Anxiety – Page 4 – Rerouting Life

Happy List #3

October 10, 2016October 10, 2016reroutinglife

Okay people. I’m bringing back the happy list.

I started doing these a while ago and they just kind of tapered off, but I think it’s time to bring it back. One- because it will force me to write more. And two- because we should always find a reason to celebrate the things that make us happy. So here is my list for this week!

1.FALL!!!!! I feel like I was just celebrating the start of summer. But all of a sudden, fall is upon us. I know I mentioned that summer is my jam. I could also say the same about Fall (although I’m pretty sure the start of any new season is the best, really). It’s been a really hot summer here in Atlanta, and in fact, the first technical days of Fall were equally as hot. But a couple of days ago, the switch flipped and now it finally feels like fall. The crisp, cool air, the clear blue skies, the leaves starting to fall ever so slightly…I just want to eat it up! Throw in football, pumpkin everything, mums, Fall Festivals, apples, sweaters, leggings with cute boots and I’m smitten. The other day I made my Target run, and instead of just walking out with the birthday gift and milk that I intended to get (of course), I walked out with a Halloween sign, the cutest fabric pumpkin, a glittery bat garland, a cinnamon scented candle, and a fabulous gold pumpkin pillow. That pillow almost made the Happy List by itself I love it so much. I know we (and I’m talking to you, ladies) make fun of ourselves for going into Target and getting side tracked, but that seasonal decor is really just too much fun to ignore. So in another month when I’m tirelessly sweeping leaves off my porch and whining about how annoying it is to get my kids to put on coats and socks, I will try to remember all the reasons why I love Fall. Target seasonal section, you will always be one of those reasons.

2. Child’s Pose. I started doing yoga a few years ago. When people learned about my anxiety, they were all, “why don’t you try yoga?” and all I could think was how anxiety-provoking it would be to try to do all those fancy hard-to-pronounce moves in front of a room full of strangers. But somehow, I found BeYoga on the Marietta Square and I was in love. And, they offered a workshop for beginners!!! That really helped with the first-time jitters. Turns out, I love yoga. The stretching, the breathing, the mindfulness. Great for your body and mind. Score. But child’s pose, man, that is the best. You sit on your knees, slightly spread apart, bring your head to the floor and stretch your arms out long on the ground, and breathe. If you’ve never tried it before, I’m begging you, just do it…and get ready to say ahhhhhh.

3.La Croix. I always wondered how anyone could drink barely flavored sparkling water. I didn’t see the point. I don’t know if there’s some magic age where sparking water suddenly becomes glorious but I guess I must be close because by-golly, all of a sudden I’m an addict. I am constantly hitting up the Costco for 24 cans of bubbly goodness. So cold, so refreshing, so barely-flavored. Which, apparently, is now my thing. If only I could figure out how to pronounce it. French class, you have failed me.

4.The Beach. The beach could be an entire Happy List by itself. We recently made the trip down to Ft. Walton Beach, FL (the trip where I drove us home by myself!!!) a couple of weeks ago, and it was the best time. The weather was unbelievable, and the kids are at this magical age where they finally posses a decent amount of independence while still managing to be innocent and cute. We all enjoyed each other’s company. One notable perk of the magical age is staying up later without totally falling apart the next day, so we enjoyed more than one sunset on the beach and our fair share of night swimming (which always feels like a huge adventure for the kids). All of this while Jason and I could sit back with a cocktail and reminisce about surviving the good old days of swim diapers, beach tents and pack-n-plays. I think I finally made a family vacation believer out of him.

5.Football. If you are born and raised in the South, you have probably seen a football game or two. Game Days are considered to have their own culture in some aspect. Being a Georgia native, I am a UGA Bulldog and an Atlanta Falcons fan (two teams that have broken many hearts during my lifetime), and I love everything about football Saturdays and Sundays (or sometimes, Thursdays and Mondays). Planning your team color coordinated outfit, meeting up with friends and family, tailgate food, marching bands, and finally, the roller coaster ride that is the actual game. Every game is like watching a movie, the drama unfolds before you, in real-time; sometimes your heart explodes with excitement and other times you are left jaw-dropped with shock and disbelief. This past Saturday was no exception as the Bulldogs lost in the final seconds to the Tennessee Vols. There were just no words. But that’s the name of the game. You cannot predict every outcome. Win or lose, I still love this game.

