Got to Find the Brightness in the Soul
I have never stopped.
Writing,that is.
I just can't seem to finish a blog for the life of me. I am not sure what that is about. I literally find myself shutting down before I can hit the post button. I should note that I am writing this as an introduction,only after I finished this past blog.
My aunt Jan, is rapidly getting sicker by the day. So often, after I leave from visiting with her I want to run back and tell her everything that someone should know what to say when you know they are dying. But, each time I go in to her room and sit for awhile, we make small talk. Usually, about horses and dogs. I try and bring her things that she can still eat. That has been narrowed down to mostly liquids and puddings. I noticed the box of fudge I brought back from my weekend in Rehoboth Beach, was empty on my uncle's bed. It broke my heart because the one thing Jannie loves most in this world is chocolate. If she can't get fudge down, I know it has gotten far worse than I have wanted to see.
"You seem to have a more positive attitude."
This statement came from my recent monthly visit with the psychiatrist that I finally broke down and started seeing this past spring. I had to concede with my friend Dr. Joe and my counselors at the Domestic Violence Center, that my regular physician was in no position to write out proper meds to get me through the testifying at the last court hearing. It is with her help, I am finally weaned off all tranquilizers and have drastically cut back to the lowest dose of Prozac. I decided to stay on that small dose because my migraines have seem to have all but stopped except for the occasional Monday hangovers from too much wine and junk food over the weekends.
A better outlook? It's funny to me, because I read back from years of writing and didn't realize how I had lost that for the past year. I talked it, but it now seems obvious to me,that I was just repeating the mantra that was my survival all these years.
"I am sleeping a lot more."
I was actually waiting for the psychiatrist to tell me I am severely depressed and must have more meds immediately. When she asked my why sleeping more concerned me? I just stared down at my feet for what seemed like an eternity. Probably, it was two minutes max.
"I sleep when he is with me," I finally whispered.
"He" is who I am currently dating. It seems like such a strange thing, but I swear the man is Xanax. I have begun to refer to him as "Xanax Man"
One minute we are cuddled on the sofa, and next thing I know, I am waking up two hours later, still wrapped around him, like a vine on a tree. I don't know what shocks me more? The fact that after four years of having severe insomnia that I am finally sleeping, or the fact that I am not only sleeping, but with a man? With a man who doesn't seem to mind that I am dead weight once I reach REM. Who doesn't take it personally, that I fall asleep on him.
Maybe, this is what people refer to, when they say they want meet the man of their dreams. My dream was to sleep and actually feel safe enough not to wake every twenty minutes in a panic attack. Actually, my dream was to feel safe enough in a waking state, to not have a panic attack, every twenty minutes. Meeting a man was never in that equation. The thought of dating would give me a panic attack.
For now, I have the luxury of walking my dog in my neighborhood, of driving my car without constantly checking the rear view mirror,of taking care of the horses and knowing they are safe, while Jan is slowly slipping away.
I had a brief set-back a couple weeks ago. Prick tried to get work release. I was reminded that what I am feeling may be temporary. Freedom. I only have it until the spring. I came close to writing a "Dear, Xanax Man" letter. I think the one difference this time around is knowing Prick will be forced to finish out the remaining four years in a State prison if he contacts me while on probation. I just pray he only makes contact from afar before he gets his ass back in jail. My feeling of safety is not being taken for granted.My sense of responsibility for someone else's saftey is taken even more seriously. I know the moment he gets out it will be a matter of when and how.There is not one bit of doubt he will not come looking for me.
It was while I was trying to write a break-up letter that I got a call from Xanax Man. The absolute meltdown I was having disappeared the moment I heard his voice. I hung up the phone and deleted the letter. I called Prick's probation officer and made sure he was not eligible for work release. I knew his excuse of back child-support would only give him access to me. He obviously never paid it while we were together. I looked at the bottle of Ativan beside the phone as I dialed adult probation. I tossed it in to my hand bag without taking any. I kept the mantra, "I can do this" going through my head. I think I meant more about not breaking off with someone, more than making what felt like a millionth phone call whose number I knew by heart. After the phone call, I went to Xanax Man's house for dinner and promptly fell asleep on him, afterwards. When I was driving home after leaving his house, I had to pull over to cry. I was so grateful that I didn't hit that send button.
I am a true believer that everything comes to us when our Higher Selves demands it.
The pessimistic person would say,"shit! You have an ex-boyfriend who assaulted you, stalked you for years and dragged you in to court,time after time. Your family is an absolute mess, with half of you barely speaking to each other, and someone you love and represents the horses that you love, is dying. How the Hell can this be good timing?"
