The Fantasies of an Indecisive Woman...

Every little girl sits in their room, wearing a sheet on their head, envisioning a daring rescue is only moments away from ensuing from that very moment in time. She sits and waits, and wait and waits. As the sun begins to dip below the redwood-studded tree-lined hills, her doubts begin to waver. She slides the sheet of her little blonde head and sighs, hugs her doll extra tight that night, and stains her pillow with her tears. Each tear, a gentle relinquishing of the fantasy; each gasp of air, a stubborn surrender to the terrible reality of life: prince charming does not exist.

I came in and out of relationships in, incredulous, unhealthy ways; diving into the pot- smoke-filled realms of dark teenage rooms to screaming fits of rage and panic and writhing on high school sidewalks. I've done it all, short of killing someone.

I met my husband on a late May afternoon, after stealing a break away from helping a friend working toward graduation. Said friend and I decided to venture to Guerneville to see what the action held for us. Riding in his mom's new Toyota (or maybe it was a Honda?) sedan, enjoying this brief moment of freedom between us. We rode into town, but the only mission on my mind was to track down my loser-of-a-boyfriend and attempt to turn him straight by my mere presence. We parked at the Pedestrian Bridge and walked down to the "Creeble Spot" and there he was. Playing a guitar that sported a fucking Brittany Spears sticker, playing something, was my future husband and father to my children. Not many women envision meeting their partner in such circumstances, and I certainly imagined they would be much more romantic, but none of my previous relationships started off any better, so why improve now?

This retrospect makes my heart twist and turn in my chest. I feel like I'm losing sight of my marriage, or maybe my love for my husband. He has many good qualities about him, but sometimes I feel like he's still a child and I've been footed with the bill of re-raising him. It takes a strong woman with passion, intelligence and, most importantly, love, to handle a task such as this. And sometimes I feel like I don't want it anymore; I don't want this task, it's too much and it shouldn't have ever been mine in the first place. Then there's other times where I'd gladly do what is asked of me, obey the law of nature (mother gives birth, wife then raises), and take my place in line behind the other wives to receive our daily penance of personal denial.

I am very lost in the fog of my marriage. We no longer see eye-to-eye on many things and are constantly burning energy trying to get the other to see the err of their ways. We're missing the point entirely, but unwilling to take the first step towards walking the path together. Will we ever walk that path together?

There's still so much hurt, so much distrust, so much blocking our love for each other. Kinda hard to see through the fog, but I know the sun is shining above it all and perhaps one day, we'll be able to see it, together.

If not in my house...

...then in whom's house does Anxiety live? You know what? I could really give a shit where that bitch lives; she doesn't live with ME anymore.

Even though, as humans, we're encouraged to not deny the feelings inside of us or the events arounds us and so on. However, there is a fine line between denial and self-fulfilling. It is my opinion that even though I admitted that I had a problem with anxiety/agoraphobia, somewhere down the line I also CONVINCED myself that I was suffering from these ailments and acted accordingly. I didn't act like my usual self, taking on the world like Wonder Woman. No, instead I believed every single symptom of these ailments and made them my own, changing myself into this cowering little girl who was incapable of doing anything on her own.

I'm sitting in a comfy chair situated on the Fourth Floor of the Library at the SRJC, looking down onto Santa Rosa, up here with the fluttering birds and realizing how small and insignificant I am when contrasted with the bigger picture of things. My world became so small and I was suffocating myself.

I'm no longer doing this to myself. I no longer react to a situation, catering to the anxious reactions I may have. I no longer accept anything less that being able to live and live comfortably in my mind and in my home with the family I love more than anything in the world. I'm never going to throw that away, so don't dare ask me to. I am back and in control.

