Elevator Escapades: My Lift-Phobia
Fear of elevators and claustrophobia
A huge thank you to everyone who took the time to read through my quite lengthy blog post - Why am I here? Your dedication means the world to me, and I'm so grateful for your time and attention. I mean, anyone who can make it through that many of my ramblings deserves a medal—or at least a strong cup of coffee!
I shared the traumatic event that caused me to seek professional help and figure out why certain physical issues I was experiencing were happening. During a few of my sessions, I heard the terms anxiety and self-love and this got me to thinking - dangerous I know - about these terms. Because, let's be honest, diving into your own psyche is like opening Pandora's box—except instead of unleashing mythical creatures, you're bombarded with existential questions and a sudden urge to buy more self-help books than you have shelf space for!
One of the signs of anxiety is having a phobia - or two or three. Phobias are a common manifestation of anxiety. From fear of spiders to fear of heights, or even fear of social situations, our minds can latch onto specific objects or scenarios and blow them out of proportion, triggering intense feelings of fear or panic. These phobias can range from mildly inconvenient to severely debilitating, depending on their impact on daily life. Understanding that phobias are often rooted in anxiety can help individuals seek appropriate support and coping mechanisms to manage them effectively. After all, who knew that your fear of clowns could be a sign of your anxiety and not just a dislike of face paint and oversized shoes? So if you find yourself avoiding the circus or crossing the street to avoid a balloon animal, you're not alone. Clowns may be meant to bring laughter and joy, but for many, they're just plain creepy!
“So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.”
In today’s post, I want to get personal and talk about a specific example of how my anxiety manifests: my fear of elevators. This isn’t just about disliking tight spaces—I have a genuine phobia of being confined in small, enclosed areas. This anxiety is so intense that at home, I don’t even shut the bathroom door!
My fear extends beyond mere discomfort. For example, I’ve stepped into an elevator, scanned my fellow passengers, and in an instant, made a snap judgment. It's not about them personally, but my anxious mind races ahead, imagining every possible emergency scenario. And in that split second, I decide they might not be the ideal 'team' if something goes wrong. I know it sounds irrational, but that’s the reality of anxiety—it doesn’t play by the rules of logic. I’d much rather explain my way off the elevator than have a full on panic attack in front of strangers.
Claustrophobia – the ultimate party pooper, raining on your parade and squashing your dreams of elevator small talk. It's like hitting a speed bump on the road to success, except this bump is more like a giant brick wall, and you're the hapless cartoon character trying to run through it.
Feeling trapped in a tight space is the ultimate buzzkill. It's like being a contestant on a game show where the prize is your sanity, and the challenge is to navigate through a maze of cramped corridors without losing your cool. Spoiler alert: the odds are not in your favor.
But hey, at least claustrophobia gives you an excuse to perfect your elevator escape plan. Forget about the emergency stairs—your meticulously crafted strategy involves ninja-rolling out of the elevator doors like a secret agent on a mission. And let's not forget the dramatic exit line: "Sorry folks, duty calls! Gotta go save the world from cramped spaces!"
The elevator becomes a stage for a high-stakes assessment of hypotheticals. It’s as if my brain turns into a hyper-vigilant security agent, assessing threats and planning escape routes. It’s exhausting, and often, I find myself opting for the stairs, not for the exercise, but as a necessary alternative to avoid the anxiety that comes with elevator rides. The plus side, I get my steps in.
I share this not to trivialize the experience but to highlight the bizarre and often overwhelming nature of anxiety. It’s not just a matter of telling myself to 'get over it.' It’s a daily challenge, navigating these fears and finding ways to cope. Most of the time, I am able to overcome the fear, think logically and ride in the elevator. Especially if I have large amounts of luggage. Because let's face it, if the elevator gets stuck, at least I'll have plenty of snacks to tide me over until help arrives!
