Mourning

I am filled right now with rage and sadness, because today we learned that the awesome and most beloved Macho Man Randy Savage was killed this morning in a car accident. For Jesse, the loss is extravagant; his childhood hero taken by some cosmic force that felt it necessary that the world no longer needs folk of his kind. For me, I sit here mourning my husband who mourns his hero, because for the first time in WEEKS he woke with a smile and was happy. For the first time in weeks, his life didn't seem like a dead end, a constant cycle of monotonous everyday routine mixed with issues of being sober and deep, dark thoughts. No, today was supposed to be different. We were getting back on track...and then this.

I felt uneasy this morning, for no apparent reason. I felt like there was something looming, but rarely do I actually associate it with some catastrophe in the making. No, I generally assume it's just that part of my brain that's learned to work in overdrive, so I go through the motions of calming myself down. I got up and made some breakfast after a little snuggling with my happy husband. I sat at the table with Jadzy and ate breakfast while reading the slew of updated statuses on Facebook...and there it was. An old friend, living in Florida, posted: "RIP Randy savage." Holy. Shit. What? At first I thought she must have a friend named Randy Savage, 'cause there's no way Macho Man is dead. I did what any panicked, computer nerd would do in a situation of uncertainty: I turned to Google. Googled "Macho Man" and came up with a Wikipedia that had beginning and end years and for some reason it registered in my brain that he had died a while ago. After about two minutes of that, I realized just how WRONG I was, 'cause I remember reading an article about him and his new wife about a year ago. HOLY. SHIT! Back to google I go with the refined "Randy Savage" and there it was. DIED. May 20th, 2011. From a car accident. Holy FUCK!

"What the fuck do I do now?!" is what instantly went through my mind. Selfishly, I didn't want to tell Jesse...I wanted to keep this happy husband HAPPY, and I wanted to keep with the warm fuzzy feelings...and I knew that one word of this wouldn't make any of that possible. WHY? Jesus, God, whoeverthefuckyouare, why?!

I'm furious, to the point of tears. I hold my sobbing husband in my arms and all I can do is sob too, for HIM; mourning HIM because the happy, healthy, warm and fuzzy HIM is now GONE thanks to some great divine design to "off" his childhood hero. We are WELL beyond the point of "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" because we have been dealing, coping and living with a constant barrage of disasters, one after another. Don't we deserve a FULL 24 HOURS to be happy?! Just 24 hours of him smiling and me not feeling like I'm going to go insane...is that REALLY so much to ask for? Well, apparently so.

And now, across the world, the generations of Wrestling fans are in mourning, and my husband, my mother-in-law and my son are part of them. The World of Wrestling and Entertainment lost a pinnacle character today, and I hope like hell the McMahon family doesn't tarnish him like they did with Chris Benoit (another devastating loss to the Wrestling World and Jesse). I hope Macho Man's family can sustain this loss just as I hope MINE can, because this is certainly the last thing we ever needed.

Mama

Just wanted to record for today some of the precious discoveries I found last night in my retrieved files.

I love this photo of me and Jadzy; one of the few things I miss dearly about having babies is nursing. She spent 20 months of her life in this position (this was taken not too long before I finally weaned her).

I love this one of that little monster boy of mine. Taken on the ped. bridge. I love how the winter light lit up his little white face.

Little monkeys. Atreyu as a baby monkey.

Jadzy in the swing.

Precious moments in time that I'll never get back, and if it weren't for pictures, I'd have lost them entirely.

Perseverance

Is it weird that I enjoy reading my past blogs?

I woke this am, before anybody else, because my dreams were once again attacking my comfortable state of sleepiness. Right off the bat, like clockwork, the anxiety switch went on. I handled it well, though; just did my breathing and ended up falling back asleep; empty sleep, exactly what I needed.

I read through my blog posts to help give me insight; I forget that I've felt good or that I've felt worse. Realizing this helps me understand that I'm still normal and can function like anybody else, were it not for my ability to tune in to EVERYTHING around me. Maybe that's contributing to the feelings of being overstimulated and overwhelmed?

