myjourneyback.org

I was just rereading my last post, and I have to say that I don’t know what happened to that person.  Currently, I’m a hot mess- and not a fan of it!  I don’t know how my feelings could change so much in one month’s time, but here I am.  I think it’s one part work, one part pity party for one, and one part homesickness.  It’s all working together to give my anxiety and depression a little bit of an edge- which makes me crazy (pun intended- ha!).

Work has been more than a little stressful, to say the least.  As team leader, it is my job to keep things running smoothly, help my teammates with any issues they have, and be the voice to administration if they are all voicing the same concerns.  Well, I’ve been doing all those things and it has not been easy. We’re all feeling added stress this year from various things, so I’ve been running around trying to put out fires while having my own classroom going up in flames.  I’ve taken some things off my teammates’ plates and kept things rolling for our grade level as a whole- and I’ve done it with a smile on my face because that’s how I roll.  I want to make others happy and will do what it takes to help them- and to keep them from running screaming from the building, never to return.  In the meantime, I have a child in my room who is undergoing his own mental health crisis; he’s gotten a heavy duty diagnosis- or two- and we are currently working to get him enrolled in the appropriate placement.  He is breaking my heart.  He is only 7 and has no idea how to control all that he is feeling.  As a result, I just want to love on him and do all I can to help him feel wanted in our classroom- but it doesn’t work.  He really needs more than I can offer while working with 20 other kids, and my rational self knows this.  My irrational self feels like I’m failing him- and that weighs heavily on me 24/7.   I also try not to be THAT TEACHER  who can’t handle their own classroom (so I hesitate to call for help), and as a result, my other 20 kids have not gotten the attention they need- no matter how hard I try- and that makes me feel like a failure, as well.  *sigh*  It’s been an eye-opening week, as my little struggler has been out and I’ve had the chance to really see what I need to be doing- but can’t when he’s there- and am feeling anxious as I look towards his return on Monday.  On the one hand, I’m looking forward to seeing him and working with him again, but I’m also anxious thinking how I’m going to handle him and the needs of others.  Seriously, this has been weighing me down for some time.  So, work is stressing me out.  I am still loving my job and see it as a privilege every day that I am entrusted to care for my little friends and my teammates, but guys, it is hard to switch off the worry.  If my teacher friends have a strategy, by all means, please share!

I am feeling homesick.  I miss Maine in the fall.  I miss the vibrant colors, the cold nights, the trips to the apple orchards, the fairs, the anticipation of winter (though I only love winter until about January 1st and then I am done with that….which stunk when I lived there because winter lasts until at least mid-March, but I digress).  Most of all, I miss my family.   I don’t know why I miss them more in the fall than in other seasons, but I do.  It’s probably because it’ll be four months before I see my parents- and longer before I see my girls and my brother and his family.  It’s also my mother’s birthday, and I miss that.  We are heading to Charleston to see my husband’s family next weekend, so that’ll help (I hope).

I also think I am just having a pity party for one.  I am feeling fat.  I am feeling like maybe it was a mistake to cut my hair because I look like a boy- but growing it back out will be an even uglier process, so I’m kind of stuck.  My clothes don’t fit right.   I haven’t dragged myself out of bed to work out in a week and feel like a total slacker.  I am bugged by the dumbest things.   I feel exhausted all the time.  I feel inadequate in all areas.  Cue the violins.  I can’t tell you how often I’ve thought that it would be so easy to just get into my car and drive someplace remote to relax and escape for a bit.  Granted, I am the world’s biggest chicken and would be scared to death once it got dark, but you know what I am getting at.  I mean, I just burst into tears this morning for no reason whatsoever.  WTH?!?

Here is the thing…the thing that I know is not good for me and the thing that I told my therapist just Monday I wasn’t doing…I am the master of putting a smile on my face, pushing my feelings to the back, and going on with my day.  In some sense, that makes me a very strong person.  To everyone- even those I live with- I am sure it seems that all is going well.  In fact, I thought so, too, until this week.  All week, I could feel anxiety building and depression setting in.  I knew it; I could feel it knocking on my door- and then bursting in when I didn’t answer.  I just didn’t want to acknowledge and admit it- even to my therapist, who I am paying to help me (yes, I do see the irony in that).  I am competitive.  I do not like fail.  Feeling like this again feels like I am failing- myself, my family, my friends.  My rational self knows I cannot help it; I have the diagnosis and drugs to prove it, after all.  LOL!  My irrational self still wants to please everyone and not cause worry.  My irrational self also feels like if I fail (to meet demands, to meet expectations, to do my job, to not let all of this take over), people whose opinions do matter to me will not value me as much.  To feel that way is a big no-no, and my rational self knows that (other’s opinions should not be what you hang your value on…to quote my therapist) and I try not to- but at the end of the day, I can’t help how I feel.  This week has gone something like this:  Do I share how I’m feeling with my husband?  Do I just wait for it to pass?  Do I blog about this, as this is the real me at the moment- or do I let it pass because I want to remain upbeat?  It’s my blog; I can just write about what I’m feeling- even if I don’t share it.  It’ll pass.  I can do this.  I can’t do this.  Yes, I can.  For pete’s sake, get a hold of yourself, woman.  And on it went until I found myself crying in the shower.

My therapist told me this week that it is all about choices.  I have to choose to let things flow past.  I have to choose to do what I can do and let the rest go.  I have to choose to embrace the love and support of those around me.  I have to choose to listen to those who tell me how much they love and care about me-regardless of the hot mess that I am or can be.  I have to choose to listen when my colleagues nominate me for things or send me messages telling me that they think I am doing a great job!  I kept telling myself this all week; I was trying to be my own cheerleader and talk myself off the ledge.  I told my therapist I was doing this because I didn’t want her to know I was failing miserably this week; I know- that was dumb, but it was the choice I made.  Ha!   I  made the choice to perseverate all week on the fact that my new neighbors kept their trash can out on the sidewalk- even though the HOA rules clearly state that your trash can is only to be out on the eve and day of trash pick-up.  OK.  I really didn’t choose to do that one; it kind of chose me.   Crazy, I know.  Those are the types of things that can get under my skin- and I honestly don’t know why.   I just think I was running on empty this week and had nothing in the tank to just let that roll.

