Winter Quiet

There’s quiet and then there’s winter quiet.  You know the quiet I’m talking about — a cold winter morning when the wind is calm and everything in the world seems to be….settled.  The crisp air brings with it a sense of peace and easiness.  Today is one of those mornings.  Sitting in the living room looking out the wall of windows I can see  dawn peeking through the trees.  A doe just walked along the opposite bank of the lake and somewhere in the woods beyond, I can hear birds chattering away at each other.  The Christmas Tree lights are still on and as the morning sun comes through the window behind, its golden rays are reflected off the ornaments and it casts a theatrical light display on the walls and ceiling.  I like these mornings.

The quiet outside allows for a little quiet inside as well.  Sometimes noise is a nice distraction and helps keep me from going to far inside where I don’t want to be; but, sometimes it’s nice to have a quiet, calm morning.  It’s nice to be able to go to that place in peace and then have a calm place to come back to.  Today is one of those days and I’m thankful for it.  Praise God for quiet winter mornings!

I haven’t done a lot of writing these last few months.  I don’t know whether it was writers block or maybe I just didn’t have anything to say.  A lot of people have asked why and I wish I had the answer, but I don’t.  Because they haven’t had updates to read, they also ask how I’m doing.  I guess I’m one of the few people in the world who actually appreciates being asked and believes that the people doing the asking are genuinely concerned.  My answer, of late, has been two-fold — I have good days and bad days, but more good than bad lately.  There are times, most of the time, when I wish that all of them were good, but I know that’s not life and I’m becoming OK with it.  Gradually, I’m getting to a place where I can accept the bad days and celebrate the good ones.

Accepting the bad days….

It’s hard for someone like me who has been given a gift of expression like writing, music, art or theater to understand not being able to adequately express how we feel.  This burden of anxiety and depression is something that is very hard for me to explain to anyone.  How do I tell someone that there are days when I am just scared?  There’s no reason for it, nothing has cuased it and often times nothing seems to help much.  People who don’t suffer with anxiety attacks have a very hard time understanding how suddenly and unexpectedly they can happen.  Oddly enough, I don’t understand it either and I live with it.  So, the place I’ve come to recently is a place of ceasing my attempts to understand the bad days and simply accept them as they come.  Everyone has bad days — even the most successful and happy among us — everyone!  I’m trying to just accept them and move on.

People who know me only casually don’t see what people who know me intimately see — I’m a perfectionist…I’m the definition of perfectionist!  I like order and symmetry in everything around me and everything I do.  I always have a plan, I live on a schedule and the slightest deviation from routine is unnerving to me.  So, you can understand how difficult it is for me to say I’m just going to accept something as it is.  There are few things in the world that I accept as they are.  Unfortunately, life isn’t perfect and from time to time it throws days that don’t fit the plan and moments that are not in the schedule.  Learning to just live with these days as they come is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in my life.

In the past, a bad day might have led to a bad week or even several bad weeks.  I let bad days determine my course for days to come.  After they came I would reverse that course and have to start all over again.  The best way I know to describe it would be as if to liken it to having one train derail from a track and that track never being used again.  Even that analogy is weak, but perhaps it helps describe the way it feels to have one bad day cause a complete re-do off all my days.

Believe it or not, I consdier learning to accept bad days and move on from them a gift.  It’s a gift that has been given to me, but also a gift I can give to the people who love and care about me.  If I can learn to accept the bad days as they come, my family and friends won’t have to suffer through them with me.  They will be mine to do with as I please and the burden that comes with them will no longer spill over into the lives of others.  Yes, accepting the bad days is a gift!

Celebrating the good days…

As important as it is for me to learn to accept the bad days, I’m learning that it is equally, perhaps more important that I learn to celebrate the good ones.  For so many years now, my life has revolved around the negative things in it.  I never have been one to look at the brighter side of things.  I realize now that this constant focus on the negative aspects of life has served only to perpetuate them — it’s a proverbial ‘viscious cycle’ if you will.  I’m trying, and I’m learning ever so slowly to celebrate all of the good!

It’s terribly cliched and borderline corny to say, but life itself is a gift and a good thing.  I am a blessed person.  I have an awesome family and amazing friends who love me and who I love.  I have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food on the table, a vehicle to drive and plenty of things to keep me entertained.  I see stories of people – I even know people who have far less and whose lives are not nearly as comfortable as mine.  I’ve been given an incredible second (or third or fourth or fifth) chance to return to school and finish what I’ve started so many years ago and I’m doing very well!  I’ve been given gifts of being able to make music and tell stories which is incredible to me.  More than any other gift is the gift of a loving God who looks beyond my faults and sees my need and a saviour who called me friend and gave his life for mine!

With all of these good things in life, how could I not celebrate?  I don’t make New Year’s resolutions because I never keep them, but I am resolved about this.  I am resolved that I am going to celebrate the good days to the fullest extent possible.  I will get out of the house and into the sunshine and fresh air.  I will do things I enjoy doing and I will renew relationships with friends who have been inadvertently pushed to the side during all of the bad days.  I am resolved to smiling and laughing more and before 2010 is out, I am going to sing again with a group of people I love singing with so very much!  As much as celebrating the good days, I’m also going to learn to celebrate the good things even on the bad days. 

Yes, I enjoy mornings like this one — peaceful, quiet and all is well.  Praise God for winter quiet that allows us to sit and be still with Him and with ourselves.  Winter is not a time when living things die.  Winter is a time for rest and rejuvination — a time for learning to appreciate the beauty of this life we have been given!

Blessings to you all!!  And, may each of you learn to accept the bad days and celebrate the good ones!

Gloria! In Excelsis Deo!

And the angel said to them, “Fear not!  For behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy!  Unto us is born this day in the City of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord!”

There’s a lot of talk this time of year from a lot of people saying things like “keep CHRIST in Christmas” and “remember Jesus is the reason for The Season!”  While I understand the need for expressing the sentiment and while I hartily agree with it, I find myself grinning at its mention.  No, not grinning out of snarky, self-important cynicism; rather, I grin because I think that even the most faithful, devout Christians fail to truly understand its meaning and we don’t fully grasp the profound importance of the Birth of The Saviour.  We sing “Emanuel, God with us” but I wonder if we really get it?