"P" for Persevere

There was absolutely no reason today for me to be feeling anxious, and yet there it was. Took quite a bit of breathing and affirmations to calm myself down, and my day hadn't even really started yet. I keeping thinking and thinking and planning and thinking, never letting my fucking brain to have any rest; no slow moments. And today's little attack came from a moment of fast-paced thinking and no real trigger of any sort. Yet there it was, making itself known to me at any opportunity.

I keep wondering to myself how much longer can I go on like this? I feel like I need to RUN or Kick-box myself into a state that is no longer anxious: what is it that I fear? Death? Why should I fear death? When I think about it, I'm not scared, making the anxiety attacks seem pretty pointless. Either way, there's a part of me, an imprisoned part, that's sitting inside me screaming at me, telling me to get over it, that I'm strong and there's NO REASON to be feeling this way! Gosh!!! I feel like I'm on the cusp of breaking this anxiety, and yet it keeps reaching me and dragging me back in.

What DID trigger me, however, was thinking about how LONG my day is. We wake at 7am, leave at 8am, get home a 6pm. That's 10 hours of being at school, out of my "zone." Ha! It IS my zone: it's my JOB to go to school, to learn, to become a successful businesswoman and take charge of the world. Right? Right???? So friggin' WHAT if my day is that long! I'm having fun! Dancing, having a great time in Business Class, developing my art and photographic eye, visiting with friends, enjoying some time to myself. What the fuck? Enjoy it, damnit! The cares of the world are too large for me to handle, with or without anxiety, AND it's not my responsibility.

I am an incredibly strong woman that deserves to move freely in the world without feeling like a prisoner of my mind. I am the one who carries the key to my cell, I'm the architect of the prison, I'm the one holding the dynamite that's going to blow it up. So why am I hesitating pushing the button???

Persistance

When I read this passage this morning, I thought directly of the events of yesterday. It was the first day of Spring Semester, and I was already pretty nervous. But I made it through each class, and through each challenge, too. Our vehicle decided to have a malfunctioning thermostat, rendering us stranded 15 miles from school; but with the help of a friend, we were able to get there. The next biggest challenge was handling the stress and anxiety after a fight with the husband. I didn't used to get so emotional and pushed so close to the edge before, but as I reflected on yesterday's fight and my emotions, I realized just how addicted I am to conflicts and high-stress situations. Not to say that I, in general, purposefully created the fight, but I certainly didn't help stop it, and my actions helped fuel the fire that was ignited between us. So as I walked Santa Rosa Avenue with daughter in tow, searching for my husband who walked off just as we were to board the bus home, and all I could manage to do was to chant over and over "I'm going to be ok; I'm going to be ok." The urge to "lose it" was so prevalent in those 20 minutes of walking the strip, the only thought that was a guarantee for tears to flow was "I AM going to be like this the rest of my life!" But, hidden in the undercurrent of my personality, lies a girl who's VERY stubborn and not subject to defeat. All the while I'm doubting my ability to recover from this event, this girl's voice sang loud and clear, "Don't associate Santa Rosa, buses, or sunsets with this event. Everything is fine: it's just a fight. You two will work it out, your ego will mend, you are going to be fine. Be strong for your little girl. It will not be this way ALL semester; this isn't a sign from God to stop school." So needless to say, this little girl was right: we worked things out, came back together and got home safe and sound, albeit a bit traumatized. But I refused to allow it to continue in my head. We then decided to go for a family walk into town; let the poor pups stretch their legs and get some fresh air, and to go pick up the Monster Boy. We had a wonderful walk, with the fullmoon blasting it's beautiful, white light on us, blessing our family with its energy. As we walked the streets of downtown Guerneville, I purposefully exhaled each negative thought and feeling out of my body and inhaled the images of animal books in windows, the laughs of my children as they frolicked down the sidewalk, and the exchange of an unspoken love when running into a good friend. We made it home in one piece, and Jesse and I worked together on the car, trying to get it running again. Although we failed in that respect, we enjoyed each other's company and were able to forgive one another and move on.

