It seems as though every year, perhaps multiple times a year, I use the above song lyric as the title to my post. It's so wickedly true though. Madly spins the world and even though I strain with all of my might, I can do nothing to stop it.
Last week was the BEST and WORST week of my life.
Sometimes I wish with every tiny atom that makes me up that for once, I could enjoy beauty and whimsy without strife and chaos. But these are fanciful wishes of a girl gone.
There is a ring on my finger. A symbol of a love that swooped in, surprising two stunned human beings. He and I are to become one. My excitement can hardly be contained.
On top of that amazing, fantastic, crazy, perfect next step, I had a friend from Baltimore visit me over the weekend. We had literally the most genuinely enjoyable time together. She is an anam cara and I am so grateful.
Perhaps there needed to be something to contain my excitement. For not 48 hours after my engagement I was yelled at by a "best friend" for not choosing her as THE maid of honor. My heart feels equal parts dead and upset as well as joyful. To say that it has been a whirlwind of a week would be an understatement.
I'm overwhelmed, in pain, shouting from the rooftops, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, sobbing in a corner, barely make it from moment to the next, dancing through my days. It's a bit exhausting, these extremes.
Tomorrow is my second therapy session. I am going for all the right reasons, I'm scared for all the wrong reasons. Becoming friends with my anxiety is something I wish I didn't have to do... I wish it would go away and stop haunting my life. Instead, I have to extend my hand and welcome it into my life, learning to abide with it day to day. It will be my other lover, my constant companion, one day it'll be my dear old friend. Hopefully then it won't be such a burden. But rather a comfort.
Off to hopefully sleep some. My body and mind seldom slow down enough to sleep more than five hours a night these days. Hopefully the therapy will help with that.
Good night world, goodnight friend.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Anxiety, my worthy foe
If ever I imagined that I would have to battle something as I got older it was never this. Sure, perhaps I would have anticipated ugly break-ups (though thankfully, this is not the case,) terrible financial difficulties (you can scratch out the word terrible,) diseases (which ironically I think I have a plethora,) fighting for women's rights, fighting to be heard... those battles I anticipated.
Never, ever, would I have guessed my worthy foe would be anxiety. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. At any given moment, this is all that I can do. Sometimes I go frighteningly silent in the middle of conversations and I simply breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale 5 seconds. Exhale 7 seconds. Inhale 5 seconds. Exhale 7 seconds.
Sometimes, even more fun, are those moments the anxiety turns into panic and I jump up from sitting down or run away while standing up, terrified that I am dying at that. exact. moment. Considering I am still here and writing this down, you can probably imagine that I've not yet died.
This is the darkest of worlds. Hell on earth. I wish I were exaggerating but as I've experienced and also read countless stories of other sufferers I have concluded this is a terribly, taxing trial. To think that there is constant, impending doom every, single moment of a day. To think that you are going to die every, single second. To think there is absolutely no hope. To think nothing will ever get better. To have your body experience symptoms of heart attacks, brain tumors, infections, and countless other maladies. To barely be able to function alone, let alone interact with people. To be expected to get up and go to work, to be kind, to show up at parties, events, gatherings, coffee dates when all you really want to do is hide in your room and wait for the next panic attack to pass. It's the most miserable thing I've yet experienced. To want so desperately to die, but to be so damn fearful that that's exactly what's happening. Well. Well.
And please, let me assure you, neat little Christian platitudes do nothing to fix anxiety of this measure. Believe me, were it easy enough to simply read my Bible, pray, or have others pray for me I would be 1,000% better. Now, I do not blame God for what is happening, though I do submit that He allows me to suffer in this fear, this pain, this shame of what people must think. He allows me to go through this fear and suffering and knows that I will never get better unless I go to therapy and remain on medicine for a long time. Our God, who is Love, allows this. And honestly? I am okay with these things, are you?
This journey has taken me deeper into the world of science, psychology, faith, and religion more so than any other thing or combination of things in my life. My understanding is much different. My boxed-in God who is always on my side, is now also a God who allowed Job to suffer immensely at the hands of evil. My boxed-in God is not only God who calls us to take care of widows and orphans, but also a God who orders the killing of every single man, woman, and child in villages, my boxed-in God who invites all people to the banquet table also allows terrible events like the Holocaust and the Sex Slave Trade continue to happen though by all measures he is powerful enough to stop it. This is the truth of things. This is the reality of God and Christ and Holy Spirit. I am angry, but also okay with that.
Tony Jones believes that the cross helps Jesus and God and the Holy Spirit understand firsthand our loneliness and our sense of abandonment that we all experience at one time or another on earth. That is perhaps why I still believe in God even though so much has slipped away.
Never, ever, would I have guessed my worthy foe would be anxiety. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. At any given moment, this is all that I can do. Sometimes I go frighteningly silent in the middle of conversations and I simply breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale 5 seconds. Exhale 7 seconds. Inhale 5 seconds. Exhale 7 seconds.
Sometimes, even more fun, are those moments the anxiety turns into panic and I jump up from sitting down or run away while standing up, terrified that I am dying at that. exact. moment. Considering I am still here and writing this down, you can probably imagine that I've not yet died.
This is the darkest of worlds. Hell on earth. I wish I were exaggerating but as I've experienced and also read countless stories of other sufferers I have concluded this is a terribly, taxing trial. To think that there is constant, impending doom every, single moment of a day. To think that you are going to die every, single second. To think there is absolutely no hope. To think nothing will ever get better. To have your body experience symptoms of heart attacks, brain tumors, infections, and countless other maladies. To barely be able to function alone, let alone interact with people. To be expected to get up and go to work, to be kind, to show up at parties, events, gatherings, coffee dates when all you really want to do is hide in your room and wait for the next panic attack to pass. It's the most miserable thing I've yet experienced. To want so desperately to die, but to be so damn fearful that that's exactly what's happening. Well. Well.
