It's been a while and I'm going to try to do this post without losing my mind or my train of thought as there are three kids swarming around me, one being less than agreeable about anything. I'm ignoring all this, mostly. Thank you, Celexa.
In the aftermath of last weeks tradegy it seems almost unthinkable right now for anyone to complain about their children, given so many lost their lives. Eventually everyone will get back to normal and stop thinking they can't let out their frustrations. But...until that happens...I'm not complaining. Not really.
I can, however, complain about Social Media and the Media in General. Because that's still acceptable. I have to admit I hadn't watched one bit of news on Friday or listened to a radio. I was busy filling custom doll orders for Christmas. Every so often, though, I would browse facebook and notice my feed blowing up with prayers, and thoughts, and tears and broken hearts. This happened all day and through bits and pieces I finally figured out what had happened. Sad. Very Sad. Very tragic. I felt no need to add my own sentiments as it seemed really unimportant to send them out to people who were not affected by this personally. Plus, I hate following the crowd.
This went on and on and on...Until...the sentiments began to dwindle and the WAR began. All of those warm thoughts and prayers suddenly turned into a war on guns and those who carry them. A war on those who believe we should not be allowed to carry. A war against anyone posting anything funny that day. A war against people saying no one should post anything funny day. By the end of the night I was ready to puke. Seriously. Let's use this tragedy to fuel our own anger and pointless arguments. That will help.
That was facebook. The actual Media can bite me. I watch the news for the weather only and that is often wrong as well. Being someone who battles anxiety on a daily basis, The News, is no place for me to be. I don't care who thinks I need to "be informed". They can bite me too, because, honestly, I don't. My life is much better not knowing most of the shit the Media seems to want me to know.
In the middle of it all, I found this
http://anarchistsoccermom.blogspot.com/2012/12/thinking-unthinkable.html
For those looking for answers...well, you probably won't find any, but you may just get a glimse into a world that, in all honesty, has nothing to do with politics, the media, or guns, but a world that has everything to do with the events that took place on Friday. Sometimes more does need to be done. But sometimes there is nothing that can be done.
Aside from all of that, I'm doing well, just busy as hell. I'm looking forward to things again and I know it is largly due to the medication, which means I'm sticking with the plan. I could still be doing better, and I know what areas need more work, but I think I'll just try to survive the Holidays first.
Hope, who is done Christmas Shopping. For real, this time!
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Monday, December 3, 2012
Limits
“Anxiety is love's greatest killer. It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic.”
― Anaïs Nin
This is true. And sometimes telling the truth is hard. Harder still on the one being told.
It's Monday and I'm coming off a weekend of kids, which is often hard for me. The Celexa reached it's limit as to what it could and couldn't do for me so unfortunately last night I needed a Devil Pill in order to keep my head from exploding, quiet my heartbeat, and finally (I don't even know when) fall asleep.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Kids are kids. They are loud. They are messy. They go non-stop. My kid tends to be a little less of all of those things because, well, I'm his mother. But for the most part I guess all of that is normal. Only loud, messy and non stop always seem to send me into a panic. I feel like I'm stuck in a tornado. There's no order. And having order is one of my main coping mechanisms when it comes to my anxiety. Always has been. Always will be. When I have order around me I can keep order within me. This is hardly worth mentioning, of course, to anyone that doesn't feel the same way.
Most of the time, I just try to keep out of the way. If I do get brave enough to say...venture into the living room of doom and clutter...there usually isn't even a place for me to sit. So I'll back away slowly, sit in the other room, maybe do something on my computer. I struggle with wanting to feel like I belong in that picture, but also knowing I'm not comfortable there. This is one of those truths that's hard to tell, and possibly harder to hear. It's one of those truths that has no solution. At least not for me.
Becoming a mother did not come naturally for me. Not. At. All. I wouldn't change it, of course, but I'm just being honest. Perhaps is doesn't come naturally to anyone who suffers from Chronic Anxiety. I don't know. Through the initial struggle, I had to learn who he was, and that made the process a hell of a lot easier. It didn't take long for me to realize I had to tell him what we were going to do before we did it...like, going in the car...going outside...changing his diaper. Even before he learned to talk he needed to know what was coming next in order to feel comfortable. He liked order and routine. And that I could understand. I don't have a wild and crazy child. I have a child like me. Mostly quiet, not hyper, sensitive, shy, imaginative, artistic, caring, neat (as neat as an 8 year old can be), and anxious. That, I also understand.
The rest of the worlds kids, however, send me into a fit of panic. Cute as they may be, my brain can't keep up with their constant bouncing around from subject to subject or couch to couch. Their mess thrown all about the floor sends me into hybernation mode and I just want to hide until it's not there anymore. This is really nothing new either. I've pretty much always felt this way so why I decided to have a child of my own in the first place is one of lifes great mysteries.
So, there it is. A piece of my truth, and my next hurdle to try to overcome. Whether it's anxiety or just a personality trait, I'm not really sure. I know sometimes traits clash. It happens. We all are who we are in this world and sometimes trying to mix an odd combination together creates and less than appetizing result.
Hope, who is starting to understand herself again.
― Anaïs Nin
This is true. And sometimes telling the truth is hard. Harder still on the one being told.
It's Monday and I'm coming off a weekend of kids, which is often hard for me. The Celexa reached it's limit as to what it could and couldn't do for me so unfortunately last night I needed a Devil Pill in order to keep my head from exploding, quiet my heartbeat, and finally (I don't even know when) fall asleep.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Kids are kids. They are loud. They are messy. They go non-stop. My kid tends to be a little less of all of those things because, well, I'm his mother. But for the most part I guess all of that is normal. Only loud, messy and non stop always seem to send me into a panic. I feel like I'm stuck in a tornado. There's no order. And having order is one of my main coping mechanisms when it comes to my anxiety. Always has been. Always will be. When I have order around me I can keep order within me. This is hardly worth mentioning, of course, to anyone that doesn't feel the same way.
Most of the time, I just try to keep out of the way. If I do get brave enough to say...venture into the living room of doom and clutter...there usually isn't even a place for me to sit. So I'll back away slowly, sit in the other room, maybe do something on my computer. I struggle with wanting to feel like I belong in that picture, but also knowing I'm not comfortable there. This is one of those truths that's hard to tell, and possibly harder to hear. It's one of those truths that has no solution. At least not for me.
Becoming a mother did not come naturally for me. Not. At. All. I wouldn't change it, of course, but I'm just being honest. Perhaps is doesn't come naturally to anyone who suffers from Chronic Anxiety. I don't know. Through the initial struggle, I had to learn who he was, and that made the process a hell of a lot easier. It didn't take long for me to realize I had to tell him what we were going to do before we did it...like, going in the car...going outside...changing his diaper. Even before he learned to talk he needed to know what was coming next in order to feel comfortable. He liked order and routine. And that I could understand. I don't have a wild and crazy child. I have a child like me. Mostly quiet, not hyper, sensitive, shy, imaginative, artistic, caring, neat (as neat as an 8 year old can be), and anxious. That, I also understand.