6.Campfires. Okay, so maybe we weren’t exactly camping, but we did set up a nice little cheapie fire pit in the backyard. With the fall temperatures finally cooling off, we were able to have our first fire the other night. We carefully searched for the best sticks and roasted marshmallows. We threw leaves and pine straw into the fire and marveled at how fast they shriveled up. We practiced outrunning the smoke as it shifted with the breeze. My son became a little too obsessed with lighting things on fire, so eventually we had to call it quits. Also, I made the mistake of buying the bag of jumbo marshmallows, which resulted in my children resembling some sort of human fly paper. Despite the stickiness, I’m predicting many more backyard pow-wows in the future.

7.Starbucks. Okay, okay, I know there are a million cute mom and pop coffee shops that I could mention that make me happy, but there is just such a comfort in the reliability of a Starbucks. If there’s ever an hour or so to spare in my day, I know at least 3 Starbucks nearby that will be waiting with my Chai Tea Latte, free wifi, and a tiny little spot for me to just sit and be. I went this morning to do some work (making the class directory for Allie’s preschool class is serious work, people!!!) and again I was amazed and how dang happy it made me just to sit in a Starbucks with all the mature, well-dressed business folk (and a few other stragglers donning t-shirts and yoga pants, like myself) and just chill. There’s nothing like pounding away freely on my laptop while the echoes of verbal chatter and the hiss of steaming milk fill the air. I saw a sign today that they’re going to start serving beer and wine in the evenings?!! Really? As if I don’t loiter in there enough, now I am going to be enticed to stay straight on through until night-time now that I can enjoy a glass of Pinot and a cake pop simultaneously. Might as well just keep an overnight bag behind the counter.

8.Apple Slices and Caramel Dip. Makes me happy. The end.

9.The Sunrise. With the days becoming shorter, we are waking up before the sun. Which means we are catching quite a few sunrises these days. I know I mentioned the sunset as being up there with my top favorite things of all time, but a sunrise is just as magnificent, if not more so. There’s such beauty in the beginning of something, and it’s hard to compete with the wonderment of a new morning. Plus, I have witnessed significantly less sunrises (or at least purposely sat and watched one) than sunsets, so the rarity alone adds to the awe of the event. Some of my most memorable sunrises… on the beach in Cancun, Mexico, during spring break in college (oops, we never went to bed!), early mornings when I lived in Breckenridge, Colorado (you couldn’t actually see the sun, but the way it lit up the rocky mountain peaks across the valley, in a blazing splendor of orange light, was one of my fondest memories), and sitting on the rocky cliffs overlooking the Pacific during our honeymoon in Kauai, HI (thanks to the time difference we were up extra early to enjoy a few of those). I look forward to many more of these quiet, magnificent moments that come with each new day.

10.People. I realize that this can be a subjective topic. Do I really like all people? I can’t say that I do. Especially if you ask me while in the Costco parking lot at lunchtime, in Atlanta rush hour or on Black Friday. But for the most part, I believe that all people are generally good and have goodness somewhere in their hearts. Yes, there is evil in the world. But let’s not focus on that now. This is a Happy List, by all means. What fascinates me about people, is that what you see is usually not ever what you get. Heck, I am a testimony to that fact. I am always curious about the story that everyone carries with them. So much so, that sometimes I feel compelled to ask complete strangers about their life story (from which I always refrain, for fear of looking like a complete lunatic). The people who intrigue me the most are the ones who seems to be suffering, the ones with frowns on their faces, who are lashing out at the world. What are their stories? Where is their source of pain? Okay, so maybe the guy honking at me in the Costco parking lot isn’t on my list of favorite people, but there’s still a tiny sliver of compassion for him buried beneath my irritation. For just like you and I, he has a unique perspective. There’s a story beneath it all. No one person in this world is the same, and that is a beautiful, amazing thing. People are the glue that hold our world together, and we have a responsibility to each other not only to respect our differences but to celebrate them. We as humans have a unique and powerful ability to influence our world, and if we can leave a legacy of any kind, I pray that it is one of peace and unity. People make me happy only when they are doing their best to be good-hearted people. Good, not to be confused with perfect, but good, decent, loving people. Even those who seem distraught or coarse can be hiding a pure, but broken heart under a tangled mess of sadness and despair. So before you discount the weary, the broken and disheartened, get to know them as people. Listen to their story. Little by little, you will start to see the happy in their hearts. And I guarantee, by taking to time to listen, you will feel the happy in your own heart growing too.

