Where am I? Sometimes I feel disoriented in life (not literally), but more so a feeling of either anticipation of what's to happen next, whether good or bad. But I don't want to say "bad" because the universe might hear me. They say... "they say", that whatever you put into the universe comes back to you in return. I also dislike the word "karma" because it's just wishful thinking for negative people who want to see bad things happen to those who have hurt them. I get it, you were hurt, but never wish bad on anyone, regardless of what they have done to you. Just by muttering out the word "karma" says, "I'll get him or her back."
Disagree if you want, but think about it the next time you use the word. "Whatever comes around," and maybe so, but does it really?
Where was I?
So I was thinking a lot this past week. I also read the last few posts I wrote on here. It's amazing when the fog clears and you look back through the rubble, of how different things looked. That's probably how a psychotherapist looks at a patient. They listen to all of these negative and sometimes very depressing stories and wonder, "Don't you see the positive side to this? Can't you find your way out of this paper bag? Can't you see solution right in front of you?"
But when someone is drowning in their darkest emotions, there is no way they can see any possible "out" of whatever situation they're in. They think the situation in permanent. I definitely have my share of ups and downs. Some would even venture to say "bi-polar", but professionals diagnosed it as "generalized anxiety disorder". Whatever. Labels are labels. I'm not up up n' up where I'm traveling to some foreign country on a wicked high, zip lining in distant lands or kayaking in the rapids and then coming back home to spend a vacation in some psych ward just to have some downtime to medicate my depression. I think this may be wha -- the 3rd time my new therapist has just stared at me and said, "I just can't see you having anxiety or any other disorder for that matter." Although I tell her about my severe panic attacks and periods of depression, she calls it "normal". The only thing she isn't seeing is me having some psychotic fit in her office rocking in some corner speaking in tongues. I might be batshit crazy, but in all honesty, I'm not ....."crazy"
. You know, that
kinda' crazy. Maybe I should give it a whirl one day.
For the first time in a long time, I found myself "happy". Whether it was a momentary gift from God or just a strange stir up in my body chemistry, it was really nice. After I was done with my work, I went into the room where my dog was sleeping, bored out of her mind just hoping to hear, "Wanna go out?" And when she hears, "Wanna go bye-bye" -- she hops up like a little Mexican jumping bean and runs straight for my car. That was it. I had enough of this 'funk' looming over my head.
"Wanna go bye-bye?"
And so we went and thankfully so. I needed the exercise for one, and my dog got to socialize with all the other cute rascals in the park too. We walked approximately two miles and it felt so good just to be out in the crisp air on Halloween enjoying every second with my best bud. But let me backtrack to a few days before: my sisters and therapist suggested more physical exercise. I mean, I have a recumbent bicycle, but that can get boring in 0.2 seconds. I have too much 'anxiety' about walking around in the park by myself, but it would have been the best exercise for me. I don't know what happened that day, but I just got up and went. Screw it. And I'm so glad I did. I am still using the bicycle when I can't get out, but the exercise has put my mind in a better place. There's definitely a science to it.
My bouts of insomnia and myoclonus jerks at night are getting less and less. I'm not going to say they're "gone" because I still get a few jolts before I fall into a deep slumber, but they are less dramatic. I still have to see a neurologist, however with more exercise and wearing myself out during the day, it has helped my sleep schedule. Another huge help was from a friend of mine who reminded to pray and love God. Wow. I haven't prayed to God about this problem yet? And when I did, it was amazing how I woke up one morning thinking, "Did I just get 8 hours of sleep?"
It's funny how all of the techniques that I believe in and even suggest to others, I seem to fail to remember them myself. So hopefully, I'll be back on schedule with my posts. I'm trying to keep my worrying down to a minimal amount, or at least an amount that I can handle. I worry about Mom and my sisters and my wife and my dog and the list goes on and on. I worry about things that haven't even happened yet or may not even happen. I have irrational thought patterns that drive me berserk, so you can imagine how active my mind is when I finally lay down to try and sleep.
With breath in my lungs, coffee in hand and a warm November day ahead of me, I'm actually looking forward it. I honestly don't remember the last time I said that, but damn it feels good, so I'm gonna go with it.
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