What makes you feel alive?

I am going through a midlife crisis form of depression lately. My husband says I am too young to be experiencing such, but the interwebs say it is possible and the nets don't lie.  I know I am because the four walls around me at work are closing in tighter and tighter every day. I have come to realize that my life will be a "meh" one as far as accomplishment, I am not Ghandi or Mother Teresa, or even Oprah. I have no Wiki page. When I die, my name will not live on. It will die as those who remember me die out. 

No, I am not suicidal. Just contemplative.  

For now, I have resolved to do as many things as I can to feel alive while I am relatively young (38) and healthy. One day I might have a stroke and not even be able to smile evenly, so I am going to make it a point to smile more now.  Here is a list of other things that help me to feel alive. I invite you to try them withe me. 

1. Running. Especially in the rain, feeling my body in motion while surrounded by God's gift of nature.

2. Stretching. With my hands up way above my head, and releasing a big breath and loud sigh as my hands fall down.

3. Loving. Feeling my heart wanting to explode out of my chest as I smell my little girl's hair, hug on my growing son, or lay my head on my on my husbands shoulder.

4. Dancing. Letting my limbs fly awkwardly around as I enjoy my favorite tunes. One of my favorite lyrics is from Third Eye Blind, "The four right chords can make me cry." Yes, but they can also lift me up to a place of elation. 

5. Laughing.  Enjoying those moments with friends where you laugh so hard you can't catch your breath, and know you are having one of those moments that are rare and to be cherished. 

Lent...and life

I went to Ash Wednesday services and took my ashes, promising to focus on God this Lenten season and blog about the experience as I have the past two years. But I didn't. I haven't. You haven't heard from me, not one bit. I don't even know how many days into Lent we are, but I have failed to keep my promise.

I feel the need to explain to my non existent readers why. Here it goes...

On the outside, I am a perfectly functioning 37 year old wife and mother of two. I have a graduate degree from a top 3 program in my field, a steady job, great friends, a solid church, and a wonderful family. I go through life like most people day by day watching the days pass slowly, but the years going quickly.  Most days I am fine. Most years I am fine. But sometimes, I get overloaded.

I have a "condition" called Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I can try and explain it. What happens is I get overwhelmed with thoughts and it causes me to be jumpy, snappish, and teeter on the edge of panic attacks. It causes me the inability to concentrate, or remember, or think clearly. It affects my home life and my work life. It prevents me from sleeping at night because I cannot stop my thoughts. They keep me awake- kind of like trying to sleep in a loud club that keeps blaring thumping music all night long. I lose focus and feel the need to avoid life because I am terrified at what it will throw at me any given day: I am scared I won't be able to handle it. I am scared that something will be the straw that makes the camel break out into uncontrollable screams and convulsions. I am scared that if I crack,  my inner thoughts and ugliness will spill out for the world to see. They will know I am crazy.

For the last 11 years of my life, I have kept my anxiety in check with Lexapro. Something happened -although nothing really happened- to my body recently and it is like the Lexapro quit working. I could feel my sanity slipping away little by little. When I finally broke down and went to the doctor I cried and we talked and he upped my dosage. Last Monday I was convinced the dosage wasn't going to work and I was going to have to go on something else. That thought alone scares the bejesus out of me because Lexapro has been my lifeline to normalcy for so long. My crutch. I am terrified of trying another drug and suffering the new side-effects. Then something happened.

Wednesday I woke up to silence. Miraculously there were no thoughts in my head when I woke up. The loud dialogue of  "what-ifs" weren't there. The last two days are the first two days I have felt normal since sometime in February.  I am overjoyed that I can function again, and hesitant to get too excited because I don't want to get my hopes up that it is over. But please, God, let it be over.

I prayed and prayed Tuesday night for God's help. I was fine Wednesday morning. I don't know what to think. The last few weeks in Sunday School we have been talking about the Will of God, and what we believe. Is God really involved in every aspect of our lives? Or is he like a clockmaker that sets the wheels in motion and then watches what happens without involvement? I think different things at different times and depending on the situation. I don't have the answers and I am not meant to have all of the answers, because I am not all knowing. Only God is.

As for today, I am going to appreciate the silence in my head. And I am going to give God the credit for it, because I do think He had a hand in it. And I am going to rejoice and be glad. And I am going to hope that now that I can focus, I can concentrate on my Lenten promise.

Dear God, Thank you for sanity. Thank you for doctors and medications that assist us in our lives and give us the ability to function. Thank you for allowing me to be born in a time and place that gives me access to these things.  I pray that you continue to be with me and keep a calm hand on my head. And I thank you for giving me a wonderful husband who supports me in times of mental sickness.  Amen.

For you, my sweet uncle.

I recently lost my uncle. Recently as in Monday night (January 6, 2014). Those who know - sorry, knew- him might remember him as an alcoholic, but I remember him as my young, tan uncle who used to live with us every now and again when I was growing up. He always had that tan. And his curly hair. I assumed it was permed because that was the style for a while, but now I know it was natural. I always thought he was the coolest. Even when he wrecked my parents' car into a ditch because it "pulled to the right." Even when he passed out in the front yard in the middle of the night. You see, I think when you are a kid, you see who people really are: I think kids see the essence of your soul. The essence of my uncle's soul was good. He was a good man consumed by an addiction. A disease. I am pretty sure it was his escape from reality because his parents died when he was a young boy. They say when something traumatic happens to you that you quit maturing emotionally at that moment. I am sure this happened with my uncle. My uncle who couldn't bare hospitals, hospices, or any place that had anything to do with death. No funerals, graveyards, or memorial services. Nothing. What I am struggling with right now is that I am hurting for that little boy who has crossed over to that place he was terrified of going to. The other side. The land of the dead. I pray that my uncle is with the lambs. I think he is for as I said before, he was good; but like the prodigal son he lost his way. I know my uncle knew and feared the Lord. I think that fear is probably what helped keep him in hiding. I pray for those lost and ashamed children who can never grow up emotionally because of horrible, terrible wounds that never heal. I pray that they find their way to the comforting arms of our Lord in Heaven. I pray that my uncle knows how much he was loved, flaws and all. For we are all flawed. We are all bad. Unfortunately it is sometimes those whose hearts are too tender that wind up the most lost. May you rest in peace in eternity, Uncle LaBron. I love you. Always. (May 31, 1956 - Jan 6, 2014)