A thought came to me yesterday after all was said and done. Let's say, for example, you have a cold because you are having the traditional symptoms of a cold. Does admitting you have a cold make it happen or if you denied having a cold, will the symptoms cease? Same with cancer or a genetic disorder. I think the latter two have a bit more exception merely because nobody WANTS to have those ailments, unless they're a hypochondriac. I applied this same school of thought to my anxiety and supposed "agoraphobia." When I first read about agoraphobia, my anxiety got worse, because I saw just how much work I had to do in order to be somewhat "normal" again. By acknowledging that I suffered from agoraphobia, did I inadvertently convince myself that there was something wrong with me and something that justified my unnecessary fears? The other side of the coin is by not admitting I am dealing with a phobia, am I denying my full potential to overcome it entirely? This thought crossed my mind a few months back, and since then, I have labeled myself an agoraphobe. Today, I've decided, I am no longer suffering from such an ailment if I chose not to, so why bother putting the label on myself? I fight the symptoms of agoraphobia everyday and have been successful everytime, and in fact lived my life anxiety-free for quite some time. I am not an agoraphobe because I DO leave my comfort zone on a daily basis, I do fine when my "safe-person" leaves my zone, and I can handle the stress in my life through relaxation and meditation. The twinge of anxiety continues to linger, but I've also refused to allow that to take over my life: I am strong and persistent enough to overcome this. And that's exactly what I'm doing.

Anxiety is...

not knowing what's coming up the path ahead of you

not trusting life

not loving your home

not trusting your loved ones

not loving yourself

not feeling like you belong anywhere

not believing in yourself or that things will be ok

not seeing that there's a less than 1% chance of something horrific happening to you

not believing you can get through the horrific if it ever does happen

not slowing down

not saying no when you NEED to

not trusting in your own ability

not trusting your lifemate

not seeing beyond the fog

not in charge of me

not going to take over my life

not going to win

not a guest in my home...

Before and with God, but without God

"My Lord, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so." - Thomas Merton

I read this today in "The Mermaid Chair" and I found it so profound and comparable to what I'm experiencing. This morning, the anxiety tried to place it's stamp on the day, making its presence known every waking minute. In the past 4 months, I've learned that I have these "muscles" of thought in my mind and for most my life, I've been flexing them in the direction of surrendering to panic and negativity. Since the beginning of my recovery, I've been learning how to retrain these "muscles" to flex off the negative thoughts and feelings and literally swipe it away like the droplets of dew from the fog to a window.

The beginnings of the day are usually greeted with "what if?" and "I hope." These phrases don't help anything, but in fact are my muscles flexing into a negative, anxious state of mind. So today, I'm going to start off with the following affirmations:

"I CAN handle my anxious state of being today."

"This TOO will pass."

"Progress not perfection."

"Anxiety is grounded in emotions, not reality. Remember this when thinking with your heart."

"I am not in a dangerous place with dangerous people. I am safe and am capable of handling myself."

Perhaps much of what fuels anxiety is acknowledging it's even there in the first place! Sometimes my symptoms would get worse when I'd share with others how anxious I was feeling; maybe because I was telling myself I'm anxious and that I'm not stable and am unpredictable. Hmmm....food for thought, today.

Who told you you were allowed to Rain on my Parade?

Today, I left a window open and Anxiety started seeping through. I've often thought that everything I went through, not being able to leave the house and my marriage almost falling apart, was the Universe's way of telling me to slow down. So of course, I do slow down (mainly because I have NO CHOICE!), but as soon as I start to feel better, I go right back to the same bad habit of trying to save the damn world.