Where does this all leave me?  It leaves me blogging.  I feel better putting it all down on in writing.  I felt better after having a good cry.  Sometimes, you just need to let the facade down and let it go.  No one was here, so it was safe to do-and I took full advantage….even though my dog looked at me like she didn’t know whether to lick my face, share her ball, or just get the heck away from me.   It leaves me taking a step back and reevaluating- getting my head back  on straight- and then marching forward like the good little trooper that I am.  It leaves me hoping this blog isn’t a rambling mess.  Hate is a strong word, and I try not to use it much anymore (who needs that kind of negativity?).  However, I hate the fact that I feel like this sometimes.  I hate that I am not “normal” in a medical sense.   I hate that I have to deal with this and the stuff that it sometimes entails because it can honestly be exhausting.  I hate that I hate this because it is minor compared to what others deal with on a daily basis.  I hate that I cannot find peace within myself at times.   I hate anxiety and depression.  I sometimes see myself as damaged goods- even though I have a medical diagnosis that is not unlike the scoliosis or asthma diagnoses  I also carry forever.  I hate that I can’t understand that.   However, looking on the positive side, I love how it has helped open my eyes to those around me who do love and care about me.  I love how I have grown closer to God.  I love how it has forced to me to really see myself in my entirety- warts and all.  Overall, I do like what I see.   I am proud of myself for the work I have done to deal effectively (in the big picture).   I am proud of myself for recognizing that I am not in a happy place right now and it’s ok.  My goals (because I need goals) are:

1. to lose some weight because I want my clothes to fit better (I am too cheap to buy new ones and even my Spanx is begging me to lay off the carbs)- not to please anyone.

2. to do what I can do and let the other stuff roll.

3.  to remind myself of all the positive things people have told me and let that run on repeat in my head-not the negative stuff that I tell myself.

4. to live more in the moment and not fret about things out of my control. (Really, trash cans?!?)

5. to acknowledge how I feel, validate those feelings, and move on.  Life is too short to live in Pityville.

There.  I feel better.  I really hope that no one feels bad for me; there are others who have real struggles.  It is what is; I am a strong woman and can deal with it.  Just give me a hug and a high five and we’ll go on with our day.   I also really hope that this post helps those who also struggle sometimes.  I want them to see that there will be days (or weeks)- and it is ok.  Everyone has them.  Just set some goals and move on.  Your family and friends love you; lean on them for support and know they’ll always have your back.  Look towards God; He is the ultimate One who will always be there.  Have a good cry.  It really does help.  Know that life goes on and offers so many amazing opportunities.  Embrace them!  I’m off to enjoy my weekend and enjoy the company of those around me.  Peace and blessings to you all!  ❤️

I’ve had some people asking me how I’m doing, since it’s been a while since my last post.  Thank you for that!  Overall, I am doing great!  School is in full swing, and I am loving my job once again.  I have a challenging class, but we’re coming together.  I get lots of hugs every day and little notes and drawings from my kids.  I also work with some very amazing people.  Those are all the things that fill my heart and make me want to get out of bed every morning and go to work.  I’ve got a lot on my plate, but I am handling it well.  In fact, I’m not even stressing about it.  Sometimes, I wonder if something’s wrong with me.  LOL!  I don’t know if it’s that the medication is finally working in harmony with my body, if the therapy sessions have really helped me learn to cope better, or if it’s all the work I’ve done since last March to rebuild my sense of self- but it’s been great!  It’s probably all of the above, so I will keep things going as is.

There are definitely moments where anxiety still rears it’s ugly head.  This week, I was walking back to my classroom after a particularly stressful event and found myself breathing fast with my heart racing and feeling like I was going to be sick.  My first thought was that I needed to get to my room and close the door because a panic attack was coming.  My second thought, though, was that I handled things how they needed to be handled and things were going to be ok.  I was actually able to talk myself off the ledge.  Another moment this week was when I was notified that I had been nominated for something.  My first reaction was that I couldn’t do it.  I was feeling blessed and proud- and panicked.  There had to be some mistake!  What if it was all some big joke and I just made a fool of myself?  Those thoughts sent me directly toward a second panic attack.  However, I talked myself off the cliff by telling myself I didn’t need to make any decisions right off.  I chewed on it all day and night.  I talked with some colleagues, my parents, and my husband. I finally decided to go ahead and accept the nomination, as it truly is an honor. Do I feel worthy?  Not exactly (and I know a big part of that is my overall lack of confidence and how I see myself), but others apparently think I am.  I am trying to listen to the others’ words and believe them- and quiet that negative voice in my head.  I will just keep working hard and doing my thing- and hope for the best.  So, the bad news is that I still have to talk myself off the ledge with some regularity.  The good news is that I can confidently do it!  I do feel good about that.

My pal depression has only tried to show it’s face once over the past couple of months (which isn’t bad considering it practically took up residence with me for a few months last spring).  About two weeks ago, we were home and just hanging out.  That gave me lots of time on my hands, which always gets me thinking in some not so productive ways.  Suddenly, I wanted to just climb into bed and stay there- away from everyone.  I can’t explain the feeling- and if you’ve never suffered from depression, I am not really sure you’d understand, anyway.  I have no idea why that feeling came over me; it just hit me out of the blue. Instead of giving into it, I suggested to my husband that he and I go out for a date night- and we did.  It was fabulous and the moment passed.  I’m just going to have to be aware and not let it get me- and I know that I can.

My therapist and I have been working on me letting things just roll past.  Worry about what I can control and fix them- and then set just a few minutes aside to worry about those things out of my control…and move on.  That is easier said than done, of course.  I tend to perseverate on things, but I’m working on it! Hurricane Irma was headed in our direction- and I was truly freaking out (even though we are 3 hours inland and likely have nothing to worry about).  I was checking the weather whenever I had a free moment.  My therapist said to just get our house ready, have a plan, and then let it go- so I did.  Then the thing turned west and pretty much missed us completely- but I was ready and felt better about it.  Basically, I’m trying to live in and enjoy the moment more and not let things freak me out like they used to.   My house is covered in dog hair, but it’s 9 on a school night?  Letting it roll.  I brought papers home to correct- but don’t really feel like it?  Letting it roll for the night.  The lawn needs mowing?  Let the HOA crazies send me a notice; I’m letting it roll until the weekend.  Admin wants certain paperwork turned it?  I’m not freaking to get it done asap; I’m letting it roll, knowing it’s ok to do it the next day.  You get the idea.  My motto is “I can only do what I can do and be the best that I can be; as for the rest, it is what it is.”  That really has helped me to feel stronger.  Things aren’t making me crazy like they used to- and I do feel like less of a failure because it’s my choice to let it roll for a bit.

