Oh, boy, am I feeling the anxiety tonight. It's one of those episodes that shows up out of nowhere to remind me of every single thing I've screwed up or every sentence I spoke without thinking about. As much as I am able to recognize these moments when they happen, I still struggle to talk myself down. I feel my chest getting tighter and have difficulty breathing, and my stomach hurts, all while my brain continues its slideshow of my lowest moments.
the funny thing is that I can step back and see this happening, but I can't pull myself out of it. I know I'm not a terrible person, and I mess up (like most of us do), but in these moments, all positives fall away while I immerse myself in a cycle of the lifetime of mistakes I've made and why they make me an awful person. I've been getting back into meditation, which is something I still have to work at. I'm hoping that as I continue to involve meditation in my life that I can use that mindfulness to manage my anxiety.
I think that this is always going to be work for me, but all I can do is work to be better than yesterday.
Sunday, July 31, 2016
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Quiet
I love rehearsing sheet music while running on the elliptical. It takes so much coordination (of which I have little) and therefore occupies my brain in a way few other activities do. I'm constantly working to find the "quiet" for my own brain. It's rare that I'm not buzzing with thoughts, and I know quieting that isn't really supposed to be work. For me, though, meditation is work. I enjoy it, but I'm always fighting myself for peace. Again, I get it. Let the thoughts wash over you, but don't follow them. I just haven't mastered that yet.
If I'm not doing at least three things, I almost don't know how to function. Maybe that's part of the problem with the internal chatter. Or maybe that's how I think I can soften the chatter. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't so anxiety-ridden. It's not simply thoughts; it's a continual review of anything I've messed up on in the last 20 years and how those things make me a terrible person. Then I continue to relive those choices. "Why didn't I say this instead?" "Why haven't I learned to slow down before I speak and get myself in trouble?" That's why I hate the middle of the night. I'm alone with my brain, and it doesn't let me forget anything. When I could be resting and replenishing myself, I'm busy beating myself up.
A deep-seated fear that the people close to you will leave you does strange things to your brain, which is why I think I send myself into a spiral so easily. I'm constantly giving myself reality checks, but it isn't enough. I have to work to be better at cutting myself slack and learning from my mistakes. How can I take these events and use them to be better tomorrow? How can I give myself some mental rest, rather than laying awake and rehashing every negative action in my adult life? I teach "progress, not perfection," but I'm terrible at leading by example at that. Man, even in that sentence, I'm criticizing myself. The idea that I see myself as less proficient at allowing myself to not be perfect is silly and kind of hilarious. I guess at least I see that and am aware of it. Through that, hopefully I can begin to find the quiet space in my mind.
If I'm not doing at least three things, I almost don't know how to function. Maybe that's part of the problem with the internal chatter. Or maybe that's how I think I can soften the chatter. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't so anxiety-ridden. It's not simply thoughts; it's a continual review of anything I've messed up on in the last 20 years and how those things make me a terrible person. Then I continue to relive those choices. "Why didn't I say this instead?" "Why haven't I learned to slow down before I speak and get myself in trouble?" That's why I hate the middle of the night. I'm alone with my brain, and it doesn't let me forget anything. When I could be resting and replenishing myself, I'm busy beating myself up.
A deep-seated fear that the people close to you will leave you does strange things to your brain, which is why I think I send myself into a spiral so easily. I'm constantly giving myself reality checks, but it isn't enough. I have to work to be better at cutting myself slack and learning from my mistakes. How can I take these events and use them to be better tomorrow? How can I give myself some mental rest, rather than laying awake and rehashing every negative action in my adult life? I teach "progress, not perfection," but I'm terrible at leading by example at that. Man, even in that sentence, I'm criticizing myself. The idea that I see myself as less proficient at allowing myself to not be perfect is silly and kind of hilarious. I guess at least I see that and am aware of it. Through that, hopefully I can begin to find the quiet space in my mind.
Monday, July 18, 2016
Loss
We've all lost loved ones. It's part of the human experience. It's how we process things that differs. This is a day that makes me more thoughtful about this subject. This would've been the birthday of one of my best friends, but we lost him to brain cancer far too young.
