I finally took an Ativan because it wasn't going away and my stomach felt like I was going to puke but not because of anything physical, just the anxiety. Like butterflies in the stomach but butterflies that you get before you go onstage and don't know your lines or maybe even which act you're supposed to be doing.
I talked to Jessie because we were making plans to go to a nursery where the native plants were buy one, get one, and I told her I was having anxiety but that I was going to be okay and we discussed how it's very much like her arthritis. Some days she wakes up and feels absolutely fine and some days she wakes up and she knows she's going to need to take medication. You learn to live with the situation and you get through it and you adapt and you do the damn best you can.
That made me feel better although I told her that since this is a "mental" illness rather than a "physical" illness, there is an element of guilt and shame attached because no matter what we know or what we do truly believe, there is some part of us which thinks that if we'd just...I don't know...choose not to have anxiety? we'd be fine.
"I hope as you get older you get over that," she said.
We both paused.
"I don't really see that happening," I said.
"I don't either," she said.
And there is peace in acceptance.
I love my children so much. They have had to suffer the consequences of my problems their entire lives and some of those consequences have not been pretty. Misplaced anger, flattening depression, an inability to focus where I should have focused which was directly on them as they were growing up. I tried but I surely did not always succeed.
The things my husband has had to go through are just as bad if not worse.
In my lowest times I have wondered why any of these people still love me at all. The fact that they do is absolutely the greatest mysterious blessing of my life.
And I owe them my life. Many, many times over.
But today was okay and I went into town and picked up August and his mama and we went to the nursery and Jessie looked at plants and picked some out while I just played with August, following him around as he went from fountains to fairy-furniture to animal puppets to wind chimes. It was lovely. There were so many people there but the people at plant nurseries (especially one like this one which does most of its trade in native plants and crafts) are like the people in libraries for the most part. There for a reason, a purpose for being there which in one case is to acquire words and knowledge and in the other, plants and knowledge.
And Jessie picked out some plants and August did not care at all when he lost sight of her. He's been going through a little thing where he wants to know where his mama or his daddy is all the time. But today that didn't seem to matter and when I'd say, "Let's go find Mama," he'd look up as if to say, "Oh! Yeah! Mama! Eh, she's around here somewhere."
Honestly he reminds me so much of Jessie when she was a little one. She, too, was little and very blond and tanned and she just went everywhere with me, usually in a sling across my hip. She viewed the world from my side and stayed small enough long enough for us to go through life like that for quite awhile.
Just goes to show that the size a child is when they're young doesn't necessarily indicate the size they'll be when they grow up. I think of putting my six-foot tall daughter in a sling and trying to carry her now and laugh and laugh.
I guess I'm saying not to worry about the growth charts too much.
After I dropped them off at home, I went to Publix and bought things for tomorrow. The kids are coming out for brunch and Lily suggested we have breakfast burritos and that sounds perfect to me. I bought four kinds of tortillas, avocados, beans, salsa, turkey sausage, sour cream, crema Mexicana, and I don't even know what all. I have bacon and onions and peppers and cilantro and tomatoes and a Costco block of cheese. And eggs, of course.
We shall make do.
Have you seen this?
That's some of the computer models for the path which Hurricane Irma might take in the next week. This is one monster bitch of a storm, already a category 3. This may be where a little of my anxiety is coming from. I've lived in Florida long enough that I swear my body can detect the presence of a possible hurricane threat from days away.
Well. One can only try to be prepared for whatever may come.
And having said that, who could have predicted what would come for Houston and that part of Texas?
The names FSU and Alabama are getting thrown around here like there's some giant football game happening tonight so I guess that Mr. Moon and I won't be sitting on the couch and holding hands, watching Call The Midwife as we have been doing lately after supper, me trying to snort-sniff my tears back in, he getting a little misty-eyed himself.
That's all right. I have a book to read and a bed to read it in.
And tomorrow there will be a fiestita right here in Lloyd.
Life is made up of so many things and I suppose it's best to try and concentrate on that which is most directly before us and not to go fishing for worries which may or may not prove to be worth getting worked up about. Trouble rarely comes from the direction we're expecting it to.
