Getting real

I reckon I can't be optimistic all the time.  And today's one of those days.

First, I guess it's possibly time to stop just posting the number of weeks since losing Nathan, as folks are starting to think I'm pregnant again.  It's a fair assumption, but no.  Not pregnant.  

And now for my rant--I HATE ANXIETY.  It sucks.  

I've actually been doing mostly well over the past couple of weeks, since being back on some medication.  I've had a few small incidents, but I've been able to talk myself down fairly quickly.  But today was a little different.  I had a slightly stressful morning...discovered that I had made a moderately important mistake, which for a perfectionist can be almost end-of-the-world epic, even though my boss was completely understanding and helped come up with a solution.  I wasn't feeling noticeably stressed about it at this specific moment, but all of the sudden, I had a mild--but sharp--pain in the center of my chest, and then felt tingling that moved from the top of my head down to the bottom of my toes.  All in all, these physical symptoms lasted at most 10-15 seconds, but then my brain took over.  It was thankfully about lunch time, so I clocked out and went for a 30-minute walk.  And talked to my mom on the phone.  And just generally tried to convince myself that it was just a panic attack.  And most of me knows that it was.  But the part of me that triggers panic attacks sometimes has a hard time understanding that.

All sorts of fears enter my brain, mostly about dying.  Is that bad?  Is it bad that, as a Christian, I'm scared of dying?  I mean, I want to go to heaven.  I'm looking forward to heaven.  I just always imagined going there at some lovely age like 90 or something.  Not 32.  

At any rate.  I was mostly able to stay calm for the rest of the afternoon, but I just hate that I had this episode.  It can be so paralyzing.  I know I said in an earlier post that I knew this was going to happen eventually, given everything that's happened in the past year.  But then I got to thinking today how completely unfair it is.  This sucks!  First, I had to lose two precious babies, and now I have to deal with this anxiety on top of the lingering grief.  How is this even OK?  And I know life's not fair, and I know God never said it'd be easy, but that doesn't mean that I can't be a little angry about it at times.  

And that's where I am.  I'm angry.  And I'm sad.  And I'm scared.  And I'm sick of being all of these things.

Will you pray for me?  For us?  Because Lord knows Jeremy is a SAINT for putting up with me through all of this.

I love you guys.

Why?

I promise it's not what you're thinking.

Those of you who knew me in Asheville know that I spent the better part of 6 years as a part of the music team at Covenant, and a large part of that helping with lead and background vocals.  Singing has been a part of my life as long as I can remember.  I was chosen for some sort of special kids' choir thing back in 2nd or 3rd grade, and we sang some song about a kite.  Haha.  I don't remember much about it, but I definitely remember having fun with it.  

Though I sang all throughout school, including college, I never really realized how alive I could feel when singing until I started singing at Covenant.  Just something about singing to God and with God's help...and helping lead people into worship.  It's so much less about me and what I do and so much more about getting out of the way and letting people see God.  (Which both takes pressure off, and puts pressure on.  But that's for another day.  :))  There's also, of course, the privilege of making music with other musicians.  When you see me smiling on stage, it does have a lot to do with praising God, but there's also an element of just loving making music.

When we decided we were going to move to Charlotte, I knew that was a part of my life I was going to miss immensely, and that I really wanted to make sure to establish here.  The first church we landed at was awesome in so many ways, but we just never felt like we fit in.  After about 4 months, I was finally able to audition for the band, and was allowed to sing with them.  And I really enjoyed it--they were nice, and VERY talented.  I never really felt like a real part of the group, and they weren't huge on using background vocalists.  So after about 5 months, we made the decision to start searching for a new church.  I was definitely missing being a part of worship.  

Our 2nd or 3rd week of searching, we came across the church we're at now.  Shallow though it may sound, one of the ways I really knew this was a church we should consider is because on our first week there, they played this song, which Jeremy and I had been singing for a few days non-stop.  After a couple weeks, we knew that this church was a strong possibility for us, so I emailed the creative arts pastor to see if they were open to new vocalists, and I got a resounding yes!  A few weeks later I was able to audition, and a few weeks after that, I was on stage with them.  It has been so much fun meeting new people over the past few months, and creating music again with some incredibly talented folks.  This past week, I was given the opportunity to lead a song for the first time since being in Charlotte, and it was awesome.  I had more fun than I've had in a long, long time.

I've spent a lot of the last 18 months wondering why.  Why did Jeremy have to choose a school in Charlotte, so far away from our friends and church family?  Why did we have to lose our babies?  Why were we having such a hard time finding a church?  Why was I having a hard time finding a place to make music?