What we must all understand is that when Jesus left His place at the right hand of the Father and came to Earth to dwell among us, He did so not as a blessing, but as a beacon.  In other words, Jesus was born because of the darkness of sin and despair, not because of the light of love and peace!  Jesus came to us to be a light in a dark place; He came not only that we may have life after death, but that we may simply have LIFE!!  Jesus is light in darkness, peace in turmoil, love in apathy and indifference and He is quiet in the midst of chaos.  Jesus is all of these things and so much more than we will ever fully know this side of Heaven.  This is why I grin when people say, “celebrate CHRISTmas, not X-mas.”

I think if we really understood who Jesus is, there would be no need for these once-a-year sentiments.  If we really understood him, we would need only echo the words of the angels:

Gloria!  In Excelsis Deo!  Glory to God in the Highest!

I read those words and I think — this is how I should live my life.  Every day, every night, every word, thought and action should serve only as an audible, visible and tangible refrain to the angels hymn that night.  This is the only way to express an honest understanding of how important Christmas really is!  It is so easy to sing the words, say or read the words at Christmas-time and forget them the rest of the year.  After all, they are words that celebrate Christ’s birth, right?  WRONG!

Gloria in Excelsis Deo – Glory to God in the Highest are words that celebrate the being of Christ and their meaning goes far beyond the narrow constructs of holiday songs.  They are transcendent.  When the angels sang the hymn, they gave us the only words we need to worship Emanuel.  Even if the words ‘Merry Christmas’ were to be forbidden or banned; even if the very holiday itself were to be done away with, we still have the words we need – Glory to God in the Highest!!  Their beauty is not the way the roll from our tongues, but how they are seen and felt by the people we encounter every day!

How do we best celebrate the Birth of the Saviour?  Not with empty slogans or “bumper sticker evangelism” but by making the angels’ hymn manifest in our lives every day.  We best celebrate the Birth of the Saviour when we feed the hungry, clothe the naked, give refuge to the weary and visit the sick and imprisoned!  We give Glory to God in the Highest when we allow the Light of the World, Emanuel, to lighten our darkness so that we might show His light to others.

This Christmas, as we shop, travel, eat, sing and gather with friends and family, may we rid ourselves of the shackles of “the holiday” and bathe in the Light of the Saviour so that Merry Christmas actually means something even to those of us who say it so frequently!  May our Merry Christmas be Glory to God in the Highest!!

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.  For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!  Fall on your knees…

The N’er-Do-Well

                That’s me in the corner over there — the guy in the faded, wrinkled Polo shirt with the stretched out collar that never lays flat.  Looking at my face I’d guess it’s been about a week since I shaved last and forget taking time with my hair.  It’s usually easier just to have the barber shave it all off.  Those jeans are about eight or nine years old now.  The waste size reads forty-four, but in reality they’re probably about a forty-six and all “wallowed out in the seat” as my grandmother used to be fond of saying about pants that were too baggy.  They’re so ill-fitting that even wearing a belt cinched as tight as it will go doesn’t hold them up and no, they’re not acid washed, just faded.  I’d guess I’m not wearing any socks on my feet and my tennis shoes are dirty and worn out because I put them on without untying the laces.  My glasses sit crooked on my face and the frames are long out of style.  Ironically, I’m wearing a $300 Kenneth Cole watch and a sterling silver James Avery ring, both vestiges of a time in my life when I still cared and as wholly out of place on me as a Mercedes-Benz is parked in front of a trailer house.  I’m overweight and out of shape, my shirt won’t stay tucked in and I’m constantly sweating.  That’s me.

                It’s Homecoming weekend at my high school alma mater and many of the people I grew up with and graduated with have come back to town to see friends and family they don’t often see.  I’m here because on occasion I get a notion in my head that this time will be different – that this time I will have something to say, something to offer in conversation beyond meaningless platitudes about how great someone looks or how lucky they are to have such a beautiful family.  For some reason the thought creeps into my mind that this year someone will say I look good or ask about my fantastic new job or how my writing is coming along.  Keep looking, though – that’s me in the corner over there looking into the crowd with nothing to say.  After all, what is there for me to say when I am as disinterested in my life as any of them are?  There’s no question to ask to which they don’t already know the answer.  The job is just that – a job.  I get paid ten dollars an hour to listen to people gripe about their $400 telephones that don’t work and then I get to tell them to take the battery out and put it back in so that, as if by magic, it works again; and for that one brief moment I am their hero!  I am their champion because I fixed their phone and now they can play Brickbreaker while their kids practice soccer or gymnastics.  What more do they need to know about my writing?  I write thousands of words each week and no one reads them.  No, the questions are not necessary because the answers are always the same.

                My friends (I still call them that) come into town once a year in their shiny, clean, often expensive cars with their beautiful, shiny, often expensively adorned spouses on their arms and their adorable, shiny children often expensively trained in multiple sports or arts disciplines.  The men wear shirts that stay tucked in and shoes that are shined; the women wear dresses or pant suits that are well-fit and their hair is immaculately coiffed with not a single strand out of place.  As I watch them mingle and smile and laugh with one another I am suddenly aware of my watch and ring.  For a moment I feel a connection with them, but the feeling fades quickly as I realize that my expensive watch and ring would look more natural on any one of them than on me. 

                Most of them have come some distance to be here.  They’ve come from the comfort of their warm, quaint homes nestled in warm, quaint neighborhoods where they gather on weekends and holidays for warm, quaint dinners with neighbors for whom they have great affection, many of whom have been grafted into their extended families.  Their neighbors’ children are like their own and theirs are like their neighbors’.  Happiness is doubled in the company of these trusted friends and the pain of sadness is mitigated, however slightly in the comfort their genuine embrace.  When help is needed it is found only steps away whether it is a cup of sugar or prayers for a loved one who is sick and dying.   They live lives of brown velvet – deep, rich, soft, smooth, warm brown velvet lives that never wrinkle or stretch or fade.    