The rest of the worlds kids, however, send me into a fit of panic. Cute as they may be, my brain can't keep up with their constant bouncing around from subject to subject or couch to couch. Their mess thrown all about the floor sends me into hybernation mode and I just want to hide until it's not there anymore. This is really nothing new either. I've pretty much always felt this way so why I decided to have a child of my own in the first place is one of lifes great mysteries.
So, there it is. A piece of my truth, and my next hurdle to try to overcome. Whether it's anxiety or just a personality trait, I'm not really sure. I know sometimes traits clash. It happens. We all are who we are in this world and sometimes trying to mix an odd combination together creates and less than appetizing result.
Hope, who is starting to understand herself again.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Day 13?
I think this is day 13 of Celexa. But, honestly, I'm not sure and I'm too lazy to look at a Calendar. What I am sure of is I feel better. Better than the last better, but still not as good as I probably can, with more work and perhaps more medication.
It's still hard for me to take that little pill each morning, because even though I've mostly accepted the fact that I probably need to take that little pill each morning, I still wish I didn't have to. That will take some time to get over, and hopefully the better I feel the easier it will be.
So far, the medication has enabled me to go out whenever I need or want to go out without the fear of an impending panic attack. I can't even remember the last time I could do that. I was able to spend Thanksgiving day with a family other than my own (strangers) and endure some awkward silences throughout the day, without my brain entering fight or flight mode. I also only drank one glass of wine. One. I also didn't even need to drink that glass of wine. I would say that is progress.
The fear, the thoughts, and the worry are still there, however. Sitting quietly in the background. Waiting, perhaps? I don't know. The only way I can think to describe what the medication is doing is to say it's acting as a wall. All the evil doers are still lurking on the other side and even jump up to peek over now and again...but they can't actually GET over. The wall blocks them and is keeping them from reeking havoc. Something my unmedicated brain can't seem to do on it's own.
And that is pretty much all I have right now. Nothing funny. No pictures. No links to videos. I didn't even get to say the F word. But that's okay. Because I'm okay. And for the first time in a long time I think I believe I will continue to be okay.
Hope, who is looking forward to the Holidays this year, which is kind of weird really, but I'm totally going with it.
So far, the medication has enabled me to go out whenever I need or want to go out without the fear of an impending panic attack. I can't even remember the last time I could do that. I was able to spend Thanksgiving day with a family other than my own (strangers) and endure some awkward silences throughout the day, without my brain entering fight or flight mode. I also only drank one glass of wine. One. I also didn't even need to drink that glass of wine. I would say that is progress.
The fear, the thoughts, and the worry are still there, however. Sitting quietly in the background. Waiting, perhaps? I don't know. The only way I can think to describe what the medication is doing is to say it's acting as a wall. All the evil doers are still lurking on the other side and even jump up to peek over now and again...but they can't actually GET over. The wall blocks them and is keeping them from reeking havoc. Something my unmedicated brain can't seem to do on it's own.
And that is pretty much all I have right now. Nothing funny. No pictures. No links to videos. I didn't even get to say the F word. But that's okay. Because I'm okay. And for the first time in a long time I think I believe I will continue to be okay.
Hope, who is looking forward to the Holidays this year, which is kind of weird really, but I'm totally going with it.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
On the fifth day Celexa created...
A little peace of mind. Finally. Not a lot, but enough so that I feel like I'm slowly wiggling my way out of a scary, dark cave. I like feeling better. What I don't like is this "eh...I really can't be bothered because I don't give a shit" feeling. Well...it's not really that I don't LIKE it, because, honestly it's not so bad. It's just that it's not "in my character", so to speak. Medicine will do that. Try to fix everything, even if it isn't broken.
But, in any case, it will have to do for now or until my Doctor is back from maternity leave. I can't really stomach the thought of explaining my "situation" to anyone new right now, and seeing how I have the Celexa stocked piled in my cabinet, I'd say it's all working out swimmingly. "Swimmingly". Okay...enough with the italics and the "quotes". Not really.
My Man, (who will forever be referred to as RL, unless he cheats on me, in which case we will then refer to him as asshole.), and I have this thing we do. We talk, or rather, we just say shit. Stupid Shit. For no reason, and then we usually laugh. Because it's funny. Or, because we think it's funny, is probably more accurate.
Sound Bite
Me: Everyone kept asking what I use for Birth Control at the Doctors office.
RL: Birth Control?
Me: Yeah. I said nothing.
RL: Did you tell them you usually don't even get the guys name?
Me: Not true. I DO get their names...just not until after I've stolen their wallet.
None of that is true, by the way. Except the part about not using Birth Control. So I'm off now to heed the following warning...
Alcohol may intensify this affect
Or to possibly ignore it.
Hope, who can't be bothered with spell check.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Crap I feel like saying.
It never fails. The times when you wish the most to be invisible, will be the times you run into everyone you know at the grocery store...or at the very least...five or six people you'd rather not run into. Not because of them, of course. They're fine. I'm just not. At least not yet. In fact, I almost didn't even make it there. But I did. I won't say how though because, honestly I'm sick of talking about it.
What I never get sick of talking about, however, are pap smears and vaginas . Get them, people. They're important! The smear, I mean. Hopefully you already have the vagina. ( which is also important) Unless you're a dude. Then hopefully not. But anyway...
I got mine today (the smear) for the billionth time. They've been abnormal for the past 14 years, and I've had at least a thousand biopsies. (not really, maybe 6) No cancer yet. I'm not sure if that means the odds are with me or against me. Doesn't matter though because that is the one thing in my life I'm on top of. I've got my vagina covered. And that's a good thing or else this blog would have just turned into something different entirely.
Today, I'll leave you with this...because reading is sometimes boring without pictures, and because I took the picture.
The worlds largest Vagina Q-Tips.
What I never get sick of talking about, however, are pap smears and vaginas . Get them, people. They're important! The smear, I mean. Hopefully you already have the vagina. ( which is also important) Unless you're a dude. Then hopefully not. But anyway...
I got mine today (the smear) for the billionth time. They've been abnormal for the past 14 years, and I've had at least a thousand biopsies. (not really, maybe 6) No cancer yet. I'm not sure if that means the odds are with me or against me. Doesn't matter though because that is the one thing in my life I'm on top of. I've got my vagina covered. And that's a good thing or else this blog would have just turned into something different entirely.
Today, I'll leave you with this...because reading is sometimes boring without pictures, and because I took the picture.
