Posts Tagged ‘future tripping’

Hello My Old Friend

August 7, 2017

So nice to get re-acquainted.


Fuck me man.

I got anxious today.


That should go without saying, having been diagnosed with clinical anxiety and clinical depression about a decade ago, that I would have anxiety now and then in my life.



I’d sort of forgotten.

Good grief.

It snuck up on me today.

Perhaps because I had suddenly some unexpected down time and that can make me a little tight in my chest, a little thread of something is wrong running down my spine, unscheduled down time, what the fuck will I do?

And I had plenty to do, I always have something going on.

I did loads of writing.

I did loads of laundry.

So happy the landlady replaced the washing machine, the gift of not having to go to the laundry mat next to the 7-11 on the corner of Judah and 46th is no joke.

I did yoga.

I had lots of lovely phone conversations today.

I went grocery shopping.

I cooked food for dinner.

I had a scrumptious salad for lunch on the back porch during the half hour of sun that came out in the Outer Sunset.


It has been foggy.

I’m about ready for that to be over weather wise.

I went and got right with God.

I did some meditation.

Life is great!


I ordered books for school and looked over another syllabus that got published for my fall semester.

That’s when I noticed it, the corroding of my nerves, the odd feeling in my body, the small shivers of panic.



I had forgotten you.




Fuck off.

I don’t need you around.

I mean.

I really don’t.

Anxiety pulls me out of the moment, catapults me into the future, where there is not god, there is nothing, there is only fear and terror and pain.

And it’s always a bad future.

It’s not a sweet, kind, gentle, loving future.


It’s a.


Kind of future.

And I still might fail.

And that’s ok.

I mean.

It is at least familiar.

I know this feeling, I have had it before, and I can live through it.

And I didn’t have a panic attack.

I had the scattering of one at the beginning of the last semester when I was super uptight about practicum and getting my internship nailed down.

Fortunately I was having a work day where the mom and baby were at her office and I was going to pick up the monkeys from school.

I had some down time at work to do cleaning and fold laundry and prep stuff for dinner and I got an e-mail regarding some financial aid thing and then another about registering for practicum and something in me just popped.

I got super wound up and it felt like a cement bucket of fear was riding on my chest and creeping up my throat.



For two and a half years I took antidepressants to deal with the depression and anxiety.

I stopped right around my five years of sobriety.

I came off them real easy.

I had been on the lowest dosage anyway.


I felt like I didn’t need them anymore and I was riding my bicycle a lot and nannying some pretty energetic kids and I was doing ok.

I was also began eating a diet abstinent from processed flour and all sugars (except those occurring naturally in fruit, bring on the apples!) and that was a big thing too.

My diet got really clean, I got daily biking exercise, and I was out in the sun a lot pushing a stroller to and from multiple playgrounds.

The anxiety dissipated.


The depression fell away.

I lost lots of weight.

I got happy.


Shit happened.

Life happened.

When it was a dark and rainy winter the depression would slide back in a little, but for the most part.



I started grad school.

Anxiety nightmares.

Stress dreams.

Mild depression each winter semester.

Nothing that I couldn’t titrate with a touch more sleep or with a little more exercise and then I added some flax oil into my diet and rode it out.

The anxiety was easily the worst my first semester of school.



Not so much.


It was there.

And truth be told.

It annoyed me.

It pissed me off.

I was like.



I am not doing this again.

I know what this looks like and I know how to handle it and.


It never has been that bad.

It never has been the nightmare of not having enough time to do all the things and read all the things and write all the papers that my over active imagination likes to tell me it’s going to be.

Not once.



I never stopped blogging, which I told myself I would drop if it got bad.

I never stopped doing morning pages, ditto, I’ll stop if I can’t handle the writing load.



There were days here and there when I didn’t.

But I was pretty steady through it all.

I also know from experience, this for me is the most basic form of faith, that I always get things done.

And that there really is no need to be anxious about things.

I sent out a few messages, got some sweet responses.

Made a phone call to my person.

Wrote out a gratitude list.

And went about my day.

There are things I am going to have to do and my fall semester this year will look different from my last two as I am in practicum and I am seeing clients and I’m basically a practicing psychotherapist.

Not a psycho.



Gallows humor is probably not the most attractive thing in a therapist.

Or is it?


I reached out to my supervisor about my schedule and I saw some openings and some things that I may have to adjust to and change-up.



I got this.

I got my books ordered.

I am still waiting for the release of one more syllabus though, I may still have to purchase a few books, but that’s fine.

I got my first text-book in the mail and I started reading it yesterday and yes, it will start traveling with me as I go about my week.

I worked through the anxiety.

I had a nice quiet talk with myself, assuaged my worries, gave myself the you can do it pep talk and basically really breathed into it.

All in all.

I can handle this and I was told that this would be a challenging year.

Haven’t they all been?


That I have seen others walk through it and I know if they can do it so can I.


I have a pretty amazing support system, fellowship and community.

I’m going to be just fine.


