Sleepless

Ever since my dad passed away I have been struggling with severe anxiety and panic attacks. The worst episode I had was while I was trying to fall asleep. 

I laid in my bed feeling so absolutely terrified that I thought I was actually losing my mind. I feared that if I did not stay awake and stay focused, I would lose my literal sanity forever. I felt out of control. I felt as if I was fighting to stay alive. I had to consciously make an effort to breathe. I didn't get much sleep that night. The only reason I did sleep at all was because my eyes just couldn't stay open any longer. 

I haven't had too many attacks as severe as that particular one, but every now and then I come close. 

Tonight is one of those nights. 

It is past 3 am now. My eyes are getting heavy. I decided to take a sleep aide this time. I have multiple essential oils difusing and have also slathered myself in oils that are supposed to help with anxiety. And yet, I still feel as if my heart is ready to stop beating. I fear that if I don't concentrate enough, I will die. 

I can't begin to express how horrifying this is. 

Breathing is a literal chore. 

I know the morning is already coming and I fear I may sleep in late enough that I will have wasted the day away. 

This is not who I want to be. I don't know why this was triggered by my dad's death, but it was and I don't know how to deal with it. 

Everyone keeps telling me to get therapy. 

Can I tell you how hard it is to even begin thinking about finding a therapist?! Oh, and I'm not insured as of right now...so paying for one is overwhelming enough to make me avoid it. 

I want to sleep soundly again 

I stayed with my mother in Missouri for a week just this past week. I wanted to visit her for her birthday. It was a good trip. 

There was only one night in which I felt only a minimal pang of anxiety. And as quickly as it came, it left. I have never been able to pass or so quickly...not since my dad died at least. 

It only took me one full day and night to return to my previous anxieties. 

I don't feel safe in my house and my mind is obviously overwhelmed with some things. 

I think the sleep aide may actually be working. This is a miracle!!!

I thought I knew what bad anxiety and insomnia were like. 

I was wrong. 

I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. 

Having anxiety like this is like literally living in hell on earth. 

Hopefully I will be able to sleep some now. 

Goodnight!

Life has been hard

I have not posted much in a long time. 

Just under a week after my last post, my father passed away. 

Life has been so incredibly difficult. 

My father's death triggered a cyclone in my emotions, moods, and mental health. 

I'm just now starting to feel some semblance of normalcy.

However, my mother just left to move back to her hometown in Missouri yesterday. 

As we were going through many boxes stored in the shed in the backyard, I came across boxes of clothes. 

2 boxes of clothes had belonged to my dad. I pulled out one sweater that I remember vividly. I decided to hold onto it with the hopes of finding some way to turn it into a pillow or who knows. I'm sure I can find Pinterest to be of some help. 

I also found a box of my old baby clothes that my mom had held onto. 

Looking at those clothes opened up an old wound in my heart. 

I am 30 years old now and have yet to even get my first kiss, let alone get married and have kids. 

I've buried my hopes and dreams of getting married for so long and seeing those baby clothes ripped that grave wide open. 

Last night I had a dream that I had fallen love with a TV character from a show I've been binge watching lately. 

It felt so good to be in love and to feel loved. It felt so good to have a hope of getting married and starting a family. 

Nevertheless, it was sadly just a dream. 

 

I have many people saying they are there for me, but I still feel so very alone now. 

I am the least ready I have ever been in my life to let someone else in, but more than ever, I truly need to have someone in my life. 

I cannot express how hard the past few months have been. 

I almost quit doing massage. It took weeks to feel comfortable touching someone again after touching my dad's dead body. Every once and awhile I still struggle with it. 

I've gone through some serious waves of depression and anxiety. Bad enough to where I've almost taken myself to the hospital. I still can't bring myself to do anything a responsible adult should do. 

In psychology I believe the term that should be used for me is regression. I feel like I have regressed back to feeling like a child. And now with my mom gone, I just don't know what to do. 

Like I said, I'm really in no position to be in a relationship, but more than ever before I wish I had someone in my life and I wish I had my own family. 

Life is hard sometimes. 

Seriously. 

Me

I want to run. 

I want to explore the mountains close to me and the pathways across the sea. 

I want to sing. 

I want to play the symphonies of the greatest and put myself to the test. 

