Feeling guilty about my honest feelings.

My cousin was killed a little over two weeks ago. When I first heard the news I was shocked and sad. Well….. not surprised mind you, just shocked that what I had kind of imagined would happen actually did. You see my cousin was not a very nice person as a rule. That’s not to say she was a rotten person through and through, she just had this mean and spiteful and vengeful streak. She was gossiping, nasty, judgmental and would do all kinds of things for evil satisfaction. She had always been that way since as far back as I can remember. Yet she did have some kindness when it came to homeless people and poor children. But when it came down to family, friends and neighbors? Nope. Nothing nice there in the least.

In high school she began dating my boyfriend behind my back. That hurt. A LOT. She used to rob me and my sister blind when she came to our house or when we went to her house.If you had anything you wanted to keep, keep it away from her. She would tell lie after lie. I was afraid to allow her into my life after I had kids because I was afraid of what she would do. She was angry that My sister and I had kids and she did not. I assumed she would make a false report of child abuse just for spite. Because that’s just how she rolled. Turned out she had been telling the family outrageous lies about me and my children and husband to the family, and she had never even been to our home or even really spoke to me for a number of years. Even when we did speak she didn’t know a darned thing about us because I was afraid to invite her over or to visit the family because of her.

When she died I found out she had an addiction to crack. She had gone to meet her dealer, and apparently tried to snatch the drugs and drive away without paying. She didn’t count on him shooting at the car as she sped away. She was hit twice in the head after he fired at least 5 shots at the rear of the vehicle. She died instantly. I do not know how long she had that particular habit. I assume it did affect who she was to a degree. I mean she was already crazy. I do mean that about as literally as possible. Ask anyone who ever knew her in her life and they will tell you she was crazy. She was the biggest drama queen you would have ever known. She also seemed to have no fear of authority or consequences. She seemed to think she was invincible. Doing outrageous things. I assume once a person does so many things that should have ended in disaster, yet they came out lucky they develop a sense of comfort with their actions. So she was already a mental case and here she was smoking crack, also she had MS and I hear that can take it’s mental toll as well as some of the medications for it. She never stood a chance I’m afraid.

I don’t say all this to bash the dead, or to make her look bad. I say it because this is where it gets to be an emotional tug-of-war with me. While I feel terrible about how she died and all she suffered with in this life…… I can’t believe I am about to even put this out there….. I feel a little relieved at the same time. Not glad or happy mind you. But just a sense of relief underneath my sadness. Now I can try to visit family again and not worry about what she may do, or say or whatever. I feel terrible that her mother, father, and brother now have to face this grief in their life. I know she was loved dearly by those very close to her and her death is nothing to celebrate. But my feelings do conflict. My heart breaks knowing she must have been suffering underneath her abrasiveness. An addiction she couldn’t shake, an illness she would never be free of, wanting to have children she could not have. She didn’t grow up in the most stable home. Her father was a crazy alcoholic and addict. As are many other of my relatives. Somehow I never took up any type of chemical dependency. Well…. I do love my morning coffee. I also did smoke a pack a day for about 15 years. I love my chocolate. I do have tendencies to get hooked on other things. Just not drugs or alcohol. So it’s there, just in a different way. Maybe it’s hereditary? Maybe it’s just a matter of being a product of one’s environment? Who knows. I know I feel bad for feeling somewhat relieved though.


Getting my ducks in a row. (Not the other thing!)

When you get a good hard laugh when you least expect it, now there’s some good medicine! When I have a panic attack or just anxiety, I just can’t eat, or think, or function in a pleasant way. I have been actively working on this for quite some time. I have improved and hope to continue improving. Nothing makes it easier though, than a good laugh. A smile I just can’t help, a chuckle that just keeps bubbling up whether I mean to do it or not. It’s all good stuff and the very best medicine I could hope for. Dare I say it may be better than chewing someone’s ear or blogging it out.

I have always been a laugh-a-holic. Even having had so much depression in my life once a good hard laugh starts I just get drunk on the feeling and allow it to consume me. Not much is better than side splitting laughter. Laughing so hard you can’t straighten out your face, or utter actual words. Good old laughter. I believe the almighty God in heaven gave us laughter as a gift to be used as liberally as oxygen.

The emotional roller coaster.

I have had quite a day of extreme feelings. Anger here, sadness there, frustration here confusion there. Trying to sort through all of these feelings I have right now is like trying to sort a mountain of mismatched socks. Is that navy or black? This one has no match. Etc….

Death does these torturous things to the living, the dead never feel a thing. The mystery surrounding the death of my cousin Mary is slowly dissipating. They think it was a gang initiation. The theory is that Mary was driving and the suspects sped up to get next to her then shot her in the head. She then crashed into a fence. First they said she was in an apartment complex then they said it was a side road behind the apartment complex, first they say she died at the scene then they say she made it to the hospital alive and died shortly after. There are no definitive answers right now which just makes it all a little more difficult to deal with. They do believe they have a suspect and it is only a matter of time before they close in and make an arrest. Then we will know who and why with certainty.

I feel guilty for originally thinking she had been out doing dangerous things that blew up in her face. I just felt that given the things she had been doing and the location and circumstances surrounding her death it just seemed logical and likely that she was involved in a drug deal gone wrong.

I hope she did not suffer a long death. She was a troubled soul and lived a troubled life. I have sent many a prayer up for her, and I continue to do so now. I pray for God to have mercy on her soul, I pray for the shooter, I pray for her mother, father and brother, and I pray for me because my feelings are so all over the place right now. I need help from the Lord to reel myself back in.

Tomorrow is a new day which will hopefully bring more answers and an arrest.


Feeling sad.

I have to put some of my feelings out the door before bed. Maybe it will help me sleep.


