I hate anxiety…. I know, I know… everyone hates anxiety… That is nothing new… but I must say – that hard to breathe, bees in your chest feeling is nearly the worst thing I have ever felt. I feel sometimes like I am drowning in all of the pain from my past, the pain from my present and the uncertainty of my future. I want to find some balance between work and rest… between where I am and where I want to be… between striving and arriving… I don’t want to be stuck here where I am… I don’t want to be stuck at just ok… at just surviving… I want to move on to be fully alive…to be fully passionate and aware… fully at rest and feeling safe in my own skin… I want to speak without over-thinking everything… I want to say (and type) whatever is on my mind and heart without censure, without worrying about every thought – every syllable. I don’t want to worry about my words and facial expressions. I want to be able to express how I feel without even trying. I want it to be natural…I don’t want to be locked away in my head surrounded by coping mechanisms, walls and defense mechanisms… I want to live out in the sun – feeling the warmth kiss my skin and the breeze ruffle my hair.
Tag Archive: therapy
I’ve got that feeling again… the buzzing of angry bees in my chest. I wonder sometimes how long this struggle with anxiety will last? Will I carry this with me always? Will I ever get to the place where I can feel safe and at home in my own skin? What battle am I fighting today that I feel this way? When do I get to rest? I feel like I have been fighting one battle or another since the day I was born. I guess we all are in some form or fashion. I long for peace. I long for comfort… I long to feel. I have been numb for far too long. I guess I am finally learning where the bees come from… those angry bees that swarm in my chest and make it hard to breathe. I think they are all the emotions I have refused to let myself feel. Now to loose the bees and regain some measure of peace I am choosing to feel all the painful things that I would not (or could not) feel. I am crying and raging and curling up in a ball and allowing myself to feel small and vulnerable… I am fighting for me. I will win.
How do we cope? How do we deal? How do we ‘get over it?’ How do we get through this? When you’ve been raped how do you get on with life? What does ‘getting on with life’ even look like? We study, we read, we become experts in body language, we become invisible, we become smarter, harder, distant… some see us as cold…
I studied… I studied psychology, psychopathology, maladaptive coping mechanisms, anxiety, depression… I watched people, studied body language, facial expressions… I got to the point when I was aware of my surroundings at all times… I kept my back to the wall, knew where the exits were, listened to everyone in the room.
After many years I am finding my peace again, finding my center, leaning on God, learning to pray & trust and that it is ok to hope again. I want to help others now. I want to reach out and share my story… I want it to matter. I want the things I’ve seen & survived to make a difference… desperate to make a difference. I am desperate to have my pain mean something…
My husband and I went hiking at Fort Clinch State Park last weekend. The weather was lovely and the park was (as usual) breath-taking. I really enjoy hiking along the beach here – we always see wild-life of one kind or another. I hope you enjoy the photos!
I can feel it again… that tightness in my chest…
the tears, the throat so tight I cannot swallow.
Grief fills my lungs with cries I will not utter.
I feel the pull… the desire to be “ok”
the desire to bury this pain and pretend
that I am not in agony…
I feel it again… this drowning
all-consuming tidal wave swelling
toward me… so much pain… and I stand
on the open beach… arms out-stretched…
do your worst.
Haunted by memories I grasp for you and quickly push you away.
I cannot stomach this closeness yet I desire your touch – crave it – NEED it…
Fear arises as the brush of your hand resurrects ghosts thought long exorcised…
My body trembles, haunted by the abuse that still lives in my skin and in my breast, beating like a second heart.
It is chaos here… shouts, whispers, whimpers, cries…
Locked in the asylum of my mind.
captivatingbitter 