After The Goethal's Bridge

I've been informed by my husband that the bridge in question (the one I had my first panic attack - see older blog "I'm Just Saying") was actually the Outer Bridge Crossing. I must have blocked it out.  After driving over the bridge I experienced a panic attack.  From there I began to feel panicky. It is a cycle that is difficult to break - feeling worried about potentially feeling anxiety causes more and more anxiety.  I am nothing if not a solution seeker and so I felt compelled to seek the help of a therapist. This therapist who I saw only twice, changed my life.

He did two, actually three, wonderful things for me:

1) He told me to try an anti-depressant.  This wise psychologist wasn't the first person to suggest an anti-depressant for my PMS. I had a prescription in my wallet, but he was the one who convinced me that it would help me. I finally reached the point where I believed it. We all know the stigma attached to it and I know many women would not consider it as an option, but for me I was ready to try.

2) He taught me to visualize and breathe deeply INTO the fear. Ahh what a relief. There is nothing to fear but fear itself (so I've heard) and that is how I approached it. As my heart beat too quickly I breathed in and out and visualized breathing in soft blue and breathing out yukky gray. I remembered the fears I had as a young girl and realized that as adults we are afraid of fear. I knew I would not die from anxiety - that it is a reaction your body produces. That was helpful to me.

3) He told me to say 'no' once in awhile. Mmmm, could it be connected in any way?- my desire to please everyone around me when inside I am screaming? He planted the seed on that one - still in progress.

I realized that my PMS was not completely hormone related. I had to accept that my life issues (at this crucial juncture I was moving to the West Coast) were exacerbated by my hormonal issues.  My inability to cope with the anxiety of my approaching move, trying to tie all my loose ends in life, reassuring close friends, calming the fears of my children, leaving my family, were finally bubbling up into a place that I could not contain. That is why I consider anxiety a gift. It lets you know in no uncertain terms that you are done. Take a look! Look whats going on here! You are stressed!!! There is no way around it.

That was a turning point for me. I was very fragile. Looking over a railing in the mall caused my heart to beat quickly. Driving, once a common practice, now was a battle between being hyper-aware that I was driving and breathing deeply. Not fun I tell you, but from there I started to pay a little more closer attention to my life.

The medicine put me into a better place. I played with dosages, took it different times during the month (with the help of a doctor!) and moved on with my life. I felt better able to cope. I didn't feel particularly different, just more like I thought a normal person should feel. That was my first step toward dealing with my monthly highs and lows. The story continues.
p.s. this is a picture of me and Meg around that time. Just liked it.

Balance - Aging

I was thinking the other day about all the ways I have not grown up. I want to see Footloose (the new, hot one). My last meal on earth would include oreos because every time I eat one I still think, "yum", I mean every time. I still eat them by licking off the cream and dunking them in milk. I have a huge crush on Keith Urban and share this crush with one of my 15 year old students;  (relatable or immature? hmmmm)   I know all words to Taylor Swift songs (saw her in concert) I like to make fun of people with my kids. I love barrettes. I love makeup.

Okay, maybe this just makes me a girl. I don't know. But as a grown up lady I know I have matured.  I feel like I take more time for everything; I drive slower, I look around more, I take pictures of trees as the leaves fall. Ironically, being older, I feel like I have more time. I am more cautious, I am more patient. I feel like I've been there before and I can predict an outcome, probably because I have. I guess they call that experience.  I couldn't be happier. Being my age - late 40's if you must know, is so much better than I ever would have thought. I literally do not care how I appear to others as I used to.  I still care very much about my appearance, just not my behavior.

I took a Latin Dance exercise class over the summer and as I focused on the beautiful, sexy, tiny teacher sensuously moving her body, I tried to match her. I truly felt like I was dancing in the same rhythmic Latin way that our young teacher was, until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. HORRIFIED. Frankenstein with no hip motion (because we all know Frankenstein can move), but my moment of realization came when instead of cowering or leaving (someone did) I just chose to ignore Frank and chose young, pretty Latin girl. That is how I felt, and I was going to be her.  Who cares what I look like? I truly did not, although I had a smile on my face because I knew how I looked. So funny.