The stress of trying to juggle the numerous projects I've signed myself up for have culminated in a Level 6 Anxiety Alarm of which too a LOT of breathing and relaxation to wind down from. The negative self-talk becomes very strong when that happens; I start telling myself I'm going to be this way forever, and I start imagining myself losing it, ending up in a hospital, the WHOLE nine yards. All the while I kept wondering, "why is this happening again?" I took a moment, and thought hard:

family

school

newsletter (work)

website (work)

area guide (work)

history walk

community garden

book

column

car issues

finding a new house

keeping my marriage together

counseling

...Hah, I've got a case of the "can't say no's." Hah....so, obviously there are some things that just CAN'T be disposed of. Well, the book is practically done, so I can cross that off the list. Counseling is a must and really should fall into the personal health category...and it's really the only thing on that list that is me taking care of me. Finding a new house is ALWAYS stressful, but honestly if my landlord told us that they weren't going to sell the house, I'd still be looking for a new house (or would I?). Community Garden....ha! It would fall onto my shoulders and I'm not prepared for that, and I don't think I ever will be. School is a must, on so many levels, but am I putting to much of a workload on myself? I won't know until I'm there, now will I? Family is constant, and will never change; so long as I maintain our rituals, I can remain close with them; and marriage is obvious. Work is a WHOLE other story...I really wish I wasn't the only one who knew how to email things or maintain the online Calendar or other tasks that are becoming too daunting and overwhelming. That won't happen unless a new, computer-oriented person is hired.

No wonder I have such anxiety. I measure my self-worth based on how many projects I can have going at the same time; the more I had, the more respect and attention I feel I deserve. I'm beginning to see how fallible this concept is and what it is doing to me, inside and out. I have this need to "save the world" but never think once that I CAN save the world by giving myself and my family the attention and energy that I waste on these other projects. It's self-serving and self-gratifying to successfully pull off projects; I have the biggest project of them all, and they're waiting for me to read them their stories in their beds.

"I recommend sticking your foot in your mouth...

....at any tiyeeiyyeeeiiimmmeee!!!! Oooooh Feel Free!" - Alanis Morrisette

Yesterday, come and gone, but still lingers in the air like the smoke from a cigarette. I had an incredibly challenging day yesterday, and sorta felt defeated and released at the same time. My ambitions to try and save this town continue to get stepped on, but I'm like a Bozo Clown; I bounce back harder with each punch to the face.

Community Garden:

To get a community garden together would require at LEAST Four dedicated people to help ORGANIZE it. This is beyond the grunt work of plowing the land, creating planter boxes and whatnot. THis is sitting down, agreeing to terms amongst the organizers and then putting it to action. The likelihood of this happening? Actually more likely than you'd think. It's just a matter of getting people together. But part of me is feeling like "oh shit, you're doing it again." Piling my stuff up TOO high again. Is the group going to rely on ME strictly because I'm the one that got us together? Oye. What to do?!?!?!?

Then there's school. I'm actually feeling excited about going back. I'm getting much better about going to Santa Rosa lately and am starting to feel like my usual, strong and independent self again. It helps tremendously that Jesse is going back to school, so I definitely feel secure. A little nervous about my new classes, but I've kept two old teachers who are familiar with me and my whole situation. I'm looking forward to getting back in the darkroom and making more art! I'm also looking forward to dancing with my girl Tia in HipHop2. I'm looking forward to having something to read, not that I don't read. Actually just started "The Mermaid Chair" and am liking it.

Jesse joined the wrestling team and it already having a blast! I'm so happy that he'd finally zoned in on something that brings him a sense of self-worth and belonging. I love that it fits really well into our schedules, so there' really no sacrificing on anybody's part. And the best part is when we're at school, I have a whole 2 hours to kill before he's out and we can go home. I'm actually pretty excited about that, too, 'cause what better way to knock out homework than to be stuck at school for two hours? I'm also happy about it because it gives me time to go job on the track, which I've been missing. I can even take a shower on campus! Wow, I'm more excited about it than I realized.

SO today there's no definite plans, except for a Historical Society meeting (which I LOVE!). I get to present a brochure I made and get some input. I'm feeling like things are rolling, I just need to learn how to balance on the ball while juggling. Nonetheless, accomplishment is inevitable.