                I walked across the street to get here.  That’s my apartment over there.  It’s an older building in a slight state of disrepair.  It is by no means disheveled or dilapidated, but it is getting old; it is not quite level and there are cracks in the walls here and there.  Although it is a two bedroom apartment, it is too small.  You see, I live there with my mother.  I’m a nearly forty year old man who lives with his mother because he doesn’t make enough money to live on his own.  Graciously, she allowed me to invade her space with my ‘stuff’ because I had nowhere else to go.  My neighbors’ kids are left alone most of the time.  They are noisy, destructive and disrespectful.  I wouldn’t trust my neighbors with my cat, let alone trust in their confidence during a difficult time.  This is my life of beige muslin – muted, porous beige muslin that is inexpensive and discarded without great consequence.

                Please understand – I don’t begrudge my friends anything they have, not in the least!  I don’t hold them in contempt for their successes and I certainly don’t blame them for my failures.  Each of them has earned everything they have and I wish them nothing but happiness, love and light for the rest of their lives.  I’m merely drawing a distinction between their lives and my own because each of us comes from the same place and we each share a common background.  However, the tally of our life’s work is far from equal and that is where the distinction lies between them and me. 

                That’s me over there in the corner.  I’m the kid who moved to a small East Texas town from a large suburb of Dallas.  I’m the kid who played baseball at the YMCA because my friends played and not because I wanted to go to the state playoffs.  I’m the kid who had a well used library card and read at a ninth grade level in fourth grade.  I’m the kid who came into their world uninvited – a person of suspect who had the misfortune knowing a little more than a fourth grader should.  I am the nerd, the freak, the goober and later the lard ass, the queer bait and the fag.  I learned early on in my time here to stand in the corner and stay out of the way and that is where I remain – in the corner looking into the crowd with nothing of value to say.

Journal Update — 8/30/2009

Catching Up…

The first week of my new job proved a very busy one and the new schedule left me pretty wiped out and not in a very creative mood.  This is the first time I’ve written since before I started the job, but I wanted to take a few minutes and at least get a few words down and get people caught up on where I am and what’s been going on.  My apologies if this post is not as reflective as I like them to be — so much has happened in the last seven days it will be hard to get it all down.

Last Sunday was my first day on the new job.  Training has been quite enlightening.  Providing technical support to Smart Phones is quite different than providing technical support for software or web sites.  I have spent the last week learning about the inner workings of Blackberries and Treos, devices I will probably never own myself.  I’ve had to learn about data services and programming platforms; about service networks and email delivery options.  In all honesty, I don’t really care about any of it.  My cell phone functions for four purposes — making calls, receiving calls, sending texts and receiving texts.  I don’t check my email from it.  I don’t access the Internet from it and I certainly don’t play games on it.  Nevertheless, this is what the job requires so this is what I’m learning to troubleshoot.

By Thursday night at 11, I was ready for the two days off.  I needed to decompress and go over the things I’d learned without 19 other people asking questions I didn’t need answered.  I also needed sleep.  What I’ve discovered the last week is that going to bed at 11pm after being home from work for 5 hours is quite different than going to bed at 11pm after working for 8 hours.  I haven’t slept well at all this week and it caught up with me on Friday.

I felt wretched all day on Friday (my Saturday).  I had a headache, sore throat, earaches and just generally felt bad.  I spent most of the day trying to get caught up on sleep, but never really accomplished it.  I caught up on cleaning that had been neglected and prepared a couple of meals to put in the freezer for supper next week.  Then on Saturday I had to go and purchase a couple more pieces of equipment I need for the job.  $110 later I think I have everything I need.

I’m going to try and spend a little time today visiting with Kenzie and Maddie since I haven’t really seen either of them this past week at all.  Kenzie had a volleyball tournament on Saturday that ended up lasting all day.  Don’t get me started on how I feel about this stupidity!  Grand Saline’s obsession with sports has always been a pain in my craw, but being required to give up one entire day of  your weekend for a meaningless tournament is way overboard.  (*Climbing off soapbox now*)  I’ll be back at it come 3:00 today, hopefully refreshed enough to actually retain information.

Plodding Along

After two very big victories in my battle with anxiety in the last couple of weeks, the past week has been less than encouraging.  I’ve had quite a bit of anxiety the last few days and yesterday especially.  Although I did get out and accomplish some things, it was not without a panic attack.  Yesterday morning I had an attack while I was out buying the equipment I needed.  It pretty much ruined the rest of the day because I felt so bad after it subsided.  Yesterday afternoon I had to get back out and pick up some sealer for a crack that has appeared under my kitchen sink.  Again, I had a panic attack while I was there.  In the end I got everything done that I needed to get done, but with a great deal of trouble.

I’m frustrated at myself because I know why I’ve stepped backward the last few days.  Since starting this job I have not been participating regularly in the program I’m using to try and conquer my fears.  The idea is that I will listen to the sessions two or three days a week, write in my journal daily and practice the relaxation exercises daily.  I didn’t do any of that this week.  I let the job be my excuse, but in truth there really is not one.  I’m going to redouble my efforts this week upcoming to get back on track so that when I do have free time I can use it for something other than getting caught up on sleep.

The worrying I am plagued with never seems to get any better.  I constantly worry about the health and well-being of myself, my family and my friends.  It is almost as if I sit around all day waiting on the proverbial “other shoe” to drop.  I want this to go away not only for my own health, but for the health of people I care about.  The problem with my worry is that is becomes a burden to everyone for whom it exists.  They have to deal with constant inquiries and admonishments to “be careful” or to avoid some perceived danger.  This all must stop soon!  I can’t continue in this path much longer.

Wounded Faith

I am a great admirer of Elie Wiesel.  The Nobel Laureate, writer and humanitarian who survived the horrors of Auschwitz and the Nazi Holocaust has written over fifty books, including Night his moving account of his family’s abduction by Hitler’s SS and subsequent time in the dreaded death camp.  He speaks movingly in the book of how his faith in God was tested and damaged by his time and by the suffering and death of his family, especially his father who was with him at Auschwitz.  He speaks equally as moving about the fact that although his faith was “wounded”, it never died.  He continued to pray and to trust God’s wisdom and providence.

