Category: anxiety

Posted on in anxiety, education, fitness, goals, Peloton, sixty, weight loss

Just One

Sweat is dripping onto my eyelids and into my eyes, causing blurred vision. I wipe away my fluids only to have buckets seemingly fall from the sky. This was my longest ride, best PR, and mileage pee minute did not suck. I am breathless, but the type you want again, and my mind is clear. Yesterday, I took a cheat day in my 21-day habit forming exercise. I needed it and while my calendar notes a blank hole,  my guilt got the best of me and I did yoga for fifteen minutes after midnight. To me I am still on track, neurotic, but now understand a day off of exercise is not an option.

However, last night was pure perfection for this calorie counting, protein shoving, and daily spinning grandma. A burger and a glass of champs! Absolute heaven. I have been so great in the numbers and workout department, but I knew I needed a bit of a treat. I did not work out. Horror, and I ate food with saturated fat. It was yummy. Was it necessary? Yes. It delighted my taste buds and caused me to miss working out and feeling the after-effects of too much of a good thing. It was a testament to my newly built strength, habits that are forming, and the realization that this will take a year of my life, but a life filled with the new real focus of the mayo way health. Count calories and protein. Period, and move daily beyond from couch to kitchen.

While strides are happening, the food, drink, and workout break were fabulous. However, the guilt felt was and is miserable, and it is my job on my long-term lifestyle change to fully enbrace that guilt has no place in this scenario. So, today, I pushed, excelled, and realized that while I still love a culinary delight. I love the person I am becoming more!

Posted on in anxiety

Chaos and Calm

For me, it is the calm that causes the storm that I try to chase away.  A swirling numbness that haunts and hurts. When it swings through my mind and heart, all I can do is ride out the storm and busy my mind as chaos is my ticket out of my ride that causes nothing but misery. This is not daily. Nope. But when it hits, it hits. I am not alone.

All of us have issues. No one gets through life without a few scars, and the hurt we survive comes in many forms. Some chosen crutches are to numb, cry, run, meditate, and seek help, but we all have issues that are only mounting for the generations that will keep our social security churning. As a teacher, I see students shut down over minor issues and have no understanding of how to get out of their own minds and into life with a sense of purpose and a bit of their own chaos or whatever calms their own storms.

Posted on in anxiety

Not My First Rodeo

Starting a new therapist always brings hope. Now, it has been fifteen years since I last needed this boost. But the adjective is the same. The first session insights of my new partner are boredom, and I am wondering if they are any more qualified than I am doing self-talk in the car. But I proceed through the session until they make sense and give me homework. I love homework because it gives me a sense of accomplishment, which I need daily. So if I already know this, why go. Why commit to a new dance partner? I actually have no answer, other than it chases the blues away, makes me feel less alone in the battle and causes me to go deep and forgive my parents and myself for a failure that still haunts me to this day. You need to find your reason, so your week two becomes a week three and beyond.

So, go find your why and start your own rodeo that will not start wild and rocking. Everything or anything might not be solved, but it will help you rope in your feelings and move to understanding  and hopeful guide to better days.

Posted on in anxiety, book

No Applause

I met a woman who has never felt a day of depression in her 91 years. “It must suck,” was her response. All I could think was yes, yes, it does. She continued to ask me, “Why are there depression commercials?”  My response was,”I don’t know.” My head went to a different place. Everywhere we turn, there are reminders, commercials, pills, quick fixes, etc. Worse yet is the new oddity of the open person who is applauded for their bravery for coming out and sharing the story of the sadness, despair, and their first world worries that lead them to not enjoying life to the fullest. They do a journal, go to yoga, talk to a pricey shrink, and are cured. So applaud if you will, but I am more of a lifer and do not want it, I just want this numb feeling to go away.  I have been relatively numb for thirty years off, and on. Mine is not caused by  getting the nanny I wanted or having to travel business class or not having enough me time. No, mine is more.  Most of the time, it is very controlled. No one knows the high functioning depressed type. We are low-key and a chameleon by necessity as it hits for days, not years in a row, just a rollercoaster of numbness. No attention is needed or wanted. Just relief.  So, I am going to write. Alot. In this blog. Remember, it’s cool, and in my essay book. Still messy, chapters out of order and truly represents a life that is a little numb that wants an awakening that might just come through, yes, the process. The work that must take place to stay away from the sad I feel for absolutely no reason. So work I will. I know I am not alone, and perhaps my out of shape body, mind, soul, and chapter book will finally come together.

Posted on in anxiety, essay, family

It Was My Choice

Recently, I reconnected with a family member, while not estranged, we were never in the same zip code, and life moves quickly. A question asked with innocence crushed my soul. “Who are your people in the family?” I could not answer. I was baffled. All I could think about was my dad, my bridge into a world that was not mine. No one made me feel different or out of a loop, but 3,000 miles will do that to any relationship, no matter the level. He is gone. It is still heartbreaking as he was my person. I understood him like no other in my family. The link is broken, and again, I am alone.