I want to love. 

I want to be a wife and a mother, a more understanding friend and a better daughter. 

I want to improve. 

I want to conquer my fears and not be so scared of the potential I've shown throughout the years. 

I want to believe. 

I want the courage to face my doubts and to truly comprehend what life is really about. 

I want to be more. 

I want to step forward, never back and be grateful for all I have. 

However. 

I am me. 

I'm imperfect in every way, but I'll keep learning, day by day. 

A poem...rough draft

Lately I've been pondering who I am and what I stand for. And by lately, I mean I've been pondering this for a long time. 

I've discovered that I easily change who I am and what I stand for based on who I am around. When I'm alone, I tend to not know who I really am. Maybe that's why I struggle with being a lone so much nowadays. If I'm not around someone I have no sense of self. 

It is commonly said that we must find out who we are before we can find someone else to spend the rest of our lives with. 

If I don't know who I am, how is someone supposed to love me as there isn't a real me to love just yet. 

Often I feel like a chameleon. 

My colors change as my backdrop changes. 

I wanted to do a freestyle writing on my thoughts and feelings about this and I came up with a little poem of sorts. 

I wanted to share it. 

Maybe someday I'll have more. Maybe not. 

What are my colors?

Am I black and white, knowing what's right?

Am I pale and pink, beautiful but weak?

Or am I red? I've got something to be said. 

Am I blue or green, solid and sure?

Or Am I Orange and fiery? 

Maybe I'm purple,

Made of royalty. 

Am I fuchsia, with no fear of who I am?

Or Am I yellow, Daring to compete with the sun?

Am I a rainbow, a little of everything? Or am I a chameleon that changes from day to day? 

A rock is steady and grey, who am I at the end of the day?

What are my colors? 

Contemplating Mortality

A few years ago my orchestra and duet buddy, Tanner Holst, passed away unexpectedly. I had never experienced death so closely before. This was someone I saw every day. We spent hours together playing duets in practice rooms and even had a small performance in master class. We sat next to each other in orchestra as I was principal clarinet and he was principal bassoon. I even had a small crush on him (which was ridiculous since he was still a teenager and I was in my mid twenties). 

His passing nearly killed me. 

I couldn't imagine life...music...without him. He was the one that made me want to be more. With his death began the slow death of my love of clarinet. 

I still cry if I think too much about it. 

However, when he passed, my feelings of sorrow were very much based on seeing a life shortened suddenly and how unfair it was to see someone so amazing not get to be alive anymore. 

Then my grandmother passed away. 

Her death was more expected. She had suffered from Alzheimer's and we knew the end was coming long before it made its final round. 

I was not as close to my grandmother as I should have been, but I loved her and I definitely miss her. I knew she had lived a good life and despite it ending sooner than we would have liked, her life was worth something. 

Her death began my questioning on the lifelong belief that families are eternal and that I will see her again. This was the beginning of the war on my faith that I am still fighting (and very much losing at this moment) to this day.

Then my former Bishop and husband to my childhood piano teacher passed away a few months later. He had also lived a good life. He lost a battle with cancer sadly, but he was still a good person to his last days as far as I know. 

He was such an example to me and such an important person in my formative years in high school. It was so very sad to see him leave mortality, but it seemed right that he left when he did. 

After these deaths my life was changed drastically. Each death brought a new trial and lesson to be learned. 

But, until now, I have never truly contemplated mortality and what it really means to die. 

Despite any religious beliefs...whether or not you believe in life after death...whether or not there is a spirit that continues on after the mortal body has rotted and decomposed...

Once you die, you are dead. 

I know, this is highly philosophical here. (Sarcasm)

Let me explain more. 

My dad is in his last few weeks of life here on this planet. Soon he will cease to exist as a living human being. Soon he will be a rotting corpse 6 feet in the ground. 

For me, my dad stopped being my dad a long time ago. We have not had a great relationship. Pride and selfishness dug a wedge between us while I was still in high school and despite efforts to move past it, I still have a lot of hard feelings towards him. I don't feel love and compassion when I think of my father. While others feel pity and sadness for him, I feel hurt, bitterness and anger. 

With his mental state now it's too late to attempt to mend the relationship. He didn't even comprehend who I was when I was there for Thanksgiving last week. 