If often consider Wiesel’s story in light of my own.  Not that my suffering is anywhere near as deep and dark as his by any means, but that it is equally as real.  I think about the fact that as this man, who was only a boy at the time, watched his father become sicker and sicker and ultimately die in his arms, his faith in God was deeply tested and strained.  I don’t think anyone blames Elie Wiesel when he speaks  of having a crisis of faith for years after the war.  How could he not?

The beauty of his faith story, however, is not that it has been a lasting, firm and unshakable faith.  Rather, the beauty of Elie Wiesel’s faith is that it is one that has been tested by the flames of hell; that it suffered and was weakened and that in the midst of all of the horror it endured and was never lost from him. 

“For God’s sake, where is God?”

And from within me, I heard a voice answer:

“Where He is?  This is where — hanging here from this gallows”

                                                                                     ~Elie Wiesel, from Night

Just as young Eliezer did as he watched his family, indeed his entire race being systematically destroyed before his eyes, we as God’s children question Him.  We question His wisdom; we question His plan; we question, sometimes, His very existence.  We find ourselves lonely and alone.  But, it is in those times that God may be at His closest.  It is in those times of our greatest suffering that God is in the midst of the storm enduring the pain as He did on The Cross.  As Wiesel says now, “no one is alone, but God alone.”  We are never alone as long as He is in our midst.

Let my prayer not be that God would keep me from all suffering, but that He would remain with me during the turmoil and that through the pain I would learn to trust Him and to love Him more.  Let my prayer also be that though my faith may be a wounded faith, it not become a wounding faith, that through its own pain it inflicts pain on others.

Almighty Father:

Be always patient with me.

Be always active in me.

Be always visible through me.

And, keep the Divine Spark from Your Shekinah Flame the guiding light that brings me Home on That Day when I am called to Your Arms.

Amen.

Journal Update — 8/21/2009

 A Very Big Week              

                This has been a really busy week and a really good week all in all.  I got the job working for Sprint from home and I start training on Sunday.  Training lasts three weeks and is Sunday through Thursday from 3pm to 11pm.  Once the training is complete in three weeks, I will start my regular shift working Sundays from 2pm to 10pm and Monday through Thursday from 5:30pm to 11:00pm.  I’m very glad to be working again and I think this is going to help with my anxiety a lot.

                In addition to the news on the job front, two really big things happened this week.  On Tuesday I had to go for a drug screen for the job.  Because they require a hair follicle test, I had to go to Tyler to do it.  The last time I was in Tyler was back in May and I was very nervous at the thought of having to make the trip down there.  But, in the end I was able to do it.  Yes, there was some panic involved, but I got through it and felt good about the outcome.

                On Thursday evening I went to Wal-Mart to pick up some supplies to paint a bedroom.  For the past couple of months, Wal-Mart has been my biggest nemesis.  It’s always so crowded and ridiculously hot.  The prior five or six times I’d been had ended badly with me leaving the store in complete panic.  This time, however, I was determined to make it through.  That is exactly what happened.  I was in the store for almost thirty minutes with no panic and only a little anxiety.  I felt like I had conquered a mortal enemy!

                I spent all day today painting the bedroom.  I really hate painting, but it needed to be done.  This evening was Indian Pride Night at the school.  I was excited to go because I had not seen Kenzie perform with the whole squad yet.  The home side of the stadium was completely full which was good to see because it’s been several years since that’s been the case. 

                I started feeling a little anxious right after we got there.  I was dizzy and short of breath, but I was determined not to have to leave.  I had my camera with me to take pictures and I decided just to concentrate on that – I gave myself a job as the unofficial photographer for the event.  That actually helped in the end.  Concentrating on getting good pictures helped get my mind off the “symptoms”.  The event was a lot of fun and everybody did a great job.  I was so proud of Kenzie…she did a great job!  They all did, but of course I’m partial.

                Tomorrow I have to get up early and go to Mineola to pick up a piece of equipment I have to have for the job.  Then the rest of the afternoon will be spent finishing up the room and getting ready to start training on Sunday.  I’m really hoping that tomorrow night we can have dinner together as a family because it will be a while before we all have time to sit down together again. 

That Which Is Common to Men…

None but a coward dares to boast that he has never known fear.  ~Ferdinand Foch

              I’ve been asked several times why it is I’m doing this.  Why would I want to share with the world the fears I have and the anxiety I deal with on a daily basis?  Some people just don’t understand it.  I suppose I can see their point.  Perhaps it’s slightly voyeuristic of me to want people to read about this war I’m engaged in, but if so, it’s not intentional.  I’m not doing this because I get some thrill from knowing that people are reading the things I hold closest to me.  In truth, I often wish there were another way.  But, for me there is not.  I’m doing this because I have to get it out — to get it off my mind, and I’m tired of talking to myself!  Writing it down, reading the things that are in my head and heart back to myself helps provide the distance I need to come to terms with these things.

               Besides that, though, I’m doing this because I know that everyone has fears.  There is not a person alive today, nor a person who has ever lived who doesn’t know fear to some extent.  I know in my heart that there is someone out there suffering like I have suffered who is too proud, or even too scared to admit to their fears.  I don’t pretend that I have all the answers — far from it; but, what I do know is that if it had not been for someone out there who shared their experiences with anxiety and panic with me, I would have never been able to admit to my own struggle.

               We’re all afraid of something.  Whether it’s something tangible or intangible; logical or illogical; real or imagined — we all get scared.  Some of us know how to handle and deal with fear better than others.  What I want to do here is to reach out to others who aren’t handling their fears in a healthy way.  I want people to know that it’s OK to be afraid because we all are and that the fear can be overcome and we can live life passionately and joyfully!

For God did not give us the spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.  ~2 Timothy 1:7

Blessings,

Jason

A Big Victory!

                There was a major victory in my battle with anxiety today!!  I had to go to Tyler to do the drug screen for my new job.  I was extremely anxious about having to go.  Even though I wasn’t going alone and was going to have mom right there with me, I had an enormous amount of anxiety about the trip.  I even went so far as to try and get the company to let me take the drug test somewhere closer, but there was nowhere to do that.  So, if I wanted the job I had no choice.