The worlds largest Vagina Q-Tips.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Day one of a Daily Dose...
A decision has been made. I think. I wish I could say I already feel better, but I can't. I feel worse. Aside from the shakiness inside and out, I'm jumpy, I keep dropping things, my brain is in a fog, and I keep getting these electric shock feelings traveling through my body. Hands, feet, and head mostly. I know at least part of these physical symptoms are due to withdrawal from the Devil pills, so I'm just trying to get through it.
I'm hopeful. Hopeful that in a week or two I will start to feel better and I can get in to see my doctor again for the next plan of action. Therapy.
I would imagine choosing a Therapist is a lot like choosing a medication. Not every one will be right for me. I'm not looking forward to starting the process, but I think it will be good in the long run. And necessary. Even if, in the end all it does is help learn more about myself.
So, that's that. I've started. Again, I wish it felt better. I'd love nothing more than to take a Devil pill right now and feel myself go back to " normal". To get rid of this racing heart and the feeling that I want to crawl out of my own body. But I won't.
Hope, who is holding it together. Even if it is just with duct tape.
I'm hopeful. Hopeful that in a week or two I will start to feel better and I can get in to see my doctor again for the next plan of action. Therapy.
I would imagine choosing a Therapist is a lot like choosing a medication. Not every one will be right for me. I'm not looking forward to starting the process, but I think it will be good in the long run. And necessary. Even if, in the end all it does is help learn more about myself.
So, that's that. I've started. Again, I wish it felt better. I'd love nothing more than to take a Devil pill right now and feel myself go back to " normal". To get rid of this racing heart and the feeling that I want to crawl out of my own body. But I won't.
Hope, who is holding it together. Even if it is just with duct tape.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Quality over Quanity.
I'm starting to convince myself that's what important. The Quality of your days versus the Quanity. So what if taking medication every day for the rest of my life shortens it. What's the alternative. This. This is the alternative.
I'm having a shit ass day today trying to avoid the Devil, and manage on my own. I've tried relaxing (aka...doing nothing), massage, heating pads, cup after cup of sleepy bedtime tea...and nothing is really working. So much for my last post about being funny. I've tried endlessly today to find the funny in this and there just isn't any. True Story.
Watching this video of The Bloggess was helpful. Not very funny, but it made me feel better about my anxiety over taking daily medication for my anxiety.
I don't know if the video will show up. If it does...enjoy. If not, I'm sorry. I'll try again later. Hope, who has to make a decision and stick with it.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Train is still at the station. I am not.
A few days of calm and zero responsiblity (well really, really close to zero) has enabled me to exit flight or fight mode and take my foot off the damn train. I feel better. Not great, and probably not even what normal people might call good, but better. And in my world, that is good.
The weekend was actually great in the true sense of the word. It was full of great. I feel renewed and recharged. I even feel like I almost communicated in a way that may make more sense than words. In any case, I'm plugging away at this love thing and hopefully pounding away at the anxiety thing. I even went completely med free yesterday, which may have had something to do with having an ART day with my son. Painting has always relaxed me, especially when I don't have anything else hanging over my head. This morning, however, brought some unexpected drama that called for some artificial calming. Not even my drama, but that doesn't matter. My heart still starts beating too fast and my head still feels like it's going to explode. It probably won't. I know that, I think. But what's the harm of one little anxiety pill just to be sure? No need to answer that.
One of the ups of the weekend was this coming in the mail.
It was written by Jenny Lawson aka TheBloggess . A friend recommended her Blog and Book and holy shit is she hilarious. Seriously fucked up, I'm sure, but the funniest person I've ever had the pleasure of not meeting. She's also inspiring. (I've found, not one ,but two inspiring blogs in a matter of weeks and that shit makes me happy.) I've always wanted to write a sort of memoir that kind of focused on the Alcolholic/Anxiety aspecs of my family, childhood etc...but I kept getting locked into the "this is going to be the most depressing book ever" mode, and would give up. Who wants to write a book that's going to make people want to kill themselves? But what Jenny does in her book, although the topic is different from what I can tell so far, is she sprinkles the ridiculous with hilarity. I know not everyone can do it as well, but still, it got me thinking...I used to be funny. Sort of. In a sarcastic/pesimistic way. I can do that again. In my writing and in my life. Just because Anxiety is serious doesn't mean I always have to be. Just because serious shit happens doesn't mean we can't find the humor in it. It's there. It's always there. I suppose the same could be said for finding hope in a seemingless hopeless situation...but I suck at that, despite my name. So...funny it is. In addition to my road to coping (I don't dare say recovery), a new goal is to find the funny when possible. In just reading a few pages of this book, I actually felt the muscle tension in my neck ease up. I think I'm on to something here. I really do.
Hope, who honestly can't wait to be done with work today so I can get back to reading on the couch, while R keeps asking me "what's so funny?"
The weekend was actually great in the true sense of the word. It was full of great. I feel renewed and recharged. I even feel like I almost communicated in a way that may make more sense than words. In any case, I'm plugging away at this love thing and hopefully pounding away at the anxiety thing. I even went completely med free yesterday, which may have had something to do with having an ART day with my son. Painting has always relaxed me, especially when I don't have anything else hanging over my head. This morning, however, brought some unexpected drama that called for some artificial calming. Not even my drama, but that doesn't matter. My heart still starts beating too fast and my head still feels like it's going to explode. It probably won't. I know that, I think. But what's the harm of one little anxiety pill just to be sure? No need to answer that.
One of the ups of the weekend was this coming in the mail.
It was written by Jenny Lawson aka TheBloggess . A friend recommended her Blog and Book and holy shit is she hilarious. Seriously fucked up, I'm sure, but the funniest person I've ever had the pleasure of not meeting. She's also inspiring. (I've found, not one ,but two inspiring blogs in a matter of weeks and that shit makes me happy.) I've always wanted to write a sort of memoir that kind of focused on the Alcolholic/Anxiety aspecs of my family, childhood etc...but I kept getting locked into the "this is going to be the most depressing book ever" mode, and would give up. Who wants to write a book that's going to make people want to kill themselves? But what Jenny does in her book, although the topic is different from what I can tell so far, is she sprinkles the ridiculous with hilarity. I know not everyone can do it as well, but still, it got me thinking...I used to be funny. Sort of. In a sarcastic/pesimistic way. I can do that again. In my writing and in my life. Just because Anxiety is serious doesn't mean I always have to be. Just because serious shit happens doesn't mean we can't find the humor in it. It's there. It's always there. I suppose the same could be said for finding hope in a seemingless hopeless situation...but I suck at that, despite my name. So...funny it is. In addition to my road to coping (I don't dare say recovery), a new goal is to find the funny when possible. In just reading a few pages of this book, I actually felt the muscle tension in my neck ease up. I think I'm on to something here. I really do.
