Anxiety

Sometimes when I'm happy is when I feel it the most. I've been on medication for a year and a half and it helps -- oh, does it. But there are times that my stomach churns and why? There is no real reason, or no real reason that should be a reason, or something like that. I worry that I'm addicted to anxiety in a sense -- otherwise, wouldn't it be easier to give up? Ironic that I'm worried about it ...

Random thought of the day

We can learn from fear or we can learn from wisdom. Who doesn't prefer the latter?

Today's writing

I think about help as I get into my aged, beloved Toyota. Help always felt like another country, too humid in climate, too touchy-feely in culture. Help required too many visas and vaccines. To go would mean never to be safe.

Turning the key brings forth the engine’s throaty cough. Toto is on the radio, singing about places a world away: I bless the rains down in Africa/Gonna take some time to do the things we never had. There is a slight rain and it mists my windshield, blurs my sight. It takes a minute to realize that it’s actually tears.

Things are so much easier as black and white. So much more palatable, easy to digest. Victims and villains, heroes and pirates. But no one fits those confines, do they? The world is a blur, one line after another getting crossed.

I shift into reverse and back down the driveway past my father’s fledgling grass and strangely alive flower bed. He was never able to bring anything to life in our family’s garden, but here he’s managed to give daisies an existence. He is not happy alone, but he is productive.

Silent All These Years

Excuse me but can I be you for a while
My dog won't bite if you sit real still
I got the anti-Christ in the kitchen yellin' at me again
Yeah I can hear that
Been saved again by the garbage truck
I got something to say you know
But nothing comes
Yes I know what you think of me
You never shut-up
Yeah I can hear that

But what if I'm a mermaid
In these jeans of his
With her name still on it
Hey but I don't care
Cause sometimes
I said sometimes
I hear my voice
And it's been here
Silent All These Years

So you found a girl
Who thinks really deep thougts
What's so amazing about really deep thoughts
Boy you best praya that I bleed real soon
How's that thought for you
My scream got lost in a paper cup
You think there's a heaven
Where some screams have gone
I got 25 bucks and a cracker
Do you think it's enough
To get us there

Cause what if I'm a mermaid
In these jeans of his
With her name still on it
Hey but I don't care
Cause sometimes
I said sometimes
I hear my voice
And it's been here
Silent All These...

Years go by
Will I still be waiting
For somebody else to understand
Years go by
If I'm stripped of my beauty
And the orange clouds
Raining in head
Years go by
Will I choke on my tears
Till finally there is nothing left
One more casualty
You know we're too easy Easy Easy

Well I love the way we communicate
Your eyes focus on my funny lip shape
Let's hear what you think of me now
But baby don't look up
The sky is falling
Your mother shows up in a nasty dress
It's your turn now to stand where I stand
Everybody lookin' at you here
Take hold of my hand
Yeah I can hear them

But what if I'm a mermaid
In these jeans of his
With her name still on it
Hey but I don't care
Cause sometimes
I said sometimes
I hear my voice [x3]

And it's been here
Silent All These Years
I've been here
Silent All These Years

- Tori Amos

The Anatomy of Fear

I've been working through a lot of things related to fear. Specifically, there is one person who scares the hell out of me (and due to the public nature of this blog, I can't name names) and I'm trying to figure out why.

I believe that fear comes from a history of fear -- meaning, if you were scared of one person, someone who reminds you of that person may well also scare you. That is the case here. My focus is not on trying to change these people -- you can't change someone else. You can only inspire someone else to change, and in this case, that's not my intent.

Instead, I'm focusing on my own reactions to these triggers. I'm in therapy and that helps substantially. It's wonderful to have finally found a therapist who really gets me, challenges me, and is not shy about offering up opinions as well as options. I've taken her up on a few of these options, and it's helping ... but there is more progress to be made.

I wish I could be more specific right now, but the fact is that I can't. Instead, I can only address it in these rather vague terms and let that be that for right now.

I think this fear has really affected me. It's fear, it's dread, it's daily. And it has an end point -- I know that for a fact -- but in the meantime, I'm just trying to figure out how not only to deal with it, but to learn from it.

Washington and New York

A Sunday in Berkeley