into a nice little disagreement which caused my eating KFC alone at my townhouse for Thanksgiving. 

Last year, around Thanksgiving time, was also the time I was going through that fun engagement mishap.

Screw the butter knife, the tension that surrounded last year's Thanksgiving could have been cut with a plastic spoon.

Anyways, here's to vitamin C and my dad's famous "Over the lips, through the gums, lookout stomach here it comes. Yay, God." prayer. 

Go away, Thanksgiving curse.

Well hey there, party peoples! 

I'm back from Seattle, also known as the trip I spent more time in the air than in the actual town I flew to. If you didn't know, I was there shooting a wedding for two people I have known since we were knee high to a curb. It was a beautiful wedding but considering I left my hotel at 2:30AM yesterday and didn't return to Florida soil until 8:30PM - I can barely remember my own name right now.

With that said, I want to talk about airports and flying.

When I wasn't doing this - 

Flying is quite possibly the greatest form of birth control besides attending a small child's birthday party.

 I swear over the course of the 20-something hours I spent in 4 different airports this weekend I saw more child leashes than I've seen at Disney during Christmas time and I've heard more screams than opening night of the Blair Witch Project.

Color me informed - parenthood is no walk in the park.

Though I'm not sure that the one child I crossed paths with that I actually enjoyed will agree. She became my favorite somewhere during a conversation with her bigger brother while she explained that when she grew up she wanted to be a princess and a mom. Homegirl was my kind of peeps, I could tell.

Once I got over the initial shell shock of being in a sea of whining, screaming small people, I settled in my small airplane seat where I was forced to shove my partially broken earbuds in my ears to avoid casual conversation with the seemingly lonely business man sitting next to me.

At least I managed to score a couple of free diet cokes and a bag of stale pretzels.

Killing time on a 5 hour flight can also cause for extreme boredom.

Enter: SkyMall.com

If you've never picked up an issue of SkyMall from your conveniently placed seat pocket you are missing out on some of the world's most insignificant and unnecessary items to purchase ever.

I would personally get serious entertainment if I saw someone lugging this through airport security.

Social media makes the female species do some weird things.

Weird things such as duck lips, strange poses and painfully awkward selfies.

What is it about these social media sites that sends our species in to this vain mentality all so we can have the most stunning default photo? I mean, this stuff is super im-por-tan-te these days.
And before you all get in a tizzy over this, I am fully admitting that I am one of these chicks myself, so uncross your arms and keep the eye rolls to a minimum. It's all going to be ok.

But really, when did we start thinking that smooshing our faces tightly together, while pursing our lips was a cute look?
Exhibit A:
This face screams "I JUST SMELLED SOMETHING REAL FOUL!".
Certainly not a face fit for a default yet after a couple vodka sodies, something inside of me comes out and this is the look I going to give the camera 98% of the time.
Why? Perhaps the bartender put a little too much lime in my drink. Or maybe I just know I will look too drunk to taken attractive photo.
Or maybe, just maybe, I'm in such a messed up state of mind that I think I actually look attractive.


Then, somewhere during this craze of taking and posting photos of every move I make, I picked up the lean.
Not to be confused with the bend and snap.
Exhibit B:

Dear The Lean, We're finished. It's not you, it's me.
Sincerely, Whitney

What happened to the days where we'd take all of these cute photos with our friends like this?

As promised, I set my bedroom up in to a super technical funzone for vlog making in celebration of my 100th post.

Technical funzone photographed below:

Which actually sounds like a real cop out (or really naughty) - now that I think about it.

I'm really not even writing for my 100th post. Whatever, let's roll with it...

Here goes nothing:

Incident = spilled wine all over Charlie Sheen's face. Oops.


I can't watch this vlog, the sound of my own voice is weird.
Weird like seeing your reflection in the mirror for the first time.
I also realize I'm actually very annoying. So... There's that. My apologies.
I'll stick to writing from now on.


Thanks to all of you who asked me questions and super thanks to those of you who have stuck around to read even just 50 posts. This thing is really starting to get fun!

Somewhere between the hours of 4 and 5am last night, during a fit of my routine insomnia, I got a pretty feisty evil eye from a 3 pound Maltese because I moved. 

So, naturally, I laid in the most uncomfortable, stiff position for the rest of the night to avoid being on the receiving end of those beady little evil eyes once again. Of course, it got me thinking...

My life has gone to the dogs.

These two dogs, to be specific.

The three of us share one king sized bed and somehow it seems I'm the one out of place.

I get kicked by Ella multiple times through the night, as if I'm invading HER space.

Maybe I belong on the floor? But then I'm pretty sure we'd have one empty king sized bed and one crowded floor. 

Riddle me that.

I've also become a literal human dog bed at some point during these last 6 years since bringing home my beloved first born, Ella.

Why lay in those pricey, plush little beds your human purchases when you can get a living, breathing human?

Guess what? It's Monday, the red headed stepchild of weekdays. The polar opposite of Glen Coco.

None for Gretchen Wieners Monday morning.

This probably comes as no surprise to those of you who trot around these parts of interwebbage often, but I'm not one to plan blog posts ahead of time.

Scheduling blog posts sounds about as exhausting as a Monday morning to me.

Hell, I'm lucky if I can think straight in the mornings to form a complete sentence.

So, Monday should be the easiest day for me to come up with a topic, right?

Wrong.

Aside from a 3 hour wine and Skype date with my dahling Samilicious (and Lily),

and a going to a beer festival for a couple hours,

Insert blogging crash and burn.