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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.
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.
Ten years ago, give or take, I saw my first anime movie. I can’t remember the name of it right now, but I do remember the one scene my boyfriend wanted me to see. In it, the main character is trying to pull off the cover to a manhole. She struggles so much against the weight of it that she literally rips away her flesh. That’s kinda the way I feel right now. Only I’m not a Japanese cartoon. When I get the feeling that I want to rip my flesh away, I know I’m feeling just a tad stressed.
The new place is coming along. I picked up some used kitchen cabinets today. They’re a little beat up, but they can be painted and will hold all our souvenir mugs and wine glasses. For now they are in the garage. We both hate the idea of putting money into a temporary home for us, but some things have to be done. Like making sure we have a working toilet seat. My daily refrain is, “Whatever is cheapest, dear!”
I am, however, loving my new job and school. For now. All I know is that every time I drive through the streets, I feel an overwhelming sense that I am where I am supposed to be. That’s about all I can hang my soul on these days.
I get the same feeling on our new property. I finally have a place where the world is still, except for an occasional rooster crowing or cow mooing. I’m in love with the feel of the afternoon breeze bringing in the thunderstorms. From the front porch.
The rest of my life is summed up in boxes. They surround me right now. So much still needs to be done, and it’s all way too overwhelming. So overwhelming that I don’t know where to start and want to go take a nap instead. Or swat a dog.
Life is beautiful. Making that statement right now makes me laugh because the rational part of my brain tells me that anyone with one half-packed house, one house with bathtubs that make gas station restrooms in the middle of nowhere Alabama look clean enough to eat out of, who is starting a new job on Monday but has nowhere within a three hour driving distance to sleep shouldn’t say this. Yet, this is really the cry of my soul right now.
We pulled weeds yesterday. At two o’clock. In southwest Florida. These weeds were scary beasts that stood taller than me, and for the most part they kicked my ass. I attempted to wash down some walls and gave up because the walls were no competition for my Brawny paper towels and Lysol, so I walked through the new place and got a feel for where I want the furniture to go. And fought back tears. Then I drove three hours home last night with a headache so severe that I don’t actually remember much of the drive.
As sure as I’m sitting here, I know that I am right where I am supposed to be. If you read my blog, you know that I’ve mentioned this a few times already, but it’s worth repeating. There really is no greater feeling than resting in this knowledge. I’ve slowly come to grips with the fact that life is a master work in progress, and even though I am not where I hoped to be at this point in my life, I am where I need to be.
When I was 18, I went out to sit at the beach with 1/4 tank of gas in the car and $2 in my pocket. When I got in the car to go home, I realized I didn’t know where I was, which isn’t always a good feeling when you have the resources I just mentioned. Then it dawned on me that I was in Florida and had two options: hit the ocean or run out of gas. Armed with that truth, I knew I could find my way. In some ways, the situation before me is just like that. The ins and outs are still out there waiting to appear and ease our work load, but I know they’re there. That’s comforting.
I need that comfort now. The new place is a wreck…that needs a LOT of work. Just so you know, the cabinets in the picture are now resting in a dumpster with all the floor coverings. Life is beautiful.
Right now I’m having flashbacks to the days when my parents would storm into my bedroom once a year with trash bags and threats of sending me to a homeless shelter and make me clean the train wreck that was my bedroom. I’d end up spending the entire day in there, sorting all my junk into piles of clothes, stuffed animals, books, papers to keep, and papers that if I have to throw away something can go. Inevitably, I’d reach the end of the project and sit in the middle of the floor with my one last cubic foot of “stuff” and cry. It’s not that I was sad to be finished. It was that that last little bit just confounded me like a Cubist painting. Nothing seemed to make sense enough to sort.
Yeah, my house is like that right now. That’s why I’m on the computer right now. I’ve actually cleaned off about half of the stuff that was on the coffee table this morning. (The dogs are a real help.)
The kitchen is coming along. I actually have four cabinets cleared now.
My idea was to store the boxes as I filled them in our guest room.
Having to give a dog this kind of medicine certainly doesn’t add to the fun.
I’m also trying to clean out the freezer, and that’s a story in itself. At least today’s surprise label cracked me up. I never forget to stir, but enjoying the flavors of frozen tuna casserole on my tongue might slip my mind.
I had a difficult time getting to sleep last night even though I was exhausted. I let one of the dogs sleep in bed with me so I had a warm body nearby. I’m sore today. My forearms ache from my death grip on the steering wheel. I think I pulled a muscle in my right forearm; I can’t hold anything (like a coffee cup) without some pain. Perhaps I should stop before I start to sound too geriatric. I am, however, feeling very fortunate and thankful for a mother and grandmother who pray for me daily. My ordeal last night could have been far worse.
