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talkin 'bout issues...
Oct. 16th, 2015 03:23 pmI have some kind of sinus infection or something, but here's the thing: I've spent the last three days, while Callum is napping (and sometimes even when he's not,) googling, “sinus pressure brain tumor” and “ear pressure brain tumor” and “head pressure cancer” and the usual, “twitching ALS.” And then sitting there crying, thinking that I would have to make videos for Callum to watch as he grew up without me. That kind of thing.
All that free time, when I could have been doing anything else, like reading my writing-buddy's revised manuscript, which had actually been taking my mind off my own nonsense? Yeah.
Then last night I said, “boy, that's really stupid,” and instead I started to google local therapists that deal with anxiety. :P So maybe I have a few leads, some people I can scope out to talk to.
Even though I completely recognize how ridiculous I'm being, there's still that part of my brain that thinks that this will be that entry I look back on, wishing it had been something minor. Because you read those stories, you know? About the stuff that started out so innocuous, and ended up being the beginning of the end. Those stories are all over the internet, and they are by real people, ones who thought and hoped they were overreacting and being silly. It almost always starts out that way. I really try not to get sucked into reading them. But that doesn't help either, because those stories are reality.
When I was doing Kung Fu, I still had some anxiety, and health anxiety, too. I always have. My Mom does, too, though not as much as she used to (she got help.) Kung Fu gave me focus and made me feel relaxed. Also, I was really strong, and didn't have the aches and pains I sometimes get now. I wish I could still afford it. If I had any kind of money, I would find a way to get there. I'd bring Callum or something. I'd figure it out. I just don't have that money. And part of it was the friendships I made there, too, because we were all a little messed up, and we could laugh about it. But now, I only know one person who trains there anymore. Everyone else has left. I don't know if it would be the same training somewhere else, or even in a different style of martial arts. Kung Fu was my jam.
On the other hand, if I'm not worrying about myself, I'm worrying about Callum, or my Mom. I took Callum to the doctor two weeks ago, halfway sure she was going to tell me that he had neurofibroma, because he had these little tiny bumps from mosquito bites. Last year, Callum's doctor told me, “When you find yourself getting sucked into that panic over him, try to remind yourself that it's not HIM, it's you. These are your issues.” Which is really super advice. And I try to follow it, except that sometimes kids really do get sick.
And that's the thing I can't get past on my own. Most of the time I'm dandy. My default setting is still “happy.” I'm really SUPER AWESOMELY LUCKY that I don't have depression, because I know how tough that must be. I just can't seem to get out of that vortex of panic on my own anymore. And it kind of sucks, spending the whole day going “but what if? What if? Wouldn't that be the worst thing ever?” It's a waste of time, and I want that time back.
Oh, nuts, I just heard back from one of the therapists I contacted. She doesn't take insurance. Ugh! Well, that blows. If I had a few hundred bucks a month to spare, I'd find a kwoon (or a dojo or ANYTHING) and train again, jeez.
Onward!
All that free time, when I could have been doing anything else, like reading my writing-buddy's revised manuscript, which had actually been taking my mind off my own nonsense? Yeah.
Then last night I said, “boy, that's really stupid,” and instead I started to google local therapists that deal with anxiety. :P So maybe I have a few leads, some people I can scope out to talk to.
Even though I completely recognize how ridiculous I'm being, there's still that part of my brain that thinks that this will be that entry I look back on, wishing it had been something minor. Because you read those stories, you know? About the stuff that started out so innocuous, and ended up being the beginning of the end. Those stories are all over the internet, and they are by real people, ones who thought and hoped they were overreacting and being silly. It almost always starts out that way. I really try not to get sucked into reading them. But that doesn't help either, because those stories are reality.
When I was doing Kung Fu, I still had some anxiety, and health anxiety, too. I always have. My Mom does, too, though not as much as she used to (she got help.) Kung Fu gave me focus and made me feel relaxed. Also, I was really strong, and didn't have the aches and pains I sometimes get now. I wish I could still afford it. If I had any kind of money, I would find a way to get there. I'd bring Callum or something. I'd figure it out. I just don't have that money. And part of it was the friendships I made there, too, because we were all a little messed up, and we could laugh about it. But now, I only know one person who trains there anymore. Everyone else has left. I don't know if it would be the same training somewhere else, or even in a different style of martial arts. Kung Fu was my jam.
On the other hand, if I'm not worrying about myself, I'm worrying about Callum, or my Mom. I took Callum to the doctor two weeks ago, halfway sure she was going to tell me that he had neurofibroma, because he had these little tiny bumps from mosquito bites. Last year, Callum's doctor told me, “When you find yourself getting sucked into that panic over him, try to remind yourself that it's not HIM, it's you. These are your issues.” Which is really super advice. And I try to follow it, except that sometimes kids really do get sick.
And that's the thing I can't get past on my own. Most of the time I'm dandy. My default setting is still “happy.” I'm really SUPER AWESOMELY LUCKY that I don't have depression, because I know how tough that must be. I just can't seem to get out of that vortex of panic on my own anymore. And it kind of sucks, spending the whole day going “but what if? What if? Wouldn't that be the worst thing ever?” It's a waste of time, and I want that time back.
Oh, nuts, I just heard back from one of the therapists I contacted. She doesn't take insurance. Ugh! Well, that blows. If I had a few hundred bucks a month to spare, I'd find a kwoon (or a dojo or ANYTHING) and train again, jeez.
Onward!