                When the time came to go, I was very nervous.  My heart was racing, I was short of breath and my arms and legs felt very shaky.  The whole way to Tyler I felt terrible.  By the time we got to Lindale I was very dizzy and wanted to go home.  Of course, mom was not going to let that happen so we kept on going.  When we got there and went in there was someone ahead of me and I started getting even more nervous because I was going to have to wait.  Finally, the woman administering the test came and got me.

                I was taken to a small room where the lab tech proceeded to fill out all of the paperwork for the test.  She was moving so slow!!  The longer I sat there the more nervous I got.  Finally, she shaved the hair off my arms (it was a hair follicle test) and put it in the envelope for testing.  It was time to head home and I’m not sorry to admit that I was glad! 

                On the way home I actually felt a little more anxious than I did on the way to Tyler.  But, the closer we got to home the better I felt.  I was going to make it and, although I did have some significant anxiety, I didn’t run.  I faced it, I felt it and I did it!

                I’m not sure how to feel right now.  I’m glad it happened the way it did and I’m glad that I accomplished this, but in all honesty I still don’t feel great.  My stomach is a little upset and I’m still a little nervous.  But, I know that this will pass eventually and hopefully once it does I will feel really good about the trip today.  Don’t get me wrong, I do feel good about it, but I want to feel great about it.  This was a big step forward!

                That’s the big news of the day.  The job will start soon and my hope is that being “busy” will help out a lot with the anxiety.

Lives of Quiet Desperation

American author and philosopher Henry David Thoreau spent nearly two years of his life isolated from the world around him.  From 1845 to 1847, he lived at Walden Pond, Massachusetts.  His experiences there are documented in his 1854 work, Walden which Thoreau himself refers to as, “a manual of self-reliance”.  Thoreau was well known for what today might be referred to as anti-establishment attitudes toward government and American society.  He said of his time at Walden Pond, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to suck the marrow from the bones of life; to put to rout all that was not life, and not, come to the end of life, and discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation…”  In concluding the first essay in Walden, entitled “Economy”  Thoreau states, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation….”

Thoreau was referring to his belief that most men are nothing more than bound slaves to their work or to the people for whom they work.  As such, they fail to ever truly live life for the sake of living; rather, they live life for the sake of making a living!  In other words, they live to earn.  While their bodies and minds live on, their malnourished souls and spirits wither away and die leaving only a shell of humanity.  Once the soul and spirit are gone, the shell can do nothing but continue droning on earning it’s keep, desperately seeking affirmation in material wealth, temporal recognition and carnal satisfaction.

While I have never felt bound by a job or career, I am a slave to something even more sinister — FEAR!  I have been a slave to my fear from a very early age.  As far back as I can remember I have felt insecure in myself and with the world around me.  As most of you who read frequently know, my dad left us when I was about 4 years old.  Between the time he left and the time I started Kindergarten, both of my grandmothers passed away.  These events cemented in me a deep seeded fear that at any time and for any reason, the people in my life I cared for most could be taken away from me forever.  I have not felt truly safe since then.

This overwhelming insecurity and fear inside me has formed an existence that is so isolating that it is sometimes physically painful.  When family members or friends leave to go on trips (even short ones), I become consumed with the thought that I will never see them again — that they will be taken away from me and I will be left alone.  When I go places I have the same fear; something will happen while I’m gone and I won’t be able to get back to my family before it’s too late.  These thoughts become so real to me that I become sick from them. 

Because of this fear and the manifestations of it, I have adopted a ‘no risk’ existence and push my family and friends to adopt one, too.  I don’t make long trips away from home unless my family is with me.  When they go away I want them to check in with me frequently so that I will know where they are and how they are the entire time they’re gone.  I cannot stand the thought of being in a position where I would not be able to help if something were to happen.  So, I prefer just to stay home or close to home so that if anything happens, we are all close.

Unfortunately, a ‘no risk’ existence means a ‘no reward’ existence.  My fear has driven me away from doing things that I love doing or want to experience.  This existence I’ve created for myself offers nothing to nourish my spirit and soul.  I see, hear, taste, touch and smell the same things day in and day out — the monotony broken only occasionally with a trip to the store or to a restaurant, so long as it fits within the imaginary ring of security I’ve created for myself.  My fear is turning me evermore inward and away from things that exult the soul and spirit.

What kind of life have I constructed out of fear?  The life that Thoreau spoke of when he said, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation…”  I am trying desperately to break away from this fear that has held me captive for so long.  I want to see new places, do new things and meet new people!  I want to hear the whispers of awe in the Sistine Chapel.  I want to stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon and see the sunset change the color of the ancient rocks.  I want to taste real German beer in GERMANY!  I want to stand in the middle of a tulip field in Holland and smell their sweetness.  I want to feel the mist from a geyser in Yellowstone.  This may all seem corny or simplistic to most, but to someone who has been shackled by fear their entire life, these things mean freedom!

Where do I go from here?  Where do I go to learn to “suck the marrow from the bones of life”?  Regreattably, I cannot do as Thoreau did and seclude myself in the woods for two years.  The irony in that is palpable!  Running away and learning to live life might be the very thing that breaks and crushes my fear, but my fear is the very thing that keeps me from doing it.  So, I continue on the slow path to resurrection; facing my fears one at a time, day by day; trusting that this valley will soon yield to a mountain and that desperation will give way to exhiliration!

I conclude with a stanza from my own poem entitled, I Breathed Again, written in 2003:

All these years have gone by and I’m blue in the face

From holding my breath while running this race call LIFE!

Always looking behind, never looking ahead.

God, how I wish I were that little boy in bed.

Curled up, eyes closed,

Afraid to take a breath, and I would think to myself,

“Is it OK to breathe?  No, not yet.”

I’m anxiously awaiting the day when I can breathe again!