Are these tears of morning?...

...or mourning?

Awakening this morning to a phone call bidding my presence at Funky Monkey in Santa Rosa, where children run like wild animals and parents (already in a heightened state of anxiety) maintain their sanity. The automatic response continues to be from the voice of my agoraphobia telling me I won't be able to maintain my sanity; I will lose it. "What if?" this and "what if?" that. Using my workbook, I have decided to counteract these statements; these useless, terribly untrue statements.

When a situation begins to present itself, I immediately think of how my anxiety can fit into the picture. However, what I notice is I don't give chance to the positive aspect of the opportunity and rather look at it as another instance where I'll be anxious and I will become exhausted from keeping myself in check. And because it exhausts me so, I become unwilling to try and instead find ways to make the situation not happen, creating avoidance. At what point is it avoidance?

Funky Monkey isn't going to happen today because my friend no longer wishes to go. I feel relieved, and yet guilty for feeling relieved because now I'm not going to be putting myself in an uncomfortable situation. Am I avoiding it? Or am I scrutinizing everything? I think the latter.

I read and have been told once a while ago that knowing TOO much about the issues in your head can be MORE detrimental than good, because then you can no longer behave normally; you'll always be second-guessing every decision or action you make. So I try to look back on how I've behaved before this breakdown: if I didn't want to go to Santa Rosa, I didn't go: end of story. If plans with a friend didn't work out, I sometimes felt relief: it's perfectly normal. I also felt anxious about going places but still went and got through it and never scrutinized so much over the little details of everything. It's so unnecessary.

So I'm going to figure out SOMETHING for today, whether that's staying and cleaning the house or going out for a walk with a monster or two or visiting a friend. I don't HAVE to have a plan for the day to feel like it's not time or practice being wasted. There's SO much to look forward to, so I'll concentrate on that instead.

I sure would hate to go to hell...

"...for thinkin' that I was right" - Spencer Bell.

Tonight seemed to be a rather "GODLY" evening. Feeling rather literate I picked up my "Mysteries of the World" book and got some good ancient Christian/Druid artifact and legend knowledge under my belt and was inspired enough to pick up the Annoted Bible Jesse got for his History of God class. Because I felt inspired enough to pick up the Bible for umpteenth time to attempt to read what the hype was all about I genuinely thought I would come across something wise or at least equally inspiring. Oh my, we are a creature asking for trouble, laid out in the fucking Bible! If I had not known what the Bible was and instead picked it up as though I wanted to read a piece of fiction, I probably would have been quite satisfied with the bizarre and unrealistically ridiculous depictions of human and worldly development. So, needless to say, I made it to the 3 verse of Genesis before deciding my brain cells were far too valuable for me to waste on this overbearing, man-glorifying testimony of the lowdown in back in the day. Jesus, save me from your father's book! And I'm sure in time I will be able to sit down and stomach the rest of the 3000 verses, however for tonight, I felt it was much better use to converse with the niece-creature about drugs and God and listen to some of my favorite underground music instead.

Today was probably longer than it was supposed to be, I felt. I had set out to do a few chores in town and it ended taking me twice to time to do half what I was supposed to, leaving me feeling like I'm accomplished SHIT! But I have; my pages are proofread and done and now waiting to be mailed tomorrow, once I finish a few minor details. But that's just it! The details! They're fucking crazy!

So I'm kinda hoping some certain individuals never see that blog post I wrote few nights ago, basically venting about the garbage bullshit politics of Guerneville. However I'm completely unwilling to give up my freedom to speak my mind (and honestly, it's not like it's something people don't NEED to hear, it's just not politically correct for ME to say it), so I'm taking that risk of them seeing it. Oh well.

