Tag Archive | anxiety

On Not Knowing What To Say

Have you ever found yourself in an awkward place or social event or family gathering when something happens and you find yourself at loss for words? It happens to me more times than I care to tell you but why start hiding things from you now? Sometimes I am awkward in person. Like a small puppy that hasn’t grown into her ears I trip over myself.  Once I say the wrong things, I tend to pile more wrong things on top until my anxiety takes over and I begin to slur my thoughts into an almost unintelligible speech pattern. I feel the heat rush to my face and I wish from the darkest reaches of my soul that the ground would open and cease my suffering.

There is nothing I can say to ever make you feel comfortable in your own skin. I can’t make you feel beautiful even though I may tell you how beautiful you are. I can not make you believe you have value if you don’t know your worth. It is very hard for me to tell people I care for them or have concerns for their well being. I have lost so many people I have loved. It is unfair of me to pin my fear of loss on you. So I stand there not knowing what to say because in truth my heart wants to cry out…NO! no more loss. I don’t want you to go. I want you to be better. There are days to fill with laughter and memories. There are people to love and jokes to tell. If I could ease your pain I would.

Tomorrow and the tomorrow after that are not guaranteed. Live your life. Sing that song. Make an ass out of yourself. Make sure people remember you for the right reasons. When I stumble trying to tell you how or why I feel the way I do, watch my body language. Maybe I am tripping over my own emotions or insecurities while trying to give the appearance of complete control. I want everyone in my life to know peace. I want you to know that you are loved, wanted and appreciated. I want you to know that some days it will rain but in time the sun does shine. If you are a part of my life it is because I WANT you there.

Sometimes I don’t know what to say. That’s why I write. Love the people in your life, they are here for that reason. Tell them how important they are to you. Stop with empty promises Give them something you value; a hug or a smile, a bouquet of flowers or do something unexpected for them.




I rained on my own parade. Today was not a good day. There was a snowstorm today. I like to tell myself that I am Okay, that I can survive anything but I have a secret. It’s a lie. I was blessed/cursed (depending on my mood it could be one or the other) to have one parent with serious mental illness. I like to think that I am above that affliction and that there is nothing in the world that can get under my skin. If I work hard enough and fight the gallant fight I will always overcome whatever obstacles lie in my way even when I am the obstacle.

My mother had anxiety about everything. The TV, the weather, medicine, news of any kind. You name something, anything and she had a fear or a superstition or a complaint about it. She couldn’t calm the thoughts that raced through her mind and often screamed out when her nerves gave her a run for her money. Yes, she was one odd duck but she was my mom. I learned to become who I wanted in spite of her shortcomings as a parent and  with no solid direction as to which way to start this race.

I picked up more than a few unhealthy habits form her. Instead of finding a way to deal with something that is bothering me, I simply picked up on her cue to avoid any bad situation by stuffing a bag of chips down my gullet.  Man, there is nothing like a sugar high when your anxiety is running off the scale and you need (not really) to feel the rush from a case of the jitters brought on by too much crap.  I HATE WHEN I DO THAT!

I was not kind to myself today. I tried to have a good day. I kept busy. I did not watch storm coverage. I filled my (trapped indoors by a storm) day with chores. My house is sparkly. I was trying so hard not to dwell too much on the fact that I was stuck inside that my anxiety get the better of me. I fed those emotions with crap that I don’t care about or for that matter, particularly like but I did it. Why? I learned to calm my anxiety that way… my mother self medicated so I self medicated. BAD, bad idea; but, I am learning to learn from my mistakes. I do not enjoy the hangover from food burnout. I have come to enjoy eating healthy to feel healthy. I am feeling better now. Tomorrow is a new day. There is no more giving up on myself. I need to work harder on not giving into my inner demons by letting them have their way. I am not a spoiled child that needs to be told yes over and over again in order to feel validated. I stopped being the worst example of myself over a year ago. I am not going back to that dark place ever again if I can help it.

Tomorrow is a new day.

Never Give Up On The Person You Are Meant To Be



Sometimes the beginning of a story happens at the end. Everyday that we get up and participate in our life we write more of our own story. We alone are responsible for its content and meter. My rhythm was recently interrupted by a ripple I never saw coming. One chapter ends and a new one begins. In a good read, chapters are often ways for an author to tie up loose ends or introduce a new plot twist or a dangerous and suspicious evil character. Who will I be for the next chapter in my story? Am I a damsel in distress? or a damsel in a dress? or am I damsel at all?

In my lifetime I have had numerous people tell me they “know” me. What I like, how I react, when my mood swings…You know the type of person I am talking about, right? Funny thing is some days I don’t know myself. So how in the world do smug pricks always think they have the plug-in for what I am feeling or what it is that I will be doing next, when I am not sure myself?

I am just getting home after work, from my Jeep I can tell the mailman has made his rounds blessing my homestead with the unwanted littering of ads. Maybe there will be some mail I might need. I never expected his death certificates to be amongst the upcoming grocery sales. The envelope is simply stamped city clerk’s office from the city where I live. Holding it in my hands I feel my soul begin to shrink in on itself. I feel nervous and anxious. I know he is gone. So why does this envelope make me feel so empty? and lost?

A new chapter begins where another ends. I make the rounds to the places that need confirmation from this envelope of finality. Social Security office,  the administration office that manages his pension, the IRS, the Registry of Motor Vehicles, the list is lengthy. My anxiety begins to mount and suddenly I am crying full steam ahead in the arms of a complete stranger. WTH? Cathartic and horrifying.  Healing, because for the first time I am feeling his loss, horrifying because now this stranger thinks I am a little crazy. Just wonderful! I call my hubby from my vehicle. I am hyperventilating. The sadness of my Dad’s passing finally slapping me so hard I am struggling to stay focused. No one wants to happen upon someone in the midst of hysterics. I want to run away from myself but I can’t. No matter which way I turn or run reality is still there patiently waiting for my acceptance. I am learning to adult better but I am afraid.

Thanksgiving is fast approaching. I don’t feel thankful. I am depressed and angry. It’s very hard for me to tell any one when I am feeling less than stellar. There is a long history in my immediate family associated with depression. Depression comes with stigma. A heavy necklace of doom you are tasked to wear. I hate it. I hate everything about it. Depression lies. Its voices penetrating my soul in places I DO NOT like to linger in for too long. We all struggle. No one is happy and well adjusted all the time.

Not knowing the answer to questions I have always had makes me more anxious. I am on the journey of my life. I no longer have a mother or a father that I can bounce questions off of. There is no one left who knows every little thing about me:   all of my secrets, my loves, my hates, my ambitions, my loneliness, how I got the scar in my eyebrow. There is no one left to reminisce with about the good ole days gone by. I lost so much more than my Dad. I lost the last link to my history.