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Wednesday, February 16, 2011

The well worn path to serenity

I sit here, at the computer, writing this note, with a sense that whatever I say will not be worthy of the title I put on this post. I know that I am no closer to serenity than I was twenty years ago. I am doubtful that I will ever be serene. I have an anxiety disorder. My mind races, and I find it frustrating at times, and a gift at others. Yes, a gift!

I do feel that my constant awareness of disaster has saved me numerous times. I am more aware of my surroundings. I do not want to stop being afraid, so I won't. Serenity is light years away for me. I do try, though. I strive to be serene. I want to feel peace. I want to be calm, but it feels all wrong, to me. It is foreign to my nature.

I have been prescribed Anti anxiety medications. I use them when I feel totally overwhelmed. I use them when it is the only way I can function. I define function as being able to go about my daily business, driving to work, and caring for patients, or clients, or whatever the politically correct word of the day is. All they seem to do is stop me from obsession. But of course, I worry...yes worry...that they are a crutch. I am not functional, not real, not pure.

I drink a glass of wine, every night. One glass of red wine. I worry about that, too. Why? Do I have a problem? No. I worry that it is a crutch, that it, too, subdues my impulse to be hyper aware of  everything. I am never spontaneous. I think everything out. I try to make it look like I am a free spirit. That I am secure, but it is just a mask.

I am not afraid of dying. I am not afraid of failing. I am not afraid of what other people think of me. I am afraid of feeling. I am afraid of feeling, of fear, of sadness, of loss, of success, of being seen, of being...of being.

There is a reason that the only people who follow this blog, except for three people, have never met me. Those three people, Missy, Nathan, and Jerry, have all seen me at my worst, and looked past all of that. I let them in, once, so they are welcome to read this stuff. The rest of you I feel free to speak to, simply because there is little chance that you will ever see me, or know me. Sick isn't it?

Yes, I have tried therapy. Talk therapy only works if you trust the therapist. They always try to get to a place that feels wrong to me. I don't want to discover all the stuff, I have stuffed. I just want to function, today. I want to be the best me I can be, today. My last therapist, during a session, told me to "just get over it". Really? I paid for advise I could have gotten from any 15 year old with an attitude? Perhaps she was having a bad day, but...really? Group therapy, tried that too. I befriended others in the group and began care taking instead of caring for myself. Blah, blah, blah.

So why am I letting all this stuff emerge on this page? I have worked too many hours this week. It is only Wednesday and I have put in way too many hours. I have given too much to my job, and I am tired, and pissed off, and feeling sorry for myself. I am not teetering on some breakdown. I am just very tired. I need to get this all out of my head, and shift towards serenity.

Meditation, prayer, solitude, photography, art, nature, exercise, they are all helpful. I use them regularly. What I need now, is sleep. Who sounds like a 15 year old with an attitude now? Me. I apologize.