Hope, who honestly can't wait to be done with work today so I can get back to reading on the couch, while R keeps asking me "what's so funny?"
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Triggers
While my anxiety can't be directly linked to a lever that can be pulled and shut off, there are most definitely things that trigger it. Arguments are one of those things. I'm all for talking out a problem and trying to fix it but that never works. Ever. The next is being brushed off and left to twist in my own tornado of uncertainty. This has been the pattern for the last 3 years now. Somewhere between..." I refuse to talk/answer you and "okay I'm done playing games"... I enter fight or flight mode, and mentally have everything in my life dismantled as I'm planning to board the next train to "the fuck out of here." This has less to do with the the fight and what it was about, than is has to do with "I can't be in a state of unresolved limbo". I can't. Simple as that. I do things I later regret, I lose what little trust I may have regained, and I sometimes (always) end up boarding that train.
Living with someone who not only doesn't understand my anxiety, but tends to trigger it more times than not, is probably one of THE most unhealthy and distructive things I have ever chosen to do. Aside from the laundry list of things that crushed my trust in first place, that I now relive over and over again, I feel like I don't even have a safe place or a safe person to confide in.
I have one foot off the train and one on. And why am I still here? I'm here because I love this man. I actually, for once in my fucking life, am here purely out of love. I love this man, who will never understand. If I tried to explain it would be useless. In fact, explaining why I need us to resolve things differently would cause another fight. Asking him to listen would result in days of no communication. It would cause defensiveness and resentment. Nothing changes.
I'm at a dead end. He would tell me to stop feeling the way I feel, and I would try and then in the end it would all come full circle again. In taking my own advice from yesterday, it would seem like the only obvious solution is to eliminate this cycle. But if it can't be done together, that means I'd have to do it alone.
I'm at a dead end.
On a positive note, rather than stewing in my own anxiousness and fearing the sound of my own heartbeat, I went shopping. With the help of the Devil, of course, because without him I wouldn't have been able to get out of the car. It's not completely positive because I'm substituting love and happiness with spending, and I also need medication to it. I know this. And I know this has to change.
Hope, who may have to walk this road alone in order to get anywhere.
Living with someone who not only doesn't understand my anxiety, but tends to trigger it more times than not, is probably one of THE most unhealthy and distructive things I have ever chosen to do. Aside from the laundry list of things that crushed my trust in first place, that I now relive over and over again, I feel like I don't even have a safe place or a safe person to confide in.
I have one foot off the train and one on. And why am I still here? I'm here because I love this man. I actually, for once in my fucking life, am here purely out of love. I love this man, who will never understand. If I tried to explain it would be useless. In fact, explaining why I need us to resolve things differently would cause another fight. Asking him to listen would result in days of no communication. It would cause defensiveness and resentment. Nothing changes.
I'm at a dead end. He would tell me to stop feeling the way I feel, and I would try and then in the end it would all come full circle again. In taking my own advice from yesterday, it would seem like the only obvious solution is to eliminate this cycle. But if it can't be done together, that means I'd have to do it alone.
I'm at a dead end.
On a positive note, rather than stewing in my own anxiousness and fearing the sound of my own heartbeat, I went shopping. With the help of the Devil, of course, because without him I wouldn't have been able to get out of the car. It's not completely positive because I'm substituting love and happiness with spending, and I also need medication to it. I know this. And I know this has to change.
Hope, who may have to walk this road alone in order to get anywhere.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
To be or do or go...or not to be or do or go
Yesterday was election day. For me that basically amounted to voting against what I didn't want, rather than voting for what I did. That may be true for the majority. I don't really know, but it appears as though the people are able to accept a shit economy for another four years easier than they are able to accept their personal rights (some of which they already have) being threatened.
I guess you could say it sucks making decisions that way, but the more I thought about it, the more it started to make some sense. I mean, we can't base all our decisions on what we want because sometimes we don't know what we want. Or sometimes what we want simply isn't available to us. In the end, a decision still has to be made. Most of the time. Occasionally doing nothing can be the right option as well. If, you know, you have time to just sit on it. But who has time for that?
In my own life, decision making is often clouded or influenced by so many more things than my own personal desires. I guess that's normal. I make decisions based on what's needed, or time constraints, or my anxiety, or other peoples needs, lives, schedules. I rarely get the luxury of indulging my own wants and needs and what tends to happen is, I slowly start forgetting what those wants and needs are. If by chance I'm given a few hours to myself with no demands and I can choose how I want to spend that time...I usually find myself just sitting there, not knowing what to do and at the same time feeling guilty that I'm not doing something.
Perhaps by process of elimination I can take fuller advantage of those times. If I start making more decision based on what I don't want. In other words...weed out the people, places, things, or activities that give me zero to no pleasure. In reading that over, it sounds kind of drastic. Maybe it is, but just contemplating it is making me smile on the inside. That has to mean something. I know I can't give up doing laundry forever but I can certainly not do it so much. And I know I can't live in a bubble away from the rest of Idiocracy (aka "the world"), but I can make better choices about who I spend my time with and make sure I'm truly enjoying that time. I can stop trying to fit my square peg into that round hole. By eliminating the don't wants and by realizing where I don't belong, I give myself more space and options, and hopefully more opportunities to figure out where it is I do belong.
More Baby Steps.
Hope, who suddenly feels a little bit lighter.
I guess you could say it sucks making decisions that way, but the more I thought about it, the more it started to make some sense. I mean, we can't base all our decisions on what we want because sometimes we don't know what we want. Or sometimes what we want simply isn't available to us. In the end, a decision still has to be made. Most of the time. Occasionally doing nothing can be the right option as well. If, you know, you have time to just sit on it. But who has time for that?
In my own life, decision making is often clouded or influenced by so many more things than my own personal desires. I guess that's normal. I make decisions based on what's needed, or time constraints, or my anxiety, or other peoples needs, lives, schedules. I rarely get the luxury of indulging my own wants and needs and what tends to happen is, I slowly start forgetting what those wants and needs are. If by chance I'm given a few hours to myself with no demands and I can choose how I want to spend that time...I usually find myself just sitting there, not knowing what to do and at the same time feeling guilty that I'm not doing something.
Perhaps by process of elimination I can take fuller advantage of those times. If I start making more decision based on what I don't want. In other words...weed out the people, places, things, or activities that give me zero to no pleasure. In reading that over, it sounds kind of drastic. Maybe it is, but just contemplating it is making me smile on the inside. That has to mean something. I know I can't give up doing laundry forever but I can certainly not do it so much. And I know I can't live in a bubble away from the rest of Idiocracy (aka "the world"), but I can make better choices about who I spend my time with and make sure I'm truly enjoying that time. I can stop trying to fit my square peg into that round hole. By eliminating the don't wants and by realizing where I don't belong, I give myself more space and options, and hopefully more opportunities to figure out where it is I do belong.