And please, let me assure you, neat little Christian platitudes do nothing to fix anxiety of this measure. Believe me, were it easy enough to simply read my Bible, pray, or have others pray for me I would be 1,000% better. Now, I do not blame God for what is happening, though I do submit that He allows me to suffer in this fear, this pain, this shame of what people must think. He allows me to go through this fear and suffering and knows that I will never get better unless I go to therapy and remain on medicine for a long time. Our God, who is Love, allows this. And honestly? I am okay with these things, are you?
This journey has taken me deeper into the world of science, psychology, faith, and religion more so than any other thing or combination of things in my life. My understanding is much different. My boxed-in God who is always on my side, is now also a God who allowed Job to suffer immensely at the hands of evil. My boxed-in God is not only God who calls us to take care of widows and orphans, but also a God who orders the killing of every single man, woman, and child in villages, my boxed-in God who invites all people to the banquet table also allows terrible events like the Holocaust and the Sex Slave Trade continue to happen though by all measures he is powerful enough to stop it. This is the truth of things. This is the reality of God and Christ and Holy Spirit. I am angry, but also okay with that.
Tony Jones believes that the cross helps Jesus and God and the Holy Spirit understand firsthand our loneliness and our sense of abandonment that we all experience at one time or another on earth. That is perhaps why I still believe in God even though so much has slipped away.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Oh, writing, wherefore have you gone?
I beg the muse to come to me this night. Quietness instead invades. Perhaps a better friend, muses are often mistresses that cause much grief and I, being no stranger to said grief, could use reprieve.
Though I miss the words that used to flow forth from my fingers. I miss the thoughts that more easily came when pen was in hand or hands were on keys. These days everything stays bottled up inside until the dam starts to crack and then slowly explode. Explosions are not delicate. I guess I'm not either.
Though I miss the words that used to flow forth from my fingers. I miss the thoughts that more easily came when pen was in hand or hands were on keys. These days everything stays bottled up inside until the dam starts to crack and then slowly explode. Explosions are not delicate. I guess I'm not either.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Starting Fresh in Fall
Leaves crunched beneath our shoes as I walked Lia down a quiet street in Lake Oswego. The vivid reds, yellows, oranges, and even the browns brought a joy to my soul that is normally so far from me these days. It's been a long summer. Before that it was a long spring. Before that it was a long winter. Both the best and worst seasons of my life. But here we are, it's fall. Fall brings death, with death comes life.
I think I've unknowingly been ready for the death of the world. I have always loved fall, but this year there was a hope, a slow burning ember of hope deep in my gut that just felt like if I could make it to fall... it'd all be okay.
I want the world to die. Is that such a bad desire? Metaphorically of course. I want people to draw inward. I want there to be contemplation. I want there to be long monotonous days. I want there to be reflection. I want sadness to come upon the world at large, melancholy perhaps a kinder word to use. I want people to really think about who they are in this world... think about what they are doing.
Fall is here, death is happening, and I am happy. Occasionally. Certainly more so than these past months. I have started school. I am ever more falling in love with that little 13 1/2 year old that I spend my Mondays through Fridays with.
I am in a good spot. It seems like I am finally catching more breaks with my anxiety. It's no longer constant, I am adjusting to my medication finally, and the terrible dreams are slowly dissipating. My panic attacks are far fewer (though admittedly more startling now.) I have a fantastic roommate. And of course, I have much to be thankful for in my constant companion on this journey of life, Jacob.
In a way, I have died over these last several, painstaking months. The Samantha that once was carefree, happy, fun-loving, Christian with lots of answers, believer in humankind is gone. Replaced with a scared, vulnerable, tired, distressed, bitter, anxious, unbearably sad Samantha. The whimsical Samantha feels so far away. I am not sure who I am anymore and for once tired cliches aren't cutting it.
I still passionately believe in God, the presence of the Holy Spirit, and the Risen Christ. But it all looks differently now. It feels different too.
The crisp air brings death, but I feel I'm coming alive. Rebirth in fall. Who would have guessed?
I think I've unknowingly been ready for the death of the world. I have always loved fall, but this year there was a hope, a slow burning ember of hope deep in my gut that just felt like if I could make it to fall... it'd all be okay.
I want the world to die. Is that such a bad desire? Metaphorically of course. I want people to draw inward. I want there to be contemplation. I want there to be long monotonous days. I want there to be reflection. I want sadness to come upon the world at large, melancholy perhaps a kinder word to use. I want people to really think about who they are in this world... think about what they are doing.
Fall is here, death is happening, and I am happy. Occasionally. Certainly more so than these past months. I have started school. I am ever more falling in love with that little 13 1/2 year old that I spend my Mondays through Fridays with.
I am in a good spot. It seems like I am finally catching more breaks with my anxiety. It's no longer constant, I am adjusting to my medication finally, and the terrible dreams are slowly dissipating. My panic attacks are far fewer (though admittedly more startling now.) I have a fantastic roommate. And of course, I have much to be thankful for in my constant companion on this journey of life, Jacob.
In a way, I have died over these last several, painstaking months. The Samantha that once was carefree, happy, fun-loving, Christian with lots of answers, believer in humankind is gone. Replaced with a scared, vulnerable, tired, distressed, bitter, anxious, unbearably sad Samantha. The whimsical Samantha feels so far away. I am not sure who I am anymore and for once tired cliches aren't cutting it.
I still passionately believe in God, the presence of the Holy Spirit, and the Risen Christ. But it all looks differently now. It feels different too.
The crisp air brings death, but I feel I'm coming alive. Rebirth in fall. Who would have guessed?
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