It dawned on me as I was singing on Sunday that I think God wanted me to give me a new perspective on, and a new appreciation of, worship.  One that I could only have after having gone so long without any meaningful musical participation.  One that I could only have after losing my babies.  One that I could only have after being thrown into a new city without many friends.  I've had to rely on Him more fully in the past 18 months than in any other time of my life that I can remember.  And maybe that's the point.

10 weeks.

A is for Anxiety

I've debated posting something about this for about 2.5 weeks now.  Ever since all of the awful symptoms came creeping back in.  And finally decided that tonight, I'd get it all out.  Or, at least some.

Some of you know that I've battled depression and anxiety for years now.  I suspect they've been around for a good chunk of my life, but didn't really start to beat my door down until I was about 24.  I started having chest pains one day, and just wrote it off.  I mean, I was 24!  Obviously not a heart attack.  Or, at least, not very likely.  But after a few days, I couldn't shake the feeling any longer.  One of the ways my anxiety manifests itself is through hypochondria.  I went to the ER, and was, of course, told I was fine.  And I was OK with that answer.  For a little while.

I think all in all I went to the ER 3 times, had 4 - 5 EKGs and then ended up at a cardiologist and had an echocardiogram.  Everything came back perfectly normal.  But it wasn't until I finally realized (ie--was FORCED to realize) that all of this was an outward manifestation of my anxiety and depression that I was finally able to get past it--by getting the right help.  

I found a therapist (and finding a good one takes trial and error, TRUST ME), got on some medication (again, trial and error), and while it wasn't without bumps and bruises, I finally started to feel better.  Of course, as years went on, and life went on, there were tweaks in therapy (and long stretches without), and tweaks in medication.  Such is the nature of this disease.

Fast forward to the day after Christmas, 2012.  Our power went out that evening, so we went to Target to wander around.  We started to leave after we found out our power was back, and then I told Jeremy I wanted to check the grocery section for a Sprite Zero, since there wasn't one at the check-out.  We ran into some friends and chatted for a good little while.  We finally left to head home, and saw probably 10-15 emergency vehicles at an intersection near the store.  We were hoping it was just because we were so close to the hospital, and several people had responded to a minor wreck.  We came to find out later that a young woman and her mother passed away, while the young woman's two daughters survived.  (We even later came to find out that the young woman attended our church, though neither Jeremy nor I actually knew her.)  One of the first thoughts I had as we left Target was that Jeremy and I would normally have gone through that intersection heading home from Target and that if we hadn't seen our friends and stopped to chat, maybe we would have been in the path of the drunk driver instead of this family.

Normally, it would have been a sad, but passing thought.  However, for whatever reason that thought lingered.  And lingered.  And before I knew it, WHAM.  Full-blown anxiety.  The chest pain came back, the incredibly anxious and inconsolable thoughts came back....basically, I was a mess again.

I know in the rational part of myself that I'm fine.  I'm not having a heart attack, in fact, I'm likely not having any sort of heart troubles at all (though, trust me, I know it's at least a little more possible now that I'm older and diabetic).  But, if you've ever been in the throes of panic, you know that rational thoughts have no place.  And if you've never been there, a) you're lucky and b) please be kind to those of us who have been there, who are there, and who will be there.  Because trust me...it's not as simple as just "cheering up" or "getting over it".  If it was, I would have made that decision years ago.  Trust me.

It's not like I didn't know this was coming.  Because I did.  I had to wean off of my medications when we were pregnant the first time with Jordan.  Miraculously, I didn't have to go back on after the first miscarriage, as I really thought I'd have to.  But losing two in such a short period of time, and in such a traumatic way, I just knew it would come back.

Thankfully, I still keep in touch with some of my old co-workers from October Road and one of them was incredibly kind enough to spend time on the phone with me last week to teach me some ways to calm down in the midst of the panic.  And it actually does work most of the time.  It worked a little bit today, but I think I needed to be doing it ALL day for it to work completely.  :-P

At any rate, I really just needed to get all of that off my chest (pun somewhat intended).  Today was the worst so far, and prompted me to call the doctor's office--at which I had an appointment scheduled for January 24th--and practically beg to get an earlier appointment.  Tomorrow morning sounds much better.  :)  

I know I've been asking for prayers a lot lately, but I would really appreciate some for all of this.  The meds will take a little while to kick in, so I know I've still got a little bit of a rough road ahead.  

9 weeks.