Screaming Meemies

This is what my folks called "nerves" (which was probably anxiety) when I was a kid. If you were all nervous about something, you were having the screaming meemies. I think I had them a lot, now that it's come to mind. I was a hypersensitive child, just as I am an only-slightly-less-hypersensitive adult. Plus, there were all these complications from bad stuff that would have fed into my anxieties.

I am having the screaming meemies right now. A wonderful opportunity was offered to me today (not a paying kind, I'm afraid) and I jumped on it of course, but now my meemies are screaming their little ... whatevers off. After I produced a document for the guy who gave me this opportunity, I essentially shut down. I've just been mindlessly surfing the web. I feel a bit shell-shocked in a way: kind of numb, a feeling of looming dread, and the feeling that no one is there behind my eyes. Screaming meemies alright — anxiety doesn't seem to quite describe it.

I also chose to not submit my resume on a potential job today. Does that make me lazy or bad? An email came up on a group I belong to saying that the agency she was doing contracting work with needed 2 more people and that if we wanted to talk to the recruiter, we had to do it today because she is off on vacation starting tomorrow. I looked at the info in the email and decided no. Why? 1) It's with a company in an industry that I haven't been able to break into — even for a contract job — because I have no experience in that particular industry, so there seemed no point; 2) my first thought was "well, then I wouldn't be able to do these other things, which are the project I'm currently working on and this opportunity. So I chose to forego a shot at a contract job so I wouldn't miss out on a cool-but-low-paying freelance gig and a wonderful volunteer gig.

I hope the Universe helps me out a bit here before my meemies scream themselves hoarse.

Mindlessness

I can't think of what to write. My mind is scattered like dust in the wind (Kansas, late 70s, I don't recall what album). I was out during part of the hottest part of the day (but not dehydrated). I was busy and I had actual communications with actual in-person humans. I'm tired and my brain is all fly-away.

So this is all the post I can manage. But at least I posted. I think I'm back into the post-a-day routine now.

So, until tomorrow, good night.

Inattentiveness

It's almost July. It's 2011. I'm missing large portions of the last year. I could point to what's caused that, except that I've experienced this before off and on. While the latest missing time has at its root the events and grief of the last year, it ends up coming from not paying attention, from not being present. 

This past year, I didn't want to be present for many things and so found ways to occupy my mind and my time in a wasteful way (I won't tell you how many of the LOL cats I've seen on icanhascheezburger.com.), all for very good reasons, but I haven't always had good reasons. I have left my attentiveness behind because I was sad or stressed or anxious or tired or lonely. So I end up missing large chunks of my life.

And now we are halfway through 2011, almost exactly a year ago that I had to go be with my mom. Various people said "oh, you are getting such good karma, next year will be spectacular for you," and other similar things. Well... I haven't seen it so far. But then, I've still got my sadness goggles on and may have missed the spectacular. I hope it comes back.

Paying attention makes time seem to move more slowly, because you are experiencing nearly all of it. When you are putting your attention into mindlessly surfing the Web or watching hours and hours of TV or doing anything that allows your mind to kind of fuzz out, time flies. When you are in a rut and don't look up, time flies. When you are trying very hard to ignore your life, for whatever reason, then time flies and weeks, months, maybe years can go by when you aren't paying attention.

Do you want more time in your life? Practice mindfulness. Be in the present. Pay attention to right now. The more of that you do, the more time you have to be in.

Once I get my sadness goggles off, I'll join you.

Broken Thoughts

I mentioned earlier that a blog I read had a post about Fear the other day; I may have mentioned that Fear and I are really far too close for my comfort. Even just reading the blog and the comments, most of which were about how others deal with fear and overcome fear, made all my fear reactions stand on end and I had to take a pill to calm me. I do not want to be that woman who "must take a little pill to calm me down."

Well, today was therapy. As I had not done my homework, we talked of other things, such as fear and how I'm doing on my behavior changes (we looked at what I had succeeded at, not what I didn't do, thank you Julie). The talk about fear merged into talk about some feelings I have that are pretty constant. I have quite a few, but we talked about how lost I feel, how I feel as if I'm floating, and how I feel untethered. That's when Karen the Wonderful Therapist took me through some focused Cognitive Therapy.

These thoughts are lies that my mind tells me and the only way to fix the distortions and overcome the lies (eventually getting rid of them altogether) is to combat them with truths. Luckily for me, she outlined true statements for me to use, because if we'd left it to me, I'd still be in her office!

For example, when I hear myself saying that I'm floating, I counter with I'm not floating. I am moving in a direction. I am making choices daily. For one thing, I choose to be in therapy to help me move in the direction I want. And that's all true. But I feel as if I need to write notes on my hands and arms to remember it all.  :)  Perhaps just a folded up cheat sheet I carry around.

It was very weird, hearing her statements for me to use to respond to these fear-based distortions in my head. I could really perceive the power of opposing these thoughts with true statements. For one thing, I have to think through the truths, so it's not just a mindless phrase to throw at an issue. And thinking will make it all stick better. It's like when I write something down, I remember it better, even if I don't reread what I wrote. (Not applicable to all things — I have to reread the truth responses to these first three distortions because they are complicated enough that I can't yet remember them off the top of my head.)