So, there you have it.  Things are going well, overall.  I am enjoying my job and life in general.  I am using what I’ve learned over this journey to find balance.  I am aware that anxiety and depression will always be a part of my life, but I am also feeling strong enough to kick them to the curb when they rear their ugly heads.  In fact, I feel stronger than I’ve felt in a very long time.  My confidence level is rising, though it’s still one of those things where I keep my head down and just do my thing in situations where I’m not comfortable.  I’m also still comparing myself to others all the time, BUT I don’t beat myself up over it.  Instead, I look at how I can continue to improve.  There is nothing wrong with that.

For those who draw inspiration from my blog, just know that it is one day at time- and you can do it.  You are braver than you think, stronger than you believe, and smarter than you could ever imagine- you just need to find the strength to believe what others are telling you and already know.  Control the things you can, let the other stuff just float by.   Love those who care about you- and even those who don’t.  Those who aren’t kind have their own issues; it has nothing to do with you, so don’t let it bother you.  The world needs more kindness, anyway.  Reach out to those around you for support; that has made a HUGE difference for me.  You don’t have to suffer alone- and your support network (family, friends, colleagues) can raise you up when you aren’t feeling strong enough to do it on your own.  That has been an amazing experience for me- and I never would have known what I know now if I hadn’t gone through what I’ve gone through these past few months.  I feel like I don’t have to pretend anymore; I can be myself and know that if things head south, I have lots of people who have my back.  So, rock on!

I have to be honest here.  When I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression in March, I thought that I’d get some medication, talk to a therapist, and work my way back to “normal” in a consistent fashion.   I didn’t quite grasp, I don’t think, that this is not like the flu; you don’t just keep moving forward and one day find yourself cured.  I’m coming to learn that I will be dealing with this for the rest of my life- and some days will be better than others.  It scares the hell out of me to admit this.  Whenever something has gone wrong in life, I’ve always just worked to fix it and move on- and I am working hard here.  I am working to stop all the negative chatter in my head.  I am also working to just do my thing and be me without worrying about what others are thinking.  I am working on building my relationship with God and accepting myself with all my flaws.   It is hard work, but I have a ton of support all around me- and it’s been going well.  For most of this summer, I’ve been as happy as a clam at high tide.  Why, then, have I found myself on the verge of panic attacks for the past week or so?   What is going on?!?  I have an inkling…

The end of July is upon us, which means we will soon be heading to Maine to visit friends and family- followed shortly thereafter by the start of  a new school year.  I AM NOT READY FOR ANY OF IT!!  I’m not ready to go to Maine for a couple of reasons.  First, I haven’t accomplished much this summer .  I remember thinking, on my first day of vacation, that I would go to the beach, maybe paint a room or two, catch up on scrap-booking, and clean out some clutter from my closet and the garage.  Oh,  and I also wanted to lose those 8 pounds I put on this past school year.  I had an entire summer ahead of me and I was going to get things done.  Well, I’ve got more summer behind me than in front of me and I’ve done none of those things.   I’ve spent the majority of my summer playing games with friends and family and reading- lots and lots of reading.  It has been a very relaxing summer, but I feel like I should have accomplished some things on my list.   I feel like I’ve failed at summer vacation (Yep, that’s as crazy as it sounds, but what can I say?)  Second, the visit means the end of summer break.  Waaaaahhh!!!  However, I am looking forward to going and have been counting down all summer.  I will come back relaxed because family times fill me up – and because I refuse to think about work!!

Speaking of work… the fact that I will be starting back at school 3 days after we get home from Maine IS FREAKING ME OUT.  I have everything in my classroom packed into boxes and bins.  I have to figure out where to put everything AND get my class ready for the beginning of the year.  I have enlisted my husband on the first day to help me move and unpack; having that extra set of hands will be invaluable, but I really just want him there for moral support.  I have spent bits and pieces of the summer thinking about what went well this past year and what I need to change.  I have done lots of reading and attended a workshop.  I have some great ideas that I want to implement; I just have to figure out the logistics.   I have all these thoughts about work swirling through my brain- constantly. This could explain why I have had beginning of the school year nightmares for the past two weeks.  In each dream, I am completely unprepared for the first day, arrive late, and am a hot mess; the only difference each time is the reason behind all that.  Lovely!  I usually look forward to a new school year; I am excited to meet my new students and I challenge myself to be better than the year before.  This year, I don’t feel that thrill just yet; I think it is more like abject terror.  My brain is swimming with doubts.   Am I going to be ready in time?  Will the parents like me?  Will I be able to help the kids grow?  Will my scores be among the top of my grade level- or among the bottom?  Will my observations go well?  Will I lose my ever-loving mind?  The bottom line is that I am scared of failing- even though it’s my 17th year and I haven’t failed yet.  My brain just has a mind of it’s own sometimes- no pun intended.

These last two weeks have been hard!  I can’t be alone with my thoughts for too long because they quickly start spinning out of my control.  Many people probably thought that it would all be unicorns and rainbows once the medication and therapy kicked in; I sure did- and there are definitely days like that.  There are other days, however, when anxiety kicks me in the gut right out of the blue- and my mind will not turn off.   Today, I started in on a panic attack while reading a book!  I was reading along when I suddenly just started thinking a million different thoughts all at once and felt, simultaneously, that I was going to have a heart attack and throw up.  This is the best way I can explain it:  It’s like seeing your life (past, present, and future) and all the mistakes you have ever made or could ever make on fast forward all of a sudden. What the heck???  I don’t even know where that came from.   I put the book down and started cleaning- and then I was fine.  And it’s happened to me more than once over the past two weeks!  Sometimes, I do wonder if I am going completely crazy- not gonna’ lie.  My husband assures me I am not.  (Maybe that makes him crazy, too??)  I’m not trying to belabor the point and be Negative Nellie here; in fact, I am trying to be positive.  I am not looking for pity- and I definitely don’t want to be treated any differently than before.  I just want people to see that there are going to be hills and valleys- and, apparently, that’s normal (or my new normal).   I look at it like I do when training for races.  When I prepare for a half marathon, I train my body to withstand the long distances and time.  When I run a 5K, I just go out and run it.  Initially, I thought this would be more like the 5K- do what the doctor said and get better.  As it turns out, it’s more like a marathon- train long and hard to live a life that makes me happy.