Sometimes riding in an elevator triggers my vertigo. This is not fun. It's like being on a rollercoaster you never signed up for, with the added bonus of feeling like the floor is doing the cha-cha beneath your feet. And forget about trying to maintain any semblance of dignity as you cling to the handrail for dear life while your stomach does somersaults. Yep, definitely not the elevator ride I had in mind when I pressed that button.
It's funny how our brains work, isn't it? I mean, riding roller coasters is like signing up for a thrill-packed adventure, complete with heart-stopping drops and exhilarating twists and turns. It's all about the rush of adrenaline and that feeling of flying through the air. But then, when it comes to something as mundane as an elevator ride, suddenly our inner equilibrium decides to throw a curveball and send us into a spin with vertigo. Ah, the mysteries of the human mind!
Is it because I know I am going to have fun on a roller coaster and it’s not fun riding on an elevator? The next time I have to get on an elevator, maybe I should pump myself up like I’m riding a roller coaster. I bet that would be a site to see. Imagine stepping into the elevator, throwing my arms up in the air, and shouting "Woo-hoo!" as if I’m about to plummet down the first big drop of a roller coaster. I could even bring along some imaginary theme park music to really set the mood.
Sure, my fellow passengers might give me some strange looks, but hey, I’d be turning a mundane elevator ride into an adventure! Who knows, maybe my newfound enthusiasm will catch on, and I'll start a trend of elevator riders everywhere embracing the thrill of the ride.
And even if I don't quite reach roller coaster levels of excitement, just channeling a bit of that adrenaline-fueled energy might help distract me from any feelings of anxiety or discomfort. Plus, it'll definitely make for a memorable elevator ride—for me and everyone else!
If you’ve ever felt this way, know that you’re not alone. And if you haven’t, I hope this gives you a glimpse into the kind of decisions and dilemmas that can come with anxiety. It’s a real and relentless companion, one that often requires understanding, patience, and sometimes, a good set of stairs. And remember, walking up the stairs burns 5 times more calories than riding an elevator!
So, whether you're facing your fears in an elevator or tackling them one step at a time on the stairs, just know that every little victory counts. And as you navigate the ups and downs of life, remember that you're stronger than you think, and you've got what it takes to rise above any challenge that comes your way. So keep on climbing, keep on conquering, and never forget to celebrate the small victories along the way. After all, the view from the top is always worth the effort.
“God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.”
Navigating the Storm: A Journey Through Anxiety
Anxiety is a complex beast that doesn't discriminate. It doesn't care if you're young or old, rich or poor, black or white. It can strike anyone, anywhere, at any time.
Ah, anxiety—the unwelcome guest that always seems to overstay its welcome. It's like that annoying neighbor who knocks on your door at the most inconvenient times and refuses to leave until you've offered it tea and sympathy. Except, instead of tea, it brings a whirlwind of racing thoughts, sweaty palms, and an overwhelming sense of dread.
My therapist recently dropped the A-bomb on me: anxiety. Apparently, it's been lurking in the shadows of my mind for longer than I care to admit. But what exactly are the signs of anxiety? Well, let me tell you, it's not just sweaty palms and heart palpitations (although those are definitely part of the package deal). It's the constant worry that gnaws at your insides like a hungry beast, the racing thoughts that hijack your brain at 3 a.m., and the feeling of impending doom that follows you like a shadow.
Here are some common signs of anxiety according to the internet:
Excessive Worry: Feeling worried or anxious about a wide range of everyday situations, often with little or no justification.
Restlessness: Feeling on edge or unable to relax, accompanied by physical symptoms like trembling or fidgeting.
Fatigue: Constantly feeling tired or rundown, even after getting enough sleep, due to the mental and physical toll of anxiety.
Difficulty Concentrating: Finding it hard to focus or concentrate on tasks, as your mind is preoccupied with anxious thoughts.
Irritability: Feeling easily annoyed or agitated, even over minor issues, due to heightened stress levels.
Muscle Tension: Experiencing muscle tension, tightness, or stiffness, especially in the neck, shoulders, or back, as a result of prolonged anxiety.
Sleep Disturbances: Having trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, or experiencing restless sleep patterns due to racing thoughts and worries.
