Living Proof

It's strange how someone like myself can suffer with anxiety and panic attacks, yet be of help to someone else who is suffering from the same struggle. Sometimes, even the most college educated licensed therapist or psychiatrist can do very little for someone. It's all about who you click with--not what kind of degree is hanging up on their walls. They're probably still paying off student loans and wishing they went into another line of work, and of course, there are some who are purposely there with passion, and a heart for those suffering. But in my opinion, you don't need a degree to help somebody else suffering. Sometimes all you need is experience with exactly what they are suffering with. I'm not saying schooling is bad---I am only trying to reiterate that experience goes a long way when someone is trying to explain to you what they are feeling. If you've experienced it, then you can relate and then tell them what worked for you. I will say this: when

 "Go out, get out of the house, it'll be fun," they said. I miss going out, visiting my favorite restaurants, driving over to the local farms and seeing what's going on in our local fish market. I miss getting a mani/pedi at my local nail salon and getting my hair done. I miss just being around other people, but yesterday I thought it was time to get my feet wet. I didn't want to go out. I wanted to protect myself from seeing the world post-COVID. But yesterday, something inside me said, "Just do it." And I did. I went to a few farms and bought some fresh produce, cut a few sunflowers and made my way into the local fish market like I always did. I finally drove my car! I truly thought that I had forgotten how to drive---it's been that long. The sun was shining, but the weather was a little hotter than I expected. Questions through text were like, "So how was it? You got out, huh?" It sucked. I will tell you why. First let me say

The effects of this pandemic has hit an all time high. Here in New York, the mortality rate is below 1%--and I don't know one person who is sick right now, other than a bad case of seasonal allergies. But what I mean by "effects" -- is that the world still looks like a huge Dexter murder setup---plastic wrapped around every wall, counter and credit card processors in the stores. Plexiglass is put up as borders and sneeze guards, and of course, people wearing masks and big face shields walking around everywhere. Companies, like the one my better half works for has a policy---no mask, no service. All employees must wear a mask at all times. No ifs, ands or buts about it. It's not the law, only a mandate, but businesses are allowed to make their own rules, rightfully so. "No shirt, no shoes, no service," --- same thing. So while the virus has simmered down a tad, we are headed into flu season. With the flu on its way and COVID still lurking in the darkness, it&

Everyone has a cross to bear or some kind of issue that may not be visible at first glance. I know many people who prefer not to share their problems or physical ailments with the world, and I happen to be one of them. Of course, my blog is literally an open book, but in a general conversation, I tend to keep a lot of personal things to myself. Nobody wants to hear a whiner or someone possibly seeking a pity party. I remember when I was a young girl around four or five years old, we had these older next-door neighbors, a husband a wife who seemed to be very nice. When the wife got to know my mom, she stopped by more often, usually with a homemade baked pie or something she cooked herself. It was either feast or famine with her---either she came too much or she wasn't to be seen at all. Sometimes, my mom would worry and call her up to see if she was okay. As time went on and mom figured that her friend wasn't up to socializing anymore, but then she received a phone call from her