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.
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.
Jane, you write really well for a 15-year old! Seriously, you of course admit to having a problem
ReplyDeletebut maybe not a severe as you'd give it license to be.
Did you ever have a professional massage?(Neither did I!) They tell me it works wonders.
Being an alcoholic, I cannot IMAGINE why in the world someone would only drink 1 (ONE) glass of wine, unless it was a B I G...B I G glass!
But can you trust? Can you trust me, that as I pray for you tonight--if YOU pray for you, your voice will be heard. God hears first that feint cry from the suffering people. AND--if you decide to turn your life over to the care of a Higher Power, things could get better!
If you do all these things already as I suspect,
then forgive my 'preaching'. Maybe I just needed to hear it myself--grin!
PEACE!
Steve, I thank you for your prayers. I am guilty of giving myself license to overreact....guilty as charged. I planned on deleting this post, when I woke up. I hoped nobody read it, and that it would pass unnoticed. Nope!
ReplyDeleteYes, massage is good. My sister-in-law is a massage therapist. You would think that I would take advantage of her skills, and her many offers to do her good works. But alas, I have not.
As for the wine, I am hyper aware of alcoholism, being the daughter, wife, and mother of alcoholics. It is said that people go one of two ways in those situations. I guess I am a codependent. Not a guess, really. I am!
I think that the root cause of my anxiety is PTSD. I am working to distract myself, and becoming exhausted. My Dad has pancreatic cancer, my Son is institutionalized, my other son lives on the streets. Stressed out much?
I thank you, again, for the prayers. It is 3:20am and I am awake when I should be asleep. Goodnight, and Peace to you.
Jane
I grew up with an aloholic father. I too have anxiety issues. Been working on them now that after therapy I can slow down my mind enough to actually be aware. Not 100% but much more aware. I understand the hyper sensitivity. One had to be with an alcoholic in the house, always aware, always alert. I've been out of the house since I was 17 (am 49 now) and it still affects me.
ReplyDeletehaha i have anxiety issues too, maybe less, but maybe not, i have lots of crutches that work. When i tell you my life one way, you will go, oh ahh how sad, and the other way, well you can see that on my blog, i smile, i do smile and laugh most of the day.
ReplyDeleteJane when you write so beautifully, i feel you are light years ahead of me, i am so glad i came to your blog today, but of course we are all in the same boat, each rowing with the oars we have, and when we don't have oars, oh well we are still in a boat.