The Height of Anxiety.

Sunday, I had a panic attack.

Every past failure rose up from the grave – and met me when I was most vulnerable – to drag me back down. I am familiar with not getting it right, or making unpopular decisions and being unreliable. But there is a brand new level of hurt experienced when you let your own self down. quotes, blog, anxiety, healing

I was running on empty. Most people see the gas light and immediately hurry to resolve the issue. Not me. I will keep driving–insisting that I can go much farther than mechanically possible. Sometimes, I am annoyingly successful. The person who always seems to slide through the cracks of undesirable situations. At others, I am the broken down car on the side of the road with a T-shirt hanging out the window.

Painfully and publicly aware that I do not have anywhere else to go.

Mistakes force patience down your throat. They invade personal spaces with their uncanny ability to break up your oblivious peace. I thought I could handle all these responsibilities, but the truth is the more I juggle the higher the chances are of me dropping things. Now, I have to stand still and face what went wrong. Now, I have to go back to the beginning when I should have been more disciplined from the start.

The first time I failed a class I was shocked and angry. Shocked, because I thought I did just enough to get by. Angry, because I could have done better, and my laziness reaped a negative result. But I went back and retook that class and the next time I more than passed the course. Eventually, I earned my Associates Degree.

Maybe I thought the next level of college would be a breeze. Maybe I just took on too much and did not understand what was required of me. Or maybe, I am not smart enough or young enough to do what is necessary. When you believe this type of negative narrative you will be hard pressed to succeed at anything. Self-created pressure keeps so many of us from aiming higher and pushing harder when the inevitable difficulties appear.

Sunday, I let my anxiety take the driver’s seat. But if I am honest, fear and the belief that I am undeserving have long been passengers in my now disabled car. I fought earnestly at level one to get to what I knew was mine. Late night papers and canceled plans were the norm of my existence. I have sacrificed fun to pay for school books, gave up countless nights of sleep to get it all done.

And I will not my anxiety get the best of me, not while level 2 is still left to be won.

 


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Pitiless, Penniless, and Free.

Perhaps you will not have to brace yourself for impact. We know how all things that are not meant to be end. At the beginning, we are so full of wistful expectation that we fail to see the oncoming doom in all its glory.

You were not meant for me.

I whisper this thought internally, because saying it out loud will force me to accept its reality. If I keep it to myself–maybe we can escape the anger and pain that comes when people disappoint you. Maybe being silent keeps us of ignorant of the truth.

But we both know this isn’t true.

Instead, silence rears its ugly head at the exact moment you need to speak. It glances over restoration and latches onto apathy. Now I do not care to fight anymore or try to make things work when I have given all I’ve got and you sat there unchanging.

Famous for painting pictures that no one else can see.

Pity comes from a place of superiority. You “feel bad” for someone–but fail to see how close you are to your own painful story. I was broken in ways that I will never repeat.

Now all I want is to be set free.

 

Strength Under Pressure.

I keep my worries bound in a carefully tied knot, held in place to my everyday obligations. I want to be free of concern–to get a break from doubting that I will eventually get what I need. Because honestly, I recognize that plenty of people go without. There are an innumerable amount of people who have nothing. People who regardless, always find a way to be happy. People who stand up and decide to keep moving.

It is believed that the more you obtain, the less satisfied you will become. I remember the months and years when I had little of the material but still felt I had everything. I remember being jobless and nearly homeless with a 1.5 year old. How I lived in a 3 BR apartment with 4 other adults and slept in a shared bedroom on a twin sized bed with my daughter. I remember when my first brand new car was repossessed in the middle of the night with my daughter’s car seat & stroller in the trunk. I remember walking miles back and forth to the library to spend 30 minutes applying for jobs because I did not have access to a computer at home. Running 3 blocks to the bus stop with a toddler on my hip and 2 bags on my shoulder.

It was here I could have decided to give up and accept that life was going to keep throwing punches that I was never going to be able to dodge. I could have sat down in the mess I created and allowed failure to reign in my thoughts. I could have ignored the silent roar for better in my heart. But I continued to fight in spite of everything I thought I had lost.

I feel a familiar twinge of panic now because struggle has a history of infinitely repeating. We will not be free of trouble in this world and it is one of the few things that we are absolutely guaranteed. Now, instead of complaining that “life is not fair” or blaming others for my circumstances–I try to take full responsibility for the gains and the losses. I cannot blame other people for my failures or ignore the consequences when I make mistakes. I can however, opt to face my sorrows and behave with the utmost of integrity.

Right now, it feels like I am being pulled in opposing directions. I feel like everything I fought so hard for is in constant jeopardy. Truthfully, sometimes we have deal with the consequences of our past decisions for decades. Even if I learned my lesson the first time, I still have to make peace with the fact that I deviated from God’s perfect plan for my life.

The beautiful thing about messing up is that it does not mean that we are:
unfixable or
unloveable or
unable to fix our stuff.

It just means we have to fight harder, get stronger and remember to get back up.

 

The Rising Cost of Love.

Every couple of years I cycle through some of the major relationships that impacted my life. I always meet someone new. Someone who, sparks a familiar awareness that I need to pursue. Depending on where I am in that particular period–this person often confirms my growth or enlightens me to the fact that I still have more work to do. For instance, this most current time–I came across a reminder of my most notorious ex, and ran quickly in the opposite direction.