Because, without all that bad stuff, I would never know how precious what I am now experiencing is. Prick being in jail has left me free to make the few weeks left with Jan,possible. The fact that I am stressed to the max in losing her, yet able to do so without drugs, is a gift I now appreciate.
The fact I can go on a date at all is something I thought was impossible. To date someone who "gets" what I went through, yet, is sensitive enough to never make me talk about it, makes me appreciate the quietness he surrounds me in.
I believe God set it up for me to finally appreciate Xanax Man. I have actually known him for years. The truth is, I never really took notice of him, other than that he was handsome and seemed nice enough. I couldn't say I ever spoke to him, in any of our past encounters, through our mutual friends. He was just there, in the background, of my self induced chaotic life.
It was after I wrote the blog about my encounter with my Wall that I finally took a chance to allow someone in. That someone happened to be him. I just had no idea at the time what was coming.
What I once took for disinterest or too quiet, I now appreciate that it is an attribute to embrace. Trust me. I will never be quiet. The endless bouncing and non-stop chatter is who I am. But, with Xanax Man I finally felt that part of me that was patient enough to lie in the grass for the light to hit a certain way for me to finally get a photo I wanted. The person who could sit and watch and quietly observe life around me without thoughts of what is watching me? That person who loves to just sit and watch the light refract different ways off the water is still in there. Four years of constant fear has finally lifted enough for me to start living the life I had, only better.
Ah another blog that I have no idea why or what I write until years later. I can look back and gauge how far I have come forward or back. All I can say is that for now, I am really sleepy again. I am so happy for the gift of sleep without taking an actual Xanax. Happiness can have side effects, but so far they have been good ones.
http://www.blogger.com/www.lyricstime.com/world-party-all-come-true-lyrics.html
Someone was 'round here asking questions
About someone who looks like you
I said I don't know where you are
Sounded like he was gonna to be back someday
So I told him where you are
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
This has not been the first time
This will not be the last
He only knew slow moves in the past
I hope you are not too fast to last
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
Got to find the brightness in the soul
Not look outside to find out where we are
Oh, you won't be satisfied
Until you make possessions of the stars
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
Someone was 'round here asking questions
About someone who looks like you
I said I don't know where you are
He said that he was going to be back
I told him where you are
She's making it all work out this time
She's making it all work out this time
She's making it all come true this time
© WELK MUSIC GROUP LIMITED
Writing,that is.
I just can't seem to finish a blog for the life of me. I am not sure what that is about. I literally find myself shutting down before I can hit the post button. I should note that I am writing this as an introduction,only after I finished this past blog.
My aunt Jan, is rapidly getting sicker by the day. So often, after I leave from visiting with her I want to run back and tell her everything that someone should know what to say when you know they are dying. But, each time I go in to her room and sit for awhile, we make small talk. Usually, about horses and dogs. I try and bring her things that she can still eat. That has been narrowed down to mostly liquids and puddings. I noticed the box of fudge I brought back from my weekend in Rehoboth Beach, was empty on my uncle's bed. It broke my heart because the one thing Jannie loves most in this world is chocolate. If she can't get fudge down, I know it has gotten far worse than I have wanted to see.
"You seem to have a more positive attitude."
This statement came from my recent monthly visit with the psychiatrist that I finally broke down and started seeing this past spring. I had to concede with my friend Dr. Joe and my counselors at the Domestic Violence Center, that my regular physician was in no position to write out proper meds to get me through the testifying at the last court hearing. It is with her help, I am finally weaned off all tranquilizers and have drastically cut back to the lowest dose of Prozac. I decided to stay on that small dose because my migraines have seem to have all but stopped except for the occasional Monday hangovers from too much wine and junk food over the weekends.
A better outlook? It's funny to me, because I read back from years of writing and didn't realize how I had lost that for the past year. I talked it, but it now seems obvious to me,that I was just repeating the mantra that was my survival all these years.
"I am sleeping a lot more."
I was actually waiting for the psychiatrist to tell me I am severely depressed and must have more meds immediately. When she asked my why sleeping more concerned me? I just stared down at my feet for what seemed like an eternity. Probably, it was two minutes max.
"I sleep when he is with me," I finally whispered.
"He" is who I am currently dating. It seems like such a strange thing, but I swear the man is Xanax. I have begun to refer to him as "Xanax Man"
One minute we are cuddled on the sofa, and next thing I know, I am waking up two hours later, still wrapped around him, like a vine on a tree. I don't know what shocks me more? The fact that after four years of having severe insomnia that I am finally sleeping, or the fact that I am not only sleeping, but with a man? With a man who doesn't seem to mind that I am dead weight once I reach REM. Who doesn't take it personally, that I fall asleep on him.
