You are currently browsing the monthly archive for September, 2007.
Well, I finally confirmed for myself what I’ve suspected for a while now. I have anxiety attacks. This explains the weird sensations I’ve had for months now that the doctors just couldn’t explain. My husband chalked it up to hypochondria (which I vehemently denied). The doctors just said they couldn’t figure out what it was (contributing to my mistrust of Western medicine). After all, there’s nothing in my life that would cause additional stress…like a move, job change, change in income, miscarriage, and lifestyle change!
When I think about it, I’ve had these attacks for almost 18 years now. I’ve always ignored this possibility because in my head I see anxiety as one step away from schizophrenia. I know this is highly unlikely, but given my mother’s mental health history, it makes sense. When you’re mother or father has a severe mood disorder, you find yourself hyper vigilant about the symptoms in your own life. I wrote a poem about it in the margins of my college algebra notes that starts, My mother had a secret that she whispered once to me.
What’s even worse is that it’s hard to explain to someone else (like my husband) how something like an anxiety attack can take over and derail your plans. It doesn’t even make sense to me. A jittery, disruptive feeling just consumes my mind. Every nerve in my body feels like it shooting sparks of electricity. I can’t think straight. The thoughts don’t stop. At one point today, I just stood in the middle of my kitchen and jumped up and down as furiously as possible. That actually helped some. I took a hot bath with essential oils. I had a mixed drink. I even considered taking a nap, but I knew I would just lie there and twitch. In the end, I took a Xanax (several hours after the mixed drink), and it finally stopped. The difference is like night and day.
I still feel a little strange admitting this, but I’m also relieved to have some answers now. Lately, I’ve come to see just how important certain habits are for me, like repetitious exercise and solitude and eating properly and having my OWN PLACE TO LIVE IN! I’ve missed out on all of these for the last two months, and even if I don’t tell everyone what’s going on, one look at me spills the beans. I caught a glimpse of myself in the car window yesterday. I’m looking pretty pathetic, and this seemingly innocuous imbalance at home is taking it’s toll on every aspect of my life.
But I think this chapter in my life will soon be closing. The word on the street is that the bathroom vanities are in. Now I think we’re just waiting on the counter tops for both the bathroom and kitchen cabinets and our appliances. We might be actually moving in this week. Sigh. I hope so.
Driving home one day this week, my head was swirling with too many thoughts to track. How are we going to pay our bills on my salary? When will I be able to blow dry my hair without fear of keeping someone awake? How much more money is my husband going to spend on the new place? When will he be back at work? How am I going to get my 5th and 7th periods to “buy into” this reading thing? Will I ever convince them that they can trust me? Where can I find the time to formulate a plan to help them?
I was already in tears as I thought about the social obstacles these kids face. The poverty in this town is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I can handle the sights of it, but I am still struggling with some of the hidden rules in their community. They don’t believe they can trust anyone in authority. Education is too abstract a concept because the results are not immediate. They are so far behind their grade level that most of them have just given up. I’ve watched the tears well in their eyes as they share with me their frustrations about learning. They want it, but the social ideas ingrained in them are a formidable stumbling block.
All these ideas were fighting for position in my head, and the whole grand picture of the world for me was filled with sadness and pain and heartache. Yet, I was staring at bright green fields against a striking blue sky background. This is life—the great paradox. It’s growth and stagnation. Darkness and light. Beauty and distortion. Mess and order. There were no whys in my head, just the knowledge that this is what it is.
That’s when I was aware of the presence of God. His crazy love is built right into the mess of life. It’s the only thing that makes any of this make sense. God is here in the midst of all this chaos around me…and you. We don’t always need answers, we just need to know and trust in the greater scheme around us. It made me think of this song:
We believe in God, and we all need Jesus.
‘Cause life is hard, and it might not get easier.
But don’t be afraid to know who you are,
Don’t be afraid to show it.
That about sums it up for me.
P.S. Ohhh….I almost forgot my big surprise this week! I will soon be receiving a copy of Amy Grant’s new book, Mosaic, so I can read it and write a review. I am part of the “blog tour”. I cannot wait!
My cousin, Geoffrey, turned 21 today. I called him tonight to wish him a happy birthday and was thrilled to hear his voice. It was filled with life and a sense of awe. As he so aptly put it, “I’m sure Shakespeare has a word for how I feel right now, but I’m too lazy to look it up.” I remember that feeling. I still feel it. We talked briefly about those moments in life where you look around and understand right there what a wonder it is to breathe.
About an hour later, I found myself stopped on the road waiting for an accident to be cleared. As I watched the medical helicopter fly away, I mumbled, “Lord, please help them.” When I was 18, my response to being stopped by an accident was, “Someone had better be dead since I had to wait all this time.” Now I want to cry. I love how putting some time under your belt changes your perspective.