Have I become one of those crazy middle aged women who wears hats and dances with her girlfriends? Someone who wears her glasses around her neck or worse always loses them and holds the menu an arms length away? YES to all of it. It is true. Not all of it literally okay, but you get the idea.  As much as I enjoy my relaxed outlook on life, I still struggle with it. Of course there is a struggle, because with every shift, there is a counter shift in the balance. So I may not care as much about what others think, I may make more thought out decisions, maybe be even a little more rational, but every time a young person (you are getting the idea) compares me to his/her mom, I cringe. Every time an older woman uses the pronoun "we" when talking to me ("we can still wear that length) it startles me. I look in the mirror at that point, because inevitably I am in a dressing room when this happens, and I realize, "people know how old I am" I am not  28 or 34 or even 40. I am the older woman who can still wear that length or those jeans. Still trying. Painful.

Even when you say you feel young on the inside, that means you're old. You are. That's okay. I feel so much better on the inside and for that I feel lucky.  Youth is wasted on the young anyway.

That's Keith

that's heaven

Balance - Relationships

Relationships are hard. They require honesty, not only with the other person, but with oneself.  My struggle for balance is ongoing in my relationships as I strive to get to know myself. Case in point, my mother.  I could stop right there couldn't I? There, I said it, my mother.  The person who gave me life, taught me to love, fed me, clothed me and called me beautiful.  I know every daughter who is is lucky enough to grow up with a mom has a complicated history. I say lucky, not with a wink, because even though I have mommy issues, I had a mother, and I will always be grateful for that.

Okay, mommy issues. I am stalling aren't I? Well, its been some years since I have seen my mother in the flesh (11) and many months since I have spoken to my mother.  She is not an evil person, quite the opposite, but I have been at a stand still as to how to continue our relationship.

I have been the "good girl" my entire life; living with the satisfaction of knowing I am good, I did good. Check list of non-slutty behavior in college, there for my friends, obedient daughter, always a smile. What I noticed in my life was a pattern; I was the ever present friend, enthusiastic, helpful, compromising, encouraging, until one day I would lose my mind and have a blow out fight or some other dramatic occurrence, and then I would be DONE. By the time this happened, I was so relieved not to play my role of good friend, that I had no regrets. I would move on feeling free.  I would blame them. "look what they did to me, they didn't appreciate me, they took advantage of me." That may all have been true, but if it was, then it was completely my fault.

Point here: I allowed myself to be lost in these friendships; giving all I had and expecting what? reciprocation? No one could ever give me as much as I needed and they did not ask for it. It was pressure I put upon myself to by good for everyone until I couldn't do it anymore and that poor friend didn't know what hit them.   My older, more self knowing self is more aware of my propensity for this giving too much/wanting too much and so I am learning how to balance my relationships. How do I do this? (This may be the easiest thing for so many people, but for me still new),  I am honest.

I give because it makes me feel right, but temper it when it feels like too much. I put myself on my list of friends. I need a lot of attention, so I give it to myself.  I have really wonderful friends and thank God they love me, but they know that sometimes I am not "on" and they accept it. That's real and honest.

My biggest relationship is with my mother and I have not figured out how to be honest, so I have run away; not stalked away, not stomped away, but scurried away like a scared little rabbit. Mommys are harder. As a daughter I need to be loved, appreciated and understood, as a daughter I also need to be understanding, supportive and forgiving. ALL AT THE SAME TIME. That's kind of hard for me.  That's really hard for me. Still a good girl, but a wounded girl. In this unique relationship with my mom, I have given my heart and soul to be good, but I compromised myself.  I began to crumble under the weight of my need to be understanding, listening, helping a person who is never going to be full on her own.

So I sit in my rabbit hole enjoying my rabbit family and my little animal friends, but my mother and my future relationship with her waits in the big house (okay, this metaphor stuff in getting too much). What I am saying is my life is going on rather well, but missing completeness that I believe I will feel when I can be real. I feel it is close. I feel it is far away. I feel it is hard, but so simple.  Call.