The Longest Drive

September 28, 2016September 29, 2016reroutinglife

I’m doing it again.

I’m waiting for perfection.

I haven’t blogged as near as much as I’ve wanted to, and besides lack of time (or reaching for the glass and wine and a blanket instead of the laptop) there’s really no good reason not to be writing more frequently. I’m beginning to think, however, that this pesky little perfectionist in me may have something to do with it.

I keep waiting for the perfect thing to write about, edit it a hundred times, and then finally put it out there. When it’s perfect. Didn’t I promise transparency, though? Didn’t I tell you to give yourself grace and embrace your imperfections? Looks like I need to start taking my own advice.

I started following a blog recently, and the author posted a new goal of trying to blog everyday. Everyday! I can barely put make-up on everyday. Today I didn’t even get dressed until almost 11am (not that I wasn’t super productive though…it’s amazing how many household chores you can get done in your pj’s! And thank goodness no one can see my glorious outfits in morning carpool line!!).

I’ve accomplished some pretty noteworthy things in the past few months, and I have hardly written a thing about them. Why?! Part of me thinks no one really wants to read about it. That’s the other pesky friend in my head, the low self-worth one. She’s just hanging out up there with little Miss Perfect, having a cocktail and scheming away and how to rob me of a full, content life. Sorry ladies, time for last call.

In the spirit of celebrating my accomplishments, I am determined to write about my drive yesterday. I took the longest drive with the kids I’ve ever done…7 hours from Destin to Kennesaw by myself. BY MYSELF!!!!! As I traversed those long, seemingly endless stretches of highway, I thought, I need to blog about this! Yet those snarky frenemies in my head started inflicting doubt. It’s just a boring drive. Why would people want to read about that? People drive all the time. They don’t want to read about it.

So I didn’t take to the keyboard, although I was fresh off reaching this huge goal and teeming with disbelief and pride. It was partially out of pure exhaustion that I failed to capture the moment in words…I’d driven the farthest I had been in about 10 years, and I still had to unpack and put the kids to bed without a husband. The wine and cozy blanket were the clear winners.

Here I am though. I’m going to write about this, damn it! Sure, my kids are yelling at me from downstairs and I should be starting dinner, but they will survive a few more measly minutes. I can at least get started and stop if they start beating each other up. Clock is ticking.

While I ruminated on whether anyone would want to read about a boring drive home from the beach, I had a thought. When I first started grappling with this anxious driving business, I was desperate for answers, advice…anything to proove that I wasn’t alone in this. Enter the smart phone. I Googled driving anxiety, then searched and searched for someone with a similar story. There were some forums here and there, some technical psychology sites, links to this and that; I did read some snip-its of similar experiences, but nothing that I could really connect with. I ended up finding an anxiety Facebook group, so I put a couple of posts out there and waited. I needed support and reassurance. The most poignant response I received was from a woman who had just started driving on the highway again, after 20 years. In my reply, I remember asking her how she did it? She mentioned that it took a great support group and lots of courage. That’s one of the trickiest parts of recovering from the grips of paralyzing fear…there’s no clear answer. No one size fits all. But we crave a sense of community, a support group of our own, for whatever we may need. We cannot do it alone.

This is why I write. Because maybe there’s that one person, who was like me 6 or 7 years ago, desperately searching for a common thread, for a link to a glimmer of hope. Someone out there needs me. More than likely, it’s several someones.