A lot of what I'm doing right now behaviorally and cognitively relates to grounding me, creating a foundation to build on. This same concept is what my outside life is about as well: I need to basically build a new life, and I don't have a stable foundation for it, either. The therapeutic work I'm doing will most likely help me to do the outside work; as one part stabilizes, so will the other parts. 

This is all more or less clear in my head. I'm not sure it's as clear on this blog. I can't say I know where I'm going yet. But I can say that I have a lot more hope that I will get there, wherever it is.

This is the Best. Therapy. EVAH!

Not Quite Succeeding

Well, I tried. This week, in addition to the regular therapy homework, I had my new behavioral homework, just a few tasks. And as simple and small were the challenges, it's going to take more than a week for me to incorporate everything successfully and routinely.

Therapy homework
Nope. Didn't even think of it until about an hour ago and a couple of hours before I go to sleep is not the best time.

Behavioral work

1. Take a shower and get dressed every day, preferably before noon.
   I showered every other day. I got dressed every day, although sometimes in lounge-around-the-house clothes. About half the time I managed this before noon. Lesson: Don't read more than one blog before beginning after-breakfast routine.
2. Eat three meals a day, plus a piece of fruit and/or a vegetable every day.
   Didn't manage the three meals at all. I still mess up the hours in my day. Started out okay with the fruit, but then let the rest of the fruit and some of the berries go bad. Managed that a third of the week. No vegies at all. Lesson: Create alarms to make me aware of meal times. Prepare vegies right after I bring them home. Be more vigilant and eat the fruit or vegie first.
3. Leave the apartment every day. Pick up my mail every day. Preferably mesh the two and walk to the mailbox every day to incorporate some body movement.
   Only one day did I manage the mesh. I think there were only two days when I didn't go out, thus two days (or maybe three) when I didn't pick up my mail. And the walk plus mail day was my only walk day. Lesson: Create a schedule for the week requiring me to leave. Walk the walking trail at the complex at least twice a week — maybe set an alarm for it. Pick up the mail when I return from my going out. Without an external reason, I just don't go. Still too inert.

I'm also still not getting to bed early. I haven't been to bed before 12 this week, and I hit 2-ish at least once, which makes me get up later. And I generally turn off my alarm and continue sleeping. I need to push myself (which I'm not yet succeeding at) to go to bed earlier, and I need to put my alarm across the room so I have to get up (the alarm doesn't stop until I physically turn it off, so this could work).

I also am finding I still need a Red Bull each day to help me stay awake. I had one all week and did fine. I didn't have one today and around two thirty was so tired I lay down. The alarm on my Mac woke me up just enough to turn it off. I went back to sleep until 6:30. Four hours. I wish I could simply take a nap for 30 minutes, rather than sleep through the afternoon. It cost me time on a project, pushing me even later.

So I had a couple of very small successes this week, plus I got some ideas about what might work for this coming week. I've been solidly this inert for months, so changing may take longer than I expected. Unfortunately, because I'm very tired of it. Plus, I'm not making any money, which puts me closer and closer to running out.

It doesn't seem fair, after all I've been through, to have to deal with all this, and alone. I know Life isn't fair, but I wish it would help me a bit. If I have to do it all myself, I just might end up living in my car. (Sorry, Julie.)

Ice & Stone

Fear generally initiates one of two reactions in a person: fight or flight. However, sometimes the fear is too strong for either — then it paralyzes.

My fear and anxiety levels have been off the charts for so long that I cannot move. I have no fight, and I cannot flee. So I freeze. I've been frozen for so long that I might as well be an ice sculpture at a fancy party.

Even the easy stuff, such as walking to the mailbox, isn't easy. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I don't go. I stay here in my small, more or less controllable environment. Outside is too unpredictable.

At a blog I read today, the topic was Fear, and the message was acknowledge that you are afraid, then go ahead and do whatever it is that you fear anyway. There have been times in my life when I could do that, all by myself, with no help. I have done plenty of scary things. But right now, I feel almost too afraid to cross the street without someone holding my hand. This is a time when having someone to help me would enable me to break through the ice. And this is a time when there is no one to help me, not in person. This is the time for hands-on help. With just me picking at the ice, getting me through the fear, I feel as though it will take me a hundred years. And yes, fear is undoubtedly causing me to feel that way.

I have reminders, like my affirmations, pinned up around the place in hopes that they will help reprogram my thinking. I imagine that I can get through this, all by myself, eventually. (Although, it would help me if I could just call people. But then, reaching out like that scares me silly, too. But actual conversations and poor babies would be nice.) I know it will take longer on my own, even with the therapy (because my therapist cannot be with me 24/7, and I'm going to have to cut back on therapy due to the whole money thing).

