Seeking: Balance on the Thin Edge of a Coin

Balance. The word tumbles through her mind, like shoes in a dryer, as she washes down her morning meds with cold coffee. 

What am I doing? Nothing. No, I'm sitting here watching the rain, trying to sort out what to do, and wishing I could do nothing. Read all day. Stay in bed and recoup. Not that I'm sick, I'm just weary. 

It had been a long week; or a really long month. Maybe longer. 

Cooking to do, laundry to fold, and piles of clutter in every room. The disorder of her home a reflection of the chaos in her head.

I used to be just fine taking a day to do nothing. Now "nothing" feels like a symptom of something. I'm afraid of being lazy for the sake of it. 

Apathy. Becoming apathetic was her greatest fear. Being swallowed by the deep, wide, Nothing. 

At the same time she equally was afraid of becoming hyper-focused. Fixated. Compulsive.

Her chest tightened. They seem like two sides of the same coin. Two choices, all in or all out.

Where am I supposed to find the balance? 

Rejoice! For on the Seventh Day, She Rested

Monday, it's another Monday. And Mondays are hard, aren't they?

But this is not just any ol' Monday. There's a whole host of things that are different about this day, including, but not limited too:

• This is the Monday following the time shift here in the United States (well, most of them). Always a wonky day. 

• This is the Monday before US Election Day - which is a whole ball of angst-producing wax alone. 

• As it happens, my little Rebels have school today, and are off tomorrow, back for 2 days and off for Veterans Day on Friday. Add this to the time shift, and I'm in for a long week in the parenthood department. 

• This is the Monday after the NYC Marathon, which I am proud to say my husband not only ran, but crushed. First marathon for a 47 year old dude, and he did it with an average mile of just under 10 minutes. 

• My husband and I happen to have a date tonight, to go see Lee Child be interviewed by someone from Vogue at Random House. There'll be yummies to nosh and wine, and all very lovely. I'm excited, I am... but... 

• I have an emotional hangover. Why? Well, partially because of all the stuff I just listed. Mostly because as long as my husband's day was yesterday, by the time he came home I felt like I'd run a marathon. 

So what is an "emotional hangover?" I don't even know if it's a thing other people say, but for me, it's the feeling of having been through the wringer, and just feeling worn out from all the feelings. Does that even make sense? I don't know. 

See, yesterday I had a plan, an expectation of how I could let kids do their thing in the morning while I did some work. Then we would go have frozen yogurt for lunch, watch their dad pass by and cheer for him in the marathon, and then we'd scoot back home, and frolic or something. Ok, I didn't plan what we'd do, but I really did plan this fun "outing." It would only take us around the block, but it was so much winning for all of us. 

Needless to say, things didn't go as planned. Lots of reasons, mostly irrelevant. 

The relevant bit is that I found myself standing on the sideline, 3 people back from the fence, knowing my husband would never see my 5'2" shortness where I was. My kids were trying to stay excited, but they couldn't see any of the runners. My son started asking to go get fro-yo every 90 seconds. My daughter decided she didn't want to sit in the stroller she insisted she needed, but she did want to stand ON it. I was getting the side-eye from some of the other spectators, and one woman decided to be outright confrontational. 

I just wanted to see my husband. I wanted to hug him over the sideline fence, kiss him, maybe take a silly selfie, and send him on his way. 

As my daughter teetered on the stroller that I held balanced with one hand, while trying to track his position on the race app, and my son whining and complaining and knocking the phone to the ground... My anxiety went through the roof. 

I was shaking. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to grab the kids and leave, but I didn't want to miss seeing my husband. I wanted my kids to see their daddy doing this amazing thing. I didn't want anyone to be disappointed. Which included me. 

So I hung on. I got angry. Because not having control and having to fake it pisses me off. Because the only way I can get back in control is to fight through the fight or flight response. 

Once you've climbed on that roller coaster, it's hard to make it stop. 

I'm fighting for my life, I'm fighting to find my calm, I'm fighting mad, I'm fighting sleep, I'm fighting the need to crawl back into a hole. I'm fighting to find normal again. 

For me, that's the worst part of my anxiety. It makes me... mean. Which makes it worse, because I despise who I am when I'm freaking out. Even if I look perfectly normal. 

It so fucking exhausting. 

So today, I'm spent. Today, I cannot think clearly. I cannot focus. I cannot... I just can't. 

And you know what? I'm not gonna. 

Today I will rejoice in feeding myself. I will revel in a quick shower. I will take care of the physical, and let the brain (try to) rest. 

Spotlight on 5 Valuable Things my MRI Actually Revealed

I slid into a tube, on my knees, draped over a barrel. With my head tucked in, arms stretched ahead Super Girl style, my hooters hung out like socks on a clothesline. Headphones in place, I closed my eyes & tried to melt into the techno beat of an MRI machine. 