To him I was 'The Piano Player.'

Despite our broken relationship and the fact that it will be a relief when he passes (he is suffering as well as my mother who has had to endure his many issues throughout life)...I am still brought to a dead silence when I ponder the fact that he will no longer exist in this life. 

His passing means freedom on so many levels. He will not be in pain anymore. He will not have to suffer from another seizure. He will not have to depend on anyone else to help him eat, drink, or go to the bathroom. He will be free. 

To my mom it means freedom from being a caretaker. She will be free to live her life again, before it was consumed with basically babysitting my father every day. 

To my brother it means freedom from his own demons in his relationship with our father. 

To me it means freedom to leave this state (as I am not a fan of flying and did not want to have to fly out for his funeral, which we knew would be soon. Not this soon, but soon nevertheless). It means freedom from feeling anxiety every time I visit my hometown. It means freedom from not feeling trusted (however I lost his trust is beyond me, but it's the honest truth; my father does not trust me). It means freedom from so many things. 

Yet, it also means I failed to be a good person. It means I was unable to mend our broken relationship. It means I was too selfish and too proud to move past the hurt and anger I feel. It means I failed. 

We BOTH failed.  

When I look back on my father's life I think of the word tragedy. 

If his life were a Shakespeare play, it would have been a tragedy. 

All he ever knew was pain and sadness. 

I rarely remember him being happy. I don't know that he ever was really happy. Most of his conversations either consisted of childhood stories when not so good things happened (unless they involved his friend Patrick), or they were complaints of things at work or church. 

Or he talked about the books he was reading or the movie he had recently watched. 

When I reflect on the life my father lived I do not see a person that rose above the muck. I see a person that barely managed to keep his head above water...or rather, the mud...because it wasn't clear and beautiful as water is. 

I see a sad, depressed, tragic life. 

So, when I contemplate his no longer existing, I wonder what was his purpose. Why was he allowed to live his life? Why was he my father? Why did his life crumble underneath him when it was already struggling to stay together? 

Why? 

What is the purpose in all of this? 

I suppose having faith in this situation is a  necessity, but I don't have much faith. 

My religion believes in eternal families. 

No one in my family is qualified to be together eternally. I don't know that I want to be with my father forever. The relationship is THAT bad. 

So, what's the point in believing in eternal families? I may get to see them again once we all pass, but the bonds made in the temple sealing have been broken. 

So, again, I ask...what was the point of his life? 

What will happen to his soul once he is freed from his poor, sad, pathetic mortal body? What will happen to those of us left behind?

Will there ever be healing in this broken family? 

In only a few weeks he will be dead. 

He will cease to exist. 

What the hell?!?!?!?

Blog Challenge Day 12

Hey! I didn't forget to blog today (although, it is past midnight...oops!)

Your proudest accomplishment

This is a tough one.

There is a moment I should be most proud of...playing a solo in a concert on the stage at Carnegie Hall...but that's really not my proudest moment. It was awesome and so amazing and every musician's dream. But, it wasn't my dream (which kills me to say, as I'm sure so many other musicians in my group would have done anything to be heard for 2 lines of music in that most brilliant of concert halls).

My proudest accomplishment, however grand though, has a lot of negative feelings attached to it, so I tend to not think of it as a moment of pride. But, I do take pride in it nevertheless.I'm sure I sound so completely backwards here. Trust me, I know.

I've already mentioned it in another post, so I won't dive into it too much here.

Walking across the stage to receive my awards and diploma for finishing massage school was my greatest accomplishment thus far in my life.

That year in school nearly killed me, and to finish, not only JUST finish, but get a 4.0 GPA, 100% attendance, and be a member of the High Five Club is what keeps me going when I wonder what the heck I was thinking. Even now I sometimes wonder why I went through so much stress and why I'm doing what I do for a career. Knowing that I accomplished those things, for some reason that I cannot explain, keeps me going. I worked my butt off during that hellish year of my life and it was nice to have something to show for it.

Blog Challenge Days 10-11

There's a link in this post and I can't get it to copy the way it needs to, so I'm just posting the link to my other blog.

http://singleandneverbeenkissed.blogspot.com/2014/10/blogging-challenge-days-10-11_19.html