It’s a good thing I didn’t really have any plans for today. So far, I’ve sorted through my photographs. I had already planned to do this and bought some gorgeous hat boxes the other day just for this occasion. I’m amazed at how much I hold on to and why I feel the need to keep doubles of just about every picture. I’m also glad I have so many photos because they tell so many stories, like the time I took my nephew to the zoo and sprained my ankle on the way in or the day at the beach where I told my husband that he was going to marry me (and stood there dumbfounded that I didn’t run him off with that prediction). The look in my mother’s eyes tell the status of her mental health. Hugs and kisses and smiles are all reminders of how much I am loved.
I’m also throwing away a lot of photos. I cringe each time I place another one in the trash, but this is as good a time as ever to purge my memory box. My grandmother and I have started going through her family photos, and that process has given me a new perspective on what really is a keeper in the photo album world. There is no reason to hold on to baby photos of my friends’ children or blurred photos of half a dog’s head. And you know what? I actually like looking through each picture and deciding if I like it enough to make it part of the baggage I’m about to lug to Fort Myers. There might be a life lesson in there.
The clock tells me that Pretty Woman is about to come on the t.v., and that seems like an ideal movie for me to continue my reminiscing and purging. (I like to have on something I’ve seen enough so I don’t have to devote all my attention.) I’ll leave you with a sight I just caught from outside my window here. I don’t think I’ve ever before seen an aloe plant bloom.
I packed my china today. It’s all wrapped in the guest bathroom towels and tucked away in boxes. I was high enough on that accomplishment that I packed up the kitchen cabinet filled with coffee cups and stowed our coats and jackets in a suitcase. I’m spreading out the packing and taking my time. This seems to ease my sadness at leaving my home. I do love my home, especially now that the carpet has been replaced and the broken furniture has been laid to rest. Here is the current version complete with my favorite rocking chair in front of the bay windows.
Right now I’m marveling at how God speaks to us. I’ve mentioned that I know this move is the right thing to do. The circumstances so far have been mind boggling, to say the least, and so much has happened in the moments when I thought there was no way for it to all come together. Even now, the woman we are buying the property from is steadily moving out. My greatest fear, though, has been saying good-bye to the place that has been my home for the last five years.
I don’t like to say good-bye. I even consulted a therapist once for advice on quitting a job that I absolutely hated. Imagine how much worse it is when I actually like the place, so I really have dreaded leaving my current position. Like I said, God has a way of speaking to us, and He did so for me today through my former supervisor. After being chastised today for turning in my notice so close to the start of the next school year, I had all the energy I needed to clean out the rest of my classroom and turn in my keys.
Once again, I know this is what I am supposed to do. It’s an incredible feeling. I’m still terrified of how we’re going to make ends meet, but I know that we will. This has been an amazing lesson in taking life one step at a time. After all, it’s all any of us can do—use the moments we have. I’m reflecting on this with each box I pack. It will all get done, one box at a time. One moment at a time.
Today we had one of those glorious Florida summer afternoons filled with lots of booming thunder and rain that forms sheets so thick you can’t see through them. I drove in it on my way to a movie theater. Learning to drive in this kind of weather made driving in ice and snow a piece of cake. The movie was a blast and my friend was the perfect companion for this girls night out.
On the way back my husband and I were talking on the phone about the upcoming move. He’s feeling apprehensive about our growing to-do list. We’ve divided up our worrying responsibilities well–I take care of fretting that our coughs might be signs of tuberculosis and he takes over for me about how we’re going to get “it” all done. My well-rehearsed response is, “We just have to take it one piece at a time.” And for the record, I really do believe that line. I wish he would, too.
We hung up with mounting tension, and I reached to take sip of my chai tea. At that moment, the lid came off, sending a waterfall of chai tea right into the side of my center console. My lips spread into a straight line. There was no reason to stop because the side of a Florida highway during rain is more dangerous than walking the streets in Tijuana. I kept driving and thought, “You know, life really is all about the choices we have in front of us in that moment.”
My choice in that moment was to curse the tea and the guy behind the counter at Barnie’s or just deal with it. There was nothing I could do to change the fact that my car is now chai tea scented or that I will be spending some time in the morning scraping away the stickiness. It’s a done deal. The same can be said for our move–the wheels are in motion. That’s life. We choose. We accept. We do the best we can with the cards dealt to us.
Right now, nothing…nothing in this world compares with the peace I feel right now in my soul because I looked at the options in front of me and picked the best path I could see. Things will change because they always change, and when they do, I’ll adjust my scope. For now, I have some chai tea to mop up.