Journal Update – 8/7/2009

The Week That Was

Another week has come and gone.  It’s Friday afternoon and I find myself with not much left to do.  This was a pretty full week for me with a lot of paperwork, interviews, etc.  All in all it has been a good week.  For the most part, my anxiety has been fairly in check and I’ve had no major attacks since the one I had last Saturday at Wal-Mart.  For that, I’m very thankful.  I’ve found a lot of support from both friends I know as well as people in the online community for the Midwest Center.  It is so helpful to hear stories of people who suffer like I do and who have overcome or are overcoming their fears.  It helps just knowing I’m not the only one who feels the things I do.

I spent a lot of time this week finishing  up the necessary “paperwork” (it’s all online these days) for the University of Phoenix.  It really looks like that’s my best option to finish my degree.  It is the option that is most workable for me now, keeps the momentum of school going and provides me with the least amount of anxiety and stress about finishing.  The representative I’ve been speaking with there has been very helpful and has been willing to answer all of my questions honestly.

This morning I was a little frustrated with the process because they kept telling me that I had not filled out a new application for financial aid.  I told them over and over that, not only had I filled it out, but I had already received notification of the funds available to me for this academic year.  I ended up having to get back on the FAFSA web site (something I don’t like to do) and resubmit my information to them.  Finally, they received it in full and everything is now in place for a review by the financial aid department. 

In all honesty, when I got that email from them this morning, my anxiety shot up like crazy!!   I started feeling like maybe I was making another huge mistake by doing this.  I started feeling dizzy and “spacey”, my heart began to race.  But, instead of giving in to it and breaking down in a full blown panic attack, I started doing the relaxation exercises I’ve been learning in the program.  Pretty soon, the panic had passed and I was feeling better.  I’m still learning not to let things completely do me in like they used to.  It’s OK to be frustrated and irritated so long as I use that energy toward a positive end.

In addition to my work with U of P, I spent a good deal of time this week searching for jobs I could do from home.  I was told about and applied for a position with a company called Alpine Access.  They work with other companies to establish remote customer service call centers.  Basically, I would be answering customer service calls from my home office.  I checked everything out and the company is legit.  They’ve been around for over 10 years and they offer medical insurance and other benefits.  The best part?  Unlike some of the scam companies out there, I don’t have to “invest” money to get started.  It’s a real job.

I had an interview yesterday afternoon with one of their HR rep’s.  We spoke for about twenty minutes and had a good conversation.  She asked a lot about my work history and background.  She was trying to get a sense of which job I would best fit into so that she could pass my info on to one of the hiring managers with the company.  I have an interview next Tuesday (8/11) for a specific job.  It’s a job doing advanced tech support for Sprint customers who own “smart phones”.  It’s something I know I could do easily and would probably like the work.  My only concern is the credit check they do before hiring.  I’m not sure I can pass their check, but that’s out of my hands and there’s nothing I can do about it.  I’m just praying that I do pass and I get the job.  I need the income…badly!

The weekend is coming up of course and, as usual, I’m feeling a bit anxious about it.  I’m not sure why that is exactly.  I think it may be the lack of routine on the weekends.  Even when I’m not suffering from anxiety attacks I don’t do well without a routine.  I’m a very organized person and routines and lists and schedules make me feel comfortable.  (I’m different from my entire family.)  I like to know where I’m going and what I’m doing at all times and at all approaching times.  But, I am determined to get through this weekend without a panic attack!  If I can do that I will feel like I’m really starting to make progress.  I know that must sound weird to those of you who don’t suffer with panic attacks, but trust me when I tell you that little things mean an awful lot!!

…the biggest mistake of all

To avoid situations in which you might make a mistake might be the biggest mistake of all.

                                                                                                                                                       Peter McWilliams, “Life 101″

I’ve gotten very adept over the years at avoiding situations where I might make a mistake.  In fact, if there is even the slightest possibility that I could in some way fail, I simply remove myself from the area and let it pass me by.  The problem is that in doing so, I’ve created a life for myself devoid of any excitement and absent the most basic pleasures.  I don’t do things because of the possibility that I might fail or make a mistake doing them.  I don’t want to look like a fool!

Over the years I’ve had many people tell me they think I am afraid of failing; and, I can see where they could think that looking at my life from the outside in.  What I’ve come to believe over the last few years, however, is that it is not failure I’m afraid of at all.  No, indeed!  What I am afraid of more than failure is SUCCESS!  When you look more closely at my life and the decisions I’ve made in it, what you will see is that each time I came close to some success or happiness, be it in a job, education, relationships, etc. I ran away from the success and happiness as fast as I could.  It is as if I can’t allow myself to succeed or be happy.

I have a lot of theories as to why this is, but no real concrete evidence to bolster any of them.  The one that makes the most sense to me deals with my guilt and a fear of responsibility.  I think that somewhere inside me there is a tape running and it’s telling me that when I have personal success I will be neglecting my family and the people who need me.  If I let myself be happy and successful, I will be shirking the responsibility I have to take care of my family.  I become overwhelmed with feelings of guilt and the only way to assuage those feelings is to, once again, run away.

I can’t keep running forever, though — none of us can.  There is no guilt in being happy and successful.  What I have to realize is that my family will be fine with or without my help and that, in truth, my unhappiness and guilt is not helping them at all.  In fact, my unhappiness and guilt is hurting my family and the people I care about because they care about me and love me.  That is so hard to accept, but it is something I must deal with.  I’m nearly 40 years old and I haven’t even begun to live my life.  It’s time to start living.

I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestioned ability of a man to elevate his life by conscious endeavor.

                                                                                                                                                                                                Henry David Thoreau

I’m going to start making a daily, conscious endeavor to elevate my life by actually living it.  Join me?

Blessings,

Jason

Journal Update – 8/2/2009

Tough Week

This week was a bit of a roller coaster ride for me.  It started out pretty good with only some minor moments of anxiety, and I thought it was going to end on a positive note, too.  Was I wrong!!  It’s funny how you can be fooled into thinking one think when the exact opposite is true.  That’s what happened for me this week.