I am pretty much convinced that I am having a mid-life crisis.  Maybe that is what precipitated this whole thing.  My husband bought his dream car, a candy-apple red Camaro, a few months before his 45th birthday; I lost my mind a few months before mine.  I’m thinking his plan was less complicated and infinitely more enjoyable.  But here I am.

Since school has gotten out, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and have tried to find myself.  I am not quite sure where I lost myself, which makes the searching a tad more difficult.  What do I like to do?  How do I want to live?  As I’ve shared in other posts, I’ve made some definite progress in my journey to find happiness once again, but I’ve only really begun to think deeply about who I am, who I want to be, and what I want my legacy to be.  The last part sounds vain, but I don’t mean it to be.  I’ve just been thinking- if I died tomorrow, what would my obituary say?  Did I leave the world (even just a small corner or it) a better place than when I arrived nearly 45 years ago?  It sounds morbid, I know- but it does really get one reevaluating things.  The other thing I’ve been thinking about is that I really want to get to a place where I am not comparing myself to others or worrying about the judgement of others before school starts; I want to thicken my skin a bit.  If I can skip the “where’s my padded room and sparkly straight jacket” portion of the school year next year, we’ll all be better for it.   So…here are my thoughts so far.

I am clearly entering a new season of my life.  I’ve been a wife for 26 of my almost 45 years and a mom for 25 of them.  I’m still a wife (yay us), but my mom gig is winding down a bit.  I have always been a very involved mom.   I even arranged my career so that  I could take my kids with me to school (or be home when they got home).     I went to all school and sporting events.  I was even PTO president one year (never again, btw).  I’ve unleashed the Mama Bear whenever someone has crossed my kids unfairly, yet let the kids suffer the natural consequences when that needed to happen, too.    When my daughters were in high school and dating, we lived where I grew up.  I was known to call my “resources” to check out prospective dates.  The FBI has nothing on me!    In this season, however, my oldest lives 1,000 miles away and has a career, my middle child is just starting with adulthood, and my baby begins high school.  Gone are the days of family trips to the pool or the library.  Arts and Crafts.  Nights at the drive-in with the kids in sleeping bags in the back of the van.  Even the van is gone!  My identity has always been that of MOM.  I’m still a mom and always will be, but the hands-on stuff is now a thing of the past (which isn’t always a bad thing; there’s something to be said for sleeping in- and Candy Land did get “lost” on more than occasion).   So now what?    I’ll keep loving and supporting my kids, for sure.  However, I am going to have to fashion more of a life than that of just a mom now.  I have a lot more time on my hands.  To quote The Byrds, “To everything, there is a season and a time to every purpose, under heaven.”

Part of finding myself is figuring out what my purpose is- not what I’ve thought it should be.  I’ve begged God to show me my purpose over this past school year, as it was the hardest of my life.  Lots of judgement (real and perceived) and lots of heartache.  There were many times that I told myself this was my last year; I have other directions I could go with a little work.  I work 50-60 hours a week and get parent emails asking me what more I could be doing for their child or telling me that they don’t agree with what I’m doing.  What?!?  I am often sacrificing my own family- my own kids- for theirs.  I fall asleep at night worrying about other people’s kids.  My favorite is when a group of moms get together and talk smack about me- and then it gets back to me via one of the mothers.  That’s a real ding to the self-esteem, let me tell you!!  I CANNOT GIVE MORE- and this year, I am really going to try to find a balance that allows my students to be successful and me to not feel like I am struggling to keep from drowning in….everything.  I love kids! They are not judgmental, are joyous, and see life in a way that I’ve long forgotten how.  They are the reason I keep going to work.  I love finding ways to help them learn and to reach that kid that others have given up on.  That stuff feeds my soul- and test scores prove that I am pretty good at what I do.  But am I good enough?   Do those kids deserve more?   Are the parents right? That has been my conversation with God.   He hasn’t come right out and given me any answers in a way that I clearly understand, but my heart keeps telling me that I can’t throw in the towel yet.  I keep feeling pulled back into the classroom.  I’m taking it as a sign.  I did vacation bible school this week and was in charge of games.  I had this one kid who was just bonkers, for lack of a better word.  He didn’t listen, screamed out not-so-nice things, and climbed all over everything.  At the end of day one, I wanted to kill him.  By the end of day 2, I was convinced he was going to kill me.  That night, I prayed for God to help me reach him in some small way.  On day 3, I felt peace with him; we had some great conversations and some fun.  God is definitely showing me (I think) that my purpose is to work with kids.  Is it in the classroom?  I don’t know.  I’m giving it one more year.  During this next year, I hope to grow closer to God and find my answer (a bright neon sign would be helpful; I’ve proven myself to be a little dense in my relationship with Him at times).

I also want a tribe.  One that I’m not related to.  I always see people on Facebook with their large groups of friends doing this, that, and the other thing- and I’m jealous.  I am an almost 45 year old woman jealous of other women who have a large group of friends they can count on (sad, I know).  I do have friends- lots of them; they are just spread out all over the place.  I love to chat with them and get together when we’re in the same area- but I want a tribe.  I want a group of girl friends that can get together to go do yoga, to go to a vineyard, to compare notes, to learn and grow with.  To have fun with.  We had friends over last night and had an awesome time as families- and I love that!  I need that, too!  But I also want a tribe.  Is that selfish?  Maybe it is because, really, I am surrounded by unconditional love; why do I need more?  I don’t have an answer there; I just feel like that is something missing.

