anxiety, go with a flow, happiness, life, mind, panic, problems, reality

Problems versus Common Sense

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I was having fun coloring dragons with fluorescent pencils when Greg came into the room. He looked stressed.

 – My sister is disputing my mom’s will, – there was bitterness in his voice

 – What are you gonna do?

 – I will give her what she wants and will never talk to her again.

 – Talk to your lawyer

 – No, Vixen.

 – Really? – I put the pencils aside and raised my head from the coloring book.

 – I am not going to court, hon.

 – Court is not be necessary, there are ways out. You may settle it through mediation. Have your lawyer deal with it.

 – I said, NO.

 – And you are ready to cut ties with your only sibling without even trying to negotiate?

 – Absolutely, – Greg was mercilessly rigid. Talking to him felt like talking to a wall.

 – I will fix you dinner, – his attitude caught me off guard. My motivation to proceed with coloring was gone.

I went into the kitchen and stood frozen in front of the refrigerator trying to gather my thoughts and figure out ingredients for potato salad.

Clearly, we all act weird, we make irrational decisions, and run away trying to escape problems.

We are just people who do everything possible and impossible to save the pride at any cost.

Criticized at work? – Quitting

Caught your partner with someone else? – Permanent separation or divorce

Struggles at school? – Immediate withdrawal

Facing own problems with the bitter understanding that we are powerless to fix them is sometimes harder than surviving a hurricane. The pain from the hurt ego is thousand times worse than passing kidney stones. Those who decide to fight own demons lose themselves in the endless battle with personal fears, phobias, and traumas.

You can rarely see someone that quietly accepts this life without hysterical fight or flight attempts. Someone who does nothing about life kicks, allowing chaos to settle and conflicts to resolve. Someone who turns the mind off and floats through the reality curiously observing emerging and disappearing events, people, and problems.

Most people think that going with a flow is passive and lazy. They would rather fear or suffer than let things take care of themselves. People are used to acting, resisting, and escaping. People are used to perceiving life as the never-ending struggle with pain, winners, and victims. Living in the permanent hysteria of moving, searching, and burning bridges is the only way for most of us to exist. Common sense is not that common.

I suddenly felt Greg was standing behind me and turned around.

 – Don’t bother, luv. I’ve ordered Chinese food and talked to my attorney. He will contact my sister on Monday about the will.

 I gave him a smile. I felt relieved from cooking and cleaning and ready to resume coloring my dragons.      

 

anxiety, control, crazy, dating, relations, feelings, dominance, fears, feelings, panic, power, psycho, Psychopath, sugar

Perfect Guy

fear

He instigated fear. The contrast between his calm and pleasant demeanor and my feelings of terror every time I saw him was unfathomable. Well-educated, intelligent, nicely smelling, fit, and smiling, he did not look like a fairy tale monster. Nevertheless, his presence brought shivers up and down my spine. My friends thought I was cuckoo, their “girl, you have a screw loose, go and eat something or talk to a therapist” made me guilty. His excessive concern about my wellbeing brought about shame and remorse; he loved, he cared, and I kept rejecting him quietly panicking when he was around.

I could not loudly demonstrate my concerns. He never raised his voice, but I was fearful to answer back and disagree. Once I got brave; I took a deep breath, and looking straight into his eyes, I gasped out “I am afraid of you”. He quietly stood up and went into the kitchen. I heard him using the water and ice dispenser in his refrigerator, he came back three minutes later with a glass of ice-cold orange juice and a sparklingly bleached smile.

You think too much, silly, – he smiled watching me gulp the juice, I felt stupid.

His friends were polite and intelligent as well. They wore comfy cashmere sweaters and designer pants and discussed marketing dynamics and sales strategies. They lived in safe neighborhoods, played golf and went boating on weekends. Their women were skinny, classy, and quiet. No one ever was rude or disrespectful, they smiled, always said hello and goodbye. I always smiled back responding to their greetings and farewells with the same pleasant demeanor, but deep in my heart I knew talking beyond “the dinner is tasty, I have enjoyed your company” was not acceptable.

One day I lost my job and gave him a call; my unemployment did not kick in timely, and I needed help to pay the bills. He did not answer, I left him a voicemail prior going to bed. A loud banging sound woke me up at around midnight. I opened the front door and got hit by December coldness. He was standing on the porch, I could not see his face, but I felt the anger through the freezing darkness.

