I’m tired but, against my better judgment, I am staying up to write this.
The last few days have been traumatic.
It started in the middle of the night…those weird, transitional hours between Wednesday and Thursday. There was coughing. I felt my husband move out of bed and murmur. And then, a shaky scream for help.
I dashed out of bed, awake in a flash. I peeked into the bathroom…blood. Blood was everywhere.
I have been an irritable, grumpy person lately.
Life has been stressful, for no really great reasons.
My anxiety has felt okay.
It’s just that melancholy creeps in.
Some days? It overtakes me.
I lay in bed at night, hoping that you will feel the aching pain drifting off of my body and wrap me in your arms. No words…just you and me, breathing as one. Me, crying in your arms, rather than alone on my pillow.
You don’t come.
Yesterday, I embarked on another EMDR journey–this time, in an attempt to get to the bottom of my perfectionism. The journey itself was not as traumatic and difficult as some of the others have been, and images did come swimming before my closed eyes. One image–of a high cinder block wall that I was trying to scale, jump off of, and leave behind–seems especially relevant in my attempt to escape my little town, where I was known, had history, and, most likely, very few secrets. Breaking into my cliquish peer group as an outsider was never something that I feel like I completely achieved, and my experiences of being bullied, not fitting in, and then trying to prove myself and be better than some of them, certainly contributed to my feelings of inferiority and judgment.
So, while this was telling to me, these are not the moments that stood out to me during this EMDR session. Continue reading
…okay, from my title, we all know I tend to exaggerate.
School started again a little less than two weeks ago. I am entering my final year of my teacher prep program, and this semester means that I am required to be in class 4 nights a week until 9 pm. It is a full load of classes with a cohort group, and each class is compressed into a week to two weeks. So, it is a lot of deadlines, full days, and stress. Continue reading
I am not “cured” of anxiety–I have my ups and downs, and I probably always will. However, over the course of the last six months I have discovered some powerful things to help me deal and control my mood and stressors. Continue reading
I want to be fiercely loved.
I need to be wanted and needed and held and cherished.
I need connection and intimacy—knowing glances and unsaid words.
I want to be fiercely loved. Continue reading