I find these days that I say two prayers on an almost daily basis. The first is in the morning before I even stretch my legs. Before I open my eyes. “Lord, we need your strength today.” The other is the one I mentioned at the accident scene. Doesn’t it all seem to boil down to that? Help. Strength.
And when these two concepts become a real part of our lives, magic happens. I’m sure Shakespeare has a word for that, but I’m too tired now to look it up.
P.S. Happy Birthday, Geoff!
Right now I’m jealous. I’m envious. I want something that I see in other people.
I want a cause. I want an idea that moves me. I want to wake in the morning inspired by something beyond my control. I want to give my life away for something greater than myself.
I look around and see that my life has spun far out of control. It’s cluttered and suffocated by boxes of trinkets and too much credit card debt. This isn’t me.
I once said to my therapist that I really don’t care what other people think of me, but that I thought I was supposed to care, so I forced myself to do so.
There’s a reason I’m created this way. There’s a reason why my greatest drive in life to live my life. There’s a reason why following the “rules” has left me feeling empty.
I think I need to drop out of the race. I’m cleaning out the closets of my house and my head. I haven’t felt this sure of anything in a long time.
I just finished loading boxes into my vehicle. Before I drove to Kissimmee last night, my dear one told me to “load up as many boxes as possible.” This tells me that 1. We will be moving in to the new place very soon; and 2. I haven’t boxed up as much stuff as I thought I had.
When I signed up for this new stage in my life, this was not exactly what I had in mind. I am *still* sleeping on the floor in our friends’ house…still eating way too much fast food…still driving six hours each weekend…still wearing the same clothes and flip-flops to work each week…still going to work with bare ears…still waiting to see how our money situation is going to work out. It’s the earrings situation that really gets to me.
I had a rather emotional week. The a/c condenser in my truck went out, and my lovable, gear-head husband took it one evening so he could replace the part. This gave me a chance to sit in the new place during a fabulous thunderstorm. The batteries in my portable t.v. died, and I curled up with my journal and wrote. And cried. And grieved a very difficult loss for me. What a beautiful moment!
I also flipped through my journal that evening and came across a very brief entry I wrote in February. We had gone to the concert of my dear friend and former boss that night and went back stage to say hello to him and his family. I wrote about how when he saw me, he grabbed me and held me in a hug tighter than I’ve ever felt in my life and half-sobbed, “Oh, my Allison!” in my ears. I can’t even put into words just how loved I felt in that moment. I needed that reminder this week.
It was such an interesting juxtaposition for me. This year has been a year of loss for me. Nadia moved. I left my comfortable job. My sister stopped speaking to me. My loss this week cut even deeper than these. Yet, I still have hope. I still sense promise. I still believe that the dust will eventually settle, my mind will rest, and everything around me will fall into place.
In the end, I suppose this is what life is really all about.
Please forgive me. I feel the need to get a little socio-political today.
The big news headline in southwest Florida yesterday was “Washington Group Finds the FCAT Flawed.” FCAT opponents across the state cheered and shook their finger at the Department of Education at this news. Unfortunately, the actual story resembled the headline like I resemble my brother-in-law’s Cuban family. (I’m a bottle brunette.)
The Washington group actually found a problem not with the 10th grade FCAT test itself, but in the fact that a high school student needs to pass this test for graduation, thereby proving that he or she is able to work at a 10th grade level. The group recommended students take a test at an 11th or 12th grade level like many other states.
At this point, all those cheering people should be hiding right now. But they’re not, and the misinformation about standardized tests continues to be passed around like a bad case of the flu. I cry in moments like this because it reminds of how many people in our country don’t think for themselves and research information to find a truth they can live with. This is why we continue to believe that a slice of Wonder Bread has the same nutrients as a multi-vitamin. And vote for elite career politicians. And fret over catching the Bird Flu. And think that AIDS is a threat to the mainstream population.
Thinking for ourselves is just too much to ask, I suppose, because it requires a certain level of risk. The truth isn’t always pretty or convenient. No parent wants to hear that their child has a difficulty. Or that moving around between states and countries and schools might affect their learning on so many different levels other than the quality of the school system. Who wants to hear that in almost every case, a child will have a better life living with two committed, married parents? Or that not everyone will know fractions by the end of kindergarten? Goodness, I just recently figured out the concept of potential and kinetic energy fifteen years after my honors physical science class!
At some point we have to put our biases and wishes and dreams aside and take a look at the cold, hard facts. Even if they are ugly. It’s impossible to change your reality when you’re only using fantasy tools.