More Baby Steps.
Hope, who suddenly feels a little bit lighter.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Ridin' into town alone by the light of the moon...
I'm back. I think.
Or should I say...Dear Diary...as this is pretty much what my blogging has become.
In any case, here I am, with nothing and everything to say all at once. I've missed getting my thoughts down on "paper" and I think by not doing that I've been slowly killing myself by keeping them locked up in my overcrowded head.
I recently stumbled upon a blog that inspired me to, not only start writing again, but to go back to writing my "truth". I had gone out about a week or so ago and indulged in a few (or more) drinks. It was a much needed break and more fun than expected. The problem was the next day my Anxiety Level was through the roof. This has happened before and due to my incurable "need" to find "whys", I started out on another internet quest for answers. I searched...Alcohol Anxiety. What I found was this guy.
www.anxietyguru.net
My New Hero.
I've only just begun to read through all the post and listen to some of the podcasts, but for the first time in forever I not only feel like I've truly found "my people" but I have a little hope. Not hope that I can be fixed, but more like hope that maybe I can do something to manage it better. Hope that maybe I can live with less fear. Hope that I can survive the worst of my times because there are other people who feel this way out there and they survive the worst of their times.
I've spent the last few years censoring myself, hiding my truth, and masking my symptoms with medication that closely resembles the workings of the Devil. Honestly, I'm tired of feeling this way and I've been searching for a quick fix and a simple cause for years. Too many years. I think what I've just finally realized is there is no fix, and although there may be triggers, there is no specific cause. There is nothing that was done that can now be undone. The anxiety is an illness and it is a part of me, and much like an alcoholic, I need to work on accepting that before I can do anything else.
So...my name is Hope...and I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Attacks. My Anxiety interferes with my daily life, my relationships, and prevents me from doing things that I would love to do. Sometimes my Anxiety makes all the decisions. Only one person in my life truly understands my Anxiety. Before that, no one understood. I've ended relationships and walked away from people due to my Anxiety and vise versa. Being alone makes is easier to control my Anxiety. I've lied and hid the truth because of my Anxiety. I find it difficult to trust because of my Anxiety. I avoid people, places, things and rarely feel "safe" due to my Anxiety. My Anxiety has made my world a very small place.
Baby Steps.
Hope, who is working on getting back in the saddle again...
Or should I say...Dear Diary...as this is pretty much what my blogging has become.
In any case, here I am, with nothing and everything to say all at once. I've missed getting my thoughts down on "paper" and I think by not doing that I've been slowly killing myself by keeping them locked up in my overcrowded head.
I recently stumbled upon a blog that inspired me to, not only start writing again, but to go back to writing my "truth". I had gone out about a week or so ago and indulged in a few (or more) drinks. It was a much needed break and more fun than expected. The problem was the next day my Anxiety Level was through the roof. This has happened before and due to my incurable "need" to find "whys", I started out on another internet quest for answers. I searched...Alcohol Anxiety. What I found was this guy.
www.anxietyguru.net
My New Hero.
I've only just begun to read through all the post and listen to some of the podcasts, but for the first time in forever I not only feel like I've truly found "my people" but I have a little hope. Not hope that I can be fixed, but more like hope that maybe I can do something to manage it better. Hope that maybe I can live with less fear. Hope that I can survive the worst of my times because there are other people who feel this way out there and they survive the worst of their times.
I've spent the last few years censoring myself, hiding my truth, and masking my symptoms with medication that closely resembles the workings of the Devil. Honestly, I'm tired of feeling this way and I've been searching for a quick fix and a simple cause for years. Too many years. I think what I've just finally realized is there is no fix, and although there may be triggers, there is no specific cause. There is nothing that was done that can now be undone. The anxiety is an illness and it is a part of me, and much like an alcoholic, I need to work on accepting that before I can do anything else.
So...my name is Hope...and I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Attacks. My Anxiety interferes with my daily life, my relationships, and prevents me from doing things that I would love to do. Sometimes my Anxiety makes all the decisions. Only one person in my life truly understands my Anxiety. Before that, no one understood. I've ended relationships and walked away from people due to my Anxiety and vise versa. Being alone makes is easier to control my Anxiety. I've lied and hid the truth because of my Anxiety. I find it difficult to trust because of my Anxiety. I avoid people, places, things and rarely feel "safe" due to my Anxiety. My Anxiety has made my world a very small place.
Baby Steps.
Hope, who is working on getting back in the saddle again...
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Friday, July 27, 2012
Saturday, June 16, 2012
The Law of Attraction.
If like attracts like, then I'm a lonely fisherman.
Who keeps looking up at me while reeling in his fish.
Does he expect me to say something? Because I won't. I have nothing to say, which, most likely, is why I'm out here alone in the first place.
Nothing to say. I do, however, have plenty to feel.
He's talking now. To himself? No.
"Oh my god. You are beautiful." he says.
To me? No.
"Look at you!" he says.
I look up. It's a fish. He's just talking to a fish.
Seems fitting.
He's floating away now and I'm relieved. Relieved not to have had to say anything.
The sun is going down and I'm starting to get cold.
And like attracts like.
Who keeps looking up at me while reeling in his fish.
Does he expect me to say something? Because I won't. I have nothing to say, which, most likely, is why I'm out here alone in the first place.
Nothing to say. I do, however, have plenty to feel.
He's talking now. To himself? No.
"Oh my god. You are beautiful." he says.
To me? No.
"Look at you!" he says.
I look up. It's a fish. He's just talking to a fish.
Seems fitting.
He's floating away now and I'm relieved. Relieved not to have had to say anything.
The sun is going down and I'm starting to get cold.
And like attracts like.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Ironing it out...
I wish my mind had an on and off switch. It would certainly make life a hell of a lot easier. But, it does not. As far as I know, only men come with that switch. So, here I sit, after attempting sleep and getting only a racing heartbeat in return. I come back to the only thing I know that comes close to helping. Aside from the magic little white pill I took before logging on.
Nights like this are hardly the time to start questioning all your life choices and revamping your five year plan. (ha. like I've ever had a five year plan.) But...somehow, I feel like doing that. I feel like changing everything. I feel like knocking down walls, burning old love letters, and tossing out everything that ever meant anything to me. I hear my inner voice screaming at me to stop being afraid of losing what isn't even yours. She can be a real bitch sometimes...the inner voice...but more often than not she's right. Hammer. Nail. Head. Stupid bitch.
