I had a dream last night.

I inherited a huge house.  Maybe it was more of a mansion, but whoever it was that presented it to me held an open house for anyone to see.  There was so much stuff inside, but there was no clutter because it was so big; there was just room for all of it.  There were chests and trunks and ottomans and wing-back chairs and sofas and area carpets.  There were large vases, plants, statues, and columns.  I mean, this place was amazing.  It had sat for a few years and you could tell because it had a slightly musty smell, but it definitely wasn’t moldy or gross or anything.  Nothing was ruined, either.  I remember taking visitors around as a sort of guided tour, which in hindsight is amusing because it was the first time I had ever been there too.  So anyway, we went around and I was just ecstatic.  I found a trunk with a bunch of old photographs and I started going through them right there.  I had no idea who the people in the pictures were; thankfully some of them had details on the back.  Eventually I got so wrapped up in looking at stuff that I didn’t realize I lost my tour group.  They carried on after a while and I guess showed themselves around.  It ended somewhere around there.  I remember having a bereft feeling after that, like I really had been left behind without a care.  I wonder if that’s how the house felt.

What does it all mean?

Anyone here have any insight on this kind of stuff??

I Made a Mistake

I got frustrated for the thousandth tie about the dishes piling up, and the laundry not getting done (and me forgetting to take it out of the washer), and the floor needing vacuumed at least twice a day. Wouldn’t you know I picked the day to voice my frustration (with attitude and all) when the other half decides he’s not going to buy cigarettes anymore and hadn’t had one since sometime the evening before?

Of course. So the whole complaint blows up in my face, and is it enough to say I’m sorry? No.

“You’re only sorry because you got yelled at” is what he said to me. Meanwhile, the whole morning has been an argument about how I made him mad and how I’m “just as lazy” and that I “have it so easy”.

Well excuse me, sir, FOR BEING FRUSTRATED. 

Now I’m just beyond frustrated. I’m mad and feel helpless at the same time. Did I clean anymore yesterday? No. And because I didn’t, I’m hearing about how I didn’t do anything yesterday.

There’s no winning on this matter for me. There never has been.

Moving On & Up

I’ve started writing a story.  I’m excited about the venture.  And I’m not going to spit out details because that would eliminate any purpose for reading the actual story once it’s published (I have high hopes).

As for myself, well, I’m well.

I picked up a philosophy book about a week or so ago and I’ve stuck with it.  It’s “The Story of Philosophy”, so it’s a nicely summarized body of the biggest steps in philosophic history.  It has rekindled my love and desire for the enlightened path.  I strayed for a long time, and wandered alone on a dark and dreary path of discomfort and negativity.  I’ve turned some things around.  I look forward to a new day.  I encourage the daylight.  I desire my minimalist daily routine.  And I actively look for the positive.

 

Even though absolute truths exist, I do not need to be absolutely negative, or cynical, or depressed, or overcome with anxiety.  Absolute truths exist, and because they are absolute, my feelings and thoughts toward them won’t change them, so there’s no point in being so upset or so bothered by their existence.  There is no point in letting them ruin my life.  I choose to wake up in a good mood, and I choose to make the rest of my day a happy one.  I got tired of bringing the bad to myself.  I now discourage the horrible and the disagreeable from coming into my daily life; instead, I welcome the brighter side.  I choose to slough off the debris and decay and I embrace all things good.

 

I know.  I sound like one of those mental health freaks; one of those questionably-hippie persons; someone who is disillusioned with the idea that as long as positive thinking is in play, all the badness goes away…

Well, not quite.

I’m not unrealistic.

It Got Better

Interestingly enough, I didn’t follow through with taking that medication and I feel ok.
Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve had a few minor moments of higher anxiety, but they weren’t anywhere near a full-blown attack. Life has already improved.
I’m still considering whether I should take the other medication they prescribed to replace the Celexa. I’ve been able to keep my head in check, so I haven’t found it necessary to supplement positivity with an induced chemical reaction.
I’ve had my moments of fear; I worry occasionally that an anxiety attack will just sneak up on me & scare me senseless. Now, while that’s possible,  I tell myself that it doesn’t matter because as long as I have strength and courage, determination, and some patience, then I will be just fine.  Keep a clear head, remain calm & assertive, and the rest will all fall into place.
I also have a lot of hope for the oncoming of warmer weather and more enjoyable activities. I just filed my taxes yesterday and should be getting my return within the next few weeks. That means my car will finally be fixed and I (we) can go out and do things.

