Be

Lord, I am so frightful. I am reaching blindly, hoping to catch on to something solid. I want so much to live a life unafraid...and then darkness comes.

Why? Why does every night end in pleading for rest, comfort, peace? It's a never-ending cycle of anxiety. It is like Sundowners, anxiety-version.

On the way home, I feel a weird twinge or my stomach starts hurting or I can feel my heart kicking out weird beats. There it goes, a whirlwind that lifts me off the ground and makes me dizzy. I feel sick and being dizzy makes me sicker.

I desperately want to cry. I need the renewal that comes with choked sobbing.

I have had this feeling all week. It paralyzes me and makes me crawl into bed to do nothing. I forgot to pay our monthly bills on time. I forgot to submit something important to the church bulletin. My dishes are piled up. My laundry is overflowing. I haven't cooked a real meal in over a week.  I have been wearing dirty clothes to work all week and no shower, just perfume and deodorant to cover the smell. This is me at my worst.

Rock.
Bottom.

Misery.

Give me relief Lord. Jesus, I trust in you. I hear what you are telling me and I am willing to concede that point.

I think it may be time for more therapy. I am not ashamed, but I am afraid. Will it work? Release, relief, I crave you. Let me snuggle down in the dark and never worry again. Please God...help me be still and know.

Gee, narcissistic much?

Boy, that first day back after a long weekend is a killer, eh?

My work day went screaming by and now it's almost 8 and I still have a bunch of stuff on my to-do list!  Yikes.

I am writing this in lieu of something else that's due soon, so hey, procrastinators UNITE...tomorrow.

Here's a little something about me you may have noticed.

Sshhhh.  I'm a narcissist.  At least, that's how I feel sometimes.  I struggle with this a lot, especially lately.  I have a really hard time biting back the urge to interrupt conversations (though that does happen frequently, no matter how much I tell myself not to), I rattle off know-it-all facts when people are talking about a particular subject I may have some veeeerrrry tangential relationship to, and I have a hard time keeping friends.  Probably because of these traits.

I am somewhat of a well-meaning narcissist though, if that's a thing.  I try very hard on a daily basis to keep my ego in check.  I honestly think that a lot of people fail at that quite spectacularly.  Instead of feeling jealousy because you didn't get as big a role as you thought you should, instead focus on how to support those in the bigger roles.

Instead of talking about oneself constantly, ask questions of others and LISTEN to their responses.

Constantly serve and ceaselessly pray.  Those both have helped me realize and combat my narcissistic ways.  I will be the first to admit that I do like it when people praise my talents.  I sometimes check what I post on Facebook several times a day to see how many people like it or have commented on it and I sometimes feel affronted that no one has liked my status.  Trust me when I say that I recognize this behavior and constantly feel guilty for feeling this way.

I continue to try daily to not come across so self-centered.  I do this by nearly always asking to help someone or volunteer for some position or another.  I mean, I do it because I really do want to help, but an eensy-weensy part of me does it because if I didn't, I would be even more of a terrible person. Helping people is my calling and one I undertake seriously, but I'd be lying if I said that I don't feel just little bit better about myself because of it.

The biggest problem is the interrupting and know-it-allness that sometimes comes across.  You guys have NO IDEA how much I edit myself before I speak.  Like, ALL THE TIME, thinking about how this will come off and how someone will view me based on what I say.  I feel like half of the thoughts that fly through my head are tsking myself for having said something fairly innocuous that someone may have perceived in a negative light.  I constantly berate myself whenever I mentally correct people and REALLY let myself have it when I actually, finally, give in to the urge to verbally correct someone.

I know.  This does not paint a pretty picture of me.  I realize this.  So why post this?  I just want to know if I'm alone in these crazy thoughts.  I edit my texts, my e-mails, my speech, and oftentimes, my physical reactions to other people based on what I think they'll think about me if I respond differently.  It is exhausting sometimes to hold it all in.  I honestly don't know where I want to end with this.  I am a pretty joyful and exuberant person, but sometimes, sometimes I truly despise myself and how I told some stupid story that's only indirectly related to someone else's true and heartfelt one.  I am a very lonely soul some nights.  I'm the odd piece on the puzzle board.  The one that slipped in to the wrong box.  No matter how hard I try, or how many people try to fit me in to the missing spot, I will only get crumpled and oily around the edges.

Darkness can only be in places that also carry light.

The good thing is that I know God is there and He carries me through a lot of the darkness.  My puzzle piece always fits inside His heart.  I think my husband is the only other person in my life that actually knows how hard I try.  They both love me in spite of my filthy heart.  I will always be grateful to Rick (and God) for rescuing me out of my own personal darkness.  I will continue to work on this, but just know that if you know me, I don't mean to be rude or pedantic or ramble on.  I just want to know you and support you in any way you need.  I promise.

