Posts Tagged ‘anxiety’


May 18, 2017 Comments off

“The mole, I’m not
so worried about,”
said the nurse practitioner,
peering at me over the rims
of her eyeglasses. “It’s
the anxiety that
concerns me.”

“I didn’t say anything
about anxiety,” I
pointed out.

“Oh, honey,
you didn’t
have to.”

“This is half as bad
as it was even a
month ago,”
I replied.

We talked
for fifteen minutes.

At one point,
I said, “the best thing
was accepting, really
accepting, that the world
could be very, very grim
for my children, no matter
what I do or say–“

“We don’t know that
it will be!”
she cautioned.

“Oh, I know. I’ve been
reading Arundhati Roy
and Rebecca Solnit, and,
well, dozens of other authors
just this year. There’s hope in
uncertainty, here.”

She nodded.

“What I mean is:
I was ragged from figuring
out what I could do, and how
I could do it, to show that citizens
must not wait for politicians to do
the right thing environmentally.
What finally freed me
from that churn
was seeing that …
if the outcome does end up
being very, very grim,
it will be all the more important
for me to have left my sons
with tons and tons of love
to sustain them through
hardships I can’t
They’ll need
the memory
of all
to get by,
you know?
So I’ll keep
reading, and I’ll
keep showing up,
where I think it’ll help,
but I’m not arguing anymore,
or fretting about the right words,
or seeking the magic combination
that’ll suddenly engage
the disengaged,
but mostly,
mostly …
I’ll love

When I left
the room moments later,
she told me, “You’re
a lovely woman.”

“Ha!” I wanted to say.
“You should talk to
some of my now-
former friends.”

I accepted her words,
and her hug,

simply … pausing

“Let me wash the dishes,” my husband said over my shoulder yesterday morning.

“Naw,” I replied, continuing to scrub. “This is zen washing.”

“You need a sign,” he told me as he left the kitchen.

I contemplated that as I kept scrubbing. Do I really need a sign? I wondered. I feel like the distinction between my two types of washing is pretty obvious.

There’s the zen kind that’s pretty sweet. I could zen wash dishes for hours.



Read more…

Weekend Coffee Share: Dancing through birthdays & revelations

If we were having coffee, you’d find me all smiles as I sipped my sparkling water.

After listening intently to your recounting of what’s been up with and what’s ahead for you, I’d pause for a moment to consider where to begin. Is chronological best, or should I take some other route to explaining why I’m smiling so?

I’d land on my son’s birthday as a springboard into explaining everything.

Littler J turned two on Friday. (How’d that even happen? I’d say with a puzzled glance. I just brought him home!) I took off the afternoon from work to spend it with my boys and sister. We feasted at–or made a ginormous mess of, in Littler’s case–our birthday favorite restaurant before spending a few hours at Anaheim’s Adventure City, a pint-sized theme park for pint-sized little ones. Read more…

Coffee and history

Giving up coffee has wreaked havoc on me the last three weeks.

The last time I gave up coffee for a few weeks, I felt amazing. I was walking on sunshine within a few days!

This time around, I have felt the ache of its absence in virtually every waking minute. I’ve missed its smell, its taste, the buzz I got from drinking it, the way it gave me enough nervous energy to keep getting through things I’d otherwise not have nearly enough energy to tackle.

In the vein of J.D. from Scrubs, I’ve envisioned grabbing peoples’ mugs and laughing maniacally as I drank from them at a run while they stood behind, coffeeless and baffled as to what exactly just happened.

I’ve had to face the fact that, though I wasn’t pawning my possessions for another hit of my drug of choice, I was–am–deeply, scarily dependent upon coffee.

In the last few weeks, I’ve had to face some fundamental, hard truths.  Read more…

The Unicorn of Replenishment [is not real]

This post was inspired (in part) by my just-younger sister’s
post, “Unsought Advice.” Silver Star is working her fingers to the bone,
leaving me wishing I were closer in space to help share some of her load with her.

A couple of months ago, someone I hold dear sobbed about extremely distressing life circumstances she’s having a hell of a time escaping. As she sobbed, she told me people around her counsel her to “just be more positive” as if positivity is not a tool but itself the cure to all ailments.

I spent twenty or thirty minutes telling her where I thought those people could shove it and, in order of importance, why.

I was actually pretty eloquent then, but it was eloquence born of impassioned advocacy.

Tonight, I just want to briefly reflect on how positivity alone doesn’t cure anxiety, poverty, PTSD, or a million other ailments that took days, months, or years doing unspeakable damage to their targets before someone suggested they “just try positivity.” Read more…

39.5 days

I just wrote about how much I do not like proselytizing.
There’s a chance what I wrote below might come off as trying to sell you, but that’s not my intention.
I intend strictly, exclusively, to tell you why I feel so darn good at this exact moment in time,
in a way that doesn’t take me 408 hours to explain.

A few years ago, I changed my eating habits after a serious, months-long health scare following exposure to environmental toxins. Read more…

Categories: Health Tags: , , , , ,

The coffee need

On the first day of Lent, I committed to giving up the junk food that’s been my bane for the last many months. I usually eat junk food sparingly, but have been dosing it with myself most evenings since I wrote “my bulimia / my beautiful body” after my last Whole30.

“Junk food” means something different to me than it does to many people. For me, “junk food” is anything not listed on the Whole30 Autoimmune Protocol shopping list. It’s food that leaves me feeling crappier after eating it than I did before, whereas eating food on the list leaves me feeling better.

I usually feel like I’m swimming in rainbows a week or two into eating junk-free.

like this,

Like this, but with so many more rainbows

Not so this time. Read more…

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