Tag Archives: fear

Jealousy, and letting go

05 Monday Jan 2015

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The past is in the past. Unless its your past. Then I want to talk about it. I want to analyze it. I want to stress over it. Cry over it. Wonder why I missed out on the biggest firsts of all time. (At least of my all time) I don’t understand why milestones are so important to me. I know when I was younger I always had this fantasy dream about forever. That it was all cupcakes and roses and freaking teddy bears.

Then life punches you in the throat.

You think you’re smart. You think you learn. You feel like, yea, I’ve made some pretty dumb choices, but they’ve all led me to here, and I’m learning dammit! you hear a song on the radio about all the heartache leading to you and it calms your spirit just a little. You decide, I can muddle through.

In all the patience and dealing and analyzing and reacting that we do as step mothers to manage the chaos of being a step mother, when do we have time for our own regular insecurities that we’ve been working on for decades? When do we get to “freak out” over the stupid stuff again? There’s no time! There’s no room in your brain! And eventually all of that “stupid stuff” you were working on to improve yourself as a functional human in today’s society, gets piled up behind you and starts to blur with today’s “normal step mom stuff” and you really aren’t sure if you’re letting go when you should “Let it gooooooo” or holding on to a mole hill that somehow looks like a freakin mountain. So then it becomes all or nothing.

I’ve been consistently demonstrating multiple attitudes towards all of the drama and chaos. I want to know everything. So I know everything, I’m involved in everything, I do everything. Then that gets too emotionally overwhelming, so I chuck the towel at someone’s head, throw my arms up, yell “Uncle” and bail. Informational blackout. Emotional shut down. I don’t want to know anything, I refuse to plan, be involved, learn, adapt, assist, etc. And then it all goes sideways. So I’m back in like a referee planning, adapting, avoiding, and prepping for doomsday.

Does this sound like a full time salaried job that you work 80 hours a week at? Can I hire an assistant? Can I get an event planner? A judge? Jury? How about someone to just clean the windows and give me a brighter view of the rest of the world. Being a parent is hard, nobody tells you being a step mom with her own issues, her own fears, her own concept of understanding ruling her world, is going to be one hell of a handful on your psyche.

Anxiety

23 Sunday Nov 2014

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I’m an open book. So ask anyone, ask a stranger that I may have let skip me in line at the grocery store…I’ve got some serious anxiety. Ridiculous anxiety. I’ve been having pseudo-panic attacks for the last three weeks. Not the great end all be all, heart-racing-pass-out-take-the-door-knob-off-the-bathroom-door-with-your-face kind of panic attacks. Worse. They are stalker panic moments. Just tiny reminders, “I’m here, and I can take you out at any moment.” So I’ve been struggling, you could say. Which brings us up to speed to now, well, 2 days ago “now”.

Two shots of JAMO to board a plane? Flying used to be the most interesting to me. I loved take off and landing. turbulence was always an added bonus, like winning a $10 lottery ticket, I’m not going to run naked through the isles over it, but a little part inwardly cheers.

Where was the point where I ultimately lost control and flying became something to fear rather than look forward too? Was it when I lost my home, my relationship, my future, my plans, my yard, my “life”, my damn dog…to none other than a friend?  (woah, let’s pump the brakes on that mine field) People seem to believe that’s where my fear started to take root in my life. I stopped wanting to be in the center of a crowd. I started sweating as I booked a flight, just thinking about staring down the length of the plane, terrified that I had no exit. (Good God I’m sweating now typing it!) I started taking inventory of exit opportunities everywhere I went. When I go to a musical, I panic if I somehow foolishly bought tickets in the middle of row, as opposed to within 3 seats from the aisle. (I recently saw an excellent comedian I had looked forward to seeing, and spent his entire show breathing deep and counting to ten, over and over and over). Nausea sneaks into the pit of my stomach if I end up pushed to the back of an elevator, sweaty business suits pushing in around me, surely exceeding the weight limits of cable tension. Fear crushes my lungs when I drive over bridges, (Most likely I’m holding my breath until safely back on land). When did it all change? When did I suddenly observe my mortality as something to be prepared for? Something to be ever ready to extend? And how did I lose this fiercely strong and wildly independent streak I had going for me?

I’ve taught and watched children on a ski hill. I’ve witnessed a 3-year-old bravely launch himself off a small jump, laughing and speeding along wildly. I’ve stared in amazement at the fearlessness of youth. Ah, to be young again. To believe blindly in your mind and body’s ability to heal itself.

Perhaps too many breaks. Too many falls. Too many confusing lessons of age have worn down my super hero cape into threadbare reality, possibly a bit further than reality into imagined nightmares.

