Living Proof

Standing outside in front of a busy cafe, wondering how I ever got over my fear of crowds started to overwhelm me. I started thinking about the days when I had agoraphobia. I’d walk into a mall full of people and my equilibrium would somehow fade out on me, leaving me holding onto something or someone, and at times, be found on the floor passed out. I’d wake up to a crowd of strange faces looking down at me. “Are you ok? Can you hear me? What’s your name? What’s today’s date?” Sometimes, I’d find myself waking up inside of an ambulance. I was hooked up to the oxygen being asked the same things: “What’s today’s date? Who is our president?” At times, the simple answers to all of these questions would slip away from me. Although through the years, I have gotten better. With CBT (Cognitive Behavior Therapy), I’ve managed to break through the vicious cycles of agoraphobia. I started venturing outside of my home. It was scary and this 'new world' seemed so different now.  ...

An unfortunate death occurred this past week by a girl who had committed suicide. While talking to my friend who had known her for somewhat number of years, she said to me, “I can’t believe she did this!  She was so pretty and she had money, why would she do this to herself?”  I thought about that question for a while. I thought about my own life too. What would make someone who has what everybody dreams of: looks, money, a good looking spouse - want to end their life? Most people without a chemical imbalance would think up the logical reasons, but they couldn’t with this girl. This girl was beautiful, from what I’m told, inside and out. But, what about looking beyond the outer shell of her life? What about looking deep inside; deep inside of her heart as well as mind? First “logical” reasoning is: “She’s beautiful.” Maybe it’s possible she looked into the mirror and saw a completely different person than what most people had seen. Many women and some men have an image disto...

Lately, I haven’t written anything so much as a Tweet in the last week or so. I think I caught the ‘absorb the madness’ bug from one of my favorite bloggers, Enemy of the Republic .  And mind you, not so much that it is a bad thing, however I am finding myself absorbing the craziness of the world. I’ve been fixated on the media, watching stories unfold of the injustice of Iran’s elections and the brutality, bloodshed and horrific Youtube videos and Twitter updates of the massacres that are going on. A young woman who was protesting was shot in the chest. She was identified as, Neda Aghan Soltan, to be made an example of the horrific killings that are going on. The video is even too graphic and more so, sad to even display on my blog. I’m just giving acknowledgment and a link if you want to watch the video. It is very disturbing to watch, so I warn you. While Neda was shot in the heart, a man was kneeling next to her crying out in Farsi, “My Neda, don’t be afraid, please don’t ...

Little joys of life seem to fade away as we grow older. Worry seems to have taken its place. I remember when I was younger thinking the sprinkler was some sort of an amusement park ride. Just the thrill of the cold water hitting my bare skin while my feet touched the wet blades of grass below was pure joy to me. Even when my mom would take me outside for a walk or just to play, the smell of the air was different. It was crisp; it was cool. I could smell the rain on the macadam as we headed back inside to watch the storm come in. I felt safe and loved. It was a nice feeling. Saturday mornings were a treat for me. My sisters and I would all gather around the TV and watch Looney Tunes while eating Fruity Pebbles, then head outside to play or swim in the pool. Funny as it seems, I still complained when all the activities had ended. “Ma I’m bored.” She would turn around and look down at me and say, “What? You just swam for two hours and played outside, how can you possibly be ...

I’m working on four hours sleep and two cups of black coffee. The rain outside is somewhat comforting, like little pellets of God's tears falling onto my skylight windows. It looks beautiful. The raindrops are making tiny circular ripples in each puddle they create out on my garden patio table. As the darker clouds move in, the wind picks up, creating a beautiful dance for the trees outside. Days like these, I don’t ever want the sun to come back out. There’s a certain kind of feeling I get when it storms like this. I live inside my head. I tend to think too much, feel too much and react too much. Sometimes the rain brings out deeper thoughts on levels I never knew possible. Thoughts as: why are we here on earth? What’s our purpose? Why doesn’t God let us know why we’re here?  I know theologians and people of faith can bust that question in half and come up with a million reasons why, but truth be it: we will never ever know until we meet our maker. Why do we go through ...

Can a devastating event that had occurred in our lives from the past affect us in various ways today? I clearly knew it would happen. I waited for my boyfriend to come over so we can “talk”. I opened the door and saw his face. It wasn’t the same ‘at ease’ face that I had always known. It said more. I stood there with a glass of water, as he watched my hand tremble in fear. I knew the next words out of his mouth; I knew what was going to happen next. Before he started talking, tears streamed out from my eyes. It was the same feeling you get when you receive a telephone call about someone you care about who had just passed away. He was passing away from my life - not in the physiological sense, but he was choosing to leave my life. We stood there in the kitchen hugging for God knows how long. I wasn't ready to let go of him just yet.  I cried on his shoulder and held him as close as I possibly could.  This would be our final embrace.   It was a bittersweet and beautiful end...

It was Sunday morning, 8am, the sky was overcast and the footsteps of children running down the stairs to rush off to church sounded like a pack of wild boars. I got up to make coffee and looked outside my kitchen window and noticed the neighbors in the next building over were packing up a U-Haul, filling it up with all of their furniture and belongings. As I waited for the coffee to brew, I kept watching them as they bustled back and forth, carrying out wooden drawers one by one and boxes with huge marker labels on them. They weren’t saying one word to one another. They looked sad. After a few minutes, my assumption about their sadness was evident. They started arguing in the middle of the street when I finally got wind of a slight reason why they were moving: they were breaking up. The humid air seemed to have amplified their voices throughout the complex. Their screams of tensions were really screams of ‘please let’s not do this’---but their pride got in the way and somehow,...