I'm so depressed and anxious, I can't look for work, so I'm afraid I'll run out of money, a not unreasonable fear. I'm afraid all my online friends will realize I'm a whiner and a downer and a lazy loser and stop liking me. I'm afraid that I can't find work because I'm so out of date (it's been a long time since I've had a regular job), and that I can't find enough work as a freelancer to make a go of it. Then I'll have to give up health insurance, which means no one will ever want to treat me knowing that I cannot pay them .... It all spirals out of control and ends with "and then I'll die, painfully." Most people when you ask them what's the worst that can happen will give a reasonable action (I'll make a fool of myself, I'll lose my job, whatever). My "worst that can happen" answer is always either that I will die, or that I will end up mutilated, in a hospital, with no way to end the life support. My fear reactions cause me to sink like a stone.

My biggest single fear, other than running out of money and then living out of my car or something, is that I am going to be old and alone, and that I will die old and alone because I have no kids to take care of me at the end the I did for Mom. I suppose, at least, this trumps the "and then I'll die" earlier in my life scenario.

And here I go, off into the other dark areas of my soul, so I'll end it here with this thought: I did go outside, take a small walk, and pick up my mail today. Then I took another quick walk later to the corner market for an ice cream sandwich; I should find a way to harness my love of ice cream to overcome my fear. And I have many new notes and affirmations added to the ones already littering my home. Something is bound to stick, sometime, if only to get me to stop repeating these mini-mantras.

I wish I could end this the way others on that other blog did, about how they have overcome fear and stare it down whenever it raises its head. I can't yet. My fear is Medusa and I am still paralyzed and cold.

A Clean & Orderly Home

I like a clean and orderly home. Clutter bothers me. Dirt makes me physically uncomfortable. And you wouldn't know it if you saw my home now. I haven't finished unpacking in the six-ish months I've been here. The worst part is that I haven't cleaned, other than putting dishes in the dishwasher (and occasionally wiping down the countertops) and freshening up the toilet and once or twice wiping out the bathroom sink. Yes, this shames me. It is a clear and unequivocal sign of how depressed and anxious I am and have been. (Anxiety paralyzes me as surely as depression does, making which is the culprit unobvious to observers.)

Of course, one person's clutter is another person's uncluttered and my mother definitely found my uncluttered to be her clutter, and vice versa. Mom had many dustables, which she kept displayed neatly. I dislike dusting, so I want it to be as easy and quick to do as possible, which is why I'm getting rid of many of my dustables and looking to store what's left in sealed glass cabinets. I seem to have an allergy to dust and dust mites, so I have to get rid of the dust if I want to keep breathing and refrain from coughing. And having tidy bookshelves and clean surfaces satisfies a personal aesthetic. It's also easier to find the book I want.

I like being able to find what I'm looking for in a short amount of time. Now, I waste time looking for things, time I could spend doing stuff I like to do. 

I used to keep my things picked up and orderly. My bedroom when I was a child and a teenager was tidy and clean and I had only two small drawers that were my "junk" drawers where things were higgledy piggledy. They were like small treasure chests; I did not want my entire life to be that kind of treasure chest, just those two drawers. 

Back in the day, I found that it was much easier to keep my space at the level of clean and tidy that I wanted if I kept it up at all times — putting stuff away, cleaning on a schedule. As my life fell apart, bit by bit over the years, so did my levels of clean, tidy, organized. 

For example, my first home had an oak floor in the living room. When I first moved in, I took off my shoes at the door and I swept up the floor at least every other day. It was a pleasure: I loved that floor and sweeping it was an exercise in mindfulness before I ever knew what that was. It gave me pleasure. But when things happened that caused me great pain and depression, doing anything, especially anything that gave me pleasure, became virtually impossible and my floor lost its clean and shiny look. And that made me even sadder.

A vision

In my mind, every item in my home is in its place, including clothing and shoes, and put away neatly, without being squished, squashed, or wrinkled to fit it in. My home is easy to dust because the flat surfaces have few things on them — no piles of papers, no stacks of books and magazines. The few dustables I own are arranged neatly and visibly (because otherwise why have them?) My home is easy to vacuum because there is no stuff cluttering the floor — no out-of-place shoes, no piles of magazines and books (see a theme here?), no basket of unfolded laundry, no purses or totes littering the floor. My bedroom is a haven of calmness and my closet is ordered such that I can easily find the clothes and shoes I want, as well as the out-of-season bedding and other stored items. My kitchen is clean and my counters are clear; I can make brownies any time I want without a major effort to make space. I can — and do — eat my meals at my dining table.

Bonus: it doesn't take me much time at all to keep my home in this state, because I put my shoes and clothing away when I remove them, I put my purse or tote in the space for them. I unpack sacks when I bring them in and put those items away immediately. And I go through all my mail when I bring it into the house, noting the date each bill is due, addressing other mail that needs addressing, and tossing the junk. Piles don't form.

Then money floats through my door and into my wallet and bank account. My emotional eating disappears and with it my excess weight. And I write my first novel. And oh yeah: depression and anxiety? GONE!

Ta da!

Now does anyone know someone who could help me achieve any of this? Anyone? Anyone?

**crickets**