I follow similar patterns, because I hold onto the one in my past that I should not have given up. He was kind and loving, free of the baggage that weighs less resilient adults down. Unfortunately, I did not have the background or strength at that time to maneuver in the vicissitudes of our unpredictable love. It literally took nothing for me to mess this up.

Now, whenever I find his reincarnate–the pattern ungraciously repeats. Each time we cut ties, our fall out is more destructive and permanently damaging. We break each other down with our doubts and persistent questions–setting off red flags and silent alarms. Maybe this happens because I am still a rebellious, youthful version of myself. Maybe he refuses to let his guard down or get close to anyone else.

So sick of fighting that neither of us wants what we have when it is gone. 

In hindsight, the mirage of genuine affection cannot outrun the passage of time. Eventually, this mirror becomes dirty with resentment or breaks due to incessant pacification. We can no longer bear to remember the image of what we thought we were. What remains in its place are wounded spirits that prefer–lonely roads to unknown destinations, alone.

I am here now because I chose the painful comfort of what was, instead of letting go and operating in faith and hope. I am here because of neglect and laziness–the likes of which are prevalent in my everyday reality. I am here because of my curiosity and inability to decisively cut out unhealthy actions, habits and beliefs. A flirtatious tease playing dangerous games with other people’s hopes and dreams.

But, I am here–and everyday I receive a brand new, unique opportunity to do better and operate more effectively. I can end these cycles before they start by choosing to remain steadfast and present. No matter how many wrong turns I have made in my life, I still have a chance to make it right.

Even though this success is a reminder that you are no longer by my side.

Love, You.

universe, galaxy, heart, art, self love

Artist: Federica Bordoni

It will never matter how compatible two people are if they lack the necessary spark. I heard about this chemical imbalance going around, incomparable to all the damage I have ever gone through. Promised myself I would close off my aortic valve–permanently.
But the longer I stand on my own two feet, the harder it is to remain isolated. I claim to be tentatively ready to rejoin the race. Feeling it is possible to purge and at the same time replace.

A damaged heart continues to beat. 

Despite my violent outbursts and protests against my own unnecessary pain, I always resolved to eventually recuperate. There is no excuse for wallowing when life offers so many beautiful new beginnings. We are attracted to quick starts that send reviving jolts to our hearts. Thriving when our affections are reciprocated.

I can see the sun rising over my independent horizon. Natural light floods into the drought of my conscious mood. A cloud lifts, from my negative, misguided loop. Drawing me back to what is important. I am full of resilient stars and effervescent moons. Born to recover one hurt after the other on the verge of a definite breakthrough.

And it is with this full awareness that I can finally face the truth:

No one will ever, love you better–than you.

What is meant for warmth, should never burn.

nature, selflove, sun, warmth, life, inspiration

I am at a crossroads. On a new path that is twisting at the same time the fog is lifting. I know which way I need to go, but I can’t help but to look back at the carnage that lay behind me. I survey the lessons I learned and the people who stopped or who I threw off my path.
Spending too much time with my idle thoughts.

For a long time I believed I was lost. Doomed to roam aimlessly on a mountain under a cloud of dark. Never fully knowing if I was being rescued or just wandering further off the course. I understand now, that my trepidation made no difference.

I keep trying to “look ahead” towards this beautiful existence I am promised from the One who has the final say. For awhile I maintained a stubborn resistance to any option that took me away from what I wanted to do. Now I find peace in dealing with pain more gracefully.
Choosing not to let my heart grow hard.

It is bad enough I planted my feet in a fixed position that was never any good for me. Giving more than I planned and getting less than what I should have received. It is terrible I entertained thoughts that betrayed the ones closest to me. The consequences of which, still manifest sometimes in my dreams.

I still believe that what is supposed to be will eventually be. That you will be unable to completely forget those who left lasting marks on you. But I know when circumstances  force someone from my life it is for the best–even if this loss is painful for me.

I may not ever understand why, but I am fully determined to move forward with my life.

Hollow.

I woke up in a panicked sweat
searching desperately for something
I knew was not in my bedroom.
Shadows creep–as the darkness plays
against my subconscious’ attempts
at understanding.

I am not mourning or acknowledging
any further distress. I accepted
the keys to my own happiness.
Driving away from this detour
on my way back towards
a more beneficial path.

Doubters laugh–
mocking my progress.
Waiting for the day I fall
Hoping I ask them for help
just so they can applaud their own
pointless existence.

But they were never any
friends of mine.

I am the definition of
tough love and perseverance.
The one who never gives up–unless
I am forced to retreat.

But this isn’t really about me.

It’s about being shaken to the core
by a dream and reaching out
in vain–knowing no one will ever
fully see what you are going through.

It’s about putting on a
brave face and welcoming
the certainty of the unknown.
Being a responsible adult–
even when you find it hard to believe.

Admitting you messed up
and making amends
so long as it does not distract
from your peace.

And if I can just get to this final place
of forgiveness and self-love…

art, drawing, girl, dreams, sara herranz

I know these nightmares will eventually stop.