Speaking of unconditional love, I have worked on loving myself more this summer.  My family loves me.  My husband and kids tell me all the time.  My parents have shown me love my whole life in all the millions of things they’ve done and said.  My in-laws love me (or at least pretend they do- ha!).  My friends love me.  I haven’t been so kind to myself.   As I have stated, my self- confidence is pretty much at basement level whenever I step foot out of the house.  I’ve really worked this summer on stopping the negative talk.  I’ve decided that I have been this size (plus or minus 10 pounds) my entire adult life; I just have to embrace it.  I am a t-shirt and shorts (or jeans) kind of girl- and I’m done trying to be something else.  I care about others and try to build them up, thus making the world a happier place in some small way- and I will continue to do that (though, I won’t measure my self-worth by whether or not I’m successful in that).    Do I have annoying personality quirks?  You bet- but so do most people.  I just need to get over myself.  The biggest thing I’m trying to do- because it helps me and makes me feel better- is grow closer to God.  He has loved me since before I was born and will love me long after I die.  He made me this way for a purpose, and I’m trying to rediscover it.  I’m leaning on the love I feel from Him and my family and trying to just live life joyously and without the fear and dread that comes from judgement- judgement from those who don’t really know me (so why should I even care, right?  Yup…that’s still a work in progress.).

I’ve also been reading lots of books.  The Year of Yes was inspirational (but I don’t think I have her chutzpah just yet), and Present over Perfect has been like reading my inner thoughts- without the famous writer parts.  The author has shown me ways to let go of my need for perfection (in everything), has shown me how to be present more, and also how to grow closer to God.  These are things I am working on.  I also read a memoir of a woman who died of cancer (The Bright Hour).  That, too, showed what is really important and how to just enjoy life as it comes.    I am wanting to slow down and smell the roses.  I want to enjoy the people in my life because they’re amazing in every way.  I want to love my job again because it’s an important and deeply fulfilling one (when I block out the garbage).  I want to appreciate all that God has given us each and every day.  I want to be grateful every morning that I get to wake up and do something with this life of mine- judgement be damned.  I think that is where my true self lies.  I am getting there, slowly but surely.

I had a day this week when I  felt panicked- as in increased heart beat, sick to my stomach, don’t want to talk to anyone, and don’t want to leave the couch kind of panic- and it got me thinking.  I was thinking about getting older and this new season I am entering.  I miss the old seasons.  I miss all the fun in the old seasons.  I miss all the people who were in the old seasons and aren’t in the new ones- and I get scared at the thought of losing more people from my life.   I get scared at the thought of growing old- or not growing old.  Like I said, I’m pretty sure I’m in the midst of a mid-life crisis.  I do feel, though, that I have a sense of direction now.  I know how I want to be.  My compass is no longer whirling around in a circle without stopping.  I’ve just got to dig in and keep working at it.  Here’s to a new season in the words of The Byrds:

I went to the dentist today.  It was the same dentist I have gone to every 6 months since we’ve lived here (which will be 3 years in August).  For some reason, I had to fill out new paperwork and, in doing so, had to check “yes” next to being treated for mental health.  I also had to list the medication and tell what it is for.  I am not going to lie to you- I considered lying by omission, but I didn’t.  In complete disclosure to you, however,  I only listed anxiety (and left out depression) when I did fill it in.  To be fair, I no longer feel depressed, so it seemed like an accurate assessment.  I’m not sure why my dentist needs to know that information, but they also asked for my driver’s license number and hobbies- so I guess they REALLY want us to develop a bond.  Whatever.

When I was seated in the chair, the hygienist asked me how long I have been on the medication for anxiety.  It was as though she were quoting Jeff Foxworthy and saying, “Here’s your sign.”   I told her the medication had been since March- and then she treated me with kid gloves throughout the whole exam.

“How’re you doing?”

“Is everything ok?”

“We’re almost done.”

While I can appreciate the sentiment, two things annoyed me.  First, I have been having my teeth cleaned every 6 months for as long as I’ve had teeth, so I know what to expect.  Second, I AM FINE.  I’m not a mental case (at least not in the “One Flew Over the Cookoo’s Nest” kind of way).  I’m not about to burst into tears and start convulsing in the chair or grab the instruments and fling them against the wall.  GEEZ!!  I will admit to being tense the whole time, but I have always been that way; who isn’t a little tense when someone is coming after your teeth and gums with pointy scraping instruments?!?  So, enough of today’s adventures (and it’s only 9:15!).

I have learned a couple new things at therapy since the last time I blogged, and I wanted to share.  I found them helpful; they are definitely things I have thought about and will work on (well, two out of three will require work; the other was just an eye-opener kind of deal).  Anyway, here they are.