It probably doesn't make any sense. These types of feelings. Not to anyone else, anyway. But they stem from fear, doubt, and insecurity. All of these feelings tend to make me feel helpless. I know why and I hate feeling helpless. I will do almost anything not to feel that way. In the past that was how I dealt with it. I changed everything. I knocked down walls, burnt more than just old love letters, and sold the majority of my belongings. It worked. How? Anger. Anger steps up to the plate and hits helpless out of the park. Anger, then being very proud of herself, becomes Strength, and Strength pulls me back. Now, how can I possibly be strong when I've just trashed everything and having nothing left? When you have nothing, you have nothing to lose. There is freedom in having nothing to lose. Freedom from fear, doubt and insecurity.
And there you have it. Me, in a nutshell. This ridiculous pattern of behavior has been my way of coping since as far back as I can remember. It's what I do. It's familiar, it's comfortable, and it's been pretty damn effective up until now.
Now that I'm trying not to that... trash everything... I'm stuck with only Anger when the fear, doubt and insecurity find a reason to rear their ugly heads. Anger, with no where to go, never turns into strength for me. In fact, most times I feel like it's slowly killing me. Or I'm slowly killing myself. Trying to tear apart my own world without actually doing it.
This really doesn't make any sense, does it? Jesus. Ativan and a laptop, and this is what you get. I feel better anyway. Not sure which of the two was the most help.
So I guess at this point I probably need to figure out how to revamp without destruction. And how to let go without giving up. I need to switch my focus from the silly things that I thought were supposed to matter the matter the most, back to the the tried and true things that I know. I need to expect nothing. Expectations...Great Expectations lead to disappointment. Compromising yourself for other people leads to self loathing. Love doesn't conquer all. I knew this, didn't I? Of course, I did.
Given my inability to see too far into the future, I'm sure an actual five year plan is out of the question. But a one year plan I could do. My one year plan...accept the things I can not change...change the things I can...and believe it or not, I already know the difference.
Hope, who already knows what she can't accept.
Nights like this are hardly the time to start questioning all your life choices and revamping your five year plan. (ha. like I've ever had a five year plan.) But...somehow, I feel like doing that. I feel like changing everything. I feel like knocking down walls, burning old love letters, and tossing out everything that ever meant anything to me. I hear my inner voice screaming at me to stop being afraid of losing what isn't even yours. She can be a real bitch sometimes...the inner voice...but more often than not she's right. Hammer. Nail. Head. Stupid bitch.
It probably doesn't make any sense. These types of feelings. Not to anyone else, anyway. But they stem from fear, doubt, and insecurity. All of these feelings tend to make me feel helpless. I know why and I hate feeling helpless. I will do almost anything not to feel that way. In the past that was how I dealt with it. I changed everything. I knocked down walls, burnt more than just old love letters, and sold the majority of my belongings. It worked. How? Anger. Anger steps up to the plate and hits helpless out of the park. Anger, then being very proud of herself, becomes Strength, and Strength pulls me back. Now, how can I possibly be strong when I've just trashed everything and having nothing left? When you have nothing, you have nothing to lose. There is freedom in having nothing to lose. Freedom from fear, doubt and insecurity.
And there you have it. Me, in a nutshell. This ridiculous pattern of behavior has been my way of coping since as far back as I can remember. It's what I do. It's familiar, it's comfortable, and it's been pretty damn effective up until now.
Now that I'm trying not to that... trash everything... I'm stuck with only Anger when the fear, doubt and insecurity find a reason to rear their ugly heads. Anger, with no where to go, never turns into strength for me. In fact, most times I feel like it's slowly killing me. Or I'm slowly killing myself. Trying to tear apart my own world without actually doing it.
This really doesn't make any sense, does it? Jesus. Ativan and a laptop, and this is what you get. I feel better anyway. Not sure which of the two was the most help.
So I guess at this point I probably need to figure out how to revamp without destruction. And how to let go without giving up. I need to switch my focus from the silly things that I thought were supposed to matter the matter the most, back to the the tried and true things that I know. I need to expect nothing. Expectations...Great Expectations lead to disappointment. Compromising yourself for other people leads to self loathing. Love doesn't conquer all. I knew this, didn't I? Of course, I did.
Given my inability to see too far into the future, I'm sure an actual five year plan is out of the question. But a one year plan I could do. My one year plan...accept the things I can not change...change the things I can...and believe it or not, I already know the difference.
Hope, who already knows what she can't accept.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
GAD
Most people that know me know that I'm an anxious person. Or maybe they don't. If they don't then most probably don't know me. I believe it's even written somewhere over on the right that I'm "anxiety ridden" and I've often half jokingly described myself as neurotic, although in reality, it really isn't much of a joke.
I realized today that most people in my life, or at least those that are close to me may not really understand what that means as I'm not sure I've ever really explained it to anyone in a way that might make any sense. For years I, myself, didn't even know what was wrong, so really, how could I. Once I got a diagnosis I tried a few times to explain and was met with either confused looks or loads of unsolicited advice on how I could "relax". "You just need to calm down." became my cue to shut up. Sometimes it was cue to shut up And move on. In any case, I eventually stopped really explaining anything and just left it as I have anxiety...a very vague explanation of a very complicated disorder.
I also realized today that this may not be the best way to go about things...for me...or for those people that are lucky enough to have to experience the effects and aftereffects of the disorder. So...because I'm much better at writing things down than I am at conversation, I thought I would attempt an explanation here. One that isn't so vague. One that might clear things up a little or assist in letting the pieces "fall together".
I have GAD. Or...Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Generalized, I guess because there is no "pin point" cause and it effects every single aspect of my life. Unlike, say Social Anxiety Disorder, in which people only have the anxiety in social situations. I have that as well, which is why, if anyone has every noticed, I cannot be in a social situation with people I know or don't know for longer than an hour without having a drink. I don't need to get drunk...one or two drinks is usually enough to use as "medicine". But, in addition to Social Anxiety I have every other anxiety as well. Generalized.
A Generic Definition I found online goes as follows: Generalized anxiety disorder is characterized by chronic feelings of excessive worry and anxiety without a specific cause. Individuals with generalized anxiety disorder often feel on edge, tense, and jittery. Someone with generalized anxiety disorder may worry about minor things, major things, daily events, or the future. These feelings are accompanied by physical complaints such as elevated blood pressure, increased heart rate, muscle tension, sweating, and shaking.
I realized today that most people in my life, or at least those that are close to me may not really understand what that means as I'm not sure I've ever really explained it to anyone in a way that might make any sense. For years I, myself, didn't even know what was wrong, so really, how could I. Once I got a diagnosis I tried a few times to explain and was met with either confused looks or loads of unsolicited advice on how I could "relax". "You just need to calm down." became my cue to shut up. Sometimes it was cue to shut up And move on. In any case, I eventually stopped really explaining anything and just left it as I have anxiety...a very vague explanation of a very complicated disorder.