Are you ok? – I forced a smile and waved him in.

He did not move, he had a bottle in his hand, I got surprised, drinking was not about him, he was into healthy lifestyle and daily exercising.

Are you ok? – I repeated shivering as the coldness was crawling under my PJs.

You disappointed me, – the voice was muffled, I stepped back shuddering at the smell of alcohol. – I wasted all my time with you. You got everything gifts, shoes, cruises, but you want more. Now you decided to quit your job and sponge me off. You are like everyone else.

He kept talking slurring words and getting angrier. I kept standing at the doorstep frozen with fear and ice-cold weather.  Suddenly he punched the wall right next to me, I screamed and rushed inside. The front door slammed behind my back. I heard the screech of his car as he took off.

I brew green tea and took a warm bath prior going to sleep. When he called me the next morning, he was sweetly polite as usual.

You scared me last night, – I was expecting clarification and apology.

I felt used, and I overreacted

– But, I was scared, – I still believed he would dismiss my fears with humor and a fine dining invitation.

You will deal with this my love, when shall we meet again?

 – I need to be by myself.

He kept stopping by with flowers and fruit. Every time I tried to discuss that night I was given Swiss chocolate and new clothes.

Don’t you see, I am afraid of you. – He laughed, gently stroking my hair while switching the TV channels.

My friends kept calling me cuckoo. They were jealous. He was always attentive, courteous, and intelligent, he was smart, well-educated, and as perfect as a smiley guy from my favorite family yogurt commercial. I felt guilty and stupid, I panicked for nothing.

 

bi-polar, control, crazy, fears, feelings, happiness, health, life, mind, obsession, panic, personalities, power, psycho, reality

Ignore Your Mind Games, Just Live

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 – I am tired of your games, – Jim was angry, I was quietly snacking on a pine apple.

Split personality, getting through my days under endlessly changing masks; altering the thought process based on the day of the week, on the frequency of sugar intake, and on the degree of the body dehydration. That was my way of living.

 – You are bi-polar and seriously psychotic, don’t you see? – Jim looked pissed. I kept licking the pine-apple juice off my fingers.

Unlike myself, Jim’s perception of the reality was consistent. His mindset was consistently locked in the world of profit and loss statements, dull numbers, and endless money-making. He was unable to grasp any diversion from the linear buying-cheap-selling-high approach.-

If you hate chaos, why are you still with me?

 – I like you, Vixen. I can be your sugar daddy, all I ask is your consistency, – He obviously loved what he called “craziness” and “psychosis”, – you need therapy and medication.

 – My therapist told me what you did to me when we met is rape.

 – Change your therapist, she is an idiot.

He was insistent on my mental diagnosis and on my inability to survive without his pervasive interference in my life.  – I am the most normal person you have ever met, Vixen. You have no idea how lucky you are that I am around. You are a very poor judge of character; people that you choose are really weird.

 – I know. – With time, I learned how to deal with my mind games; I knew that my mind gets me down throwing me into deadly hopelessness every Monday morning, every weekend without Greg, every failed job interview, every time my expectations do not match the reality.

The mind could spin relentlessly, sinking me in despair. I knew when panic attacks will return, I knew exactly what they will be about. I knew the first signs of mania, I knew when and how I will be kicked out of euphoria straight into the gloom and doom of the depressive episode.

At first, I was searching for the triggers to catch, to prevent, to cope, then I got bored and stopped wasting my time on digging into the crap of childhood traumas and heart-breaking love stories. I got tired of reacting to endless mind dramas, the mind repertoire was limited, dull, and nauseously primitive. I just kept doing what needed to be done without reacting to the hysteria of the tiny tape-recorder in my head.

I knew I was cuckoo, I did not care.

Jim was cuckoo too, he was stuck in solely one reality that his mind kept creating for him throughout his life. Fixated on success, unable to share, and mercilessly using others, he continued suffering every time his obsession with power and control broke against common sense. He kept picking up the tiny pieces of his illusions of strength and dominance, trying to clue them together and resume control, repeating the same break-and-repair insanity cycle over and over again.

 – Vixen, how many personalities do you have? I counted at least six.   

