Anxiety...

ain't for sissies...

Ooh. Two posts in one day. How, you say? How IS this possible?

I have word vomit days-it is what it is. I may, or may not surprise you occasionally with more than one post-dependent on my mood, and ambition.

Today, you are getting it twice. The words that every married man wants to hear...
Wrong context...get yer minds out of the gutter.

And now, word regurgitation.

So about a year ago, my hubby started meditating. Yeah, I laughed too.
My original thought was: Oh God...not this hippy dippy flake-fest. Anything but this.
But, he liked it. And it really did seem to lessen his stress levels a bit. It was noticeable enough. But, I was still me. Cynical. A bitch.


Then I had the heart attack.

And I learned one of the factors was my anxiety. I was actually diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder after speaking with the hospital head-shrinker while being treated for my heart attack. I was leading a life of fear...to quote the lady. She was ridiculous.
She suggested pills, of course and you can imagine what my response to that was. I wasn't very nice. But then again, I rarely am.

So, when released from the hospital-after 7 long days...
I knew among the diet and lifestyle changes, I had to also figure out something with the stress and anxiety-but was coming up empty. You know, you just get to a point where you figure-this is me. This is my life, and this is how I am, and there isn't anything I can do to change it. I knew I could change the diet and exercise portion of the shit show-but the mental issues. Many others have tried, and failed miserably. I was dealing with acceptance, and the acceptance wasn't good in this case. I was starting to now feel depressed because I figured...this is it. I either take crazy pills, or I die. The anxiety will eventually do me in-and that's the way it is.
Not good.

So, here we are-anxious about being anxious.  Anxious about my heart, anxious about the barrage of pills they were making me swallow daily, anxious about side effects, anxious about exercise, anxious about sex, anxious about death, anxious about my son, anxious about my health, Anxious about my husband,  my weight, my LIFE. Probably a little PTSD settling in as well. I was a mess. Moreso than before the attack for the most part. Sleep was not happening because, well..I have always had trouble with this. My mom's illness growing up put weird juju in my head. I thought-yep, I'm just going to die in my sleep one day, like they said my mom would. Irrational? Yeah...anxious people aren't anxious because they are totally normal, rational people. Duh.  Jeez. Keep up.
Like a bag of cats, this one...you could quite literally smell the crazy on me.

When I told my husband this fear after we got married, he shrugged it off and said: "That's exactly how I want to die...so that's not a bad thing..."
But, when night comes, and the darkness is there, and you know it could take you-it's terrifying. For 5 years after my mom passed, I would lie awake and will myself NOT to think about it...and drift off only to jerk myself awake with the fear...it's happening!

No, it's not normal. Yes, I did finally shake it. Sorta.
It happened on and off for years...dependent on my stress level at the time, but never left entirely.  And this was only one symptom. (laugh, it's ok...I give you permission...I laugh about it all of the time) There was a whole new brand of crazy plaguing me from the age of 14. A mess. Certainly was  AM.

So, when I went to see my GP for blood tests and follow up after the hospital-he asked how I was doing-mentally. I laughed. It was that weird high-pitched, nervous laugh that sounds like a crackhead with a new rock to smoke. You know...the menacing sort that makes people uncomfortable? Yeah, that one.
So, without even answering his question-verbally. He knew.
It ain't good.
At this point he rolled his stool over to me and said...what can I do? what can WE do to take some of this burden off of you?
(He's a kick ass doctor)
He then asked the million dollar question...

And I swear, because he knows me pretty well...he actually recoiled a little after it left his mouth-as if to say...don't beat me up.
He asked: Have you ever tried meditation?

With this, the crackhead laugh changed to a "Oh for fucks sake" laugh. If we're being proper-it would be called an incredulous laugh. I think I may have actually thrown my head back with it. Classic me.

When he didn't respond, and gave me that earnest doctorly look...I knew he was being serious.

Fuck.

I got a little angry, truth be told and dismissed him with the same attitude I had when my husband started meditating. And it goes a little something like this:
No sir..I live in the real world...not some bullshit ethereal plane of existence. Humming out loud on a plastic mat, sitting crisscross applesauce like some fucking toddler at a Jim Jones style commune waiting for magic fairies to come and take all my cares away. I mean, are you serious? You are a medical doctor for crying out loud...not some second rate shaman peddling snake oil and poking me with needles. I am not drinking this Kool-Aid-you...you-DICK.
OK...OK...I didn't say this out loud. What I did say was: "I'll think about it." But I had a really sharp tone. And I was thinking it. And I may have said it to him  (myself) in the car on the way home....while the people in the next car at the stop light looked at me with fear. Yeah, like you haven't done this yourself.
Whatever.
I said it though.

I got home and cried.

In some stupid and immature way, I felt like doing this was a betrayal to myself. I know, it's really not that big of a deal...but at the time my head was not in a great place and I was more nutty than usual.

About three days later and a great deal of thought on the matter...I laid in bed one night while hubby was at band practice. I looked on my phone and found an app. It was called Calm.
That's it. Just Calm.
It was a meditation app, of course..with guided meditation lessons, sleep stories and calming peaceful music.
I downloaded it.
I listened, but didn't try anything. Just listened.
It was....
Nice.
Damnit.

The narrator of the meditations had a lovely, soothing, voice. None of that weird ASMR whispering crap. (look it up...seriously strange and creepy)
Her voice was pleasant and calming. Just like the name of the app.
And the message she was giving was also good.

I listened with an open mind. (something I tend to be not very good at)
The next night I admit, I finally gave in and tried it. I laid still and listened-and while I couldn't really sit still for the whole thing, it wasn't terrible.
Shutup.

And I kept going back, every night before bed. Before I knew it, one full week had passed and every time, I got better and better at it. I was able to just focus on my breathing and zone out...but still listen to her message and sometimes I even drifted off to a really peaceful sleep.
I was no longer facing insomnia.
I was falling asleep, and waking up feeling at ease.

The days got easier.
I found acceptance for another reason. Acceptance that this meditation thing could be working. Helping. Healing.
I had found a coping mechanism. 46 years later, this was helping me.
Huh.

I was legit baffled by it.

I told my husband after one week that I had been meditating, and waited for the teasing to commence-miraculously- I found none. He was really sweet about it. He said...Awesome! I'm glad. I think it will really help you.
Knowing him, this was not the response I was expecting...but I was really relieved for the one I got.

We have even meditated together a few times. Although he doesn't like my app, he prefers to just listen to music when he does it, he says her voice interrupts his patterns. Understood.
He has been doing it longer and doesn't need the guidance. Whereas, a year later..I still do. Letting go is not my strong suit.

Admittedly, I don't meditate everyday. Whereas...hubby does.
I'm not quite that loyal. But when I do...it does help. It lightens my load. It makes me feel at ease. Some days it helps more than others, but it's still better than medicine.
I don't sit crisscross applesauce, either.

I'm not that ridiculous. And I'm lazy. I prefer to be prone.

I like it and I am not ashamed.

Although...when my doc asked me about it-I told him not to get a big head...he still thought I had heartburn when I was actually having a heart attack. That shut him up. Jerkface.

So now, it's like 10pm and it's been a meditating week...so the OM calls...

Kidding. I don't chant. That's stupid.

And if anyone reading is interested. It's a great app-especially for beginners. I highly recommend. ;)

XOXO,
Jadedgirl.