(Also, I took a test and scored really low, so I'm hoping that helps convince you all that I'm not completely crazy!  I tested it myself! haha)

St. Teresa of Calcutta, pray for me and all those whose darkness can consume them. Pray that the light prevails within us.

I am melancholy

I am sadness.
I am the swirling waters of the sea and
the deep expanse of a midnight sky.

I sit quietly among the trees in the forest and
Ponder my existence.

I know that I cannot be here for me alone.

To what do I owe my allegiance?
To who am I called?

I am one with the Maker.
The Giver bestows me with wisdom.

          May I preserve and use it.

The Creator endows me with the spirit.

          Lord, give me purpose.

Seek and ye shall find.
Knock and the door shall be opened.

The Dark One assails me and I

          Raise my hands over my face.

This feeling of despair only comes with the Darkness
I can always see Christ more clearly in the light.

Come Light and Chase out the Darkness.
Soothe me, comfort me, and turn my

Melancholy into
          Joy!

A Child's Hurt

I am so frustrated today.  This is probably going to be kind of a long story, but I need to get it out.

I don't even know where to start.  Do I start with the fact that my stepson, who is nearly 14 years old, got kicked out of school AGAIN today?  Why this time?  Very similar to the last time.  He did something stupid and got called out by the teacher.  His reaction, instead of just taking his lumps and sitting through class, was to write a note about why doesn't the teacher just kill him...last time he drew a picture of himself dead on the ground after getting caught playing around in class.  However, this time no one saw him with the paper, so because he's sick of the class and is too embarrassed to stay in because he got in trouble, he brought it straight up to the teacher.  He knew it would get him sent to the counselor, which it did.  Then, he got upset when he found out he was in trouble with his mom and dad.  Well DUH kid, every other bleepin' time you've pulled this crap, you've gotten in trouble.  This is NOT NEW.

Yes, he has anxiety.  Yes, he has ADHD.  Yes, he is in therapy.  However, his mother only takes him once a month to therapy and the anxiety workbook that's supposed to help was completed last summer and still he reacts like this to anything that upsets him.

Just this past Sunday, he was wearing dirty clothes that had been laying on his floor.  I knew because every time I opened his door, I saw them laying there.  Look, he knows they go in the hamper.  He's 13 and smart.  He should know what to do.  So, I called him out on it and told him to find something else to wear.  He immediately turned the corner in the hallway and I hear a 'slap, slap, slap, slap'.  I told him to get back out here and told him that he knows better than to hit himself.  He knows that doesn't solve anything.  So he tries to lie and say that wasn't what that was.  I call him out again, because I know EXACTLY what that is and he admits that yes, he was hitting himself.

Child, GET A GRIP!  This kid is very close to ending up in a PRTF (Psychiatric Residential Treatment Facility).  His mother knows it, his father knows it, and I know it.  They told him about the consequences, but he just can't redirect his anger/embarrassment/hurt to something other than self-flagellation.

His dad and I are getting to the ends of our ropes.  He has had behavior issues ever since he first entered school.  I understand that it was a very difficult transition to move here from California and then surprise, at 7 1/2 your mother finally decides to contact your dad and let him know she's back in Kansas.  His maternal grandparents severely dote on him, to his detriment, and then threaten his mother that they're going to take him away if she doesn't allow them more time with him.  He gets away with a lot over there and then has to come to our house, that's full of rules and chores and a half-sister who is here most weekends and has known us since she was born.  It's a tough hand to play, but kid, you are only doing yourself a disservice.

On top of it, his mother thinks that he needs to be exactly like her.  Pushes him into stuff he didn't express interest in, solely because she likes it and making sure he believes what she believes about everything.  Of course she's also an atheist and while everyone's opinions are their own, a 13-year old that claims he also doesn't believe in God has no clear basis for that belief, besides that his mom told him he shouldn't because she doesn't, even though neither of them have researched any of it.

Rick and I sit here and just shake our heads so often because, even though we know he's hurting and a mess, we don't know what to do.  How do you get a child to understand that he is only hurting himself and saying the same things over and over until it's just an echo chamber of shit nobody listens to?

My stepson is a smart kid.  He's funny and sweet and plays well with younger children.  He loves comic books and superheroes and Legos and I just don't get how this sweet kid can be so broken.  Why is it always a fight?  Why does he hate himself so much when we all show him love?  Why can't he know God's love in his heart?