I blamed the strength and oddness of genes for giving me a family at a distance, but yet my moving was never my choice. My far away western local was done for my grandmothers health and my own mothers attempt to hide from the mess that was created, not due to anything but love, but still much to clean with no guidance as the early 60’s were rather a socially neat era.  I listed off who I would love to see. But that’s all I have, that and a feeling of being detached from a clan, that innately I feel so attached to, but yet so far away. I have no bitter feelings, just an occasional sigh or feeling of sadness, all of which were stirred with one question. “Who are your people.”

The conversation led to my dads passing, and my trying to explain my missing his day.  While there was an actual reason for my no-show due to logistics, timing, and a huge chunk of change. Let’s face it, I made a choice. I did not go to my father’s funeral. I mourned at home and still do. So, why not go? Yes, money was a small part of the equation, but it became a scapegoat that I used to become my mother, running away from facing the truth.  Her running away from a life without him by her side, and my sprint away from his passing. I still struggle daily, not due to the missing of the service but the detachment I feel. The love I lost. The man I truly never knew, at his core, was the father I wanted, needed, and had in our own distant relationship. As odd as it sounds, perhaps the miles might have been for the best. Distance can never leave. It is already gone. Too many “dads” had come and gone in my life to have the real one, faults and all, leave me in this life. As such, I still can’t bear to say goodbye. It was my choice.

Posted on in anxiety, life, menopause, retirement, sixty

It’s My Cabana

It’s my cabana and I will cry if I want to, or take up the entire space, glaring at others that dare to share. I knew cabanas were an option at every resort, but never did I ever dare to reserve, I will now. They are meant for those of us who have spent lives in the chairs, sharing chairs, and schelping out the children focusing on their needs first. Truly parenting with juice boxes and cherrios in tow. It is my cabana time. I have arrived. Lululemon dupes and all. These two weekends have been devoted to bringing a smile to my face, the hubs is trying. I have struggled. Between turning the big 6-0, and my fathers passing without proper closure, life has become murky.

Wading through my clutter did feel better on a cabana. Perhaps it was our fabulous waitress, the perfect backrest, or the sea air and views. Or was it just the cabana with the only lacking accoutrement being a charging station for cell phones, or is that not the point of the cabana life? I dont know? A newbie here. But I will bring a charging pack next time, which while taking away my solitude, allows me to write and solves my huge cabana problem.

While embracing my new life fixture and enjoying every minute, I still clashed with my current status of coping with a life in transition. A life in the normal stages of 60. A life beyond empty nester and into the “one day retirement” stage. Don’t get ideas. Just one day. The day gave me clarity that served the day but the chaos bounced back today. It will continue. I can’t stay on a beach or any other metaphor for life perfected, forever. No matter how many trips, spas, and dinners my feelings will stay until I learn to manage them, without a cabana. But until then the memories and true joy I felt will help me along the way on this journey to find my peace.

Posted on in anxiety, education, family, health, life, sixty

Subtract Not Add

I went through one of the best first weeks of school purely absorbed by outlying tasks, chores, stuff. Some money-making opportunities others just life. My mind not on the focus of kids but a running to-do list that gave me an inner click when every task was complete. I was miserable and less accomplished, as I was worried about tommorow, the next schedule, how I could get home quicker to review turtoring lessons before I zoomed away. I can’t. Literally can’t. With every tick off the list, another appeared with the only loss column items becoming my family.

My need to add is a stuffing mechanism to keep busy, not focus on the reality of a painful past, and so I do not look at the alternative. Retirement. Creepy. An elderly life, and the unknown. But the more I stuff into the hours of the day and night, the more I lose out in life.

So I am going to keep subtracting and focusing on my present, my daily blessings of students, and my family before I blink and it becomes a memory of long ago. Will I retire. No. Stop trying to do everything for the sake of a couple bucks. Yes.

Posted on in anxiety, education, essay, goals, granparent life, grey hair, sixty

I Fear Retirement

Spring Break brings me a sense of peace, quiet, and the organization and rotation of clothes (love a good closet), and silence. This brings me joy, a needed recharge, and since I am nearing the end of my career, it causes me great concern as to what’s in my future retirement plans. Long ago, in my fantasy phase, We would hop on a cruise and do the world. Yes, with the hubs. “We” would go from port to port in utter class and see the world. I priced that. Not happening. But a yearly big trip can be organized and afforded. Yes, it can. One trip a year. Just one. A cruise maybe two, Denmark, Ireland, Fiji, Australia, Philippines, Japan, Germany. Italy, and a revisit to France and England. I love to go see, go explore, and go experience other cultures. So does the hubs, he just does not like the planning or spending. But we deserve a yearly exploration. Well, that is two weeks out of the year including packing. Now what. Truly, I draw a blank. Golf? Bad back. But I do like the fact that it takes all day. Again, bad back. Not an option. Besides, had a tantrum on a course with the hubs and picked up the ball, clubs, and chucked them. They did not go far. But it felt good. We went home, clubs in tow. My hubs won’t golf with me anymore.