I also realized today that this may not be the best way to go about things...for me...or for those people that are lucky enough to have to experience the effects and aftereffects of the disorder. So...because I'm much better at writing things down than I am at conversation, I thought I would attempt an explanation here. One that isn't so vague. One that might clear things up a little or assist in letting the pieces "fall together".
I have GAD. Or...Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Generalized, I guess because there is no "pin point" cause and it effects every single aspect of my life. Unlike, say Social Anxiety Disorder, in which people only have the anxiety in social situations. I have that as well, which is why, if anyone has every noticed, I cannot be in a social situation with people I know or don't know for longer than an hour without having a drink. I don't need to get drunk...one or two drinks is usually enough to use as "medicine". But, in addition to Social Anxiety I have every other anxiety as well. Generalized.
A Generic Definition I found online goes as follows: Generalized anxiety disorder is characterized by chronic feelings of excessive worry and anxiety without a specific cause. Individuals with generalized anxiety disorder often feel on edge, tense, and jittery. Someone with generalized anxiety disorder may worry about minor things, major things, daily events, or the future. These feelings are accompanied by physical complaints such as elevated blood pressure, increased heart rate, muscle tension, sweating, and shaking.
That's a pretty good definition. It's that. And it's much more. Explaining the "much more" is where I usually get tripped up and where people either stop understanding or start saying..."just relax" or "what are you worried about?" This is usually where I give up and go make a drink because explaining it, honestly, gives me anxiety. As I'm trying to explain it now, I guess I can't do that. But...luckily I've already had a drink...so...maybe what's best to do go back to the name. GAD. Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I think, for me, if I could get anyone in my life to understand any part of it, even if they can't understand the whys or whats (because, honestly I don't always either) it would be that they just understand the NAME.
I don't just worry for the hell of it. Telling me to relax won't help. This is a disorder. I can do no more to change that than someone with ADD can stop having ADD or someone with Autism can stop being Autistic. As much as I hate the phrase...it is what it is. That would really be all the understanding I need.
People with anxiety disorder don't get better. We learn to "manage"...or at the very least try to manage. But sometimes it's hard to do that when no one is in your corner. This is why it's always been so important for me to try to explain and for someone to understand. I deal with this every day. Every Day. Just as someone with...say...Tourette Syndrome has to deal with their Tourettes. It effects every decision I make. Whether to go out. Whether to stay home. What I eat. What I drink. What I say. How I feel. Some days are better than others. The anxiety is not gone, I've just done a damn good job managing. Sometimes it comes in bouts. Months at a time. Sometimes I shake. Sometimes I don't. And the hardest part of all is there is nothing I can do to make it stop. BUT...I manage. And, all in all, I think I've done a pretty damn good job of leading a somewhat normal life.
But, as I've said...it is what it is. I've seen doctors. I've tried pills. I still take some pills, but in the end, it will always be a part of me. I wish that weren't true, but hating that fact and fighting it is exhausting. Accepting it is the only option.
I'm not sure if that explained enough, or anything for that matter, but it did clear a few things up for me.
Hope, who is taking a page from her book of five years ago.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Beautiful Day.
It's beautiful out today. Far too beautiful to feel this lonely. But at least I'm alone. Better to feel lonely in my own silence than to feel lonely in the silence of others. I think maybe I'll pay attention to myself today. Focus on what I want...and what part of that, if anything, I really need to get from someone else. I think I'll soak up some sun and ignore how bad it's supposed to be for me. I might even talk to myself, listen, and respond, because why the hell not. Who's going to notice? Then maybe I'll put on something I like and tell myself I look pretty. Maybe I'll go buy myself a drink or dinner then treat myself to some retail therapy.
I think that's what I'll do.
I think that's what I'll do.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Panic
An eighteen day lapse and here I sit once again trying to find something to quiet my mind and body. This could have been avoided tonight, but could have means shit when I'm this deep in it. My face feels like its on fire and then going numb...and my head and heart are pounding. I can't sleep because I keep getting sharp pains in my arm and my hands and toes are twitching. Everytime I get close to sleep I feel like I've stopped breathing and wake with a jerk. But mostly it's my head right now. It's stress. It's anxiety. It's the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness. This will never end. I will never be able to stop it. No one can fix it. And no one can help. I have to accept that.
Just like I have to accept that the things you don't want to change eventually will, and the things you do want to change will always remain the same.
Looking to other people for what you need is pointless. Even if they give you what you ask for they will never give you what you need. Only you have the power to do that.
A lot of realizations have erupted during tonight's panic attack. What to do with them is still a mystery. But I'm ready. Ready to move on. To accept the things I can not change...to accept what is. I'm ready for something new. A distraction to take my mind off the pounding in my head. A numbing to keep me from feeling "too" much.
Im not sure why I feel the need to communicate how I feel but I do, and this has proven to be the safest place to do that. Looking for understanding in others often leads to disappointment. Here, no one needs to understand.
I'm ready. Ready to stop struggling to communicate. Ready to do more for me. Ready to let go of the pain in my head. Long term effects? Fuck em. The long term effects of living this way will surely kill me sooner than any medication.
Hope, who is lowering her expectations of herself as well as everyone else.
Just like I have to accept that the things you don't want to change eventually will, and the things you do want to change will always remain the same.
Looking to other people for what you need is pointless. Even if they give you what you ask for they will never give you what you need. Only you have the power to do that.
A lot of realizations have erupted during tonight's panic attack. What to do with them is still a mystery. But I'm ready. Ready to move on. To accept the things I can not change...to accept what is. I'm ready for something new. A distraction to take my mind off the pounding in my head. A numbing to keep me from feeling "too" much.
Im not sure why I feel the need to communicate how I feel but I do, and this has proven to be the safest place to do that. Looking for understanding in others often leads to disappointment. Here, no one needs to understand.
I'm ready. Ready to stop struggling to communicate. Ready to do more for me. Ready to let go of the pain in my head. Long term effects? Fuck em. The long term effects of living this way will surely kill me sooner than any medication.
Hope, who is lowering her expectations of herself as well as everyone else.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
You've got a friend...
That used to be one of my favorite songs. I spent a whole decade pumping myself full of James Taylor. A guy I barely knew send me lyrics to that song once. Hand written via snail mail. I thought it was a really big deal at the time. Maybe it was. Maybe I should have taken him up on his offer because in this day and age friends are hard to come by.
"When you're down and troubled and you need a helping hand and nothing... Oh nothing is going right..." well, I usually just grab a beer. Because lets be honest...who the fuck am I gonna call? Me? Who in their right mind wants to hear my bullshit. I don't even want to hear my bullshit. And it hurts too damn much to poor your heart and soul out and get only silence in return.