Fall Is Here

Fall is an interesting time.  It is subtle, still warm, still humid, yet a barely discernible difference occurs bit by bit until you look outside and see Summer has ended.  We are now into October and there is no denying it now. Kids have that tired look, go to bed without prompting, and I think I have picked my last tomato (not that I had a great crop anyway). I realize that there are certain adjustments we make to help the transition.  I need to wear socks now; no more prancing around in my bare feet.  Sweaters when I leave the house.  An extra blanket on the bed - no more fan (even though the sound is so soothing).  I notice now a beautiful day is cherished because we all know they are fleeting.  I have always had a romantic approach to Fall; pumpkins scones, warm soup, cider, MUMS. Then scare crows, straw, ORANGE,  boots.  These adjustments make me more accepting of the changes occurring.  Okay, if we have to give up Summer and its sultry nights, night swimming, wine drinking (on the porch), watering flowers in flip flops, and unstructured days, then at least I can look forward to wearing a cool scarf and a short jacket out at night.  Okay, so what does that say about me? Am I that superficial? Yes, I am.  I know that I can convince myself to accept an undesirable change if I can either buy things or accessorize.

That is a part of my personality that I like to kindly refer to as acceptance, but is really denial.  I am not thinking "Fall is here, Summer is over, Winter is coming." I am thinking "Fall is here (ooh I can decorate my house with my cute Fall stuff, Summer is over (it was so hot!), and Winter is coming (yay snow!)  I accept this denial, even though it bites me in the ass every January, because it brings me contentment. It allows me to embrace the moment and postpone the inevatible. That's okay.

I think that is important - welcome change, move on, and shop. All good things.

Good bye pool, hello Uggs.

Know When to Say When

On Tuesday I have an appointment with a surgeon.  In order to prepare for this appointment I have had an MRI of my pelvis, ultrasounds (same area), blood work, gynecological exam, conversations, referrals and a lot of pondering.

I am considering a hysterectomy.

An ultimate search for balance? The story here is a long one that began at puberty. Medically speaking you can say I have suffered from endomitriosis my whole adult life.  It is an invasive condition, causing infertility and discomfort, as well as inconvenience. It is possible for some women to experience little or no symptoms, but in my case I have been acutely aware of it.  Without going into gory details that are not necessary, let's just say I have had enough.

The question here, aside from medical necessity, (to be determined by surgeon) is whether I feel worthy to make this leap.  Have I suffered enough? Do I deserve to be free of these womanly organs that have allowed me to produce two monumentally fabulous human beings?

It is a decision I have to make based solely on my own personal experience and I need to decide whether I have really had enough.  My gynecologist tells me menopause is right around the corner (which is a comfort?) With menopause comes the end of estrogen which fuels endomitriosis.  This should mean that my symptoms disappear.  To me that doesn't seem like a clean conclusion. It feels like a slow painful death after a life time of suffering (that is metaphorically speaking of course).  My idea is to make a clean break - get rid of all of it - hormones, organs, bleeding, swelling, soreness.  I may not even publish this. Is it too gross?

It just brings up many feelings that have to do with worthiness; that have to do with strength, perseverance, and self love.  Nobody knows my journey because it is mine. Nobody should make this decision, because it is mine. That's scary. Would it be easier if a doctor told me "you need to do this"? I would say yes and no. In the past I have been told to have a hysterectomy. I have scheduled the procedure on two separate occasions only to reconsider. The decision, I realized, is ultimately mine. I chose not to have a hysterectomy and have sought out other paths to balance (which I have discussed and will more in the future!)  I  listened to my heart which was filled with dread and fear when faced with actually proceeding with the surgery.  It feels different this time, more settled, still intensely scary, but maybe time.

So now the discussion will be about me (yes me - all about me), a less invasive approach (an option not offered to me in the past) and whether it is the right choice for me. Now.  So I will let you know what I decide. Will I decide?