Panic Attacks: Sudden episodes of intense fear or discomfort, accompanied by physical symptoms such as rapid heartbeat, shortness of breath, chest pain, dizziness, or sweating.
Avoidance Behaviors: Avoiding certain situations, places, or activities that trigger anxiety, leading to social withdrawal or isolation.
Physical Symptoms: Experiencing various physical symptoms such as headaches, stomachaches, nausea, dizziness, or shortness of breath, which may be attributed to anxiety.
It's important to note that everyone experiences anxiety differently, and not everyone will exhibit all of these symptoms. If you're experiencing persistent feelings of anxiety that interfere with your daily life, it's essential to seek support from a mental health professional for proper evaluation and treatment.But here's the kicker: despite the fact that anxiety affects millions of people worldwide, there's still this pervasive stigma attached to it. Why is that? Maybe it's because society has this misguided notion that anxiety is just a fancy word for being a worrywart or that it's something you can just "snap out of." But let me tell you, if it were that easy, I would have snapped out of it a long time ago. I hate to admit it but I’ve even made comments about people having what is called a ‘nervous breakdown’ and thought, “Why are those people so weak that they can’t deal with life?”
The truth is, anxiety is a complex beast that doesn't discriminate. It doesn't care if you're young or old, rich or poor, black or white. It can strike anyone, anywhere, at any time. And yet, despite its prevalence, there's this lingering belief that admitting to having anxiety is somehow a sign of weakness or failure. But let me tell you something: there is nothing weak about seeking help and taking care of your mental health. I’ve told youth girls I’ve mentored before that there is a huge difference between being depressed about some challenging circumstances and experiencing clinical depression. Clinical depression requires professional intervention and is not a joke. Being a Christian does not magically protect you from experiencing these things.
Which brings me to my next point: can I love God and have a good relationship with Him and still have anxiety? Absolutely. In fact, I'd argue that my faith has been my saving grace in the midst of the storm. It's the rock upon which I stand when the waves of worry threaten to pull me under. But here's the thing about faith: it doesn't magically make your anxiety disappear overnight. It's not a cure-all pill that you can pop whenever you're feeling overwhelmed. Instead, it's a lifeline that helps you navigate the choppy waters of life with a sense of hope and purpose.
““Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.””
I have found that my relationship with Jesus, serves as a profound source of hope, comfort, and purpose, especially during difficult times. Here's a deeper exploration of how a relationship with Him can be a lifeline in navigating life's challenges:
Hope in God's Promises: Central to the Christian faith is the belief in God's promises of love, mercy, and redemption. Through the teachings of Jesus Christ and the Bible, Christians find hope in the assurance that God is with them always, even in the midst of trials and tribulations. This hope stems from the belief that God is sovereign and faithful, and that He works all things together for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28).
Comfort in Prayer and Scripture: Prayer and Scripture are essential components of the Christian life, offering comfort, guidance, and strength in times of need. Through prayer, Christians can express their fears, worries, and struggles to God, knowing that He hears and cares for them. Likewise, the Bible provides timeless wisdom, encouragement, and promises of God's presence and provision, serving as a source of comfort and reassurance during difficult times.
Community and Support: Christianity emphasizes the importance of community and fellowship among believers. In times of hardship, Christians can find support, encouragement, and solidarity within their faith communities. Whether through church services, small groups, or one-on-one relationships, the Christian community offers a sense of belonging and companionship, reminding individuals that they are not alone in their struggles.
Purpose in Serving Others: Christianity teaches the value of serving others and making a positive difference in the world. By following the example of Jesus Christ, who selflessly ministered to the marginalized and oppressed, Christians find purpose and meaning in acts of love, compassion, and service. Engaging in acts of kindness, generosity, and advocacy not only benefits others but also brings fulfillment and purpose to the lives of believers.
Eternal Perspective: Central to the Christian worldview is the belief in life beyond this world—a hope of eternal life in the presence of God. This eternal perspective offers comfort and reassurance, especially in the face of suffering, loss, and uncertainty. Christians find solace in the belief that their struggles on earth are temporary and that ultimate victory and restoration await them in eternity.