I came to the realization early in the week that, as much as I want it to happen, I will not be well enough to return to school this fall.  Even a best case scenario doesn’t have me driving back and forth to Tyler every day without someone going with me.  Since that is not a possibility I had to accept the facts as they were and deal with them rather than moving into “what if” mode.  I began weighing my options and gathering as much information as possible so that I could make an informed, intelligent decision.

The way I see it, I have two options:  Option one is to wait this semester out, hope I am well enough to drive by spring and continue on at UT Tyler then.  Option two is to finish my degree through the on line program with the University of Phoenix.  Both options have positives and both have negatives.  If I wait until spring to go back to UT, I will be able to get a refund on my student loan that is an influx of cash that I can certainly use.  But, in waiting the fall semester out, I am losing the momentum I’ve built up over the last year and a half by attending classes each semester.  Finishing my degree (the same one I would get at UT) through U of P would mean that I could continue going to school this semester even though I am not able to drive because all classes are taken via the Internet from whatever location you wish.  However, the University of Phoenix is more expensive than UT and I would not get the benefit of the refund on my student loan.

As I said, both options have positives and both have negatives.  I did as much research on line and talking to people who knew as I could.  The University of Phoenix is an accredited university and its programs are recognized as legitimate degree programs, so that won’t be an issue.  I do qualify for a Pell Grant this year and because of that, although I wouldn’t get a refund, I wouldn’t owe them any money.  These things make the thought of finishing through the U of P very enticing to me.  Either way, I need to make a decision very quickly.  If I wait much longer, the window of opportunity will close for both schools this fall.

Later in the week I was given the name of a company that hires people to do customer service call center work from home.  They deal with multiple companies and customers who call these companies for service are routed to the home phones of employees rather than a traditional call center in an office building.  The job is only part time, but it would be enough to make my car payment and insurance payment and they also offer medical insurance.  I spent about two hours today (Sunday, August 2) applying for a position with the company and I’m praying that it comes through.  This job could be a real burden lifted from me and my family.  If this one doesn’t pan out, I was also given the names of several other companies who hire people to work from home by a person at the Midwest Center for Stress and Anxiety.

As I said, for the most part the week was fairly calm.  Even up until Saturday evening I had not really had a full-blown panic attack.  Then came time to go to Wal-Mart.  I really thought I was ok, and in fact, I did fine while we were on the less crowded side of the store.  But, eventually we had to go to the side that sells food.  Because it was First Monday weekend, it was terribly crowded.  I did OK on the first aisle, but when we turned to go down the second, we were met by at least a dozen people crammed into this little, tiny space.  It was overwhelming to me and I had to leave the store.

The ride home was really quiet.  Mom was disappointed in me and I was disappointed in myself.  Why did I let it get that bad?  Why didn’t I practice the breathing and self-talk techniques that I’m learning in the program.  I posted a note about it on the community message boards on the program webs site and most of the responses said the same basic thing:  while I need to go out and face my fears I need to be sure that I’m not taking on too much at one time.  Wal-Mart on First Monday weekend may have been a little too much to me.  By the time we got back to Grand Saline I had calmed down and spent an hour in Brookshire’s buying groceries.  It was not nearly as crowded and was much cooler.  I had no major symptoms of anxiety while I was there.

Today (Sunday) was fine.  I spent the couple of hours applying for the job and then this evening went to Jennifer’s for dinner.  I had a little anxiety there because my stomach had been bothering me all day long and I got nervous about eating really cheesy chicken spaghetti.  But, the anxiety subsided and I ate it.  It was really good and I think I might sneak out there tomorrow and get some more for lunch!

So, like I said, the week was a roller coaster.  It started out pretty good, had some rocky places in the middle and ended calmly and with no problem.  I suppose this is progress, and although I’d like to see more, I’ll take what I can get.

Family Ties and Great Expectations

My mom and my sister have both suffered from anxiety attacks in the past.  My mom when we were young and my sister after the birth of her oldest daughter, Mackenzie.  Back when my mom was suffering there was not much known about the condition at all, much less were there programs available like the one from the Midwest Center.  After spending over a week in the hospital and having every test known to man run and then being told there was nothing wrong with her, she had to accept her “nervous disorder” (that’s what they called it then) and move on.  She had to simply push through the anxiety because she had two small children to raise alone.  She did it and has not suffered since.

My sister, on the other hand, did have the benefit of the same program I’m using.  Following Mackenzie’s birth, she began experiencing severe panic attacks that disabled her to the point of not being able to go anywhere alone.  She needed someone to go with her to the store, doctor’s appointments or wherever the need arose.  She found the program one night while watching television and ordered it.  She worked through it and it worked absolutely beautifully for her.  She was soon able to go about her business as if nothing were wrong.

I tell you these stories because they play directly into my own experience now.  You would think that because both my mom and my sister have suffered as I do that they would be overly sympathetic to my condition.  They are sympathetic and do understand that I didn’t ask for it, but both of them have trouble understanding why I’m not getting better faster than I am.  I liken it to a former smoker who is so passionate about not smoking that he becomes nearly unbearable when talking about the subject.  I can, of course, understand where my mom and sister are coming from and because I love them there is no permanent damage done.  But, I do get extremely frustrated with them when they become frustrated with my slow pace of recovery (or at least what they think is slow).

I have tried to explain to them, as I’ve tried to explain to many people, that I was not born with the switch inside my brain that allows me to turn my feelings on and off at will.  I recognize that some people have that ability and that there are people in this world who can let difficulties and stress roll off of them like water off a duck’s back.  However, I am not one of those people.  I internalize EVERYTHING!!  And, because that has been my form of thinking for the better part of 40 years now, it can not be undone overnight.  This is hard work and I am doing it to the best of my ability.  I just wish there was some better way to make them understand.

Anger and RAGE — The Blame Game

I tend to blame most things on someone — or at least I try to.  Most things in my life I blame on myself.  I know that I am an adult and that the decisions I’ve made for my life have been mine and mine alone; noone has forced me to make any of them.  I’ll be damned though, I’m still so mad at my father that I can’t see straight when I think about him!! 