There. Wasn't that helpful?
I try, y'all. I really do.
I started reading a book about healing PTSD but it just made my anxiety worse. It said it is entirely possible to become the person I was before the PTSD. WTF? I felt it when my mama was pregnant with me, I hea no doubt. My earliest memories are of terror. So basically, I have been anxious from my first memory, and even before. So how the fuck is it possible to not live with trauma and its ensuing anxiety? The author was so mattem fact and said that if I wanted it bad enough it was possible and if it didn't happen it was my own fault. Of course she didn't say it in those exact words. I have to say, it broke me a little more than I already am.ReplyDelete
I don't know. Fuck it. I don't see myself getting better either.
But, don't take my words to close to heart. I am terribly anxious today too.
Keep dry, Mary. You know how much you mean to me, right?
I remember once before I found the therapist who saved my life, calling a different therapist and giving her a brief discussion about my situation. She said something like, "Oh yes. I was abused as a child too but I am completely healed."Delete
I knew that was bullshit, even then, and did not ever make an appointment with her.
That's another reason I've never trusted Oprah who claims that she has forgiven her abusers and that that action has allowed her to heal.
I think she never really acknowledged their actions and how they affected her.
My earliest memories are of terror too. We can't erase those any more than we can erase our bones and blood. Anyone who thinks otherwise is full of shit. I don't care if they did get a book deal.
That therapist is a dirty diaper dumpster. Full of fucking shit.Delete
What a wise daughter.ReplyDelete
All of my children seem to possess an innate wisdom which I am always astounded by.ReplyDelete
Don't borrow sorrow from tomorrow. I read that somewhere years ago and I say it myself often.ReplyDelete
And that's a good one. Another one I like is, "Don't put up your umbrella until it starts raining."Delete
And oh, how I wish it were merely a lack of logic which causes our anxiety. But it does help to remember these things.
Didn't realize Irma was already a cat 3. My husband obsesses over hurricane tracking - he's already looking at the disturbance off the coast of Africa. Talk about borrowing trouble from tomorrow! Glad you can some relief with the Ativan.ReplyDelete
I only use it when I really need it and often, just the idea that it's there is comforting enough.Delete
oprah's full of shit. the body keeps score.ReplyDelete
I agree. We're probably in the minority there though.Delete
I went hurricane shopping today and stocked up on non perishable food, bottled water, camp stove fuel, etc...just in case. And has the gas situation gotten weird in Florida since Harvey?! The prices are climbing here and there have been lines at the pumps.ReplyDelete
Yes. With the gas situation.Delete
I suppose I should do some preparation as well.
I Hope your Anxiety subsides and that Irma isn't terrible, though that would make me anxious too. The two Grands I'm raising suffer from extreme Anxiety and Panic Attacks as does The Man since his TBI, and it is so easy to Love them and so difficult to know how to comfort them during the episodes. I suspect your Children and DH feel the same, Wishing they could somehow find ways to give you relief from the torment of it all. Virtual Hugs...ReplyDelete
I think the most important thing is for our loved ones to remember and know that they really can't cure us and we just have to go through what we have to go through. But loving us is always the most important thing. And makes us love THEM even more.Delete
Arms around you. Love.ReplyDelete
And arms around YOU!Delete
Oh, Lord. I hadn't even heard of Irma. Let me just say, I love the word "fiestita"!ReplyDelete
We're all sort of internally quaking at the idea of that bitch hitting the coast here.Delete
"Fiestita" is a word! I looked it up! Little fiesta.
Running amok in a nursery with August and fairy furnishings sounds heavenly.ReplyDelete
I'd bargain I've probably put my family thru more than you have! Though, I can see how anxiety would be more difficult for people to understand and meet with compassion. (Maybe we're not praying hard enough. /s)
I *love* Call the Midwife.
Well, i've never heard of a fiestita, but I know the music will be great and i'd totally shake my festitties at yours! (sorry, I couldn't resist!) :)
Oh, Ajax! You do make me laugh! "Festitties!" You'd fit right in here. I swear.Delete
Since you asked: All of that was helpful. Your blog always is.ReplyDelete