So fuck it. I blog. And I drink. Not necessarily in that order. Fuck the past. Fuck the present. And fuck the god damn future that may or may not decide to rear its ugly head. Fuck exes. Fuck their fucking bullshit. Fuck the fact that I'm only ever going to be the silent partner. Fuck people who can't listen. Fuck em harder when they listen but can't hear. Fuck everyone always taking and never being willing to give. Fuck meeting everyone else's needs and continually ignoring your own. Fuckitall. How's that for honesty?
"Just close your eyes and think of me and you know that I'll be there to brighten up even your darkest nights."
Bullshit. It's pretty fucking dark tonight and even after asking ( yeah, asking for christ sakes) for exactly what I needed I'm still sitting here. Alone. In the dark. I don't ask for much. I really don't. Or at least I don't think I do. I hate asking. It makes me feel weak. But when I get to the point where I have to it's serious. It's out of need not desire. And never in my life have I ever asked for anything unreasonable. But i swear to Christ nine times out of ten when I ask I get shit.
Fuck that as well, seeing how I'm on a roll. I rarely deny anyone anything they ask for. That, I know, is a flaw. I'm sure it stems from the whole alcoholic mother thing, and wanting to please, and fix and be loved and blah blah fucking blah. I'm sick of it. So essentially I'm sick of who I am.
Or perhaps tonight I'm sick of everything.
"...people can be so cold. They'll hurt you and desert you. Oh they'll take your soul if you let them. Oh yeah, but don't you let them. "
Like that's an actual choice we get to make. But hey...
"ain't it good to know... you've got a friend?"
"When you're down and troubled and you need a helping hand and nothing... Oh nothing is going right..." well, I usually just grab a beer. Because lets be honest...who the fuck am I gonna call? Me? Who in their right mind wants to hear my bullshit. I don't even want to hear my bullshit. And it hurts too damn much to poor your heart and soul out and get only silence in return.
So fuck it. I blog. And I drink. Not necessarily in that order. Fuck the past. Fuck the present. And fuck the god damn future that may or may not decide to rear its ugly head. Fuck exes. Fuck their fucking bullshit. Fuck the fact that I'm only ever going to be the silent partner. Fuck people who can't listen. Fuck em harder when they listen but can't hear. Fuck everyone always taking and never being willing to give. Fuck meeting everyone else's needs and continually ignoring your own. Fuckitall. How's that for honesty?
"Just close your eyes and think of me and you know that I'll be there to brighten up even your darkest nights."
Bullshit. It's pretty fucking dark tonight and even after asking ( yeah, asking for christ sakes) for exactly what I needed I'm still sitting here. Alone. In the dark. I don't ask for much. I really don't. Or at least I don't think I do. I hate asking. It makes me feel weak. But when I get to the point where I have to it's serious. It's out of need not desire. And never in my life have I ever asked for anything unreasonable. But i swear to Christ nine times out of ten when I ask I get shit.
Fuck that as well, seeing how I'm on a roll. I rarely deny anyone anything they ask for. That, I know, is a flaw. I'm sure it stems from the whole alcoholic mother thing, and wanting to please, and fix and be loved and blah blah fucking blah. I'm sick of it. So essentially I'm sick of who I am.
Or perhaps tonight I'm sick of everything.
"...people can be so cold. They'll hurt you and desert you. Oh they'll take your soul if you let them. Oh yeah, but don't you let them. "
Like that's an actual choice we get to make. But hey...
"ain't it good to know... you've got a friend?"
Monday, January 9, 2012
Words.
It's been a while as usual. Partly due to the busy Holiday season, which went swimmingly...at least the parts that I can remember...and party because I've been at a loss for words. Tonight I got a visit from my long loss friend, Insomnia. So...here I am. I keep thinking maybe I could just sleep. If I lay down. If I try to close my eyes. If I try really hard. Or maybe I should use this time to my advantage. Do some writing. Not this, of course, but some real writing. I have a lot of ideas. A flood of ideas, actually, but instead, here I am.
I have a lot going on all at once, so this sudden flood of adreneline is really no surprise. I have a lot that I could worry about, but ironically and almost suddenly, I'm not really that worried. I'm just kind of sick of having a lot going on. New Years Eve pretty much brought all my worries to a head. And the bits and pieces that I can recall changed everything. With New Years Day came a sort of forced acceptance. Of everything. Of who I am, what I've done, what's ahead. I've just accepted it all. Fighting it has been exhausting. I feel better now.
I'm going to be forty in a few weeks. Forty. A milestone...or so they say. I'm not really as freaked out about that as I thought might be. I don't really mind getting older...I just wish the average life expectancy was more like 200 or 300...that's all. The most noticable thing about being almost forty is that if by some chance you're lucky enough to get another 40 years...well...it's still half over. That part sucks. The other part that sucks is I haven't spent nearly enough of those 40 years doing the things that I want to do. I can see why the mid life crisis is so popular. But as for the rest...I'm taking it in stride. My body that will never be the same...my thinning hair...my face and the fine wrinkles that keep getting deeper and deeper with each passing year. These things I'll wear like a badge. Like each line and aching bone has been earned. Because it has.
I didn't make any official Resolutions this year, but so far, without too much effort, I've been able to let myself relax. On the inside and out. It's probably that acceptance thing, or maybe the realization that in the end not much of the little shit is going to matter.
Hope, who knows that once she gets over the hurdles...this is sure to be the best year of her life.
I have a lot going on all at once, so this sudden flood of adreneline is really no surprise. I have a lot that I could worry about, but ironically and almost suddenly, I'm not really that worried. I'm just kind of sick of having a lot going on. New Years Eve pretty much brought all my worries to a head. And the bits and pieces that I can recall changed everything. With New Years Day came a sort of forced acceptance. Of everything. Of who I am, what I've done, what's ahead. I've just accepted it all. Fighting it has been exhausting. I feel better now.
I'm going to be forty in a few weeks. Forty. A milestone...or so they say. I'm not really as freaked out about that as I thought might be. I don't really mind getting older...I just wish the average life expectancy was more like 200 or 300...that's all. The most noticable thing about being almost forty is that if by some chance you're lucky enough to get another 40 years...well...it's still half over. That part sucks. The other part that sucks is I haven't spent nearly enough of those 40 years doing the things that I want to do. I can see why the mid life crisis is so popular. But as for the rest...I'm taking it in stride. My body that will never be the same...my thinning hair...my face and the fine wrinkles that keep getting deeper and deeper with each passing year. These things I'll wear like a badge. Like each line and aching bone has been earned. Because it has.
I didn't make any official Resolutions this year, but so far, without too much effort, I've been able to let myself relax. On the inside and out. It's probably that acceptance thing, or maybe the realization that in the end not much of the little shit is going to matter.
Hope, who knows that once she gets over the hurdles...this is sure to be the best year of her life.
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