Through faith in God, prayer, Scripture, fellowship, and service to others, we can find strength and resilience to persevere through difficult times and experience God's presence and peace amidst the storms of life.
So, to all my fellow anxiety warriors out there, know this: you are not alone. Your struggles are valid, your feelings are valid, and your journey is valid. And together, we'll weather the storm, one anxious moment at a time. Because as they say, the darkest nights produce the brightest stars, and sometimes, it's in the midst of our greatest struggles that we find our greatest strength.
Until next time, keep fighting the good fight, my friends. And remember, you are stronger than you know, braver than you believe, and loved more than you could ever imagine.
Stay fierce my friends,
Cristina
Why am I here?
Why am I doing this blog? What happened to me?
"Why am I here?" It's a question that's haunted philosophers, theologians, and, well, me when I accidentally zone out during Netflix binges. But fear not, dear reader, for today I'm tackling this existential enigma with all the wit and wisdom of a caffeinated sloth on a Monday morning.
So, why am I here, besides avoiding chores? Well, gather 'round, folks, because I'm about to spill the tea on why I decided to unleash my thoughts onto the internet like a slightly more articulate version of a Twitter rant.
First off, let's address the elephant in the room: I'm not exactly qualified to be doling out life advice. I mean, I once mistook a potted plant for a cactus and tried to water it with Gatorade. But hey, we all have our moments, right?
Despite my questionable decision-making skills, I'm here because I've got stories to tell, insights to share, and a sneaking suspicion that I'm not the only one who's ever wondered if aliens are just socially awkward introverts like the rest of us.
But beyond the laughs (and occasional facepalms), there's a deeper reason for starting this blog. Because let's face it—life can be a rollercoaster of emotions, a maze of uncertainty, and occasionally, a dumpster fire of epic proportions. And sometimes, all we need is a friendly voice in the chaos, a virtual shoulder to cry on, or just someone to remind us that it's okay to laugh at our own mistakes.
So, buckle up, buttercups, because we're about to embark on a wild ride through the absurdity of existence. Together, we'll laugh, we'll cry, and we'll probably question our life choices more than once. But hey, isn't that what makes life interesting? So grab a snack, kick back, and let's figure out why we're all here, one hilariously existential crisis at a time.
““Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand.””
I thought I had it all. A life, a family, some friends, a career and a few hobbies. Isn’t that what we all want? Just a normal life. My mind wanders to that term… a normal life. What does normal even mean? But I digress. I was in pretty good health. I have always said, “ I am the healthiest fat person I know!” The only thing that ailed me other than being overweight that is, was that all I wanted to do was nap. ALL. THE. TIME. Can I cash in on all those naps I refused to take a as a child? I was doing my best to accomplish this task. My family still lives in Texas and I married me a Georgia boy. So I frequent back ‘home’ as much as I can. I am blessed to be able to work from anywhere – oh the luxuries of a post-Covid world. I love to drive instead of flying. I like to see my surroundings and take it all. Reminiscent of my childhood. We would get in the car on the weekends and just go…no plans, no reservations, no destination. Anyway, I decided to take a detour to see some distant family members before I made my way to Texas and I wanted to be at my Mom’s by 4th of July. I knew my nephew and his young family would be visiting my brother. He has 3 adorable little girls and I have 2 grown sons and both my long haired Chihuahuas are boys. So anytime I can enjoy estrogen over testosterone, sign me up.
It all started out like any normal fourth of July, eating, enjoying each other’s company and in the evening, a few fireworks. Now, back home in Georgia, my family & I give the professionals a run for their money when it comes to these displays and we are not tight with our wallets either. So what we did at my brother’s house failed in comparison. After all, it was for the girls’ sake anyways. Sparklers, a few noise makers and some tiny bottle rockets. You could hear everyone in the distance doing the same. We gather everything up and place all the used fireworks in a box on the back of my brother’s UTV & go inside. All the while my mother is begging us to hose everything down to be safe. None of us listened to her.