The thing that resonates the most with me is how strange it is how quickly someone is gone. We have such a short time together, and it doesn't matter how much time you have with someone you love, it's not enough. And then in the blink of an eye, they're just gone. And in the low, quiet moments when I think about Greg, the "he lives on in your memory" doesn't really help. Let's be honest: there are times when than sentiment is lovely, but there are times when it doesn't matter. He can't answer my calls, he can't complain about my taste in movies, and he can't laugh at me for my lack of car knowledge. He's gone.
These moments are when I'm grateful for technology, because I can look back on text messages, Facebook messages, and all the videos Michael made. For me, that's how Greg's memory continues. Michael and I watch the old videos, and we still find stories to tell that the other hasn't heard. We laugh over all the silly things we did and marvel at how much older we've all gotten. Time can be sneaky.
My mid-30s have been a time of small revelations. Mostly they're silly things: I don't like celery and have been lying to myself my whole life. Today, though, I had the realization that if it weren't for Greg, I don't know if Michael and I would've started dating. Some of you know that I have a core group of friends, and we've been tight since high school. Greg was friends with everyone, and he was the one who helped pull me into the group I still call my best friends. Without that, Michael may still have been ignoring me, and who knows where I would be now. It certainly wouldn't be as wonderful as the life I share with Michael.
I think the other thing that gets me about today is that it's bracketed by the birthdays of one of my nieces and one of my nephews. Those kiddos are awfully dear to me, and there's something incredible about their birthdays being on either side of his.
Many of you know that I process a lot of things verbally. I'll go on talking about something to work out a solution or to understand what I'm feeling. It's not that I expect you to respond, it's that I'm working things through out loud. It's how I move on from something, and it's why I have very few secrets. I'm just not good at keeping things to myself. I suppose that's what this is all about. I need a place to dislodge all of this from my brain, and I suppose this is the best place.
So what, then, do I take from this? As always, it's a reminder to be better. How can I be as good of a friend to others as Greg was to me? How can I use my own pain to help others through theirs? At the end of the day, that's all I'm looking for: to help others and leave things ever so slightly better.
The thing that resonates the most with me is how strange it is how quickly someone is gone. We have such a short time together, and it doesn't matter how much time you have with someone you love, it's not enough. And then in the blink of an eye, they're just gone. And in the low, quiet moments when I think about Greg, the "he lives on in your memory" doesn't really help. Let's be honest: there are times when than sentiment is lovely, but there are times when it doesn't matter. He can't answer my calls, he can't complain about my taste in movies, and he can't laugh at me for my lack of car knowledge. He's gone.
These moments are when I'm grateful for technology, because I can look back on text messages, Facebook messages, and all the videos Michael made. For me, that's how Greg's memory continues. Michael and I watch the old videos, and we still find stories to tell that the other hasn't heard. We laugh over all the silly things we did and marvel at how much older we've all gotten. Time can be sneaky.
My mid-30s have been a time of small revelations. Mostly they're silly things: I don't like celery and have been lying to myself my whole life. Today, though, I had the realization that if it weren't for Greg, I don't know if Michael and I would've started dating. Some of you know that I have a core group of friends, and we've been tight since high school. Greg was friends with everyone, and he was the one who helped pull me into the group I still call my best friends. Without that, Michael may still have been ignoring me, and who knows where I would be now. It certainly wouldn't be as wonderful as the life I share with Michael.
I think the other thing that gets me about today is that it's bracketed by the birthdays of one of my nieces and one of my nephews. Those kiddos are awfully dear to me, and there's something incredible about their birthdays being on either side of his.
Many of you know that I process a lot of things verbally. I'll go on talking about something to work out a solution or to understand what I'm feeling. It's not that I expect you to respond, it's that I'm working things through out loud. It's how I move on from something, and it's why I have very few secrets. I'm just not good at keeping things to myself. I suppose that's what this is all about. I need a place to dislodge all of this from my brain, and I suppose this is the best place.
So what, then, do I take from this? As always, it's a reminder to be better. How can I be as good of a friend to others as Greg was to me? How can I use my own pain to help others through theirs? At the end of the day, that's all I'm looking for: to help others and leave things ever so slightly better.
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