• The idea of introvert vs. extrovert:  This will probably not come as any huge surprise to anyone who knows me, but I am an introvert.  What is surprising is that I’m not an introvert for the reasons that I thought I was.  I thought I was an introvert because the idea of going to a party with a bunch of people I don’t know- or even with a bunch of people I do know- never appeals to me (and by that, I mean I’d rather poke my eyeballs out).  I am uncomfortable being in crowds of people at all- and that includes places like the mall and restaurants.  I prefer small gatherings.  I also don’t like being the center of attention or being in a group of people who might be the center of attention, either.  That requires me to talk myself off a ledge repeatedly, with a smile on my face and sweat dripping down my back.   Turns out, that’s not being an introvert; that’s having anxiety.  Who knew?   I am an introvert because I need to be home to recharge after doing any of the above things or even spending time with friends.  My husband and I spent yesterday together enjoying the countryside, looking into antique shops, and going to dinner.  It was fabulous- but today I need some me time to recharge.  Introverts get their energy when they can spend quiet time at home by themselves doing their own thing.  Being with others (even close others) sucks their energy dry.  Extroverts, on the other hand,  get their energy from being with people.  If they are by themselves for too long, it is draining to them.   Interesting, right?
• OK, onto suggestions:  One thing the therapist suggested that I do from now on is think about things that bother me as a bulls-eye.  Things in the middle are things that I can control 100% by myself (like not beating myself up all the time for silly things- or anything, really).  The things in the next ring are things that I may have some control over, but not a whole lot.  For example, I am a rule follower.  If someone tells me I have to do something a certain way, I do it- and I expect others to do it, too.  As we were packing up our classrooms, we were told to box all the books on our bookshelves (presumably to make it easier for the custodians to move the shelves as they do the floors).  Fine, I completely understand and did that.  It took only about 30 minutes.  My teammate told me she thought that was ridiculous, so she just covered her bookshelves.  THIS MADE ME CRAZY!!  I know that is irrational- but that’s why I take meds, remember?  Moving on…the third ring is the stuff that you have absolutely no control over.  That idiot who doesn’t use his directional before cutting in front of you at 80 mph on the highway?  Let it go because there is nothing you can do (though I’ve run through a myriad of ideas of things I would like to do, but then I AM moving into the  “One Flew Over the Cookoo’s Nest” realm of crazy).
• The other suggestion:  Ask yourself, “How much time/energy do I really want to give to this?”  If the thing you are obsessing or anxious about is in the middle, do something about it or set a time to stress and then let it go.  For example, I spent two entire days sanding and painting my back deck.  I had a huge sense of satisfaction when it was done because it looked fabulous – until 3 or 4 days later when I noticed that both of our deck chairs had melted to the deck (it is insanely hot in North Carolina beginning in April…like the depths of hell hot).  When I pulled the chairs up, they took four chunks of paint with them.  My whole day- and the two days after that- were ruined.  All I could think about was the fact that my deck now had these imperfections- and the water was going to seep in and pull up all the other paint- even the paint on different boards that weren’t even touching (unrealistic, I know, but I suffer from anxiety which causes one to be slightly -or obsessively- crazy about such things).  It was all I could think about.  It ruined an entire weekend.  I should have either scraped and sanded the boards immediately or given myself a day to fret and moved on.  After about a week, I decided that we could just position the legs over the holes in the paint and pretend it never happened- until my husband has the time to sand and repaint it (because I did it the first time; I figure he could get in on the fun.)  If something is on the middle ring of things you can control, maybe suggest a solution and move on.  With the bookcase scenario, I showed the person where it clearly said- in black and white- to pack up the books, and then I just let it go.  I’m not the one who the custodians will be cursing under their breath- and it really doesn’t affect me.  If things are on the outer ring, you need to give yourself a set amount of time to fret/obsess/be angry about whatever it is and then promise yourself to move on.  After all, the idiot who swerved in front of me went on his merry way without a second thought; why should I let their actions anger me or cause me to wonder exactly what might have happened if I had looked down to adjust the radio for a split second and thus could not apply the brakes quickly.  How much time do I really want to give to things that I cannot control?  The thing I can control is how much time I give to the event- and that’s it.  I am still working on that, but I am cognizant of the therapist’s advice every time I start to feel my anxiety rise about something.  That, I feel, is progress in the right direction.

Speaking of progress, my therapist must feel I am doing quite well because she asked me when I thought I should make my next appointment- and then didn’t freak out when I said in a month.  I am feeling great.  I am feeling empowered.  I am feeling like I understand myself a little better and, as a result, can control my anxiety a bit better now.  Additionally, I am on vacation for the next 7 weeks.  I don’t have the stress of comparing myself to colleagues or wondering what parents are thinking.  That alone will lower my anxiety A LOT.  As for the rest, I’ve got this- and if I don’t, I will be able to talk it through with the therapist in a month.  Life is good.  No… life is FANTASTIC!!

As I’ve mentioned before, I was given a very low dose anti-depressant upon my diagnosis back in March, which I call my happy pills (because I think that  sounds much less stigmatizing than anti-depressants).  Within two days, it was as though a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders.  The tears stopped flowing and the desire to hide out in my house left me.  My husband has actually told me more than once over the past couple of months that it’s good to have me back.  Things are all unicorns and rainbows now, right?  Not exactly.

Anxiety is still ever-present.  Granted, the happy pills have certainly taken the edge off; I no longer find myself questioning everything someone says and reviewing all conversations I’ve had to see if I said something stupid (just a few, here and there).  So, that’s been a relief.   Who knew I talked so much?!? Oh, wait…  Also, I am still comparing myself to others constantly; that is something I’ve done forever and can’t see myself not doing any time soon. However, I am trying not to let the negative talk that comes with the comparisons overwhelm me anymore.  God made me this way for a purpose, and I’m trying to embrace that more.  Finally, I can still get wound up over seemingly inconsequential things, but I am able to talk myself down off the ledge more; I like to think my sane, rational side is starting to overtake the slightly less sane, irrational side.   Progress is being made, for sure!

I don’t think my therapist can quite figure me out (not sure what that says about me- especially when she talks to crazy people for a living!).  The first session went something like this:

Therapist:  Why are you here?

Me:  Because I feel like a crazy person who is losing her mind.

Therapist:  What do you hope to get out these sessions?

Me:  To not feel like a crazy person?

Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock….Cue the crickets

Our second session wasn’t a whole lot better.  She talked with me about how I’ve clearly worked with anxiety for YEARS and now that my kids are grown, I have more time to perseverate on things- and thus work myself up into a tizzy on a regular basis.  So, I spent that whole second week keeping myself busy. On week 3, she asked how my week went.  I proudly told her that I really thought about all that we’d talked about and worked to keep myself busy; it was amazing what I got done!  She looked at me and said, “THAT’S what you took out of our last conversation?”  Apparently, I had missed the boat that session; I’ve always been good at hiding my feelings, and keeping busy made that a snap.  LOL!

After that, though, I settled in and the sessions got better; by better, I mean that I started to let down my guard, share my feelings, and try to really listen to where she was trying to guide me.  We’ve talked A LOT about how constantly comparing myself to others increases my anxiety (and can lead back to depression).  On the flip side, we’ve also figured out that I can attribute many of my successes to those comparisons and the drive I feel when I don’t measure up to some standard that I see as ideal.  Does that even make sense?  I am constantly comparing myself to my colleagues, for example.  Because I don’t ever feel like I am as good a teacher as they are, I am always reading and taking online classes to help me be better than I am now.  I am not striving to be better than them; I am striving to be in the same ballpark as them.   See?  It’s both positive and negative.  On the one hand, I am bettering myself as a teacher by constantly striving to improve.  At the same time, the comparisons often leave me feeling wholly inept.  It’s like a Catch 22.  The therapist asked me  last week what kind of person I wanted to be.  What is the “ideal” person that I can’t ever seem to measure up to?   I didn’t have an answer.  I could see her thinking to herself, “Well, WTH?!?”  I mean, here I am feeling like I don’t ever measure up- yet I can’t even tell you what it is I am trying to measure up to!   She probably has a glass of wine after every one of our sessions.