Inside, my nephew’s wife, “F” put the girls to bed while we watched home movies and snacked. We laughed, we cried and laughed some more. Then “F” came into the living room and asked what that light was outside. Everything was in slow motion yet everything was moving at the speed of light. My brother runs to the garage (located behind the house and detached) and screams “Call 911!” For some reason, while dialing 911, someone had the fortitude to know we needed to move all the vehicles to make room for the firetrucks, when they arrived. I hop in mine and the 911 dispatcher answers. At the same time, I am seeing this massive blaze engulf the tree next to the garage. I know I was yelling but also trying to remain calm. I’ve heard other 911 recordings and knew losing my cool was not going to be helpful and I needed to make sure she understood me – with my Georgia accent and all. She asks for the address and God only knows how I remembered it, but I did. She then asks what roads lead up to it and I explained and apologized at the same time, that I am from Georgia and know nothing about the names of roads anywhere & I only know this address. I parked my 4runner across the cul-de-sac into a vacant field. There were only 3 houses at the end of the cul-de-sac and there was plenty of space between the houses. She is asking me if I know what started it and I immediately know it had to be the fireworks and I tell her so. “I think it was the fireworks.” “It has to be the fireworks!”
As I am running back to the house, I can still hear my brother’s screams or cries of desperation. He was in the backyard with the dang water hose fighting this monster, trying his best to make sure it did not engulf the house. “F” went and got the girls out of the bedroom and my Mom & Sister-in-law, “C” were gathering the dogs. My brother raises and shows Weimaraners & does field trials with them - a lucrative hobby. He kept one puppy from his latest litter. Where is the puppy? Did someone get the puppy? I know I passed people going back into the house but I am not sure who specifically - everything is a blur. I can hear the 911 operator asking if everyone is out of the house. I don’t know. I yell out, “Is everyone out?” “Yes” I hear. I see people going back inside too though. They are getting the girls loaded into a vehicle while others were loading dogs into another. Those screams sound so desperate coming from the backyard. I see “C” and ask if everyone is out again. They are. I yell, “Where is the puppy?” He’s in the vehicle, she says. “Who are we missing?” One of the adult dogs! I run back into the house past the dog kennels and into the living room yelling his name. No answer. I go back outside the same way I went in, yelling his name. No answer. I beg the operator to have the firetrucks get here fast. She assures me they are on their way. I cannot find the missing dog. I go back in, and something grabs my attention in the corner of my eye. A closed kennel. There he is, just as calm and quiet as can be, patiently waiting for someone to get him. I begin sobbing as I call his name and apologize to him. I get him to the vehicle and again ask the 911 operator where fire fighters are. I can still hear the desperation from the backyard.
A small firetruck shows up and begins fighting the fire on the opposite side of the garage from my brother. I look for the first time at length at the yellow, orange and red blaze emitting in the backyard and feel the intense heat on my face and cannot fathom how in the world we are going to survive this. Where will everyone stay? My Mom’s house is too small. What will my brother & his wife do if they lose everything? Why oh why didn’t we listen to Mom? Can’t I just go back and change it all? Why can’t I rewind this and go back and douse the fireworks they picked up like she suggested. More firetrucks arrive. Tons of police arrive. The sirens are deafening but I still hear the fire over them. The red & blue lights are blinding but not enough to cover the light emitting from the fire. Smoke is everywhere. Neighbors are moving their vehicles and moving to safety themselves. On lookers arrive. My brother is still in the backyard with the water hose, yelling “Save the house! Save the house!” The 911 Operator tells me we can disconnect since everyone is there. I hang up. I cry. I notice I am shaking. Why am I shaking so bad? My arms are shaking. My legs are shaking and feel weak. Then there is gurgle in my belly. I must find a restroom NOW. I beg the neighbor to let me use their bathroom. They do. I cannot sit still, and my legs were shaking so bad I thought they were going to shake me off the commode. I wash my hands. Throw water on my face. I look in the mirror at myself in disbelief we are experiencing this situation. I take long deep breaths. I try to rewind the events and start it over again to prevent this from happening. What can I do to prevent this from happening? I need to back and fix this. Why won’t that work? I thank the neighbor and go back outside and the blaze seems to be getting higher and it has made it to the house. I hear so many things exploding. What are those sounds? What was in the garage? Gas. A vehicle. An air tank. My brother was a man’s man and was rebuilding a muscle car with my nephew. The UTV was in there. The box of used fireworks on the back inside a box.
