To me, anxiety has always been part of who I am. Nerves, worry, IBS…it’s been called different things, but I’ve always had it.
Managing it is a process. At times, it is terrible and affecting all parts of my life. At other times, it is in the background–there, but at a level that makes me more productive.
PANIC, on the other hand, is a totally different beast. Continue reading
Trauma is a funny thing.
As I have worked my way through the many, many layers of my own story, I have learned many interesting facts about childhood trauma and discovered many of the reasons why I behave the way I do.
Yet, I still find myself feeling surprised when the sub-conscious takes over and I revert back to those past, safe coping mechanisms.
Tonight, I am a mess.
A struggling, emotional, scared mess.
As a teacher, I recently had a few weeks off for the holidays. Days were busy–a combination of Christmas, traveling, and getting back on track with workouts. (Because, you know, I have somehow gained more weight than I want to admit). Somehow, in the chaos of it all, I began to forget to take my antidepressant.
Last Monday, I woke up and had to go back to work. As I went through my usual morning routine, I suddenly realized that it had been at least a week or a week and a half since I last swallowed that little pill.
Everyday, I can see the progress I’ve made.
That, in and of itself, seems like a miracle at times. For so very long, I felt absolutely STUCK. Progress felt impossible, far-fetched, and highly unlikely.
Day by day. Minute by grueling minute. I. Kept. Going.
And slowly, ever so slowly, life started to shift.
My anxiety became easier to control. I started to get some of my confidence back. I started to no longer need my therapist to hold my hand through every moment. Continue reading
It’s that time of year.
It is dark when I wake up. Dark when I get home.
Cold. Dry. Windy.
It sounds silly to say, but I realized today…I am actually afraid of this time of year and what it will bring. Continue reading
As I was teaching science to my students the other day, discussing earth’s changes, I started to think of the term “weathering.” The way I teach it, weathering is what happens when a cliff is hit by a wave repeatedly…slowly, over time, the water wears the cliff away.
I realized…I feel like the cliff. The waves hit, again and again, as I remain steadfast. Slowly, over time, the waves change me…but the process in and of itself is not a fast one.
Raw, exhausted, and unfiltered, I arrived at my therapist’s office yesterday. I sat in my familiar spot, really just feeling…overwhelmed? Matter of fact? Drained?
All those things.
You see, feeling stuck is a hard thing for me. I think A LOT. I wonder. I wonder if I want to be stuck. I wonder if moving on is scary because that means people won’t help me anymore. Then, I get mad at myself for wondering if that is a possibility–how could I be that unhealthy?
Is that even why?
Yesterday, I did another EMDR session. I focused on an image of me–barely treading water, sticking my head out, trying to breathe. That image embodies the magnitude of emotion–overwhelmed, holding on for dear life.
Surviving. Continue reading