 – Millions or billions, whatever the mind creates, but I do not bother….

 – Why? – dark eyes, black hair, and Italian background, he was hot and charismatic, at least this is how my mind wanted me to perceive him.

 – I do not care because I do not exist, you do not exist either. And it really does not matter what the mind will want us to see and to feel as long as we use the mind as a tool, and we do not allow it to use us instead.

 

anxiety, bi-polar, crazy, fears, feelings, panic, Psychopath

Psychopath, Rick and his House

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Rick invited us, are you coming? – Heather’s phone call woke me up 7 am.

 – Really? –  The last time I saw him ended up in my running away from his place panicking that he will hurt me.  – He is dangerous, I am not coming.

 – He is not dangerous, Vixen, – her laughter was bright and loud, my morning sleepiness vanished instantly. – He is a very nice guy. Actually, he keeps asking me about you all the time.

The image of that door mercilessly ripped apart flashed before my eyes. I shuddered under the blanket.   – I am not coming, Heather, he is nuts.

 – Do you want him to give you a call and personally invite you?

 – Are you kidding me?

 – He is throwing a house party. Everyone will be there including your Greg and Emy.

 – That night in Jacksonville he was not nice at all, he called me a slut and….

 – And who are you? A princess?

 – I am ending the call now…

 – Wait, – her voice slowed down and got softer as she proceeded, – I was just messing with you, Vixen. He wants to see you, he still does not understand why you ran away that night in Jacksonville.

 – Why can’t he call and invite me than? Why do it through someone else? – that guy made me seriously nervous, the morning obviously did not start the way I wanted.

 – Easy Vixen, you are being paranoid, it is just a party with a bunch of boring professionals and their wives like Greg and his Emy.

 – Where? – the thought about seeing Greg quickly change my mind; my heart started pounding; the man of my dreams, my Mister Perfect, the most wonderful person on this planet.

 – At his house in Boca Raton, I will pick you up at 9.       

 As we arrived, Rick gave me a broad smile, a warm hug, and a pleasant attitude.  – You have no idea how happy I am so see you again, my love, – redundantly hospitable demeanor and excessively bleached teeth – I have missed you a lot since you disappeared that night, – dark eyes and showy sincerity.  – She – he nodded in the direction of Heather, surrounded by the guests and giving it-is-a-pleasure-to-see-you-again hugs and cheek kisses – she promised to have you stop by, glad you did,  – he squeezed my shoulders – I shivered. The grip was heavy, his hands were firm and cold.

We kept staring at each other; I was trying to get through the softness of his words to the pit of his psychopathy. His blood-freezing “you are very averagely looking and anorexic. Bye slut” as I was leaving his place that night was still in my ears, the badly damaged door was still before my eyes. His warmth and intelligent politeness did not match the Rick I was scared to death in Jacksonville.

He bent forward, I felt the smell of menthol tooth paste as he was hoarsely breathing out “I really, really, really missed you” in my ear. His hands moved lower, and cupped my butt, I turned around in panic. His guests were having fun, Heather kept flirting and drinking, guys kept laughing, their wives kept gossiping giving her quick and spiteful looks. Huge living-room area, high ceiling, and repetitively nagging “how are you, how are you, how are you” added to my sadness that no one really cares, and no one will actually notice if he causes me pain.

I slowly stepped away releasing his grip with a polite smile. Coming here was a bad idea, the cocktail party, the presence of Heather, Greg, and Emy, other people, everything seemed to be an illusion, Rick felt real though, real and dangerous. I was lonely, invisible, and unsafe in his house.

 – This looks scary, – I pointed my finger at the indoor balcony, loudly talking to myself, no one hears, no one bothers, Rick’s obnoxiousness got me angry and helpless. – The balcony looks very dangerous.

The living-room got suddenly very quiet. I could literally hear the crackling fireplace sounds, and the wind howling from the pool patio. The guests’ glances were cautiously curious and weirdly intense. Heather loud cough as she choked on her water was the perfect excuse to follow her to the bathroom.

 – You are nuts, Vixen, what are you doing? – she got furious as soon as the bathroom door closed behind us.

 – What did I do wrong? – I knew something happened, I could feel it through my skin, through each cell of my body.