It hits me that I need to call my husband to make sure he knows I am okay. No answer. I call my oldest son. No answer. I call my youngest son. He answers. We talk. He asks me to take a picture. Can I do that? Isn’t this a sacred moment that should not be recorded by onlookers who do nothing? I always said that if something happened, I would never be one of those people who did nothing and just videoed with my cell phone. I would take action and help those in need. I comply with my son’s request. Looking back, I’m glad I did. I only got one picture. That was enough. It was after the firefighters had been fighting it for an hour. I could still feel the heat after I took the photo. How do the firefighters go into this and save people? Man they have cojones! I notice my Mom & Sister-in-law standing nearby and I go to them. We embrace each other and “C” suggests that we pray. Why haven’t I thought of that? I should be thanking God we are all safe. He saved us all – humans and canines. The only thing being destroyed is stuff. Stuff we cannot take with us. Those things don’t really matter. Our precious lives are what matters the most. They pray. I feel shame for not thinking of praying. I listen but don’t pray. I feel guilty for not thinking of thanking God for our safety already. That should’ve been the first thing I did. I notice I’m still shaking. I tell myself, it’s the adrenaline. Then we decided the littles need to go to bed & get away from the situation and we don’t know if the house will be habitable yet. I volunteer to go with “F” and the littles to my Mom’s house (she lives a few miles away down a few country roads). The whole time “F” & I talk about what happened and how things changed in an instant but nothing too deep since littles are listening. I still cannot catch my breath and my heart is racing and beating so fast it feels like it is going to jump outside of my chest. The whole drive, which seems to be taking forever, I try to calm my breathing & heartbeat to no avail.
I get to Mom’s, make a pallet for the oldest little, ask if they need anything and the gurgle hits me again! I give “F” my phone since she left hers at the house and she desperately wants to call my nephew. She’s worried about him. I’ve got to be strong for their sake but first I must go potty. I can’t be strong with bubble gut. Why will the shaking not stop? It’s been almost 2 hours since this all occurred and everyone else is fine. I need to calm down. I go back to my room where they are all lying down and the littles are talking to their daddy. They do not grasp the seriousness of the situation but know the fireworks caused the fire. I tell them good night and do my best to try to calm down in the living room. I walk outside and pet my Mom’s dogs. Did they get fed? I will feed them again. What will it hurt? I pet and love on them more and still cannot slow my breathing or heartbeat. I was supposed to get in my Mom’s truck and drive back to my brother’s but know I cannot do that with how I am. It’s not safe with me like this. I convince my Mom to drive my 4runner home instead. She gets home and I tell her I cannot calm down. She is a retired RN and takes my pulse. She says it’s too high for her to count. She is about to give me something to take…
I wake up. Where am I? What’s going on? I remember seeing some faces but they were blurry and I heard some strange voices but not sure who or what it was. I realize I am in a hospital bed. My Mom is by my side and starts talking to me. I try to respond and cannot. A young nurse walks in and is immediately elated that I am awake. She is smiling from ear to ear telling me how glad she is to finally see me awake. I try to talk and cannot. Many nurses and doctors come in. I have so many things hooked up to me. Why? What happened?