Back to the drive. I have said for years, one day I want to be able to drive my kids to the beach. It has been a goal for so, so long. I really am still in disbelief that I actually did it. I’m like that though, slow to react; I kind of go into shock until reality sets in. Anyway, the opportunity kind of just presented itself unexpectedly.

We took a family trip down to Ft. Walton Beach, right outside of Destin, FL. I was so excited that Jason could finally join us; he is so hard to pin down with his work schedule. When we arrived I realized that it was booked until Monday, and we had planned to come back Sunday. By the time Saturday evening rolled around, Jason made a suggestion; what if he flew home (he had an international flight he had to catch the next day) and I drove the kids home? Then we could stay an extra day.

Could you do it? he asked.

Pause.

This is where the fear wants to control you. You hesitate, you start to make excuses, you try to find every reason not to face your fear. Jack has school. I really miss my bed. I don’t know if the kids can ingest another meal of popcorn shrimp. But I knew better. Here was an opportunity. Not only to extend our wonderful, priceless family time, but to practice. To take the fear head on. I did not pause for long this time.

Yes.

Yes! Challenge accepted. Was I really going to do it? Then Jason went ahead and booked his flight. It was done. I was in.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t even that worried. Usually, the anticipatory anxiety would fester and build until I was a hot mess of nerves. But we just enjoyed our last day of glorious beach vacation time, sipped frozen drinks while our kids played in the pool (side note: the day when both your children can swim unassisted in a pool is AH-MAZING!!!), Jason flew out, I enjoyed another frozen pool drink, we watched the sunset from the beach, swam until dark, ordered a pizza, and called it a day. I even slept like a rock. It wasn’t until the next day that my nerves started acting up on me.

Looking back, I think that packing the entire condo up into the truck while you are alone with two kids and a dog was maybe more annoying than the entire drive, but thanks to the trusty old iPads, I got the job done. So we all strapped into the F150 (Jason’s car, since mine was at home) and I started taking deep breaths. This is it. I have to do this.

I find necessity to be a very helpful motivator. There was only one way home, and I was it. But I was nervous. I adjusted my seat belt. I entered the address in Google Maps and dissected each possible route. I ate a protein bar. Mom, I’m ready to go! My son was clearly not in the mood for stall tactics. Time to go.

I decided to take a different way then how we came in, really only for old time’s sake. Back in high school and college I could drive to Destin with my eyes closed, we came down so many times. I can still see myself, driving in my white ’88 Honda Accord, windows down, music blasting, usually a best friend or two riding along. I used to put the car in cruise control and drive Indian-style, for goodness sakes. Please Lord don’t let my kids ever do that. There were no smart phones, no navigation systems; it was just me, a road atlas and a Sony Walkman CD player that would play through the stereo via cassette tape. Free as a bird (and probably listening to Free Bird).

So I started on the route, reminiscing over familiar sights and smells, noticing changes here and there, but mostly enjoying the scenery.

Until I came to the bridge.

The Mid-Bay Bridge seemed familiar, I’m pretty sure this was the route we used to take into Destin back in the day. These days, however, bridges are not my friend. As part of my anxiety I suffer from agoraphobia, which is a fear of being trapped or stuck in an enclosed space. A bridge leaves no room for error. I must maintain complete control and competence on a bridge.

There was a girl in college with me that was deathly afraid of bridges. I was with her once when she had to cross a bridge, and people had to literally hold her hand to help her across. I remember thinking that was crazy. How could you be scared of a bridge? I know now. I think of her all the time. Crazy how things can change.

I glance at the navigation map…wow, that’s a long bridge. I must maintain myself for how long? The impulsive thoughts come quickly…should I turn around? Should I reroute? Can I pull over if I need to? Can I do this?!

Yes. I can do this.

It is not a walk in the park. I take deep breaths. I try to control the AC so that it’s just perfect. I prepare to be uncomfortable. And then…I’m driving over the bridge. Guess what? I just go with it. Then, I turn the moment from dread into complete wonderment.

