Life has been pretty amazing this past week. I’ve come a really long way and I was on cloud 9 yesterday.
So, of course, I wake up at 3am anxious as fuck and not knowing why.
One of the breakthoughs that happened was genuinely giving myself credit for all I’ve done and putting my situation into perspective: THIS IS MY TIME TO HEAL. TAKE THE TIME TO REST WHEN YOU NEED TO.
And here I am, anxious. Sliding a little backwards on that thinking that I’ve come so far to understand.
On a mental level, I still get it. I keep breathing and I’m doing a pretty awesome job of partially calming myself down and working through this moment. (Another improvement, if I do say so myself!)
Anyway, even with my badass coping skills, I’m still teetering on the edge of panic. Slipping down and “back” to where I was.
(That honestly makes me giggle.. Kay. Moving on)
THE TRUTH is that there is no going back. I clearly have a little extra to go in giving myself space to relax and that’s fucking fine. So yeah, I might be in the throws of the symptoms of ohshitohshitohshit but I know it’s temporary. And I’m strong enough now to know it.
So I’ll be just fine, DAMNIT.
I bought three bird feeders (and a hummingbird feeder I have yet to hang) for my mom for her birthday and Mother’s Day earlier this year. After I turned an adult we kinda just pretend to give each other something for a special occasion when really we just give each other gifts all year round.
Case in point, the bird feeders. I supply the food that keeps the MANY birds coming back each day as well as squirrels. Since I’ve hung them, we are THE place for birds in the neighborhood.
Seriously, I can never get a photo of it but sometimes out back yard is a scene from the movie “The Birds”. It’s delightful and horrifying.
Anyway, for a while now a pair or one of the couple of grey doves partakes in visiting our humble acreage. Out of all the birds that come (okay, besides the road runners and the quail), these doves fascinate me and spark hope.
After some really rough anxiety days, I kind of enjoy the thought of looking out the window and seeing one or both of them, connected and caring for the earth and each other.
They give me hope in my foggiest of days when I feel like I’m grasping for air and a post to rest before I have to make it to the next block.
My journey might not be pretty or fun, but at least I can still find hope and strength, no matter how small it may feel.
The glamour you guys.
- Oh my God I’m still up!
- Will I ever get to sleep?
- Of course I will!
- WTF is on my phone? I just cleaned it yesterday with alcohol. Maybe it needs to be a daily task?
- Do I still have OCD?
- Will I ever get better?
- OH DEAR GOD SWEET JESUS WHY THE FUCK DOES XANAX TASTE SO BAD?!?!?
- They should invent good tasting Xanax. It has to dissolve quickly anyway.
- Why is it a struggle for me to swallow a Xanax fast enough?
- Seriously, this happens almost daily.
- Seriously, wtf is up with my phone?
- I wonder if I let the Xanax dissolve in juice..?
- No. nope. Not a doctor.
*day drinking alone is frowned upon and not recommended**
**again, I am not a doctor
I haven’t had the best of weeks this week. My “background noise” panic and anxiety have come back which means they’re kind of constant companions no matter what I’m doing.
I see this as a good thing since this time around I know I’m getting to the fleshy, meaty feelings and I’ve noticed a sense of… drive.
Yeah, in this anger/ panicked/ self-aware cocktail I call my life right now there’s something else that’s been thrown in — it’s a fuckin’ fighter, baby.
And you know what? This tiny dancing fighter is tired of surrounding herself with meme excuses her friends post. She’s tired of pretending she’s not good enough or can’t handle life.
Because fuck these lies I’ve been perpetuating for who knows how the fuck long.
I CAN HANDLE MY SHIT, DAMNIT. AND I CAN DO IT WELL.
(Disclaimer: this also means that I can reach out for help when I need to. I may be able to be a badass warrior goddess but it’s not like I have to bite all the demons heads)
I’m of course talkin’ ’bout my girl Kali! Love that Boss Bitch!
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’ve been really lucky about the type of support I’m getting from mostly everyone around me.
Then there’s people who don’t.
And honestly, that’s totally fine that not everyone knows what a panic attack feels like or the crushing pressure that anxious people put on themselves consciously or subconsciously or how hard it is just to do basic tasks.
The sad part is, I’m not always in a position to educate them. Maybe when I’m in a better place I can but right now when I get asked “But what do you do all day?!?” When I let them know I’m on disability.
That question has been really bugging me since it came from a trigger source — my brothers’ mother — this past weekend. I was all ready to see them and face any lingering fears I had head on and… curveball.
Not surprising, this is life.
I rattled off something vague like how I’m getting better but I only have my “safe” places that I go to and I’m cleaning a lot or I stay in my little town.
Here’s what I wish I had said: I do a lot of inner work. I meditate, pray, journal, knit a lot. I take frequent breaks because a cleaning project feels too much for me or I have to spend time actively learning to change how and what I say to myself. Some days I stay in bed just sleeping because I exhausted myself with people the day before. Sometimes I stay in bed all day because I feel paralyzed by fear that I’m fucking it all up. But then there are really great days where I feel like myself again and I am kicking all sorts of ass on the chores or outings list. What am I doing all day? I’m actively getting better come hell or high water.
After an interesting day yesterday (full disclosure: this just means nothing went according to plan), I feel… Normal.
I feel.. Hopeful.
I feel like going outside, with people.
Okay, since that kind of gave me a twang of anxiety writing about it, I should come clean… I feel like facing my fears in small quantities.
I feel like testing myself.
And being OK if I don’t make the mark I set for myself.
As more time passes and I have less anxiety that used to take up all my thinking room, I now have time to reflect and find clarity.
I get it. I get that it’s not all or nothing and if sometimes I fall back into that thinking, that’s OKAY too.
I get there’s going to be good days and bad days, and today’s a good day so I’m going to make the most of what I’ve got.
My therapy appointment today really has me shaken up inside. There were a few things that really upset me that were hard to hear and others stumped me with feeling so off the mark.
It has me questioning myself and my actions and my thoughts and general life choices.
I understand her point was to get me out of my comfort zone but at the same time I feel like … I dunno, I feel like I’m doing everything wrong and stupid and … Basically that I’m the worst person on the planet.
Not because I’m dumb or something, but like, I’m so smart and connected that I should already have “gotten it” by now.
And now that I gave her the link to this blog, it doesn’t feel sacred anymore.
We have different views on what journaling should be and for me, this blog IS my journal. It’s where I feel comfortable, safe, and it’s just for me.
Yeah anyone can read it, but first and foremost… IT’S. FOR. ME.
But now… Now I’ve gotten so much in my head about it… I dunno.
I feel … Stubborn. And betrayed.