 – Don’t you know his daughter fell off the balcony and died? – she was spitting the words into my face, nervously brushing her hair.

 – I did not know, what happened?

 – She got drunk, heavily intoxicated, and fell to the death two years ago in this house, – her words were loud and merciless, I felt dizzy.

 – I did not know.

 – You should not have said that.

I got out of the bathroom and hurried to leave the house feeling everyone’s stares through the strapless dress. Rick’s voice paralyzed me for a moment as I was opening the heavy front door.

 – Why are you leaving?

 – I do not think it is appropriate for me to stay in this house any longer, Rick.

 – Why? – he grabbed my shoulders again, trying to meet my eyes. – Please stay, I will knock you up, and we will have a baby girl. Every woman wants a kid from me, you will get paid.

 – Let’s survive the party first, – this guy was nuts, he needed help big time.

The next morning, I woke up with big bruises on my both shoulders and on my butt, I was sore and angry. Heather did not respond to my phone calls, I deleted Rick’s “thinking about you all the time” from my IPhone and started getting ready for work.

anxiety, fears, life, mind, panic, sugar

Fears, Panic, Anxiety, Coping

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Anxiety attacks feel like being entirely submerged underwater, unable to breathe, to see, to hear. Fear takes over everything, and the whole world shrinks as panic grows.

The mind keeps repeating “what if, what if, what if” freezing me with horror, taking me to the nightmare of being homeless and hungry over, and over, and over again.

 – What is your biggest fear? – I asked Heather the other day, she got pensive for a second and laughed nervously.

– What are your plans for this weekend? – she quickly shifted the subject, opening up and showing her real self was not something she was ready to do.

– Shopping.

 – I thought you will be with Dave.

I shook my head,There was something wrong about Dave, something fake. He kept smiling playing the role of a real gentlemen with chivalry and manners. “I am from Michigan, and I am a gentleman, Vixen”. At the same time, he was persistent about taking me to his car and bringing me to his place. “You will love it, it is nice and big and on the water”. His invitations were denied. I like big dicks and sincerity; big houses and fakeness do not impress me much.

Panic hit me in the face that morning. I had difficulty breathing and tried to drink some water to relieve tension. My throat shrank, as I was attempting to swallow. I crawled under the blanket; feeling the softness of the plush with both legs was comforting. I started stroking myself under the covers, watching the bluishness of the fish tank water. I wish I were like my tetras; eating, swimming, mating. Watching the fish was relaxing. I felt better. Another attempt of sipping water was more successful, I felt the refreshing coldness in my stomach and smiled. The fear of poverty and hunger got smaller. I was ready for pull-ups and shopping.

Jim kept texting until I block his number. I needed a new job, he wanted sex. I asked for help, he asked for the permission to stop by and f*ck. There was obviously no match between us.

Heather gave me a call later offering to go boating. Watching the sun and the water had always been the biggest healer. I eagerly accepted the invitation and threw a couple of apples in my purse for lunch prior leaving my apartment. Boats always balanced me out, healed my panics, gave me the reality check I needed. The brackish water was calm and greenish. We had to proceed slowly in order not to hit manatees, I kept waving to elderly couples in passing boats, watching lovely seafront villas. Air in the ears, water on my skin. The panic waned, I started smiling, back on the boat and happy again.

– You previously asked me about my fears, Vixen.

– Yes, – I stopped rubbing sun-screen on the shoulders and looked at Heather. Surprisingly, she remembered our recent conversation.

– I am afraid to get old.

I saw the fear in her eyes and gave her a hug. – You should be happy if you manage to die old my dear. Not everyone is that lucky. Plus, you have enough savings to enjoy your life once males stop providing for you. You will always have the lifestyle an average girl will never be able to afford.

– I know, – she giggled and nervously changed the conversation.

Our fears were similar in severity. She was scared to lose her beauty and her power over wealthy guys, I was scared to lose the roof over my head unable to feed my son. She coped with her panic through faking happiness, I welcomed my demons since running away from them made no sense. I neither hid from myself, nor fought with the inevitable. I observed the panic, listened to the crazy mind-talk knowing that sooner or later the anxiety will walk away, and I will be able to move on. It was my way of coping, and it helped.

My anxiety was gone, I slept good that night, and woke up rested the next morning.