Note to self: I need to bulk up on blog posts. For what purpose I have no real clue..other than I seem to run into writing droughts and during those droughts I would imagine I lose some readers. Ok that was me having a clue.
I was initially going to blame internet marketers at large for saying that I need to regularly post blogs, but that makes no sense. Yes, internet marketers seem to have a corner on getting paid to state the obvious but the truth still exists: when you read a blog and the blog owner goes missing, you probably stop reading the blog.
Well I haven’t gone missing in reality. In reality, I’m right here. Living my life, cleaning up spagetti off of everything, giving voice to those stuffed animals in my sons toy basket, meeting tons of really fascinating people through my job, driving 2000 miles a week and scratching my head at all of it. Am I doing it right? (Probably not, but I’m doing the very best I can.) Am I present? (When it matters, yes absolutely.) Do I need to fill my car up with gas (Yes of course I do.)
…wondering when I will again be able to write. For a moment there I just lost all access to words with any meaning. I had nothing. I would sit down to write and my brain would go blank. I was crumbling. I dropped 15 lbs in a matter of weeks (not by choice) and my head was literally and truly mass producing fear driven thoughts. Which, now that I think about it, is doubly-annoying seeing that when I would sit down to write—any thought at all would mockingly vanish from reach.
[insert image of me saying screw you thoughts and ideas!]
Oddly, I kept showing up for life. Every damn thing on my calendar. I slept fairly normally through it all, minus a handfull of panicked nights where I was nealry certain the thoughts I was thinking were actually true.
Generally speaking, however, I knew better than to fully buy into my fears. But they still wreaked havoc on my body. (Hence the weight loss). Now that I’m back on planet earth and have put on 5 lbs with my appetite fully functioning…I can say that I’ve gained a massive amount of perspective. Ok…massive is me being overly generous with myself.
In six months I’ve learned that life goes on. Time ticks on. I somehow cherish those moments of passing terror. I know that may sound strange, but there is an incredible grounding force after the anxiety leaves. My level of compassion: quadrupled. My level of appreciation for the mundanities of life: more than quadrupled.
Is it too soon to share this? I haven’t a freaking clue. I’m just happy to be writing again. And let me add that the ONLY way I have gotten though the past six months is with an immense amount of support from friends and family members. If you’re going through a hard time I promise you that isolating yourself from people will only make it worse.
I learned that about 11 years ago and have held onto that truth during any challenging time (and also just as a general rule of thumb when life is going swell). If you say you have no one who cares, find a church or 12 step meeting or support group and avail yourself to the angels who are walking the earth. They might be looking for someone to support and that person might just be you.