A Monday For Facing Fears

Hello. It is Monday again. The sky is overcast and the grass is still damp with dew. I have been up for a bit but I am just now sitting down to write this. I have been stalling.

You see, if I sit down and write a blog post that means it is really Monday. This Monday. The Monday where I once again have to do something that I don’t really want to do because it scares me a little.

Now before any of you get ideas of doctor appointments or tightrope walking into your heads, it really isn’t that big of a deal to the rest of the world. Once I go and get things over with it won’t seem like a big deal to me either. It is the time before I actually step out of my door that is the worst.

I have to go out into the world and adult today. Yes adult can be used as a verb. If you don’t think so, just wait. One day you will do a thing and it will be something that is necessary but not really something you want to do. In fact you would probably like to avoid that thing all together. However, you will take a deep breath and do it anyway. That is adulting. (In some cases “adulting” can be not doing a thing you do really want to do.)

I have to put on my adult costume and go pretend to be something I’m not. I am an adult. I have bills, pets, kids, laundry and everything. It all gets paid, fed, or washed. But to the rest of the world I get the feeling that I am just not quite adult enough. I have to go confront the local school board over my son today. I may even be home schooling before the day is out.

(Summary of the issue is that they want my social anxiety afflicted son to move schools during his last year of primary because he is not zoned for the school he has attended since kindergarten. Makes sense except for the fact he has never been zoned for that school but it hasn’t been a problem until now.)

Sometimes I feel I have to over adult because once someone in power find out I am a single mom, for some reason my adult meter drops. I watch it happen. There is this little smirk that comes up in the corner of their mouths and their eyes say “Oh, that’s what we are dealing with.”

If they find out I am pursuing the dream of being a writer the meter drops even more. It is like I am a little kid dressed up in her mom’s shoes and no longer have to be taken seriously. I hate, hate, hate being humored or patronized. If you are going to look down on me at least do it in a way that gives me a chance to fight back.

I am not on welfare. I am paying my own mortgage. I work 72 hours in one week, then come home and do all the other stuff people have to do and be mom.  (Okay my incredibly wonderful mother helps me out with some of that.) Then I write because I am a writer. I can and I will pursue that dream. Just because I happen to not have a mate does not mean I have to give up on everything and go wallow in how hard life is.

I even have a freaking vegetable garden in the back yard! If anything I feel like they should be taking me more serious or at least trying help me out a little. But that is not the way it goes. Instead I am silently put into a stereotype box and anything I say from that point on will be viewed wearing shades colored by that box.

It is incredibly frustrating and I don’t like confrontation to begin with. Writing it all out here has helped. I don’t feel so uneasy now. I am going to go forth into battle before my courage fades. Wish me luck.

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Down in the clover

It is seven o’clock in the evening as I sit writing this. It is warm outside with a nice breeze blowing. I sat on the back porch for a little while watching the clover dance in the wind and the black and yellow bees hop from the white flowers that rose out of the sea of green leaves. They looked like farmers picking cotton or tomatoes.bee1

The bees only stayed a moment at each flower and three of them were spread out in sort of a lopsided triangle. They all made their way through the clover patch at the same speed and in the same direction; but there was always one bee out front while the other two were back and to the side.

I feel a bit melancholy at the moment. I was hoping sitting outside would help. However, as I sat on the steps I was accosted by a door to door sales man attempting to sell me faster internet service. I politely listened to him, just because I could, then took his information before passing back a business card of my own. I mean why waste a chance to gain a new reader? If they are going to try to sell me something then turn about is fair play.

I am still feeling a bit down. The wind, clover, bees, and chatty salesman didn’t change that. The depression monster has walloped me good and I think I will just lay here a minute. I will get back up. I will continue to fight. But for now I will just take deep breaths and watch the bees in the clover a bit more.

Breathing past the anxiety demon

Happy Monday everybody. I am sitting at my computer this morning watching the sun throw tree shadows against the neighbor’s house as it climbs up out of it’s Eastern bed. My house is quiet because the kids are at school and the cats are asleep.

It should be peaceful. Unfortunately I am doing battle with that inner demon called anxiety today. I’ve been having problems with it since Friday. Standing in the cold in the middle of a crowd on Saturday didn’t help matters, but it was the Christmas Parade and my daughter was walking in it.

Depression keeps wanting to kick me too. Anxiety and Depression kind of go hand in hand for me. I get frustrated with myself for the panic and jittery feelings bubbling up inside and then I get depressed because I want to just ignore it and move on with life. I have things to do. I don’t have time to fall down that winding stairway of panic.

