I’ve gone back and forth and back again on whether I wanted to write this post. The fact that I keep returning to it in my mind tells me that I should try.
Out of all the things I think and worry about, I have one fear that is stronger than the rest, and I think I’ve talked about it on here before. It’s the fear of death. This is such a multi-faceted topic of anxiety for me. Depending on the day and my mood, it can vary from just a fleeting thought here and there, to something that drags me down, sits on me, and refuses to let me get back up. As anyone reading my blog knows, I’ve had several instances crop up this past year that have served to remind me that life is short and I should make the most of it while I can. The latest one is the news last Friday that one of my co-workers had passed away from Stage 4 esophageal cancer. I wasn’t particularly close to him, but it still hurt my heart to hear, and once again brought the topic front and center to my mind. I am scared of a lot of different things as related to dying. I’m scared of when it will happen, how it will happen, if it will hurt, etc. But there is a 10 second window of time that scares me the most. It’s those 10 seconds surrounding the moment that the heart beats its last beat and the last breath of air leaves the lungs The very instant I cease to be “living” is what I spend 80%(?) of my time fearing. I’ve been too ashamed and embarrassed to tell this to anyone until very recently, and let me tell you why. I grew up not going to church on a regular basis. Most of my exposure to “religion” was through my summer vacations with my grandparents and attending church and VBS while with them. I’d also go to VBS with other friends at their churches, and I can still feel the anxiety those visits invoked within me. In fact, just typing that sentence raised my heartbeat a notch. Quick side note: Why is it so much more uncomfortable to feel out of place at a church or faith based activity than any other event/location that you’re just as unfamiliar with? I’m guessing it’s because what’s laying on the line is so much more final and absolute than, say, what happens if you’re unable to find your way around your new work building. Anyway, since I didn’t have much regular exposure to the teachings of the Bible as a child/teen, I felt uncertain about my salvation for a very long time. I’d hear in VBS or in the rare Sunday school class that all you had to do to be saved was believe in Jesus and ask him to come into your heart to be your Lord and Savior. The teacher would tell us that if we were shy, we could say the prayer silently, where only God could hear, and it still worked. But then I’d see people getting baptized and hear adults talking about how necessary it was and I’d get confused about what role it played and why it was important. And then, even though I’d said the prayer and asked Him to save me, I’d still make mistakes, or have terrible thoughts, leading me to worry maybe I wasn’t saved after all. It almost sounds silly typing this out now, but back then, it seemed quite complicated to me, and I never felt absolutely sure that I was saved and could call myself a Christian. This feeling…this uncertainty…followed me through high school, and it wasn’t until my freshman year of college that I experienced something that bolstered my confidence in this area. I’ll never forget the night I experienced my first real heartbreak. I was so hurt and angry, completely beside myself with emotions I had no idea how to handle, scared out of my mind at the intensity of what I was feeling. And suddenly, the only thing I could think about was finding a small book that had been given to me for my high school graduation. I practically tore my dorm room apart looking for God’s Promises for the Graduate, and when I found it I read it front to back while crying my heart out. I don’t remember who gave me that book, but it was my saving grace that night. I was comforted by the words it offered right then, and later on by the fact that, in what was one of the darker hours of my life up to that point (ah, teenaged drama), it was a desire to pray and reach towards God for help that I instinctively craved. That night showed me what I hold deep inside my heart. My faith continues to solidify each day, as does my confidence in knowing to whom my soul belongs. I’ve grown strong and more certain, though not unshakeable, or I wouldn’t be here admitting to you that I’m terrified of what will happen those last few seconds before and after my heart stops beating. Will I be afraid? What will I be thinking about? What will I see? What will it be like? Will I see God right away, or will an angel be waiting to take me to Him? Will I hover over the bed or ground or wherever, and see my own body lying there? Will I know what’s happening? Or, the worst thing I can imagine - What if I’ve been wrong this whole time, and I’m not really saved at all? There it is. In black and white. So, that’s my biggest fear. Ten seconds of existence consume an enormous amount of my mental energy. But, something happened last week that’s changed the way I think about those ten seconds. I had a dream so vivid that I was convinced it had actually happened. It took about 30 minutes to shake the reality of it. You know, one of those kind of dreams. In it, I was with a group of people that I knew, but couldn’t identify. They were not close friends or family, but I could feel they were still close enough to me that the horror of what was happening in the dream was partly because it was happening to them, too. We were in a building on the ground floor, and a man came inside with a gun. He put a bullet in the head of everyone with me, systematically moving around the room until I was the only one left. In the dream I could feel the panic, sorrow, and pain…all of it. The man started to slowly walk towards me, raising the gun to point directly in my face as he got closer. I was scared, but do you know the one thing above all others that I remember doing? I was praying to God to guide me through it, to let it be fast, and to be with me. That’s it. I woke up right before the man pulled the trigger. Christians are taught that death is not something to be afraid of because our body is only a temporary vessel for our soul. Though I firmly believe that, there's always been a small sliver inside that asked "what if". The dream was awful, but in one way, it makes me smile. I smile because I know what my subconscious has me doing when I’m faced with my ending, and that's given me some much needed peace.