I wake up again… it was another seizure. There are things hooked up to my head to measure the seizure. I am so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open. Doctors asking me questions. I cannot talk. They get me a paper and pen to write down my answers. They are trying to figure out what medicines I am taking. I have not been taking my seizure medication because I feel like it’s useless anyway. Maybe Mom will reprimand me once I am in the clear and I will have to hear her nagging me about how important it is to take my meds and on time. More specialists come in and ask more questions. Now I have a small dry erase board to communicate with. Why is everyone making such a big deal over this? It was just a seizure. I just want to go home. I’m fine. It was just a seizure. But why can I not remember anything? Doctors and Mom inform me that I have had multiple seizures back to back. I normally can recall everything that happens around me during my seizure but this time it was different. Why can’t I talk? It’s all in my head they say. However, the seizures are not neurological, but anxiety induced by trauma. “Well, no shit!” I think to myself. The fire was a trauma for everyone. Why was I the one to react this way? Why did it cause me to have so many seizures? Why was I unconscious? My brother was practically fighting off hell with a literal water hose for crying out loud? He should be impacted by this trauma but he is not. A few hours later, my voice comes back and I can speak. And I learn I have been in the hospital and 2 days have passed! What the heck? It only felt like a few hours.
Thus begins my journey of dealing with trauma, anxiety induced seizures (I’ve had seizures for at least 10-15 years with no diagnosis and now they say it’s anxiety) and I am supposedly suppressing things from my past and internalizing them instead of dealing with them. I should see a therapist to untangle it all, they say. I get released from the hospital and upon going back to my brother’s house for the first time since the fire, I have a flood of emotions rush in and I’m sucked right back in to the moment of the fire - emotions and all. I cry for a short time. The closest room near the garage was the dog room. The outside of it is melted and all the glass had busted out into the yard. The grass is now replaced with black char. The garage and all its contents are gone – nothing but ash. I see a frame of what was once the UTV and the muscle car. I spend the next few days assisting what little I can going through the ash. The fire inspector said the fire started on the outside of the garage and it was probably a firework. No telling if it was ours or someone else’s. I spend the rest of my time in Texas like I had planned with no other incidents. Normal as normal can be. We are blessed.
A few weeks later, back in Georgia, I started having PTSD and events where my heart races for no reason and while I am at rest. Seeing many specialists only to discover there is nothing wrong with my heart. Praise God! It’s anxiety. I am now seeing a therapist and I told her everything and why I was there to see her. I am eating better, slowly losing weight, taking better care of myself. I’m reading more. Getting outside more. Therapist tells me, all these things are self-love & she thinks doing these things for myself are the best ‘medicine’ for me. Self-Love? That’s a foreign concept to me. Did I not love myself before? What is self-love? I love God first and foremost and I love my husband beyond measure and my boys unconditionally. But do I love myself? That is the million-dollar question.
If my ramblings and mishaps can bring a smile to someone's face or offer a nugget of wisdom, then I'll consider it a win. And if along the way my circle of friends dwindles, well, then we'll chalk it up to me being the designated crazy person! But hey, who needs a big circle when you've got quality over quantity, right? So buckle up, folks, because this journey is bound to be a rollercoaster of laughter, tears, and hopefully not too many embarrassing moments... but no promises!
Embracing Saudade: A Journey to Self-Love
A journey of reconnecting with and loving oneself, exploring the "saudade" for the person you once were or the person you aspire to be.
Welcome, dear readers, to 'Saudade de Si Mesmo'—a cozy corner of contemplation, growth, and the occasional existential crisis. As I dive headfirst into this whirlwind of introspection and self-discovery, I can't help but feel like a slightly dazed tourist in the labyrinth of my own psyche. But hey, at least the scenery's great!
Inspired by the enigmatic Portuguese concept of saudade—a term so complex it makes my morning coffee look simple—I figured, why not invite you all along for the ride? After all, misery loves company, right? Just kidding (mostly). But in all seriousness, let's dive into the murky depths of our souls together and see what treasures we can unearth amidst the chaos.
So, grab a seat, buckle up, and prepare for a rollercoaster ride of emotions, insights, and the occasional existential crisis. It's bound to be a wild ride, but hey, at least we'll have each other—and maybe a few good laughs along the way. Let the adventure begin!