Volunteering. Possible but when I cross the finish line of teaching, my giving myself for free, is over. But it’s not out of my possible options. Not sure who wants a retired teacher but someone might, or in reality, I might need them more. The fear of boredom is quite real and with golf out, traveling limited, grocery shopping with my husband out, way out. Have you seen those cute couples who banter about what cut of beef they want and actually enjoy the grocery experience? We are not them.

We are building a dream home up north and have another down south. Very south. Will we spend time there? Yes. But both places are in gorgeous areas with an abundance of quiet. I like a balance. Less and less as the years go on, but purpose and a little noise in life is needed. Teach online? Get my restorative yoga certification, open a Montessori school or a yoga studio in Neebish Island? Just continue my essays and complete the book? Or just waking up everyday to a new adventure and let the day unfold…Nah. structure is needed. Heck, I even ask to go to the bathroom and always will, so while retirement scares me the options are amazing.

Posted on in anxiety, health, life

Peter Pan Meets Reality

Photo by Thirdman on Pexels.com

It happens. I try to play it off or completely ignore big life issues. To me my world is about teaching and the great stuff about family. End of conversation. The rest interferes with my obvious brilliance, after twenty years in the classroom, my Peter Pan existence as a parent, grandparent, and even as a spouse. In essence I ignore reality. I am fine with this existence, but others feel I am ignoring their needs. No, I do my research, prayer, and check off all the boxes of care, and make sure Amazon visits with all the needs. I just don’t want to talk about it, ever as I end up with my strong combination of Irish/Jewish guilt down serious rabbit holes that put me one step away from a white jacket. Yes, the kind you cannot get out of…ever. I care, love, and worry but on my terms. My hubs is having surgery, now the C word is gone, but is it? It never is at Mayo, so he wanted to have me read the novels the clinic sent him home with along with the massive directions for the day. No one needed this. I needed a drink afterwards and had nightmares for nights and three new wrinkles. Reading the preview was too much for me, but he needed this for him. I told him I would have asked every question from the doctor, you bet, but this reading meant something to him, not to my panic and worry, but to him. So, out of love I read. Drank, and read over again. I worry differently. Obviously, packing a flask to the hospital, just in case. But I worry. Intensively, in a happy way. Most will never see my constant worry. We all have our moments, and our concern comes out differently. My thoughts are hidden, only I can tap-in as needed. I sometimes outright avoid everything, but they are there and felt, as that is part of humanity. However, on any given day let me just be happy, play the role of Peter Pan, and give away the gift that was given to me, the ability to entertain at any level at any given moment. I am more of a cocktail party kind of gal. Not the big stuff. But to my Senator. We got this! You will find me entertaining the Mayo Staff or a stray child, as that is my coping strategy, but always worrying.

Posted on in anxiety, caregiver, life

This Thing Called Life…

My days recently go from thinking of island life to going back to work. Now, I teach, so I have a few weeks of torture left. My mom has entered hospice. While that no longer brings me to a new level of panic, it does bring to light on what she can no longer accomplish that she once did with ease. Enter panic and the reality that our time is finite. This mixed with my recent back recovery and a few extra non-needed pounds. I am a mess who wants nothing more than to not be someone’s burden when there is more life to lead.

So while I have undergone weight gain and loss in my life. My consistent yo-yo has never been for any other reason than vanity and on the flip side, my love of food. Today is different I am now taking the time to read labels, give up salt, sugar, and the bad carbs. I am a new leafy eater with a side of protein. Right now I am cooking chicken and turkey to freeze for later in the coming weeks. I think they call this food prepping. I call this a forced chance to write. My goal is twenty pounds but I would be great with fifteen, as it might be enough to release the extra burden of stressors, I now feel truly caring for a parent who cannot take care of themselves.

The weight is heavy and mixed with everyday life almost too much as everything is out of my control. So I am going to learn to cook, meal prep, eat well for the first time in my life. I can control that. My exercise will be daily walking at 5:30 am to set me up for a successful school year, and I can control (not enjoy) those early hours. I will mix in meditation and restorative yoga as I heal and focus on our relationship as mother/daughter and probably write and focus on my grandson. It helps. Alot.

I am sure my next few or more blogs will be about my Miss Brenda. Of course liberties will be taken as that’s what I do. Take a story and try to see the lighter side of this thing called life. Follow along.