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Fatigue is my worst enemy. When I’m run down and so tired that the thought of even walking from the door to the couch is impossible, everything in my mind grows bigger. Fears become stronger, anger comes quicker, and tears are definite. It’s all magnified to the point that my only coping mechanism is to shut down. That’s where I was earlier this week. A myriad of events happened over the weekend that left me a sobbing mess by the time Tuesday rolled around. Saturday evening I started not feeling well and by Sunday a fever had developed. I was completely low on sleep and work had taken a twist. All of that combined made me want to crawl away (because running would have been impossible) and hide for a year. I can usually sorta step outside my mind and see this happening, and thus be able to temper it a bit, but that wasn’t the case this time. I was a Mess. So, I decided that, dammit, I was going to sleep Tuesday night! I took a leftover pill from my days in the hospital and within 30 minutes I was out. Like, OUT out. Sleeping like the dead, out. So out that I missed 2 hours of work the next morning because I couldn’t move. By the time I dragged myself into work, I was sure I would be less than useless. Looking at the pile of work on my desk, I just wanted to die. That’s how fatigue affects me. It’s all or nothing. I’m good or I’m terrible.
Today, I bought some natural products for energy and oh boy, guys. I am VIBRATING with “get up and go”. To the point I’m a little scared I won’t sleep tonight. But on the other hand, everything seems possible. Work? No problem!!!! I just needed a little organization! House? No big deal!!!! It’ll get done! Grocery store run after work? It’s a great idea…I can get ahead of the game for the weekend by going tonight!!!! I mean, we’re talking night and day difference in my mood, my zip, my productivity. Now, yes, a health product helped me get here today, but normally a few good days of solid sleep will also get the same result. Which proves to me that when I’m well rested, I am sooooo much better at dealing with Life. Switching topics, I ran across another song that pulls at my heartstrings. It’s not just the tune or the lyrics, though. I devoured all of The Hunger Games books a few years ago. I couldn’t read them fast enough, and when someone else showed interest in the books, I COULD NOT wait for them to finish so we could discuss the story. Those books just crushed me. Let’s face it…most people are just a little bit fascinated by terrible things. The theme of these books….oh man. It punched me in the gut and pierced my heart. Kids killing kids? Fighting to the death because of mistakes made in years past they had no part of? Terrible! But it’s one those stories where no matter how awful the idea of it is, the writing and telling of it is so beautifully conveyed that you can’t put it down. It is so good. I’m not a huge fan of books being made into movies because, well, let’s face it…they are normally nowhere near doing the book(s) justice (hello, Twilight?). The Hunger Games is outside the norm, though. I think it’s an excellent portrayal of the storyline. So, all of that to say there is a song in the 3rd movie – The Hanging Tree – that Jennifer Lawrence sings. It’s haunting. I heard it on the radio yesterday and I immediately bought it on iTunes. You can hear the despair and desperation in her voice. And knowing the story of it all makes the song that much more meaningful. I’m telling ya – sucker punch right to the gut. Wish me luck that I sleep tonight. I’m still completely jazzed up, so we’ll see how this goes. But at least I have a new weapon at the ready to battle my enemy when it tries to blindside me again. Last week was a battle. Coming back from a 2 week vacation is always difficult, but last week just sucked everything out of me. It bled over into my weekend and still lingers with me today. Doubts crowd my mind, anger runs in my veins, and I’m exhausted from trying to keep myself from lashing out at everything and everyone surrounding me. I’ve tried to keep this awful fake smile plastered on my face, and my cheeks ache with the effort. I do this because I feel a terrible pressure to not be me anymore. To instead, be a well-rested, calm, and more peaceful me. But I’m not. When the clock ticked over to 12:01 January 1st, I did not get reset. I don’t feel full of hope because a new year stretches out before me with wondrous possibilities. I would love to feel like that, but fact is, I don’t. And maybe I’m imagining that everyone expects me to have entered the new year a changed person. Maybe it’s just myself expecting it, and being disappointed that I still feel the same.