I already am.


Right now.

In this beautiful moment.

There is nothing wrong, and my life.


Let me just say.

It’s fucking fabulous.

Amazing really.

Luckiest girl in the world.



Off Kilter

May 3, 2014

Not a lot.

Just a little.

But sometimes it is that little bump under the carpet, the molehill, not the mountain, that makes me worse in my membrane than the big stuff.

I can handle the big stuff.

I can’t really put a finger on it, aside that there’s some change coming down the turnpike, when isn’t it, and I am uncomfortable with it.

I have been sitting on some stuff and need a little action and got as irritated as I could stand today.

I jumped out of my skin when I got a text from a friend about brunch tomorrow.

I can’t make it, I hollered in my head.

It’s a ladies brunch and clothing swap that I said yes to weeks ago.

I want to see the ladies going, doubt I will find any clothes that work for me, but you never know, but at the same time, I cringe at being social.

I like the women who are there, I just don’t know them all that well, and I am so prone to isolating and not getting myself out there, that when I got a text from the host lovingly inquiring if I was coming, I stalled and said, maybe.

But it felt wrong to not go and I knew it and when I spoke of it to another friend, she said, “these are your people!  Go have fun!”

And she’s right.

I am just feeling tender and vulnerable and when that happens, when my routine is a little off, it was today, I rode my scooter to work, then the change is uncomfortable, even if it’s good and I get the creepy crawlies and have a hard time staying in the moment.

However, nannying a frisky 15 month old boy who has just gotten the hang of walking, flying is next, there is nowhere to be but in the present.

I wanted to be all over the place, all over the map, at least in my head.

I was in Wisconsin.

I was at Burning Man.

I was applying for a new job.

I was staying in the current job.

I was in a relationship.

I was single.

I could have thrown my head off my shoulders and happily accepted a cantaloupe from the IGA in exchange for some quiet.

I did enjoy my day with my charge, we walked all over the Mission and went to three different parks–Kid Power Park, Mission Pool and Play Ground, and the Eureka Valley Rec Center.

I made up for not exercising on my bicycle by walking a lot today.

The fog came in, as it does, when it’s hot, and this morning I poked my head out and decided that I was still going to ride the scooter in to work.

It turned out to be just fine, although, my front tire, again, felt low on air.

I am wondering if I have a slow leak.

I will be inflating it before heading off to Tart to Tart tomorrow and then onto the ladies clothing swap and brunch.

The ride into work took about 30 minutes.

15 less than on my bicycle and much less sweaty.

I am usually drenched on my bike rides up to Noe and 19th from out here at Ocean Beach, the commute distance is a little over six miles.

Next week I am working almost exclusively in the Castro, I plan on riding in on the scooter all week.  The only day I am not working in the Castro is on Thursday when I will be in the NOPA and I will ride my bicycle in as then I won’t have to worry about parking.

The family in Cole Valley is out-of-town and I won’t be in Cole Valley at all.

That could be part of the discomfort, the change of venue for work, it does make things different.

I would like to recognize that I am trying to figure it out here and I know that’s not the solution, figuring it out, got to let that go and just have the fucking feelings.

What ever they are, hey you, feelings, you are allowed to happen, I promise, no one’s looking.

I got a phone call at work today from someone who was having a hard day and grieving a loss and I was so thankful she called I almost felt gleeful, not at her news, but just that I had some experience to share and for a hot minute could stop thinking about myself.

It’s the thinking that gets me down.

It’s a doom machine up between my ears.

I remember the first time I read Tolkien and he wrote about the sound of the Orcs marching and doom, doom, doom, the beat of the drum; it was like someone plucked the fear right out of my head and put it on paper, I was startled to see it there in the book, the sound of my own terror.

I was ten when I read that and recognized it, the sound of fear come marching.

I have lived with fear all my life and at least I can see it when it’s happening.

I don’t have to pay it attention.

I do, in certain cases, it’s really important to have a healthy fear of riding my Vespa, I have to be much more alert to the traffic then automobile drivers, and the fear makes me sharp.

But I don’t need to listen to the doom in my head.

That dulls me down and it’s just repetitious noise that can usually be drowned out when I am helping someone else.

Thus the relief when I got a call from another person needing help.

Yes, please, let me lend you an ear, and yes, please, let’s meet up.

I need that too.

I will be meeting some folks tomorrow.

I will walk through the silly fear, whatever it is, and let it happen and not be consumed by it and let myself have whatever uncomfortable feelings that are beckoning to me.

If I have them, they tend to ease up and go away.

If I stifle them, or ignore them, it gets worse.

Too much time, too much work to give up that easily.

At least not today.

Not when I finally feel better.

Because, this works too, my little evening inventory of my day.

One thousand words or so and I feel better.

Not a bad way to end my day.

Finally out of the fear soup.

Just nestled into the fog, not struggling with it.

Ah, yes, that.




That’s what I was looking for.

Thanks for putting up with me while I figured that out.




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