Yesterday was Jadziah's preschool graduation. She was SO adorable! Perfect little 4-year-old rambling around with her friends, getting her little certificate, showing her big brother around her classroom. It was a proud day yesterday! And yet, Mommy was having her same ol' issues. I did a meditation a couple hours before we left and during it, something occurred to me: DON'T make today about ME! Today is about Jadziah. -- What a concept!

It was such a beautiful day, and sitting on my deck, soaking up the sun, meditating my anxious feelings away, I felt refreshed. I have this desire now to practice meditation daily, to practice yoga and pilates, and do activities that slow my brain down. I find that the worst of anxiety occurs when I'm overstimulated and my brain is in the fast lane. But when I'm physically moving or stretching, it takes me down a few levels to something maintainable. I guess that's why I keep showing up to dance class.

Upon our return home from the party, I felt accomplished and that I can make it through my finals. I've been creating positive scenarios in my head surrounding finals week because I'm going to have to take a BIG leap that week. Twice I'm going to need to drive into Santa Rosa, alone. There's no need for Jesse to come with me, however he can if I need him to. But see the problem, there? Is it too much to ask him to continue being my crutch against anxiety? One year ago, I would have NO problem going into Santa Rosa by myself; I didn't even think twice about it, in fact I did it all. the. time. So what happened?

During the big blowout, I drove back and forth between Guerneville and Santa Rosa more times than I could count. Even though during the drive I felt no anxiety, I believe in there, something was planted, something that I'm still having a hard time understanding. About a week after the kids and I returned home, Jesse and I got into it again, on a school day, and I took off with Jadziah to head to school. I got halfway into Pocket Canyon when all of a sudden I felt like I just couldn't leave Guerneville; I couldn't keep going, 'cause it didn't feel safe leaving. This, I believe was the start of my plight with traveling and being in Santa Rosa.

Even now, however, in light of everything we've accomplished as a couple, a family and individually, those feelings of fear continue. It's a very discouraging feeling when it's been months and it's still there. However, it's not to say that I have not gotten better and am closer to being secure again in my travels. So I've been trying to apply the guided relaxation and meditation to these fears of traveling alone. Yesterday, I had the confidence in myself that I could do it. This morning, just the thought of it sent my insides tumbling and churning. This is an unavoidable event that must happen; I can't NOT show up to finals, but I also cannot drag my poor family along just to accompany Mommy so she doesn't freak out.

This whole thing just isn't fair to anybody. It's not fair to the kids, not fair to Jess, certainly isn't fair to me. And because of this fact, I feel an unsurmountable amount of pressure to get better, and get better quick. Instead, I need to remember to continue persevering, because if I give up, I'm giving up on my family as well.

Wasted

If there were ever a thing that I get belligerent on, it's my emotions. My raw, irrational, uncompromising emotions. So much of my life and energy is wasted on this substance; My emotions tear apart my foundations of sanity, they rip my family away from me, they make the ground disappear, they put out the light. And yet, I reach for the bottle every. single. time.

Friday was a big day for me. The first book signing: a phenomenal event. And what did I do? First thing in the morning, I reached for my bottle of "Get Anxious to the Point of Insanity" and took a BIG swig. It hit my head so fast, it took my heart a few beats to catch up, then it was up-and-at-'em with the adrenaline rush. What was I afraid of? I was afraid of the crowd, the faces looking at me, how I was going to feel, what I was going to say, if Jesse was going to have an emotional breakdown. Holy bejeebuz! The list was ongoing. Did any of my fears come to fruition? None but one came to be, and even then, it was a delayed response. Fortunately, I was wise enough to know that I might be having a bit of an issue with such a large, stressful event: I schedule my therapy session the morning of. GENIUS!!! My therapist saw how tense and scared I was and had me close my eyes and walked me through the evening to come, in what's known as "guided relaxation". I haven't felt that relaxed in MONTHS! It was gone! Holy smokes! I'm not dysfunctional! The crappy feelings of fear and hopelessness and wants of ending it all went away! And STAYED away!

Three things I learned that day that I keep in my head to throw in the face of anxiety:

1. It's JUST a Thought. Thoughts are irrational and impulsive and they are designed to come and go. That's WHY we can meditate, that's WHY not all of us are psychopaths (they're the ones who LISTEN to every. single. thought.). So I envisioned my thoughts coming up like clouds, or even storms when they're the nasty ones; but in the end, every cloud goes away, carried by the wind, and just as every thought does, too.