One of the hardest parts of clinical depression is the loneliness. The best way I can describe it is to ask you to imagine what it would feel like to love nothing more than being in your own home with a warm fire, soft music playing, and a warm cup of coffee in your hands. Imagine that is the most comforting and peaceful place for you to possibly be. Now imagine yourself in a foreign country, in a cold hotel room where you don’t know anyone, the language, or the customs. And imagine you don’t know for how long you’ll be there. That is what I feel like on the inside all the time. I may be at home, in my life, surrounded with family and people who love me, but I still feel like everything is foreign. That’s what I mean by lonely. Surrounding myself with people doesn’t help. Secluding myself away doesn’t change it, either. Nothing does. And believe me, I’ve tried everything. I blast “comfort music”, I pet the dogs, cook warm meals, watch favorite movies and TV shows, write. Anything I can think of to thaw this coldness I feel inside me. If any of these things do help, it’s for a short time and it’s like wisps of smoke. I’ll catch a hint of it, but before I can grab onto it and hold on, it disappears. I don’t want to be lonely anymore. I’ve had two rather significant realizations the past few days. Neither one might sound all that profound to most people, but they are to me. As I was rushing home last night from work so that I could do several things before getting home, I realized that there is just not enough time. I feel like the Tazmanian Devil, always going 100mph trying to get umpteen things done every day. And during last night’s race against time I realized I just need to slow down. So what if some of the laundry doesn’t get done until the following day? Who cares if the upstairs floor doesn’t get vacuumed un til the weekend? Why does it matter if one more day goes by without taking down the girls’ Christmas tree? Time is flying by and I’m so busy trying to do everything in a huge rush that I’m missing out on the fun of most things. I drive fast, walk fast, and talk fast. My mind is like a pinball machine with my thoughts bouncing around from topic to topic so fast that most people can’t keep up when I change subjects in seconds. I used to think I had a really solid attention span, but I’m beginning to revise my opinion on that. Is it possible to develop ADD over time?
The second thing I realized is that change is in the air. I can just feel it. Is it good change or bad change? I don’t know, and that makes me uneasy. I rang in the new year with a smile on my face, but heavy thoughts on my mind. Will this be the year I accomplish a major goal I’ve been struggling with achieving? Will it be the year that I finally let go of the anger I feel towards myself? Will 2015 go down in the books as the year I rid myself of my unwanted sidekicks Depression and Anxiety? Will I finally defeat the worries and fears that continue to pound on me like a battering ram? I stumble through the Maze of Life running into dead ends, backtracking and finding what I think is the way, only to have the relief and peace of the moment abruptly ended by another dead end. I know I’m not the only one in this maze, but I feel alone. And really, when you get right down to it, I am alone. We all are. Because I am the only one who knows every detail of what is in my head, and you are the only one who knows every thought and feeling in yours. I can hear what a lot of people would say to me upon reading this. “Alison, why are you rushing through the maze? Enjoy the puzzle of it, linger in it, and stop over thinking it.” What so many people don’t seem to understand is that I already know this is what I should do. Having it pointed out to me does not help. I just need to hear someone say, “I understand, and you’re allowed to feel this way. You’re not doing it wrong just because you’re not doing it the way others do.” No other phrase is more loathsome to me than “you know what you should do….”. If I haven’t specifically asked you what I should do, or given you the go ahead to your request to provide an opinion, then I probably don’t want to hear your ideas about it. Harsh? Maybe. But it’s how I operate. The beginning of a new year is a natural time to pause and reflect on past years and the upcoming one. It seems that most people I know view the new year with optimism and take it as a chance to make plans for bettering themselves. I wish I could say I’m ready to join in on this thinking. But in truth, I can’t. I haven’t said much about it lately, but I’ve been struggling back down in that ditch, while forcing a smile for the world. I don’t view 2015 with optimism. It just stretches out in front of me like a long, murky road with hidden pitfalls and booby traps waiting for me along the way. I want to stay rooted in place – even though it’s a dreadful place in and of itself. But, I’m starting to adjust to this ditch I’m in, and I’m getting a bit better at putting on a mask of cheerfulness for everyone around me. The prospect of clawing myself back out of the pit and stepping off on the unknown road ahead makes me want to hide. If I were to be 100% honest with myself, I think it would be easier, and even somewhat comforting, to let go completely and allow the downwards spiral to consume me. I am so angry. For about the zillionth time I silently scream to the heavens the same question: Why was I made this way and why, why, WHY do I have to struggle with this? It doesn’t seem fair. There are truly shitty people out there that don’t have this awful illness, so why do I? I want to kick, scream, shout, throw things, and break things. I want to turn myself into a tornado and go on a rampage. Swirl and swirl, toss everything about and for once be the force that the world battles and shields itself from rather than the other way around. Unfortunately, I know that wouldn’t solve anything, even if it were possible to do. I have a talk therapy session scheduled for next week. I dread it. I want to cancel it so badly. I still haven’t made up my mind what I’m going to do about it. A friend asked me why I was thinking about backing out and the only real answer I have is “I don’t want to go”. It’s as simple as that. I don’t want to go and I don’t want to talk. So why spend 2 hours out of my workday (that I’d have to make up) and a lot of money to go to a place I don’t want to go to? When you think about it like that, it seems obvious how to proceed. Right? |
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