Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Not Exactly A Winter Wonderland

No icicles, no snow, no sleet. Not here, at least. It's not even quite freezing but damn, it sure feels cold to the bone out there. A day in which its hard to believe that the sun will shine again, that it will be warm, that spring will come. 

My appointment is in a few hours. I keep making the calculations in my head for the timing of when to shower, when to leave. I want to leave early so I can drive slowly. I hate this. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I drank some smoothie. My stomach feels terrible. 

When I was talking to my friend yesterday she told me that she loves reading my blog. I was a little surprised. I didn't know she did read it but she does and she told me that when she was sitting in the hospital with her sister, she would read it and that it was a comfort to her to read about the grandchildren, the chickens. "Don't stop writing," she said. "I won't," I told her. 

Sometimes I wonder why I do this at all. Who cares if I have anxiety? Who cares if my chickens have begun to lay eggs again? Who cares if my grandsons, according to me, are adorable and hysterical and that I love them so much it doesn't even seem possible? 

I don't know. 
Why am I talking to myself? Because that is, essentially, what I am doing. 

Today I am talking to myself about getting this appointment over with. I have other things to do in town too. I really want to just curl up into a ball and sleep through it all. The appointment time, the in-town stuff, the cold, the rain. Just sleep right through until spring. Wake up hungry and curious about the world instead of this constant drudge through all the mess of what's in my mind; what's outside of it. Did you know that before there were anxiety medications one of the last-resort treatments for this disorder was to put people in a sort of drug-induced coma so that they would sleep through days and nights with very little waking in hopes that they would heal and recover while unconscious?

I understand that. 

Well, that ain't happening today. 

The birds are still flocking to the feeder, even in the gray wet cold. I am trying to look upon them as portents of color and goodness and hope. It is hard. 
I wish with all of my heart that I wasn't so crazy. I wish I knew how to flip the switch, to slip this bitch, this crazy-mind. 

I am grateful to be able to write it all out. Or, to at least leak some of it. 



  1. Me me me! I care!

    Hope that appointment is done and over!

  2. I forgot to say yesterday that I am sorry about your friend's sister and the loss for you too. Good luck today. Sweet Jo

  3. Caring and waving over here! Good luck today. xo

  4. You may be talking to yourself, but we are all here listening and right behind you. Good luck today. Good luck good luck. xoxo

  5. Ms. Moon - it will be ok...I promise. You will feel so much better after you speak with your NP (doc?) and it's ok to need meds for anxiety (I do) it's perfectly ok. So sorry to hear about your friends sister....and you are NOT talking to yourself. We are all here listening. -Marcia

  6. Yes - my friend said her aunt was a farmer's wife with about 9 children and a lot of daily work, who was always struggling to lose weight - she heard that there were Swiss health clinics that would put you in a healing coma for several weeks - perfect, she thought, you get to SLEEP and LOSE WEIGHT while you do it. I totally see where she was coming from.

  7. I care. And when you write here, you talk to me, not just yourself, and I'm so grateful.

  8. I care about you, Ms. Moon. And I know that it helps other people to know they are not alone. Anyone reading this and experiencing anxiety themselves is going to be comforted by that simple fact.

    I relate, this time of year, it is so hard to believe spring will come.

    I watched this TED talk yesterday by a woman with schizophrenia. I know you do not have schizophrenia, but her words were meaningful to me in certain ways and maybe they would be to you as well.

    Interestingly, in the video she said something along the lines of, "although it may snow as late as April, spring always comes".

  9. I would love to be in a drug induced coma while flying, while at the dentist, and while dealing with any unpleasant medical procedures, and while getting my tax paperwork together. Otherwise, I think walking and yoga are and T'ai Chi Chih are better at helping me feel good.
    Hoping you get some feel good time today, Mrs. Moon.

  10. I am listening, Mary Moon, and so is my mom (just sent her about 80 pages of printouts!). We care, and we listen, because you help us to remember that we are strong enough to get through whatever happens today. That tomorrow might, or might not, be better, but one way or another, it will come. I recently began having panic attacks and anxiety, so I can relate to wanting to just curl up and sleep. And to wake up "normal." You remind us that we are all normal. Life isn't a cone of cotton candy for anyone. In fact, it sucks, but in different ways for all of us.

    Elizabeth O.

  11. Jill- I read your comment on my phone while still trembling in the waiting room waiting for the dreaded, "Mary? Come on back."

    Sweet Jo- I have not seen that sweet sister in many, many years so my sorrow is mostly for her family. And especially for her daughter. Thank you.
    You are so dear.

    Lisa- I appreciate that so much.

    Rachel- It went fine. Jeez. I am such a baby.

    Marcia- It is such a miracle to me that I am not just talking to myself. I swear.

    Jo- Hell- with nine kids, she NEEDED THE REST! If she lost weight, all the better. She probably didn't need drugs to sleep for a week.

    Angella- I love you.

    Ms. Vesuvius- I think I read an article about that woman. No, wait. It was an interview on NPR. Amazing. Thank you.

    Denise- I need to do yoga. I know it. Why don't I do it? Thank you for reminding me.

    Elizabeth O- I just can't believe you print out my blogs and send them to your mother who reads them. I mean...well. It just means so much to me. Anxiety is a beast. A horrible, horrible beast. I am glad people are speaking out about it. Maybe they will figure something out to help its victims. Meanwhile, we hang on and hang in and we help each other.

  12. I thought of you today when I was having an Ativan-free visit at the dentist and was barely hanging on to my last nerve with fear. The panic washed over me and I picked one tiny spot on the ceiling to focus on and I told myself "as long as that spot is there and you look at it, you won't die." And I didn't. Even though Love Shack by the B52s was playing on the radio, I did not stop staring at that spot. Sigh. I hugged the dentist on the way out.

    In Canada, we call that weather phenomena SUMMER. LOLOLOLOL!

  13. I love to read your blog too. I think it's so effective and fun to read because we see something of ourselves and our own difficulties and experiences in YOUR difficulties and experiences, even though you live in North Florida and have chickens and grandsons. I can't explain why that commonality is there, except that we're all human, and maybe that basic humanity is what you're so good at expressing.

  14. (When I say "we" I'm thinking of all your readers, though I suppose I can only speak for myself!)

  15. Catching up finally after being a slug for a few days in the ice storm. Actually, we kept busy with the fires burning and watching movies. Something about snow and ice makes me want to be lazy.


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