To combat my demons I have Christmas music playing and I plan on digging out decorations for the porch later. I also need to mail out the Christmas Cards for Addie we made yesterday. I try to focus on good things.

As long I as I keep moving forward the battle against my anxiety won’t get too out of hand. It is when I sit down and let it overcome me that things get bad. Funny how the easiest way to beat down my inner demons is just to recognize they are there and then breath past them. It is still a fight, even if it isn’t a bloody one. Writing it out helps too.

Overwhelmed

I am taking a minute to breathe. I felt my anxiety creeping up and I had to take a moment to squeeze it back down. It is kind of like those yogurt tubes my kids eat. If there is too much pressure the whole thing comes out of the top instead of just what you can handle.

It’s Monday again. School is back in session so that means I am up before the sun laying out clothes and packing lunches. In an hour I will awaken my two sleeping angels, who will then stumble around like zombies until that final dash to the car.

I have fed the cats, given the kitten his antibiotic and eye drops, as well as clean the litter boxes. (The kitten, Max, is a stray we took in. He has eye problems that have caused him to lose one eye and he will probably lose the other as well.)

My son has dress up week. Today is wacky Monday. He can wear odd clothes, put his shirt on backwards and wear mix matched socks. (I am glad this one falls on Monday.) Later in the week he has to dress like he is from the 1940’s. So I have to figure out how to dress him up like my grandfather.

(I remember my grandfather in plain white t-shirts and work pants. Somehow, I don’t think that is what the school is going for. My papaw wore suits or overalls. I don’t think either of those would go over well with my son.)

He also has his first fund raiser this week. I am broke until Friday but for some reason these people always seem to end fund raisers on Thursdays. It will be a week of begging my co-workers to support the school. Unfortunately, most of them are broke until Friday as well.

My daughter is in her first year of middle school. There are three posts worth of problems and drama to go along with that. I spend two hours every afternoon in school lines to pick up the kids. I’ve started taking my novel with me so I can write edit notes while I wait.

My dinning room table is covered with bits of novel, mail, my daughter’s drawings, pieces of newspaper, school work, and forms to fill out and/or sign. It can be a bit much. Faced with it this morning, I felt like hyperventilating. I need to clear it off, not just put a random box in the middle so the cats will quit knocking papers to the floor. (It works. They sit in the box and leave the rest alone.)

But for right now I am just going to take a deep breath and just breathe for a minute before jumping back in.

 

 

Confessions of an Introvert

1483034_561558493939194_2036629757_nThere are some days when I can’t stand to be around people, even ones  I like.  It just feels like everything is too loud.  I have anxiety depression anyway so I don’t do well in large crowds, but sometimes I don’t do well with just two or three people around either.  Especially when I just wake up and everyone tries to talk to me at once.

The words don’t make it through. I just hear voices and noise.  There are times when I just loudwant quiet.  However, I don’t exactly want to be left alone either.  It would be nice to be able to sit quietly with someone every now and again.

books girlI think that is one of the reasons I like books so much.  They aren’t loud but I don’t feel alone either.  I need people.  I need interaction. But I also need my quiet moments.

Anxiety Depression

Anxiety:

a : painful or apprehensive uneasiness of mind usually over an impending or anticipated ill

b : fearful concern or interest

c : a cause of anxiety

2
: an abnormal and overwhelming sense of apprehension and fear often marked by physiological signs (as sweating, tension, and increased pulse), by doubt concerning the reality and nature of the threat, and by self-doubt about one’s capacity to cope with it

 

Or in my words…You know when you get butterflies in your stomach?  It’s kinda like that. butterfly attackA really really bad case of the butterflies, only super mutant butterflies.  And they don’t stay in your stomach.  No those nasty little buggers move out to your chest, arms, and head too until it feels like you are shaking apart from the inside.

The worst part is that you know that whatever triggered your attack isn’t really that big of a deal.  It may feel like it, but in the end you know that it isn’t as bad.  Not that it matters, you’re trapped inside yourself until the attack passes.

anxiety-cycle300_jpgYou fake being okay because you don’t want to be labeled.  You’re not okay, but only those who know you well will take note of how wide your eyes are or if you seem a bit “twitchy or bitchy”  If you’re like me, then you do your damnedest to make sure people don’t know until you just can’t take it any more. You try to pretend everything is normal and hope they don’t notice how reedy or high your voice sounds, or take note of the panic in your voice.  And you wait for it to pass and you breath because that is all you can do. It will pass.  But only in it’s own time.  Waiting can be hard.

I had a rough night battling with this.

arosttle