Just before this high tech breast exam started, the technician suggested I not breathe too deeply, because that would move the chesticles & the whole ordeal would take longer.  

Maybe the breathing note was the last straw, or maybe the whole scene was written and no amount of improv on my part could have changed the plot. With every whoop-whoop of the machine, I felt the panic rising. 

I tried to go to my happy place. I tried not to breathe deeply and yet still meditate. When that failed I tried to sing show tunes, tell myself jokes, sing 99 bottles of beer... 

Then I heard the technician say, "You're doing great, ma'am. Only 17 more minutes. How are you doing?" 

Yeah... That's when I lost my shite. 

In the few minutes that followed, while the techs talked me down from the ledge and back into the machine, I learned 5 very valuable things:  

• It does help to focus on the big picture. I was not there for myself; I was there for my family. Truly, if I were a single woman I think I'd have said fuck it and left. But with my family history of breast cancer, having this screening is important as both a parent and a wife. So I needed find a way back in that tube. 

• I can handle any of my fears if I can look them in the eye. (When I can't, I lose my shite.) I've long known I'm a bit of a control freak. But as the techs were asking me what they could do to get me to go on with the test, I realized this was more than just giving up control. I was freaked out because I couldn't use my sight to focus outside of my position. TRYING to look around was my problem. In this situation, I had to close my eyes and rely on my other senses. 

• When I can't see, I need to feel my way. I don't necessarily mean with my heart. I mean literally. When the tech took my hands & told me I could handle this; even blind and barely able to breathe, I believed her. To her credit, that wonderful lady stood outside the MRI tube, while I held on for dear life. There is great power and healing in the human touch. 

• When I really can't handle my situation, the bravest thing I can do is speak up & ask for help. I am the strong one, the one who endures and tries very hard not to complain. Yet as a mom, I tell my kids when they feel like they can't be brave, they can lean on me & together we can face anything. The reason, I say, is asking for help shows more bravery than anything else. In the middle of my panic attack, I was reminded mommy is also stronger when she lets herself be vulnerable & accepts that she cannot tackle everything on her own. 

• Oh, and the final thing I learned during my breast MRI? Mammograms are NOT the most uncomfortable thing I have ever done with my boobs. Actually, this whole experience was seriously awkward. Physically & emotionally. Of course, the most valuable lessons are often uncomfortable to learn. 

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The Shy Poet & Unexpected Treasures

What follows is the twisted tale of how my photographs came to be published in a best selling poetry book. If you find this to be far-fetched and completely random, well, I would wholeheartedly agree with you. It is, nonetheless, entirely true.

Like all good stories, we must begin with a prologue:

Not so long ago, but in a part of my life seems so very far away, I designed the album artwork for a band. (Like for real, it's on iTunes and everything.) 

You see, my significant other was a friend of the guitarist, & we'd seen them perform countless times. They weren't a "hair band", though oddly all had fantastical hair. Each performance I'd think “I have to bring a camera and capture all of this.” So, naturally, I did just that; taking photos during bar gigs, playing at being Annie Liebowitz or something. 

Maybe they just liked my chutzpah, or probably because they wanted me to knock it off during shows, I found myself invited to shoot during their rehearsals. 

Yada yada yada... my proximity to the band led to me doing not only some photography, but all the graphic design for the band's EP. 

As it happens when artists work well together on one project, the guitarist and I became collaborators on any number of things. Some, like the band’s EP, were brought to fruition. Others, well, not so much. You know how it goes with “artistes” and their artistic endeavors: personalities clash, passions and tempers flare, relationships explode... Finally the project, no matter how utterly brilliant or beautiful, is abandoned. 

Flash forward about 6 years. Which is also a rewind to just a few months ago. But that’s confusing, so never mind. 

So my friend Chasity (aka The Shy Poet) announces she has a deal to publish a book of her original poetry. In our little corner of the Internet this is a very big deal. Her poetry is universal, approachable, often heartbreaking & lovely. 

Not terribly long into her work on the book, she publicly declares a need for images that are not previously published or copyrighted. 

I was sure I’d have a photo or two that she could use & if it would help her, why not? So I threw my hat in the ring & offered up my photography. As did about 90 other people. I mean that literally. And I am being totally honest when I say I NEVER imagined she’d want to use any of my work. Well, maybe one or something, to be nice. I offered because I wanted to help my friend. The fact that this was for print publication was so far out of my thoughts it barely registered.  

So you can understand my total fecking shock when she tells me she’s not only hoping to use some of my photos, she’d really like to use only my photos.

Oh, and can we do this in a matter of days?! Deadlines… 

My first thought (after OMG, yes!!!) was “Whoa... she wants 12??? That means she needs to see a collection to choose from. No, no, no… Oh dammit, I can’t pull together a portfolio of photos for her to pick from in a matter of hours!” Yes, friends and neighbors, full on panic was the emotion. Elation? Yes. But massive panic. 