In other news…
I’m really hoping that I will have some exciting news to post here soon. It just might be a very fun surprise.
Four years ago today I received a phone call from my cousin, Rachel, who sobbed into the phone, “Grandpa’s dead.” He had been sick for a few years, and we knew this day was inevitable, but it still sent shock waves through my soul. I’d love to tell the story of his funeral, and perhaps I will sometime this week, but for now I just want to share some of my memories of this remarkable man.
He was a big man with a gruff voice that scared me when I was younger. I never wanted to make him angry for fear of what he would sound like. And yet, I can also still see him standing next to me in church singing worship songs in that baritone. I can also still hear his voice blessing Sunday and holiday dinners.
The year before he died, we stayed up until the wee hours of the morning on the front p
orch swing. He told me war stories about Navy ships and German torpedoes and how isolated and frightening the South Pacific is in the middle of the night. I also remember wondering that night just when he would stop talking so we could go to bed, and I’m so glad tonight that I just kept listening. It turns out that was one of the few times he ever talked about his time in the Navy.
I once sat across from him at the kitchen table eating cereal. Always aware of my manners, I wasn’t sure if I could drink the remaining milk from my bowl like I would at home. After trying to scoop out the milk with my spoon, he told me, “Just drink it from the bowl” and proceeded to do so himself. He would later offer other useful tips like, “A house is just a place to hang your hat and store your crap.”
We watched a lot of football together and cheered for both the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and the Florida Gators. I still have his Bucs jacket hanging in the closet, and I will wear it even though it is 3 or 4 sizes too big for me. He took me out on his boat more times than I can remember, and that deal worked out well for both of us. He could fish and I could pretend to fish while getting myself mentally lost in the nature around us. He once took me to see Lake Kissimmee in the boat after my endless pleading, and when I asked him to take me down the Kissimmee River to see Lake Okeechobee, his response was a Dean classic: “Have you been to the beach? Well, it’s a big lake that looks like the ocean. You’ve already seen that.”
It’s hard for me to describe how just his presence made me feel safe. No matter what kind of turmoil was swirling in my life, I could just sit in a recliner next to him or lean up against his shoulder and all seemed right in the world. Even as his health declined, I still felt more at ease just being in the same room with him watching Wheel of Fortune or working the newspaper crossword.
For 26 years of my life, this man was a constant. He never varied in his convictions. He loved his family and his Lord dearly. At his memorial service, I remember saying something about how his ideals should live on in his grandchildren and that if I could live even a fraction of the truth he lived, my life would be a success. He left behind some big shoes to fill, and right now I miss him very much.
A lifetime ago I was at Cooper’s Rock in West Virginia with my then boyfriend and one of his college buddies. This was one of the sites Eric knew I would absolutely love, and he was right. The view of the tree covered Appalachian Mountains was stunning. I stood there overwhelmed and dumbstruck. Being outside in the mountains or a forest or the beach leaves me feeling connected to God in a way that a church has never been able to mimic. In this hallowed moment of personal worship (and an appreciation for my boyfriend’s intuitive knowledge of what speaks to my soul), his friend uttered the most ridiculous statement I think I’ve ever heard.
“When I look at that, I think to myself, ‘Wow, that’s a lot of trees.’”
We all laughed.
This statement still pops into my head from time to time, and it did the other night as I listened to a talk radio show. (I’m addicted to talk radio the way some people are addicted to reality t.v.) The host was talking about some study that found a formula for unhappiness. Basically, we are unhappy when our idea of what our life should be is different from it’s reality. Okay, so it was another “that’s a lot of trees” statement, but it resonated with me, and I think you will all agree with it. After all, who includes in their life plan sickness and divorce and betrayal and heartache and stress? Generally speaking, all of these can send our happiness meter into the negative.
Life rarely turns out exactly the way we plan, so I wonder how it is that any of us find happiness. According to this theory, we have to adjust our thinking. As long as I sit here and fixate my thoughts on the way my life is a flawed deviation from my plans, I will never move on to the place where I can find the joy in the moment around me. Once again, I find myself face to face with (1) accepting the moment as it is, warts and all; (2) clinging to what is true in my life; and (3) adjusting the scope of my life’s lens to the light and texture of the moment.
Just for fun…
We had some neighbors visit us last week. I was taping the windows (getting ready for painting) when I saw a small herd of sheep and goats, including 2 lambs, amble through the front gate. They made themselves at home, chomping away at our now overgrown front yard. My camera was in the car, and before I could get out to pick it up, the dogs saw our guests. The biggest goat looked up at the house, straightened his ears, and left. The others followed. I guess we really do live in the country.