As most of you know already, my dad left when I was about three or four.  He was, at best, a part-time father for most of my life, showing up only when Jennifer or I were doing something that could make him look good.  I have so much resentment built up toward him because of this that it overshadows every relationship in my life.  I am afraid to get close to people because of the propect that they will bail on me like he has done so many times before.  Besides bailing on me, my dad refuses to take responsibility for his actions.  Anytime I try to talk to him about the things that happened when I was growing up, he is masterfully able to point the finger of blame right back at me.  Nevermind the fact that when all of this was going on I was a kid and he was an adult.  No, that doesn’t matter to my dad because in his world, the only thing that matters is him.

Since starting this program I have been going back through my life and looking at different periods in it.  This journey backward has caused me to have renewed anger and rage toward my dad.  There are times when I want to lash out at him and tell him (again) how wrong he was and how badly he screwed my life up!  But, I won’t do it, because I know from past experiences that it doesn’t do any good.  He will just find a way to point the finger of blame back at me like he always does.  I need resolution in this area of my life.  I can’t go on living with this anger inside me toward him.  As they say in AA:  God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.

Growing Pains

Acceptance is such an important commodity, some have called it “the first law of personal growth. 

                                                                                                                                             Peter McWilliams – “Life 101″

There was a time in my life, not so long ago, when I wouldn’t even look at myself in the mirror.  Speaking literally, when I took a shower or brushed my teeth or washed my face I would make it a point to avoid looking at myself.  I hated the person I’d become!  I hated the life I had, I hated the choices I’d made, I hated the way I looked….in short, I hated me!  I got very good at getting ready for work in the mornings with the bathroom lights turned off.

Gradually over time, this has eased a bit.  I don’t avoid mirrors anymore, although I also don’t make a point to find them.  I no longer hate myself.  What I am learning through all of this turmoil and upheaval is that that there are some things in life that we must simply accept.  God, I hate that word!!  But, it’s true — we have very little control over the hand we’re dealt in life, but what we do have control over is how we play it.  What I’m learning is that the hand I’ve been dealt is not great, but there are worse hands.  I’m learning, or trying to learn, to accept the life I have and use it the best way I know how.

Ralph Waldo Emerson is one of my favorite poets.   His work is colorful and alive and when I read it I can feel myself almost transported to the time and place of which he speaks.  Several years back I found a poem he’d written and the last line of it has stayed with me since then.  I try to remember it as I go about my day to day life:

To know one life has breathed easier because you have lived…this is to have succeded.

I want to live my life that way.  I want to live my life knowing that someone else has breathed easier because I helped them in some way.  I don’t want it to ever be said of me that when push came to shove and when someone needed help, I was not around to give it.  I think that’s what life is all about, maybe.  When we find what it is we do best, we do it with all of our heart — as if someone else’s life depended on it.  Because, we never know, it just might.  And, then when that person has breathed easier because we’ve lived….we will know success!!

Blessings,

Jason

New Kid, Fat Kid

I didn’t want to move to Grand Saline.  In fact, I begged mom not to come here when we did, but I knew there was no choice — we had to move.  I spent the first year of my new life in Grand Saline being the “new kid”.  Nobody knew me and I didn’t know anybody.  My family had lived in town for over sixty years, but that didn’t matter — I was new.  I got a lot of looks my first day of school and not many people talked to me.  I thought it would change, but it really didn’t very much.

I tried playing soccer the first fall we were in town, but I’d not played since I was a little kid and I soon found myself bored with constantly sitting the bench while the others played.  If I remember correctly I played two games and I was done.  There was no point in wasting Saturdays when all I would do was sit on a bench. 

By the end of the school year I had made only one close friend — Thomas King.  He and I had a lot in common.  Neither of us cared much for playing football, which is what most of my peers did for fun.  I spent a lot of time at his house and he at mine.  Although others in my class would speak to me, there still seemed to be some suspicion of the new kid.  It was almost as if they thought I’d come to town to do some sort of harm.  I didn’t fit in their world.  Had it not been for my friendship with Thomas, I doubt I’d have ever left the house.

That summer I signed up to play baseball.  I’d played when we lived in Irving and was very good.  The summer before, my team had one the city championship and I played an important part in our victory.  Once again, though I found myself sitting the bench during most of the games.  I remember wondering how the same sport to be so radically different depending on the place in which it was played.  When I played in Irving, parents were encouraging and coaches actually taught the game.  In Grand Saline, parents screamed at their kids and other people’s kids and the coaches seemed far more interested in beating the other team — not just in winning the game, mind you, but in BEATING the other team.  During that season, I think I played two innings and batted once.  I never played again.

My depression at not fitting the mold and having very few friends deepend as the next school year rolled around.  I still felt like an outcast — nothing had changed.  When I wasn’t at school I spent most of my time sitting in front of the television at home.  I would occasionally got to Thomas’ house and he would occasionally come to ours, but for the most part I sat in front of the television.  During my fifth grade year, I gained a considerable amount of weight.  By the end of that year, the clothes I’d worn at the first of the year no longer fit and before going into sixth grade I weighed over 100 pounds.  I had gone from being the new kid to being the fat kid.

I remember getting a weight bench from my dad for Christmas that year.  I hadn’t asked for it, but he was as concerned about me being fat as the people in Grand Saline.  During health class one day that spring we were talking about different forms of exercise.  I made a dreadful mistake and mentioned that I’d received a weight bench for Christmas.  A girl in my class turned around in her chair and said, “Why don’t you use it?”  Everybody around me laughed.  I think it was at that moment that I really gave  up ever trying to be a part of their lives.  They didn’t want me there and I didn’t want to be there.

I’m sure that if you talked to the people I grew up with they would have a totally different memory of how all of this played out.  I’m sure that some of them would tell you they had considered me a friend while we were in school, but to me, I was always on the outside of a circle that never had an opening.  Yes, people spoke to me and there are even some good memories from my school days, but I never really fit in.  I was never part of the group that had formed so long before I ever knew any of these people. 

Food was my friend and fear a constant companion.  The vicious cycle is that the lonelier I felt, the more I ate; the more I ate, the bigger I got; the bigger I got the lonelier I felt.  There was no way out.  Sometimes I wonder if there ever will be.