Well hello blog, it’s been a while.
Have you ever had a moment where you are laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, and suddenly it feels as if the walls are caving in on you? You feel a tightness in your chest and your breathing becomes difficult. In other words, they are my precursors to a full blown panic attack (which I have not had in nearly a year).
When I visited my doctor last Wednesday, he was proud of the progress I have made. He says I am cognitively aware of what is making me anxious lately and that is important.
Us anxiety-ridden folk are wired differently than the average human. Here are a few things I have had on my mind:
- I hate myself.
- Well, I’m proud of the person I am, but I hate the way I look.
- Maybe I’ll never find someone who will understand me like I will need them to.
- Grownup dating sucks.
- I hate dating.
- Maybe I’ll give up dating for a while.
- Maybe I’ll be alone forever.
- I need to exercise
- I don’t have time to exercise
- Does running away from my feelings count as exercise?
- Or running away from my thoughts?
- Why can’t I sleep at night
- I need sleep.
- Work is exhausting
- I love my job though
- But I need to go back to school
- School is going to cost money
- I don’t have money
- My car has problems
- I have to pay for bills and insurance
- And my credit card bill makes me want to cry.
- Maybe I’ll be broke forever between bills, school, and student loans.
- Maybe I’ll volunteer to take my mind off school
- Volunteering is taking up all of my spare time
- What is spare time?
- I don’t have enough time to spend with my mom
- What if something happens to my mom just months after my dad passed away?
- I’m not ready to face that.
- I miss my dad and wish he was here for me to talk to
- Especially about things like my check engine light
- Or just here to give me a hug when I feel like my world is breaking down.
- I can’t breathe.
- I have so many things to do and I am behind in all of them
- And it’s the summer. Aren’t I supposed to enjoy my summer?
- I still can’t breathe.
- Okay, maybe I’ll smoke a cigarello to make me feel better.
- My doctor says that’s avoidance so it probably won’t help with anything
- I shouldn’t start smoking.
- I’m crying.
- I feel alone.
- I don’t know what to do with my life
- Or with myself
- Maybe laying on the floor will help
- My heart is racing
- Breathe in… breathe out.
- I have emails to check.
- I should make a to-do list.
- And check my agenda.
- I forgot to breathe.
- Breathe in…breathe out.
And this is only to name a few. Writing out my thoughts often help and I hate that I have stopped to take the time to do so either here or in my journal. Life isn’t easy. Growing up isn’t easy. And I am in one of the biggest transitional periods of my life. It is okay to stop and take a day or a moment just for me. It’s okay to say no to certain situations. It’s okay to feel anxious. This feeling won’t last forever.
I believe I was 12 years old the first time a boy ever gave me flowers. It was valentines day. I received a single rose, a small stuffed dog, and chocolates. He also “broke up” with me after handing them to me, but that’s a story for another day.
When I brought the rose home, I showed my mom all excited. We put it in water where it remained until it started to die.
I was so upset by this. It couldn’t die. I just got it. It was so beautiful. My mom told me not to worry and she took the rose out of its water and hung it upside down. A day or so later, it had dried out but it still seemed so beautiful. Here it was, on the verge of dying, and my mom saved it, retaining its form and overall beauty.
From that point onward, if I ever received flowers that meant a lot to me, I kept them. And oh goodness, I kept them until they got all crumbly all over my desk.
With Monday morning being garbage day, I decided to tidy my room Saturday morning. There were little flakes of a dark red on my desk. Puzzled, I looked up to the shelf above my desk to see the dried flowers I had kept from my past relationship.
I was so shocked I still had them. I thought I had gotten rid of every visible trace of evidence in my room of that relationship. But it appears, I still had them in their vase above my desk. When I took the vase off the shelf, the flowers started crumbling into flakes. That used to be the definite sign that it was time to throw them out. And you know what? It was time to throw them out. They were no longer as beautiful as when I first got them. They were fragile to hold onto. And I had even forgotten about their existence. It was time.
Today’s blog title is inspired by “Nothing Gold Can Stay” – Robert Frost