I have really pondered that question this week.  What kind of person am I trying to become?   That led me to ask myself, “What kind of person are you?” When I look at things from a totally rational point of view, I see myself in a positive light; I know ( and even my irrational side knows) I am a good person.  I see myself as someone who puts my family first- always.  I love my little unit of 5 (soon to be 6, as my daughter is engaged)  more than life itself and would do anything for them.  I see myself as a daughter who always (still) strives to make my parents proud- and to make sure that they are happy and well taken care of (though they do that themselves now, I am totally ready to take over when need be).  I see myself as a sister who looks up to her little brother and loves to hang out with him and his family.  I am a granddaughter, niece, aunt, cousin, and in-law that loves my extended family and has enormous fun hanging with everyone.  I am a teacher who loves her students each and every year (even the ones who are tough to love) and always strives to do the very best that I can do for them.  I see myself as a faithful friend who has the backs of those I care about; when they call, I am ready to respond.  I see myself as a caring person over all.  I want others to enjoy life and be happy- and I’ll do what I can to make that happen.  I am the person who wants to give money to every person I see begging in the streets and have been known to hand out food to those that are homeless whenever possible.  My rational self knows I’m not perfect, but I try my hardest always to put my best foot forward.  Who do I want to be?  I want to be me- just the way I am  (says my rational self).

My irrational self sees a wife who could learn to cook for once without burning down the kitchen and look like Cindy Crawford (because what husband wouldn’t want that, right?!?).  A mother who probably should have been less of a grouch while operating on 5 hours of sleep when my kids were little- and who probably should have let them spread their wings a bit more without hovering so close by.  A daughter who probably shouldn’t have moved 1000 miles away (even if it was for a selfless reason) and who could probably do a better job being involved.  A sister who will never fully measure up to my hilarious, saving lives every day, life of the party, extroverted brother and his equally amazing wife.  The teacher who needs to give more to better reach those struggling babies who want to learn but find it oh-so-difficult.  The friend who needs to call more and make more of an effort to get together.  My irrational self constantly tells me to give more- I am not doing enough, being enough, giving enough- I’m not good enough.  That self leads me to want to be like this person and that person- any person but the person I currently am. Thankfully, that self is being pushed to the back to make room for my rational (and infinitely more fun) self.

Things are still a struggle for me- even though my day to day is easier and filled with much more happiness. For example, this weekend, we went away for 2 days and 2 nights with my son’s soccer team.  I was DREADING this weekend, as I felt like it was going to be a social nightmare.  I’ve known these parents for 3 years, but had only really talked with them during soccer games.  I had no idea how I was going to survive hanging out with them all socially for 2 nights.  What would we do?  What would I say?  As it turns out, I had a fabulous time.  They were hilarious and swept my husband and I up in the group.  I was careful to (in turn) sweep up those who were hanging on the fringes.  In fact, I was sad to leave yesterday.  However, I was also exhausted on the ride home.  I needed a day to recharge my batteries and don’t plan to leave the house today- and that’s ok.  That is probably what it is going to take for me to be social in big groups- and I can handle that; it beats making up excuses to not go.  Hell, I feel this way about hanging with my family sometimes.  I love, love, LOVE family gatherings; they are my favorite thing in the world to do.  The bigger, the better.  About 2 or 3 hours in, however, I need some me time.  My daughter tells me I start to zone out.  I used to keep pushing myself, but now I know I just need a little time and then I can be right back in it- and that is ok.  Another example is that this week the school where I teach is hosting two big social events back to back (Thursday and Friday nights)- and I don’t know if I can mentally handle doing both.   I really want to do both- and did last year, but the thought of putting myself out there 2 nights in a row fills me with dread.  So, I may have to pick one and forego the other- and be ok with that.  People who know me well will understand.  Those who don’t shouldn’t matter, right?  Yup…I can’t quite go there yet- so I’ll say we already had other plans- and move on.  I have to do what I have to do for me- and those who have to live with me.  Ha!

So….there you have it- my progress thus far.  My rational side is starting to make a reappearance and I am learning to put myself first- two very important break-throughs.  One thing my therapist told me that has really stuck with me is that you can’t base your happiness on that of others.  It is ok to want to make others happy- but don’t measure your self worth by whether or not you are successful in that; you can’t control how others feel about you, a situation, or the world in general.  You can be a good and kind person to everyone you meet, but leave it at that.  And sometimes, you just have to put yourself first- and that is TOTALLY unselfish and ok.

Anxiety, I have learned, can ratchet up so slowly that you don’t even realize how bad it’s gotten until you are drowning in worries- about anything and everything!  Or, it can hit you full on like a linebacker.  I think both stink, but the first is the most insidious to me because you aren’t even aware it’s happening- not really, anyway.

I have always been a worrier.   I think that most of my worries are normal- I just take it to the next level for some reason.  For example, I have jokingly (not really) been banned from webmd because I have convinced myself I have some terrible disease on more than one occasion (brain tumor, anyone?).  I am so over-protective of my kids that it’s a wonder they ever dare to leave the house (I have offered to pay future therapy bills; it seems like the least I can do).   I always jump right to the worst-case scenario because then I can try to mentally prepare myself- even though it likely won’t happen ( and my rational self knows that).  Fairly normal worries, right?  When we moved down south, I googled all the poisonous insects and snakes that I needed to watch out for- and then didn’t dare to leave the sidewalk for a long time.  I also googled crime rates and what to do in case of a tornado.  Google is my friend; it gives me answers that I need when I need them.  Once, I even googled what makes a good friend….because I needed some and couldn’t seem to make any ( and this is where my anxiety has a field day- in social situations).  As it turns out, you have to actually leave your house and make eye contact with people.  Houston, we may have a problem.

I always thought that as you got older, you started to care less about what other people thought of you, like some sort of right of passage,  you know?  I seem to be going in the opposite direction.  I am in a constant state of worry about what people are thinking about me.   I make self-deprecating jokes all the time because I’d rather cause people to laugh at me than have them do it of their own accord.  It’s a revolving door of thoughts and questions in my head every…single…day.  Did that person just give me a funny look?  What did it mean?  Does that woman think I look ridiculous in this outfit?  Are my neighbors judging me as I walk the dog because I’ve put on weight?  Did I say something stupid to my colleague?  What is that student’s parent saying now?  Is admin wondering why my data looks like it does?  Am I working hard enough?  Why is she so much smarter?  For as long as I can remember, I just have never felt good enough.  I’m not smart enough, thin enough, funny enough, friendly enough, pretty enough- you get the idea.  I try not to be noticed, but at the same time, I am constantly measuring myself up to others and falling short.  That’s a lot to chew on, right?  My self-esteem is currently sitting somewhere around the basement level- and I know it’s been a long, slow descent.  As pathetic as all that sounds, things got even worse.