I am often thinking that this strange thing, the Higher Power, is a key to helping me overcome my anxiety. So much of my anxiety got triggered when I started realizing how little control I have over most EVERYTHING in my life. Well then, what IS in control of all that? There's got to be SOME force behind the wheel keeping things on the straight and narrow. Oh, that's where the "GOD" thing comes in. But I have such a problem with that word; it has such a stigma in my life's history and I'm very uncomfortable using that word to describe something I feel doesn't deserve the stigma. Being of (supposed) Cherokee descent, I looked up the Cherokee word for "God" and found "U-nay Klah nah hey" (Creator of All Things). So "U-nay" is my little name for my Higher Power, for the moment. I identify much closer to the Native perspective on life, creation and the Universe than I do the Christian one.

So maybe if there is a hell, I'm probably gonna be there...only if I believe it to be true.

So tonight I'll leave you with some musicians I listened to tonight....I feel they're share-worthy.

Spencer Bell

MountainDawg

Cookie Bumstead & The Lonesome Space Cadets (my nephew's band)

Talk is Cheap...

...and that's exactly what I can afford.

In fact, talk can be pretty pricey. Just look at your cable and Internet bills: talk ain't cheap and it isn't getting any cheaper.

This picture is a painting I painted last Spring. It was inspired by the Hindu Goddess Kali. I am most proud of her because I felt she reflected the Kali inside me; the very energy waiting to burst out from within.

Deeper thought into the subjects of my mind as of late have revealed to me that it is not a love I possess towards Guerneville, but rather a love affair. Love is unconditional, unwaivering and unbroken. A love affair is raw, passionate, volatile and easily collapsable. And just like in any other relationship, you'll find yourself drifting together and apart throughout your time together. My conclusion of the moment is even if we were to move away, the deep scar of the this intrigued love affair will surely tear parts of my heart this way and that, making it near impossible to feel such a love again.

A sort of rekindling occurred today, making me realize that so long as a select group of individuals never A. Move and B. Die, Guerneville can be tolerable. I'm three days away from sending off the proof pages for the my first published book; a Historical photo book that I and my coauthor spent 6 months working on. It has been months since we've sat at his kitchen table, throwing jokes and insults at one another, all the while learning more history about the Town who's love affair we both share. If there is something I can't get enough of, it's long, stringing conversations about everything under the Sun with somebody who is capable of keeping up with me. So how can I leave?

For the first time in MONTHS, while sitting at that round, wooden table, covered with a lemon table cloth, I had ZERO anxiety. I mean Z-E-R-O. Not once did I even rouse myself like I so often do (just to "test" the waters and see just how strongly I can counteract it). I was focused on the book, focused on photos and on conversation. Nothing from the outside world intruded my headspace; the many thousands of worries I cope with every day were stopped dead in their tracks the moment they hit the door. If I were to pinpoint a drug, it would be communication. THAT is truly MY drug, and when I go without, I am truly ruthless at getting it.

I'm enjoying where my life is going right now. I no longer feel as though we're stuck in limbo, dangling in a net a thousand feet above the ground. Although nothing has come to a true fruition, I feel it coming; the urge to relax and trust in the Universe draped over me today and I was showered with gifts. My family, my friends, myself and a sense of peace.

I've also noticed a change in Jesse: he's happy, he's supportive, he's fun to be around. He's supported me so much through this anxiety crap, and even today, knowing full well I was anxious about him leaving to Santa Rosa, did without my request a courtesy that I needed him to do. I need to remember to give him more credit for this, to help encourage this positive behavior.

To Missoula or No?

A lightbulb went off in me yesterday as I was wandering through some blogs I follow. Could Missoula, Montana be THE place to raise our family? The very idea of moving out of California many states away in a whole new world (and with family, no less) is quite frightening (and yet, oh-so exciting, too!). However, my husband doesn't share in that excitement and would rather meet each positive remark about the place with various reasons why it's a bad idea. And yet, remarkably, I don't feel discouraged in the LEAST bit. It's not like we were going to move there tomorrow. I'm talking at LEAST 1 1/2 years.