There’s no logic to my fears. No true sense of danger. “You’re more likely to die in a car accident, than a plane crash”. True. And life’s tragic lessons and heartaches of loss have shown me that statement precisely, because here I still am, on 1 of 100 flights; living, breathing, panicking. But they’re not here. They haven’t gone on, proving the saying time and again. And the heart cracks and breaks at the loss. And in time it heals itself. Or it hides itself. I believe sometimes the heart is so broken, it hides its cracks from it’s owner. Until eventually, those cracks add up and it can no longer continue. It finally shuts down, sends out a white flag, and begs you to start making some repairs. Strangely, contrary to the words prior, I do not fear death. I do not welcome it either. But I do not fear it. My fear of flight, is not of the crash, it is of surviving the crash, only to be trapped inside with no way out. My fear of water is not of drowning, rather of being stuck, trapped, unable to reach the surface, pulled down by some unimaginable beast. My fear of crowds? Trapped. My fear of the dark? No way out. My fear of spiders? Ok, that’s just normal and if you think otherwise I’m not sure we will get along. They are creepy.

So what do we do with all this fear challenging all of our independence? Well, I jump out of planes. I dive to the deepest depths I’m certified for (140 ft by the way). I get on planes alone, (yes I had a little help). And right now, I’m going to close my laptop, and I’m going to go walk, yes walk, across the scariest bridge I’ve ever seen. Why? Because it’s going to liberate me? no. I’ll be just as terrified on the other side as I was in the middle. Because I’m stronger than a man-made object? No. I’m really not. No, I’m going to walk across this 1 mile suspension wonder of the world, because I can. I hope you are doing something today, not to better yourself, not to redeem yourself, but just for the pure and simple fact: you can. (That being said, please make what you do either beneficial or at the very least not hurtful to others). Some believe if you just keep doing what you are terrified to do, it won’t be so terrifying. I’m fairly certain that’s not the case with me, but I’m going to do it anyway.

Damage Control

18 Tuesday Nov 2014

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Let’s talk about the bigger picture.

There are a lot of people in my tiny little circle. Ok that’s already a contradiction in and of itself. My tiny little circle, which is tiny, and I like it tiny, and I keep it tiny on purpose, for a reason. But, of this little circle, I’m starting to sense that the majority of us are just hovering, barely hanging on to this side of “Not crazy”. Some of us like to call it a ledge. We often will text each other and say, “Ledge!!!!!” Which means, “You need to call me right now, and tell me if I’m crazy, or tell me if I’m completely in my rational, sane mind”.

I fully welcome one of the 3 people who I would text this to, to call me and say, “You are out of your mind, not cool.” And I’ll take that and I’ll listen to why they think that, and I’ll apply it. I’ll consider it. But I’m starting to think that all of us are hovering, just hovering on the loony bin. Our ledge has collectively molded into one, and is standing over this 1,000 foot drop…

Into a padded cell.

We have stocked our community padded cell with various accoutrement. Some of us have vodka. Some of us have whiskey, that’s the latest one. Some of us have books and wine. Some of us have music to just, blissfully coast through the rest of eternity. Usually we are able to pull each other back from that ledge. Back from a full sprint into the free fall of insanity off our ledge. We are able to talk each other down. Be positive, find the light. Turn a situation around so that it is not as bad as we think it is. And lately, I’m starting to see that, we’re having a hard time looking at the bigger picture. Because the bigger picture is terrifying.

To pull back and look at it all in one giant swoop, is just

Terrifying.

I think all of us are hiding in the day-to-day, minute to minute, hour to hour stuff that we have to do to manage the current crisis. Because if we pulled back and looked at it in a bigger scope, I think it would be overwhelming. I think it would overwhelm each one of us on a different level because we’ve all got a different weird big picture to look at. None of ours are the same, but it would overwhelm us. I think it would cripple me. If I looked at it all, if I looked at everything. From work, two years from now. To school. To Bacon and all of his growth and growth that still needs to happen. To my own work that I need to do on myself. To Peanut and the possibility of things that we do now corrupting the innocence she has later. Things that she may hold onto subconsciously that we don’t even know she’s holding onto. Things we don’t even know we’ve said. Things that her mom has said. We have no idea how to combat it. And the idea of stepping back, and looking at all of it and thinking, maybe if I look at it in the bigger picture I can constructively form a plan and I can make a spreadsheet, and I can figure this out. We can do this! I think it would cripple me if I stepped back, and really looked at it.

So where does that fear come from? That’s the question. Does it come from the way we were raised? Were we raised to live minute by minute? Do we have parents or parental figures in our lives that just keep going? Just keep going keep going keep going. They never necessarily, I’m not saying they don’t make a plan, but they’re constantly reacting and doing damage control. And what is damage control when you really think about it? Damage control is spinning whatever just happened, or blew up in your face, into a positive direction. Using it positively. Finding a way to work within the boundaries of that bomb that just went off in your life. Finding a way to adapt. Isn’t that truly what damage control is? Because you can’t take back the past, nobody can take it back. But isn’t that essentially at the root core of it, what damage control is about: finding a way to adapt to the things you can’t control. And really, at the end of the day, control is an allusion we invented to bring ourselves peace. We don’t really have control over anything other than ourselves (And I’m not too certain about the consistency). So maybe when there are fires surrounding us, and too many crisis to manage, maybe we look at all the “damage control” differently. Maybe instead of hitting the panic button, and throwing ourselves willingly off the ledge, maybe we starting looking at all these fires as God or mother Nature or the universe’s challenge: You were built to adapt. You were made to not only survive, but thrive. And today is just another day to prove it.