For months before my diagnosis and my happy pills, I constantly replayed texts, emails, and conversations in my head to see what I said or did that was wrong- or to be sure that it was right.  I just cannot have people be angry or upset with me; it literally makes me panic.  So, if I texted something to someone, for example, and they didn’t reply right off, I worried that I said something wrong and they were mad- and I’d send another text to clarify…and then fret over that one.  On my drive home from work, I would go over every conversation I had that day and analyze it.   I would iron clothes and make lunches while continuing to analyze.   I would half listen to my family as the analysis continued.  All the while, on the outside, I appeared to everyone to have my *bleep* together.  IT WAS EXHAUSTING!!  Not only was it exhausting, it was chipping away at what little self-esteem I had left and made me want to crawl into a hole and never leave- and it also left me crying at the drop of a hat.  Things were heading south quickly…and that’s when my pal, depression, moved in.

I have always been a doer.  I love to be outside doing anything.  I love to putter around the house.  I love to read.  I love to scrapbook.  I love to be with friends and play games.  What I typically don’t do a whole lot of is watch TV.  About four months ago, I found myself not wanting to leave my house more and more.  I’d go to work and put on my “normal” face, but I couldn’t wait to get home, put on my pj’s, and watch TV.  That was all I wanted to do.  I wanted to shut the outside world out and just hole up at home.  My son and husband would want to go do something, and I would prefer to stay in my safe zone.  People would invite us places, and I’d make excuses as to why we couldn’t.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, I was crying nearly every day- I mean full on, snot flowing, curled in a ball with heaving sobs kind of crying.  My poor husband.  He literally had a basket case on his hands and was constantly talking me off the cliff, figuratively speaking (he will be up for Sainthood upon his passing).  Home was normally my safe and happy place- only I wasn’t happy there anymore, either.   One day, my husband looked at me tearfully and said, “You’re always just so SAD.  What can I do?”  I finally looked at him and told him that I think I needed some help.  I was in a tailspin of epic proportions and didn’t see a way out by myself.  I called the doctor the very next day- and I am so very glad that I did!  My head is still a scary place to be at times, but I see light where before there was only darkness.

I would like to start by saying that I have no idea how this happened.  My childhood was fabulous.  My family has always been supportive.  I could not ask for a better husband, and my children make me prouder every day.  I am fairly successful in my job, and my life has had no serious traumas.  I’d even go so far as to say that I’ve always been beyond blessed in every area of my life.  I don’t appear to have mental illness running through either vein of the family tree, either.  I am, I suppose, the perfect example of “it can happen to anybody.”

What is “it,” exactly?  My recent diagnosis of anxiety and depression.  It’s official; I have a mental illness…or two.  I wanted to ask the doctor if that was all one diagnosis or if it was two separate ones, but that seemed to be splitting hairs- and I didn’t want her to think I was crazy.   Ha!

I’ve spent the past month and a half researching anxiety and depression; it’s what I do when I get anxious about something.   I’ve read lots of blogs.  I’ve talked to lots of people- and I’ve seen a therapist regularly.  The therapist even has a white couch I sit on (very stereotypical, I know…and I refuse to EVER actually lie down on it).   I’ve been trying to come to terms with all this.  There is such a stigma around mental illness; not a tag someone struggling with self-esteem issues needs hanging around their neck- that’s for sure!  Nothing really changed with the diagnosis, however; I am still the same person, more or less.  I did get some medication to help me be a happier person- and probably much easier to live and work with ( a win, win for all involved, right?) while I sort things out.  Other than that, I’m still me- a middle-aged (yikes!) mother of 3, wife of 1, friend to some, and teacher to many.

Why am I blogging about this?  I’m essentially shouting it from the rooftops.  It would seem like the last thing a person who struggles with what others think of her would do, right?  There are actually many reasons- most altruistic, but some purely selfish.  The biggest reason is that I love to help others; I make it my mission every day to make other people feel happy and successful (which, as it turns out, is not such a great thing for one’s psyche , according to my therapist…but I’ll save that for another blog).  I have taken great comfort in reading others’ blogs and knowing that I’m not alone.   I also now know that more people than one would think share many of my same feelings; maybe by sharing some insights I learn on this journey back to balance, I can help others who might not have the same resources available that I do.   Additionally, people have told me that they think my Facebook posts are funny, so maybe I can approach this heavy subject with some humor and help someone smile. That’s my biggest hope- to help others through this in some small, minute way.  Maybe I am being totally narcissistic and no one will care one flip about my journey or be helped by it.  I surely hope that is not the case, but who knows?

My other two reasons are definitely more on the selfish side.  First, writing helps me to sort things out-and make light of a situation that otherwise might send me directly into the fetal position.  Second, I guess I want to introduce people to the real me.  I will explain this more in posts to come- but suffice it to say that people have told me that I seem to be the picture of confidence, when my confidence level is probably running near to empty on a fairly regular basis.  How can I feel one way and come across in a  totally different way?  Maybe it’s the resting bitch face that I’ve been told I have.  Did you all know that that is actually a real thing?!?  A psychology major once told me that!  Call me crazy (not really), but that doesn’t seem like such a good thing to be tossing around in psychology circles.  Anyway, I digress…

As I start on this journey to find my balance (insecurity, be damned), I invite you all to ride along.  I hope I don’t scare anyone off; I am still me- my doctor has just given a name to what I’ve always jokingly referred to as my type A, anal, perfectionist, overly-cautious, and/or neurotic personality.   So, feel free to comment, share, or ignore.  I just ask that you be nice.  This world could certainly use more nice in it.  Stay tuned for how I knew I needed some help…

This is my first ever blog- and I am not exactly a technological whiz.  I ask that you bare with me as I sort through how to use this format.  Welcome!