I've often pondered the effectiveness of staying in an armpit like Guerneville, Ca. I love this town, don't get me wrong (and I can see how misleading the "armpit" comment can be) but how much time must pass before we realize that the many families that supported the town are now GONE? Guerneville does NOT have any sort of self-sustaining qualities, with the exception of a few wealthy families who've basically made it homebase. The quality of life isn't enhance with amenities for families: this is my ONLY argument against the influx of the gay population in the 1980s. Aside from the lack of "family-friendliness," I've no other problems. And to tell you the truth, the "family" situation was no better before them, either. The hopping-time was in the 1920s, a time when America's values were structure SO much differently than they are today. The dollar had FAR less weight in decisions and service was the at the forefront of the operations of the day. Today you see money all over the place: "Sale; Business for Sale; Locals Specials; Extended Hours!"...to me, this all rings in a bunch of bullshit. The businesses are starving for money and yet are constantly shooting themselves in the foot by arrogantly selling shit that NOBODY needs, stubbornly keeping their prices high and exhibiting an unwillingness to be a community by criticizing those who DO get off their asses for their community. The number-crunching mentality has taken its toll on the families of the community....and I am exhausted. The sad part? There ARE business owners who pride themselves in being a part of a community, and they are! But the clock wont work unless ALL the clogs are moving together...so we keep skipping the beat.

I gave up a couple years ago when I had to close the Guerneville Farmer's Market. I took it SO personally: it was my failure, for many reasons and most of the fault lied within me. I relied on my community for its success and it flopped. Another failure for me was the Friends of the Russian River Skatepark. I truly expected to at LEAST have established a seasonal, temporary skatepark for the skaters of this town....the culprit? A community that was (and still is) unwilling to invest time, energy and money into its youth. So why-the-fuck bother?

The thought of relocating crossed my mind when two dear friends of mine were complimenting me of their gifts for Christmas. His words, "Get out of Dodge!" still resonate in my head. "Why would I do that? This is my home! This is where I want to be!" Well, shit. Is it?

So do I join the ranks of families that have left the area for better, more wholesome opportunities for my children? Or do I endure through the garbage and subject my family to a mediocre lifestyle which we're forced to settle for? Fortunately, this decision doesn't have to be made today, or even tomorrow. It's still going to depress the FUCK out of me.

Guerneville is my home. It's a mangey, little outback, corner-of-the-Universe, kind of town that's slowly (but surely) becoming engulfed by the cancerous "wine industry." Which, let me just say, is FUCKING RETARDED because that would mean MORE deforestation of what is left of the world's original redwood forest. All for what? Money? and Nasty-tasting wine? Fuck off! This shit tastes like fishshit water with a hint of grape juice. I just don't get it!

ON another note:

How's a little indecision to stir up the anxiety pot? Today, I took the girl and ratdog to Santa Rosa. Did you catch that? I went to Santa Rosa!!! Woot! That's awesome for me! We went into K-Mart to exchange some clothes for her that were too small and walked out with new slippers and valentines stuffies. A day well spent. :-)

Well, not much today on anxiety, but the Missoula thing is still very important for me to mull over on some sleep. If by Friday I'm still feeling this way, I'll look deeper into the politics of the town, maybe even give the Chamber of Commerce a jingle. But for now, I'm here in my little River town that I love and love to hate.

Good night, y'all.

Oh and one more thing...

....can I just say that MISERABLE people are MISERABLE to be around and make absolutely NO sense to me whatsoever???

That is all.

Happy "Holy-Shit-This-Treacherous-Year-Is-Over" Day!!!

1-1-11. Tehe, that's fun to type.

Had a good New Year's Eve, full of errands and helping sick people and trying to keep kids and adults from fighting. It was grand! But hey, got to play Wii bowling and watch "Despicable Me" for the 4th time in 24 hours. "Liiiiightbuuuuulb!"

