Tag Archives: anxiety

Far Better Things Ahead

It is said that if we are depressed we are living in the past and if we are anxious we are living in the future. Or maybe we’re depressed because we’re living in a future in which we have no faith. I don’t know. I don’t know who said it and further, I don’t know if there was any credibility to it.

But it sounds right…

Most of the time I am living in the present and it is here they say one finds peace. Or was it peaches? Depending on the season.

It is definitely not living in the past I’m experiencing, but I admit I have lots of anxiety about the future. This future I am imagining, it’s full of new things I’ve never done before and many of which I’ve never even dreamed before. As such, you can imagine it’s pretty scary sometimes, what with new baby dreams running around making a ruckus in my mind.

Because I don’t know what I’m doing I spend quite a lot of mental energy trying to figure it all out. Well, at least I try to figure out the next few steps. And from all these mental acrobats, I think I have a few, just a few things, I do know for sure.

What I know for sure is that our plates are only so big. Once we’ve filled up the metaphorical plates of our lives, if we want to add in something else, we’ve got to clear something off that plate. Historically I probably would have tried to eat it, but experience has shown us this will only result in a stomachache and regret.

If we want something new in our lives something old has to go. What I’m finding is that the person I want to become wouldn’t have room for some of the Old Michelle things. Things like time wasters, keeping up appearances and empty relationships.

If we want to live lives we’ve never lived, we have to make choices we’ve never made and think thoughts we’ve never yet entertained.

Recently there have been days that have worn me out so thoroughly, I long for the comforts of the past. And then I remember living there would be depressing. There are times I am so perplexed by how I am to do the things I plan to do that I become anxious and sometimes overwhelmed.

But when I live right here in this moment and I remember to do what I can with what I have and start exactly where I am, it is then I can imagine living a life that simply astonishes me.

And you have to ask yourself, Why not?

Like, share, comment, tweet and dare to be the best you imaginable.

michelle & mary on stage

When You Get Weird ~ A List Of Ten Cures

I am in the weirdest space of all the weird spaces. Okay. Not true. I’ve been in weirder spaces than this. But I’m kind of… wonky right now. I don’t know what to do with myself. Perhaps the most important thing I’ve noticed is that I’m just not very funny right now. Sure, there are those who would argue that I’m not normally funny, but I think THEY’RE not funny. And I think it first.

I was telling my friend Audra last night that I’ve been wrestling with the Demon Anxiety lately. I can’t have a civilized conversation about natural disasters, if I hear even a whisper that one of my children isn’t doing well I am sleepless all night long and I am easily irritated by… well, everything.

It’s all a part of life. It’s a part of taking risks and not feeling safe. And that’s all good. By and large I’m doing just fine, just not as fine as usual. Not as funny as usual. I miss my funny.

With that, I bring you ten security blankets, ten things that make you feel good, ten things to do/take/have when you’re not funny anymore:

  1. ImageA large scoop of peanut butter on a large spoon. It is preferable that you consume it in front of the TV while wearing your eating pants.
  2. This may be the most important “treatment” of all, listen to music that makes you want to dance, make sure no one is around and do the dumbest dance moves conceivable for the entirety of the song. Rinse and repeat. As long as it takes.
  3. Sleep. I know a lot of these symptoms sound a bit like depression, but they’re not. They’re me being scared and feeling inadequate. I’m not talking about sleeping too much. I’m not talking about sleeping in, I’m just saying a good, solid night’s sleep is absolutely medicine.

    Pierson Food Coma
    Take sleep where you find it.
  4. Tell someone you’re weird. Say it out loud. Admit that you are having anxiety about a large meteor smashing into the earth and the zombie apocalypse as well as that whole issue with Yellowstone Park actually being a volcano that could erupt any day now. Just admit to someone that things are flying around in your head like an unrestrained dog inside a car accident. Sometimes it’s just not safe to be there alone. Bring a friend. But if that friend is a dog, kennel her for the car rides.
  5. Focus on someone besides yourself. I find that when I most need reassurance, love and understanding, if I give it to someone else, my need diminishes. So anyone who is worried about the contents of #4, I just want you to know, it’s all going to be okay.
  6. If someone is totally irritating you, you can’t even believe how annoying people can be, assume it’s your problem. There’s something out-of-sorts and it’s not them, it’s you. I know of what I speak. It’s me, not you.
  7. Company as therapy. I find when I get too deep down the rabbit hole that is my brain, a little fireside chat with anyone will do the trick to pull me back into civilization. I sometimes like to eschew civilization, but truthfully, keeping my own company isn’t that rewarding right now. (She’s crazy! Please don’t leave me alone with her!)
  8. comfort foodI know, food is not therapy. Except when it is. Then it is therapy. Please don’t tell Jenny Craig I said so.
  9. Sometimes the only way to face the dragon is to put on your big girl panties and face the dragon already. Do the work. Stand up and count yourself as capable, desirable and inspiring. And keep doing it until you believe it and you get over the whole Yellowstone Park thing.
  10. Say a prayer to the God in whom you most believe. Take a moment and know that there are bigger problems than your own and put one foot in front of the other until you’re you again. Until the funny returns.

I have to go find some peanut butter and a big spoon now.

Leaping Off The Funky Train

Some people might interpret “riding the funky train” as a good thing, but for me it is not.Image

I’ve been in “funky town” for the past few days and I did not have a groovy time there. I’ve been anxious, out of sorts, a little grouchy, if you read my posts regularly you’ll know I’ve visited the snarky neighborhood that’s so popular in funky town. None of this is good.

I can attribute my attitude and experiences to many things, kids going through stuff, Mr Dreamboat on an eight day trip away, hormones… Doesn’t matter. Riding the funky train is not fun. Not for me. Not for anyone around me.

This is what my Granny lets me do at her house. It’s better than crafts.

If my 91 year old granny were a regular reader (in truth, she doesn’t use the internet), I would use this post to apologize for sorting out my proverbial “dirty laundry” all over her living room floor yesterday. But granny inexplicably loves me unconditionally, so in this case love really does mean I don’t have to say I’m sorry.

Surely part of my departure from the land of funk is that Granny let me sort the dirty laundry out for myself while she patiently listened to me rant. Another part is that Mr Dreamboat arrived home late last night. And last, but definitely not least, today is art day. Today is the day I will go stand in a vineyard in Lake Oswego and let the honey infused watercolor paints mix exotically onto the 140 pound French, cotton paper and see what comes of it.

We all go to the dangerous neighborhoods in our minds from time to time. Doesn’t matter why, doesn’t matter how you got there. The point is to RUN! Get out as fast as you can. Coming from a place of fear neither fixes what is wrong with us, nor does it allow ourselves the confidence to face whatever is bothering us.

More than anything else, more than the return of Mr D, the time with granny or the artist getaway I’m enjoying today, the most important thing I’m doing to get back on sound footing is to leap off the funky train. No looking back, no holding onto fear.

Here, hold my hand and we’ll jump together.