Look at the water guys! (They are engrossed in the iPads at this point) Put your iPads down!!! Look at the sailboat! Look at that pelican on the pole! Say goodbye to the ocean, guys!

This is the good stuff. The good that is happening in the moment. I declare the goodness out loud, and flush away the negative. Then, just like that, we are over the bridge.

Getting over that bridge seemed to be the push I needed to make it through the rest of the trip. After that, it was smooth sailing. The small highways didn’t look all that familiar; I’m pretty sure there were some new ones built in the 15 years since I’d driven down here. There were some pretty sketchy, remote areas (at one point the road didn’t even register on the map), but most of the route was straightforward. In the past I never had anxiety about being lost; I always considered myself having a decent sense of direction. We drove through a couple of rain storms, had to let the dog out to pee on the side of the road, then Jack had to go (which resulted in stepping in an ant hill, which he was quick to brush off, but then decided he would stick it to the ants by peeing on them). We hit up two Love’s truck stops (which were eerily similar and packed with way too many tempting kids toys), stuffed our faces with McDonalds and Pringles. We listened to Katy Perry on repeat (per Allie’s request) and laughed at Bear when he got his head stuck in the Happy Meal box scavenging for rogue french fries. Jack had a timer set on his phone to track how long it would take us to get home, but he still kept asking.

Mama, how many minutes are in 2 1/2 hours?? After many appeasing answers, I finally responded with, I can’t do math in the car.

She wore this the whole way home. My hero.

We actually had a decent time. The kids were great. Again, thank you Apple. We had a lot of laughs. I had a lot of time to think. I sang a lot of Katy Perry. But what I didn’t have a lot of, was fear.

Every mile, every second, every hour, was another step. A step towards freedom. I was building on this experience and coming out stronger because of it.

I did stall again, however, as I approached I-85. What had been simple, two lane divided highways for most of the trip were bound to end once we inched closer to downtown Atlanta. I stopped at the end of the smaller route 185 to get gas, clean out the car, let the dog pee…putting off the inevitable. Unless I wanted to add an extra couple of hours to the trip, I had to push on.

So on I went. The kids were getting a bit antsy into hour 6, and I couldn’t blame them. More motivation to take the fastest route…and the most intimidating. Three lanes turned into four, five, and finally I was in the middle of the eight lane connector. This was the stuff I had only reserved for my nightmares, and all of a sudden I was slap in the middle of it. But I was calm. I had to work at it, but I remained that way. As I hit rush-hour traffic in downtown (fabulous timing, I know), I realized that I could hop over to the HOV lane (yes, I Googled it and kids do count), but it was all the way over to the left. Much like the bridge I had feared earlier, the left lane is not my friend either. But I was ready to get through this as fast as I could if it meant getting home quicker. So over I went.

I got some dirty looks (at one point I rolled the windows down so the kids were a bit more visible), but the HOV lane sped my commute up immensely. Next thing you know, I’m on 75 north, cruising with the rush hour crowd like it’s no big deal. I got this. I pull in the driveway and want to kiss the ground. Home. I’m exhausted. The car smells like stinky dog, sweaty kids and chicken nuggets. But we made it. I did it.

If the me from 6 years ago could read this, I’d be in shock. I wouldn’t believe it. It would be impossible to fast-forward through years of crippling fear and doubt to realize that a moment like this could exist. But what that younger, more fearful, broken me would see, is that there is hope. That fear does not win in the end. The the steps are small and painfully slow. Sometimes there will even be steps backwards, but there is hope in the end. There is always hope. No one can get you there but yourself, but you also cannot do it alone.

I met with a friend not long ago who specializes in natural healing and helps patients with anxiety, and had overcome it herself. As I explained the many outlets and paths I had been taking to find an answer somewhere out in the universe, she said something that will always resonate with me.

The answer is in YOU. You have everything you need right there, inside you.

I finally believe her. I knew she was right, even then, but like all things in life, sometimes it takes the gift of time and wisdom to see what’s right in front of us…what’s been within reach the entire time. One day, I promise, you will be able to just reach up and grab it. And when you do, hold on. Hold on tight.

And by all means, freaking celebrate it.

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