I don't want him to be 35 and living in his mother's basement.  He deserves better than that.  He can do better than that.  I think a lot of this stems from his anxiety, but he has been given many things to help cope with it.  That aforementioned book, a worry ring, and lots of other distractions to help are all things he has to rely on.  I told him that he needs to ask God for help when he's sad or mad and that's when he said that he's not sure if he believes in Him.  Argh.

My heart hurts for what this child could have been like, had his antisocial mother not tried to make him antisocial in turn.  I still love him no matter what, but knowing that had she stayed here when he was born, he may be a more stable child who accepts love instead of pushing it away.

Pray for all of us.  Pray especially for my stepson, that he may receive calmness of spirit and solace from the anxiety today and always.  Thank you.

Limitless

Okay so, I don't really have a Tuesday 5 for you today, because as I was cutting up my grapefruit into beautiful segments...(I lie, they were all busted up and scraped out of their rinds, with juice dribbling down my hands and wrists), I was thinking a lot about my anxiety.  I have dealt with it for what, 3 years now, I think, maybe 2 1/2.

I was thinking about how it's actually probably a good thing that I'm not in a more high pressure sort of job.  What if I had become an ER doctor and developed anxiety?  How could I have helped people in life and death situations if I was anxious about my own mortality and my own medical needs?  On the other hand, I would have had a bunch of doctor friends that probably wouldn't charge me much for the occasional paranoid CT scan...hmm.  I got a little bummed thinking about this because I was viewing my anxiety in terms of how it has limited me.

Believe me, I'll be the first to tell you that anxiety hit me like a frickin' sucker punch, right to the gut and chest.  It didn't come on slowly.  Before 2 1/2 years ago, I was a (moderately) sane person.  I was still scared of heights and got the occasional vertigo, but the most that hampered me in Kansas was not being able to climb up to the Capitol dome.

Oh, anxiety has limited me in a number of ways, but I believe that it has also given me several blessings in disguise.

I am much more conscious of the things that I view and if they will be positive or negative.  I do a lot more things outside of sitting and watching TV.  I found more, varied hobbies that I didn't realize I would enjoy.  I am much more aware of the things I put in my body, food wise.  I am hyper aware of the medication that I take and how it affects me and my mood.  I think that these are all positive consequences of anxiety.  The two most positive things about having anxiety?  I have changed my way of thinking about this world and the next.  I have grown closer to God and learned to trust in Him more than ever.

I think deeper thoughts than I did before.  I mean, I never before truly contemplated death and how it would feel or what would happen afterward.  This is one of the best/worst aspects of anxiety, that ability to conjure up the topic that will make you feel the shittiest.  Mine is death.  Death is frightening and thinking about it, as a person with anxiety, would nearly make me have an attack as soon as I did.  However, working through this stressor has actually brought me a lot of relief, because I know I am prepared.  Okay, so how can you ever TRULY be prepared?  You can't, but, you can make sure that you have forgiven your enemies and told your family and friends that you love them and requested forgiveness from God for the things you have done.  You prepare mentally and spiritually, because anxiety will deceive you into believing that death is around every corner.  When you think like that, you plan on how to make sure you don't die with hate on your heart.

I pray like I have never prayed before.  I ask Mary and the saints to help me with every little thing now.  I ask God for all kinds of stuff I never would have asked before, because now I understand the purpose of prayer.  It isn't to just ask for material things to receive or even for people to get better or
for things to turn out differently, it's to be united with God in a quiet moment and recognizing that you can give it to Him because He has, and will always, carry that burden for us.  I know that I have increased in humility and meekness (believe it or not).  I pray for causes and people in new ways.  I pray for God to invade the souls of the people who wish to do others harm.  I pray for mercy for people most would say don't deserve it.  I pray for safety and protection of my family and friends, but most of all, I pray that God will inflame my heart with even greater love for Him.  This is the power of anxiety.

Anxiety has pushed me to the brink.  There were moments where I just wasn't sure how I was going to make it through the night.  I was scared of everything.  When you're scared of everything, how do you truly live?

When I try to explain to people how bad it was and my lowest moment, I always go back to the bathtub.  That moment when I had anxiety so badly that the only thing that could relieve it was literally sitting in a tub of warm water, with the shower head on, pouring even hotter water over me.  I would shut it off for 20 minutes to let it warm back up, then turn it back on.  Over and over and over again, for nearly 3 hours, I did this.

My lowest point, the nadir of my journey, the bathtub, was where I met God face to face.  I cried and prayed and begged for relief.  He has salvaged my soul and helped me grow spiritually in a way that I was limited by without the anxiety.

Huh, imagine that.