Then it hit me: The abandoned project.

The guitarist & I had been working on an audio-visual piece under the working title of “Pure.” Had it been destined for gallery installation or YouTube? We weren't sure, but both of us had been pumped. For my part this meant all my spare time was spent editing photos and video montages. With the project shelved, hundreds of photographs went into cold storage on my hard drive. I was too disheartened to do anything with them. 

In that abandoned computer file was the answer to my anxiety attack. I had an archive of photos that were unused, unseen, and easily sorted in a matter of hours. I was able to present Chasity with a portfolio of photos I loved but hadn’t had a reason to work with for years. Finally some of these pieces would get to be a part of something extraordinary: a collaboration with a friend & an artist that I could trust with my work. As intended. 

Problems resolved, I hurried to get things sorted out so Chas could make her deadline. It was days after she'd seen all the photos & maybe not even until the whole project was wrapped that I realized how remarkable the situation was.

Truly the stars had to align for these photos to finally find a proper home. 

Serendipity. Queen of Silver Linings. These are my monikers because I know I have stumbled my way into some fairly remarkable things. I've always come out of the darkness of yesterday into a brighter tomorrow. I continue to be honestly surprised (and humbled) by the path my life has taken. 

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Anxiety Rising - What's with Today, today?

Today is a mixed bag of strange & change. 

I'm sitting in a coffee shop trying to keep myself in check. 

"I will not cry in public." That is my mantra. 

My Boy started Pre-K today. 

We've been preparing. The last 2 days we've walked down to the school. Each day my Boy saying "that's my new school! Can we go in? I want to go to school!"  Played in the park beside it. 

The Boy was so excited & hugged his sister goodbye. Posed for photos at home & as we walked to the school. He got into the classroom & went right to playing. He wasn't concerned when Hubs had to leave. There wasn't a hint of uncertainty about him when he said bye to me a few minutes later.  

I had to stop & fill in some information in the hall & before I could finish he came running out crying. Looking for me. He kept repeating "You can't leave me. I'm just scared."

I was brave. I did my best to calm him. We sang the first verse of "Sing (sing a song)" together. His little voice so quiet, quivering in a way I've never heard. I reminded him this was our song & if he felt unsure he could sing to himself & it would make it better. 

That's all I had. 

Thankfully it's a half day. 

Now if I could just stop myself from shaking. 

----

Now it's later in the afternoon, the Boy made it through the morning. I left him with his sister & the sitter. 

I'm taking a Bikram yoga class. Once again there is drama from new yogis. They end up storming out of the room during the floor series, stepping over my mat because I'm near the door. One of their mats double smacks me in the face. 

Alright then. Focus. Get back into the meditation. 

Several times during class I'm choking back tears. There is so much emotion tying my muscles and joints into stiff knots. 

I fell asleep after class while in my final resting pose (mama needed rest). I was awakened by a blast of cold air as a woman burst back into the room and said "Joan Rivers is dead! You just know Melissa is going to be devastated."

Um, yes. I am ffamiliar with that emotion. Thank you for ripping me back to reality with news of death & mourning. I totally feel refreshed now. 

----

Cut to the dentist's office. 

A fairly routine procedure to remove a temporary crown and install the new ones is made difficult by the temporary adhesive not wanting to come off. 

It is a well documented fact that I loathe the dentist. I struggle to remain calm during a cleaning. My teeth are sensitive, and I've had so many bad experiences with crappy dentists. 

I'm trying though, I'm trying to stay even keeled. I can tell the dentist is trying to be gentle, but she finally decides she will need to numb the area. But I'm just too jacked up now. The adrenaline is pumping, my heart is racing, and even the feeling of the Novocaine being injected into the gum is freaking me out. 

And then the full blown panic attack I've been trying to avoid all day has me. I suppress the scream, but I squeal enough that the dentist and her assistant pull back as I sit straight up in the chair. Trying to regain control of my breathing. Hoping I won't go into a full flop sweat. I keep apologizing, but I'm not sure why. I have no control over this. 

It is taking everything I have not to just leave. I can live without teeth. Or maybe you just pull out what's left of this tooth that is hurting so badly? Because the screaming from the tooth is ringing my jaw bone like a bell in my ears. 

The Novocaine is starting to work. The pain in my jaw is beginning to fuzz out. My breath is returning to normal. 

Finally I'm able to relax enough to let her finish. Somewhere in there the numbing effect reaches it's peak, and I make a joke about it. 

----

Back home and I'm still uneasy. It's all been too much today. I can't find words to express it properly on my page on Facebook. But I see this ripple from so many of my friends. So much angst. So many people talking about headaches, migraines, taking a break from people. Amy texts me from Alaska. Her fiancé is having a health crisis. It's all too much. 

What's with Today? All I can think is there is a disturbance in the Force. 

And all I can do is hope and pray that tomorrow will be a brand new day. A brighter day.