2. A Mental Hospital would turn me away. This has been a big one for me. I've had this terror of ending up in a mental hospital from all this anxiety. It took voicing this to her to finally get that I'd have to be running down Main Street naked, batshit crazy for them to even consider MAYBE I might need to be placed on a waiting list for some outpatient therapy...NEVER ending up in a mental hospital. And in fact, as she puts it, every person she's ever heard express that fear has NEVER ended up in one; it's the ones who don't know they need to be there that end up there (most times, at least).

3. Stress is the #1 Cause of ALL. THIS. SHIT. I'm sitting in my chair, tears rolling down my cheeks, and I'm expressing to her that I'm scared I'll be this way forever. She then instructs me to tell her what I do in one week. So I did, and here it is:

-Work x2 week with a MOUNTAIN of responsibilities (I've come to realize that this is the 5th Child)

-Home, continuously; ongoing marital problems + child rearing issues + animals and house responsibilities + bills = #1 Stressor

-School x2 week, consisting of 10.5 units (which I one handled like nothing before), which recently includes having to orchestrate a 1.5 minute dance, lead a group that is presenting a chapter to a class, finish a photographic project that I feel ZERO passion for, not to mention the financial burden that is still required in needing to buy mats for my final portfolio and more photo paper, and then a final paper on California Government for the elusive online class.

After reciting these lists to her, and by the look on her face, we determined together that my anxiety levels peak when I'm pushed against a wall with responsibilities.

Now, this got me to thinkin'. While the blow-out between Jess and I was paramount to the development of the extreme anxiety, I am now starting to see how the signs were present in the twilight of the event. I recall being anxious about going to SF for a festival, two weeks before, then feeling the pressure about the book deadline, three weeks before; the feelings of dread and hopelessness because I had recently come to the conclusion that ASL Interpreter was not for me, therefore leaving me with no career direction; also not to mention it was the first time we were enrolled in Summer School (BAD idea!); Jess and I were constantly fighting about his alcohol consumption and my constantly having projects. It's no wonder it didn't happen any sooner; I REALLY wasn't taking care of myself, which translated to I wasn't taking care of my family. Work was suffering, school was suffering, my homelife was suffering...I was wasting away by being wasted on my addictions: keeping busy to avoid thinking about everything that I'm faced with now.

Well now I'm paying the price, and I have to remember this. I. am. paying. the. price. Tonight, Jess and I sat down to figure out what our class schedules are for finals week. And, not to my surprise but DEFINITELY to my objection, our finals are on different days, which translates to us traveling to SR at different times, which automatically figured in my head as a recipe for disaster. I've convinced myself along the way that I'm too unstable and unready to drive myself to Santa Rosa, without anybody. Although I have done this before, it was a few months ago and I was REELING from anxiety even after it was done and over with. YIKES! The point is, thought, my immediate reaction was, "I can't do it. It's too hard for me to do. I'll have anxiety. I won't make it. I'll freak out in the car. I'll freak out at school. I'll crash the car from freaking out. I'll be too scared to move. I'm not safe if I'm alone." Soooo....see how damaging believing in irrational thoughts can be? At this moment, I'm feeling a pretty good amount of anxiety, not only over this, but now the anticipation of the weeks to come leading up to the event. Oh boy...I don't even give myself a chance to get it right!

There's this part of me that's strong, though, and it's reaching to everything that I know and everything that I've learned while recovering from this garbage. This part of me wants to sit down, meditate, guide myself through the experience, learn to live with the anxiety, be one with it and let it GO! I can hang on for another year. I can hang on for five years! As long as there's an end in sight, I can do this for as long as I need to, as long as I get out of it as ME, in this life. This obsessive behavior doesn't help anything; if it's all I ever think about, then no wonder it's all I ever feel. I sometimes wish there were something physically wrong with me, so that I had something solid to blame: but I don't, 'cause there IS no cause to it. It's. in. my. head. Always has been, always will be. Just got to remember to breath, recognize that they're just thoughts (and everybody has them), let them go and MOVE ON.