Work In Progress

When faced with overwhelming anxiety that caused dizzy spells, Brene Brown went to her psychiatrist to find out how to better handle her increasing anxiety.  Her story is much like mine, but  I knew what was coming or what could come, because I had been there before.  It's a bit like losing control of your car in the snow, tires unable to grip now matter how to you turn the wheel.  Another car looms in front of you.  You can see it coming. You windmill the wheel the other way. Your arms lock, extended, bracing yourself for impact. I had been here before. I had also temporarily evaded a couple of near misses with therapy, so I thought I would give it another try. Unfortunately, it was  too much, too fast and the Ka-BOOM lurked around every corner.  Each day I was more conscious of my heart thudding faster as my world slid in and out of focus, my hands or voice often quivering with an...

When I started my MAG (Mood and Anxiety Group) at the hospital, one of the things we had to do was set three SMART goals that we felt we could complete in the eight week time span of the course.  They could be broad or specific---they could be steps in a larger goal or an entire project itself. was complete a 'goal' sheet.  Tomorrow begins week four in the course and Wednesday will mark the half way point. The intention on Wednesday will be to review our goals to see how we are doing.  It may mean revision time if the goal seems to no longer be appropriate or perhaps, substitution time if the goal is complete and you feel you can accomplish something else in the time remaining. It was difficult for me to find three things I felt I could actually tackle in eight weeks.  I know it sounds like a long time, but the reality is, November of 2012 feels like it was just yesterday for me and if I was at work, I would already be thinking into 2014....

The sky, dark blue fading to purple, then  pink and orange---in this instant --- it is hard to tell if it is the morning or night.  Perhaps in contradiction to the title, I am up early to write.  This is my playtime.  Writing is something that brings me both joy and a sense of accomplishment.  The Adult Day Treatment Program was my what kept me anchored to reality during the early months of my collapse.  Learning about anxiety, medications, depression, relaxation all made sense tome--had value--and could be immediately applied to my situation.  I took copious notes, I participated in class, I reflected, I did what I know best---see problem---tackle problem. What was difficult for me, was understanding the value of our "recreation" hour (a.k.a. crafts or games). I remember feeling a bit like I was in a movie or on some gag reel and I was the only one not in on the joke as people moved to pick up half painted wooden b...

Often, my 10 minute "just quick check of the e-mail" tempts me with so many blog posts, e-mail followings, promises of deep discount vacations, and Groupons/Dealfinds I find myself 3 hours later, lost in funny animal videos and have no idea how I got there.  Just one more video I tell myself.     The Internet is often my main source of news, entertainment and communication (To save time, I often combine a few of those things by just browsing my 108 "friends'" statuses on Facebook.  Graham is always good for a laugh, Jen has the weather, Michelle the news both world and celebrity and Carrie has the environment and health.)  If anything looks interesting from their posts, I did deeper.  My "friends" have become my filter for what I need to know.  And you know what, they do a pretty good job. Trying to figure out what I need to know would be too overwhelming.   At no other tim...

Today I am going to get a crown.  I say IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME!

I grew up in a small town down the street from my grandma and grandpa.  I stayed with them if my parents went away, I dropped in on my school lunch hour as they were so close and visits at the kitchen table or on the porch were part of my every day life.  Pipe tobacco and sunlight soap; the slippered shuffle/waddle of too many horsey ride for his many grandchildren; sandpaper kisses on the cheek; busy hand--fixing, fishing, tinkering, typing, learning, macramé, shell animals--my grandpa.  Pink curlered snow white hair, velvet cheeks, busy hands tying aprons, stirring, fixing, knitting, crochet, fussing--my grandma.  My Nana and Grandpa lived a ten minute drive away and I spent probably more time with them as they were younger and for 8 years, their only grandchild.  Powder and hairspray, hustle and bustle, chatter, chatter, ceramics, swimming, bowling, skating, baseball, basketball, knitting,...

 "The Man with Two Brains" is not really my type of movie and honestly, I don't remember anything about it except this scene.   I feel a bit like Steve Martin's character Dr. Michael Hfuhruhurr ,  desperately seeking a sign  that he is doing the right thing. I also feel a bit like him in the end.  Like his character, am I willing to see them or am I blocking them or rationalizing them away, second guessing, then third guessing my second guess, then fourth guessing that and, well, you get the idea.   I feel good about one sign.  Being in MAG.  It is the place I need to be to get me unstuck from this place of not wanting to make any decisions.  In June, my psychiatrist and therapist both told me to "enjoy your summer with your kids!" since my oldest was heading to University in the fall and I would have my youngest and step-son for much of the summer.    However, with three boys around (my step son was w...

  Fittingly for this time of year....I have homework.  Yesterday was my first day of the Mood and Anxiety Group (MAG) at the hospital and I am slowly starting to fill my three inch binder.  I was told by the end of the class it will be full. I remember my first experience in group. My head felt fuzzy....full of the even hum of radio static.  Every now and then I could tune into a channel and pick up some of the words---other times it was just easier to surrender to the comforting buzz.  The facilitators warn that these next eight weeks will not be an easy ride.  You will NOT feel better until you feel worse.  This is true.  I was sure that the first group I did for 8 weeks was really just to pick up some pointers.  I was fine.  I was out of the hospital.  What I didn't see coming was the deconstruction of my head.  Unlike the slow but constant decline in my mental state...

I am now the dubious owner of a yoga mat.  So far, it is still sitting in its plastic wrap ---green and clean and perfectly rolled up.  I purchased it last night after selecting it because I liked the color and has some sort of holder type thing you roll it up into and a sling to hang it from your shoulder like a quiver of arrows.   Even thought I can't see it from where I am typing---I can feel it's smug little eyes mocking me from around the corner.   You don't do Yoga-----pfff! Gonna take me downstairs and lean me up against the folded treadmill are ya?  Come onnnn now...you haven't been to the gym in like six months and you are going to go today.....to a class you have never ever taken before and show up like you know what you are doing?  Your joints have been aching and swollen for days.  You are on antibiotics for a UTI and you have your first MAG class at 2 and you are either suffering from allergies or gettin...