Maybe, this is what people refer to, when they say they want meet the man of their dreams. My dream was to sleep and actually feel safe enough not to wake every twenty minutes in a panic attack. Actually, my dream was to feel safe enough in a waking state, to not have a panic attack, every twenty minutes. Meeting a man was never in that equation. The thought of dating would give me a panic attack.
For now, I have the luxury of walking my dog in my neighborhood, of driving my car without constantly checking the rear view mirror,of taking care of the horses and knowing they are safe, while Jan is slowly slipping away.
I had a brief set-back a couple weeks ago. Prick tried to get work release. I was reminded that what I am feeling may be temporary. Freedom. I only have it until the spring. I came close to writing a "Dear, Xanax Man" letter. I think the one difference this time around is knowing Prick will be forced to finish out the remaining four years in a State prison if he contacts me while on probation. I just pray he only makes contact from afar before he gets his ass back in jail. My feeling of safety is not being taken for granted.My sense of responsibility for someone else's saftey is taken even more seriously. I know the moment he gets out it will be a matter of when and how.There is not one bit of doubt he will not come looking for me.
It was while I was trying to write a break-up letter that I got a call from Xanax Man. The absolute meltdown I was having disappeared the moment I heard his voice. I hung up the phone and deleted the letter. I called Prick's probation officer and made sure he was not eligible for work release. I knew his excuse of back child-support would only give him access to me. He obviously never paid it while we were together. I looked at the bottle of Ativan beside the phone as I dialed adult probation. I tossed it in to my hand bag without taking any. I kept the mantra, "I can do this" going through my head. I think I meant more about not breaking off with someone, more than making what felt like a millionth phone call whose number I knew by heart. After the phone call, I went to Xanax Man's house for dinner and promptly fell asleep on him, afterwards. When I was driving home after leaving his house, I had to pull over to cry. I was so grateful that I didn't hit that send button.
I am a true believer that everything comes to us when our Higher Selves demands it.
The pessimistic person would say,"shit! You have an ex-boyfriend who assaulted you, stalked you for years and dragged you in to court,time after time. Your family is an absolute mess, with half of you barely speaking to each other, and someone you love and represents the horses that you love, is dying. How the Hell can this be good timing?"
Because, without all that bad stuff, I would never know how precious what I am now experiencing is. Prick being in jail has left me free to make the few weeks left with Jan,possible. The fact that I am stressed to the max in losing her, yet able to do so without drugs, is a gift I now appreciate.
The fact I can go on a date at all is something I thought was impossible. To date someone who "gets" what I went through, yet, is sensitive enough to never make me talk about it, makes me appreciate the quietness he surrounds me in.
I believe God set it up for me to finally appreciate Xanax Man. I have actually known him for years. The truth is, I never really took notice of him, other than that he was handsome and seemed nice enough. I couldn't say I ever spoke to him, in any of our past encounters, through our mutual friends. He was just there, in the background, of my self induced chaotic life.
It was after I wrote the blog about my encounter with my Wall that I finally took a chance to allow someone in. That someone happened to be him. I just had no idea at the time what was coming.
What I once took for disinterest or too quiet, I now appreciate that it is an attribute to embrace. Trust me. I will never be quiet. The endless bouncing and non-stop chatter is who I am. But, with Xanax Man I finally felt that part of me that was patient enough to lie in the grass for the light to hit a certain way for me to finally get a photo I wanted. The person who could sit and watch and quietly observe life around me without thoughts of what is watching me? That person who loves to just sit and watch the light refract different ways off the water is still in there. Four years of constant fear has finally lifted enough for me to start living the life I had, only better.
Ah another blog that I have no idea why or what I write until years later. I can look back and gauge how far I have come forward or back. All I can say is that for now, I am really sleepy again. I am so happy for the gift of sleep without taking an actual Xanax. Happiness can have side effects, but so far they have been good ones.
http://www.blogger.com/www.lyricstime.com/world-party-all-come-true-lyrics.html
Someone was 'round here asking questions
About someone who looks like you
I said I don't know where you are
Sounded like he was gonna to be back someday
So I told him where you are
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
This has not been the first time
This will not be the last
He only knew slow moves in the past
I hope you are not too fast to last
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
Got to find the brightness in the soul
Not look outside to find out where we are
Oh, you won't be satisfied
Until you make possessions of the stars
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
She's making it all come true this time
Someone was 'round here asking questions
About someone who looks like you
I said I don't know where you are
He said that he was going to be back
I told him where you are
She's making it all work out this time
She's making it all work out this time
She's making it all come true this time
© WELK MUSIC GROUP LIMITED
Comments