SO let's get into it...When dealing with my anxiety, I usually associate the numbers 1-10 to determine how mildly or severely it's affecting me. So from this point on, I'll be describing my anxiety as a "Level 4" or a "Level 7" in order to help give a broader picture of that day's experience.

For a good chunk of yesterday, I was at a Level 3, which usually requires some deep breathing and a couple repetitions of a positive affirmation, but I had a couple really good distractions to keep me pretty level. The peak of my issue came after Midnight rang and my husband had to drive our friends home 5 miles away. For obvious reasons, I was quite anxious and stayed awake long enough for him to pull back into our driveway, safe and sound. Much of my anxiety is triggered when he leaves, however, being a symptom of agoraphobia, I am encouraged to practice this exercise often to where I am quite comfortable and secure when he isn't home.

Funny, never thought of it before: when he was drinking, he was unpredictable and unreliable. I awoke many nights to him either being gone or yelling for our dog at 3am, drunk off his ass. Ever since I've been back home with him, I haven't been able to fall asleep until he is inside the house. Strange how trauma conditions our brains...

One thing I've noticed is the lower my anxiety level, the less determined I am to actively recover. I think of this as being similar to taking anti-biotics: you'll start to feel better after a couple days and will then want to stop your course of treatment, however by doing so, you may be creating a much larger problem for yourself in the future. Wow, I just came up with that! What a great image, so I'll keep this image in mind when I'm starting to feel like everything is fine and back to normal. The key, however, is to not facilitate more anxiety strictly because everything is fine (hey Moms, does THAT sound familiar?).

Before I began my journey to recovery three months ago, these bouts of panic would overwhelm me and I'd wait anxiously for the sensations to pass and then move on with my life. However with this phase of anxiety in my life, that "finalizing moment" has yet to happen; rather, the anxiety has persisted, day after day, with small "eyes" of relief. Needless to say, it wasn't hard for me to start feeling hopeless and like a victim in all this. The question "Am I going to be like this forever?" circled in my head, like a vulture waiting for me. Then came the torture of looking back to prior days and feeling like what I was once able to do no longer comes to me with the same level of ease (such as going to the store or stepping outside my house) created a lot of stagnant energy. Hopelessness coupled with self-doubt is all you need to really lose your mind.

In Dr. Bourne's book, he describes the specific personality traits that create the perfect environment for anxiety to move right in. Of these, the most persistent that have been my biggest challenge are the "Perfectionist" and the "Critic." These two bitches insist that you're never good enough and WILL never succeed, no matter how hard you work, thus creating the perfect soil and bed conditions for the seeds of anxiety to grow. Statements like "you should" or "that was stupid" are sharp words when dealing with anxiety. Their other two sisters, "Worry" and "The Victim" chime in their two cents as well with their "what if's?" and "I'll never get better." So what's the solution? Believe in yourself and find the courage to change.

Change doesn't come naturally to humans, I think. We're conditioned to stay in our "conditioned state" by the electronic goings-on in our brains. When we start to build newer, more efficient pathways in our heads, our brains see this as a threat and go into overdrive to ensure these pathways fail. It is in this theory of mine that I believe I'm having the persistent anxiety. Also, it's not easy learning how to believe in yourself when you've spent so much time criticizing yourself. The process of dismantling self-criticizm and negative-self-talk is similar to learning how to grow new arms. But if I had lost my arms or had messed up arms and yet possessed the capability to grow new ones, you bet your ass I'd do it.

So in light of the New Year and the human tradition of "resolutions" I'll be following a path in which I'll learn how to love and accept myself for who I am, what I am capable of doing and that I can make mistakes just as gloriously as anybody else. I will turn my "What If's?" into "I can"; I will take my bad thoughts and transform them into positive realities for myself; I will empower my victim to learn that the world is NOT out to get her; I was will show my Perfectionist that sometimes it's the mistakes that enhance our lives. I am the phoenix and I am rising.