Today, I’m tired.
I think it’s a sit & read/watch t.v. all day kind of day.

Today Was Not Good

I woke up with good thoughts about starting medication for my anxiety. I thought,  ok, we’ll see how this goes & it’ll be routine before you know it!

I got up with my son, did his usual morning routine and settled him with his breakfast, and then I got my breakfast. I was advised to take my medication in the morning for ultimate effectiveness. So, I poured a glass of orange juice, made a cinnamon-raisin bagel with cream cheese, and broke a tablet in half (as instructed). I ate my bagel, and down the hatch with the happy pill.

An hour & a half later, I had one of the worst anxiety attacks ever.

I was doing fine, not noticing any effect, thinking it would be just a smooth sailing, subtle experience.  I needed a shower, so I got all my necessities and hopped in. I really like nice toasty showers, so I set it to the usual and began the process.

Suddenly, it was overwhelmingly hot. Unusual, I thought, but no big deal. I turned the temperature down and carried on. Then it was just uncomfortable, so I fidgeted until I got it a little bit warmer but not to where it was when I started. Ok. Not ok. I was starting to feel like I was going to fall asleep. “I better just hurry up and go lay down for a nap”.

I finished up and didn’t even bother conditioning my mane, dressed myself, and came downstairs.  I got to the recliner, and anxiety raged instantly from about a 2 to a full-blown 10. This wasn’t any ordinary anxiety attack though. Oh no. It felt like my body and my brain were physically fighting something. Each other, the medicine, all 3… I’m not sure. My skin tingled intensely like I had rubbed Icy Hot all over me. It was the skin on my elbows, across my chest, around my back, & the back of my head. Add this to other anxiety manifestations (nausea, feeling frantic & out of control, shaky, tremors, clammy hands & feet…) and you have the making for a very terrible morning. It might be needless to say my whole day has been clouded by this. I never want to experience it again.

I called the psychiatrist (she wasn’t in) & talked to the nurse. She told me that it could’ve just been my body trying to figure out what to do with it given that I’ve never had any type of long-term medication like this before, but if I don’t want to try it again tomorrow,  I don’t have to.

And I’m not going to. When your anxiety scares you and concerns you enough to see a therapist and a psychiatrist, the last thing you want is something else to induce anxiety because that just causes more anxiety.

Today was a disaster. I’m hoping it’s just one to put and keep behind me and that someday will yield better results. 

For tomorrow, it’s square one.

I Want to Tell You I Appreciate You Being There

I went to an appointment with a psychiatrist today. After telling a fairly-detailed summary of my life, she assessed that I am stressed, and could probably benefit from medicinal, as well as, talk therapy.

Let it begin.

Sort of. Tomorrow I will begin a medication for anxiety, a serotonin booster. I was warned that it may make me sleepy for the first week or so, until I adjust. That’s ok, but being an anxious person, I have my anxieties about the whole thing. Deep breaths. I keep reminding myself that I’m not alone, that I’m not the only one who has gone through this ordeal, and that the psychiatrist & therapist are there to help me.

Yet I still have my worries and fears. I almost feel like a child, & would love a hand to hold. Someone hold my hand. Figuratively. Literally.  World’s away. Just please hold my hand.

I had a separation anxiety problem when I was younger, probably due to being separated from many parts of my life, and I think sometimes on top of the generalized anxiety, it sneaks up in there too. So a friendly reminder, something simple that I am already well aware, is just nice. It’s just nice to hear that you’re there. Someone is there.

Thank you. I appreciate you being here.

Jumping Back n Forth

So I’ve been around the blogging block a few times and I can’t seem to find a home in the neighborhood. I’ve spent nights at WordPress, and I’ve spent nights at Blogger. I only seem to jump back and forth between the two because I can’t get comfortable, truly & deeply comfortable in just one place. If I’m here, then I’m not there, and how silly it would be to have a house in each neighborhood. 

 

Right?

 

One thing is for certain:  I do not want to transfer material back n forth between the two sites. I don’t think I have much traffic around the other place anyway, so maybe I’ll just keep the whereabouts of the country home to myself.

Anyway. Hello everyone.