My cousin was shot and killed last night. Someone reported a single vehicle car crash within an apartment complex. When police arrived they found a woman in the vehicle with a gunshot wound. She later died at the hospital. They don’t know who did it or why as of yet. Knowing my cousin it was likely drug related. Also she was “bat-shit crazy” as it were. I do not doubt she went out and did something crazy to get herself killed. Not to defame the dead but it’s just being honest at this point. My heart goes out to her mother most of all. No parent should ever have to bury their child.

I find myself struggling with this whole thing. I had not spoke to Mary in years. She actually was the one who broke contact with me. We never reconciled. I feel terribly guilty about that. But at the same time maybe I’m glad. It would be such a greater devastation to have been close with her and then be left to mourn her death.

Is it bad for me to feel somewhat glad or relieved that we drifted apart so that I would feel less pain at this point? I find myself feeling this way more frequently about people. I don’t want to feel the pain of loss so I try not to get so close that it would really put me down if someone dies.

Sigh…… I don’t know. Tomorrow I will probably come in here and really blog the hell out of my feelings.

I get by with a little help from my friends.

The usual. Panic. Anxiety. Worry. It snowballs into a massive and unimaginable beast in just a short time. One thought leads to a worry avalanche. “What if I have this disease or that disorder?” I blogged on the Bell’s Palsy I had back in May of 2011 some time ago. The worry of a relapse plagues me often as well as the worry that it could be something more. I saw a neurologist back when the Bell’s hit and he felt that it was simply Bell’s Palsy and nothing more. Yet I choose to worry.

Choose. To. Worry.

Worry is a choice.


Yesterday an online friend pointed out that “It either will or won’t happen regardless of  how much you worry.” That may not be an exact quote, but you still get the idea. She made that comment and it set my mind going back to better places. No matter if or how much we worry what ever we worry about either will or won’t happen. So then why on earth would worry be the choice? If anything the stress of worry can make anyone sick, or at least make us believe that we are. Yet we choose this. Worry seems to be almost an indulgence. Why is worry so irresistible? Why isn’t feeling happy, peaceful and at ease just as irresistible  as debilitating, mind numbing, body wrecking worry, fear and panic? If we can fantasize and wallow in worry and what terrible things could happen then why not put that energy into fantasizing about all the wonderful things that could happen?  The bills will all be paid and money will no longer be a point of stress, our health will be perfect, our relationships free of conflict.


We just HAVE to worry about a cheating spouse, being poor and broke beyond repair, being sick and with one foot in the grave. Gotta get that gray hair right? Let’s worry until we end up with stress related illness. Because THAT must be so much better than health and happiness. I stand in awe of human beings. We are the most self destructive creatures this planet has to offer. And we CHOOSE to be that way. Even people who seem positive and life affirming are somehow destroying themselves.

I have been known to meditate and think positive thoughts. I used to make this a habit. It didn’t last for some reason. Somewhere along my way I fell back into these old habits of worry and panic. Perhaps it was laziness. Maybe I was complacent. Feeling better can create complacency.  I began meditation as a means of getting my panic and anxiety under control. I feel I accomplished that but I did not work to hold on to that change. Change is worked toward and we forget that we must work to maintain the change.

I find it funny how my source of worry and panic has changed over time. When I was in my teens I worried about natural disasters. If a tornado watch or thunderstorm watch came across the news it was a crazy time for me. I would experience major anxiety. I would pace the floor and watch the clock until the watch or warning had passed, keep an eagle eye on the weather map or news broadcast. I could not rest until the idea that there was a danger had passed. I would worry more about external events rather than my health or something happening to me physically. I also had panic attacks unrelated to any external source. Just random, out of the blue panic. Thinking I was about to die, my mouth so dry my lips were stuck to my teeth, shortness of breath, shaking, sweating etc….  Now my anxiety, worry and panic are always health related. The weather does not phase me, the idea of an outbreak of disease does not worry me. I worry about developing some illness or disease. Heart disease or impending heart failure one day and worry about some debilitating neurological failure the next. A worry about going blind for the month of October, a worry about a brain tumor in December. Little things trigger these worry marathons. Even with a clean medical report I still keep up the worry. It can be very difficult not to allow a little thought to snowball into something horrid. It is a discipline because once a little trickle of worry comes down it’s easy to forget all resolve to conquer this beast. All wisdom and logic disappear.

It is time to change this. Because I NEED to and because I CAN. I must now CHOOSE not to worry. Not to panic. I have to CHOOSE to be peaceful and happy and healthy. This is my choice.

Palsy face. The gift that keeps on giving.

It’s been several years since my round with Bell’s Palsy. I did not make a full recovery. My hearing was permanently affected. I now have hyperacusis. My face does strange things sometimes. Some movements are a little off, my right eye looks considerably smaller than my left.

It isn’t without it’s mind games also. Now every twitch, twinge, tingle or pain or ache sends me into a worry spiral. Is it the return of the palsy? Then I do it to myself. I think it hurts, twitches etc… therefore it hurts, twitches etc… It never turns into anything because at some point I forget top obsess over it and it fades from my attention.

I have spent the past few days in this spiral. I know how it has always turned out, but yet I still worry I won’t be so blessed this go round. Maybe that twinge or ache will be the return of the palsy. I can’t eat, I stay preoccupied, I feel anxious and edgy, snappish and rude. I feel like my search for people with this same worry spiral are rare. I would love to find a few people who go through this also. It would be very therapeutic to discuss this and support others in the process. The search goes on….

Christmas day panic.

Not the kind you recall when faced with the pressures of buying and baking and cooking and cleaning and running around and spreading yourself thinner than poor man’s butter. I mean the “Other” kind. The panic attack that you didn’t see coming. The one that stems from some thought that you would never dream would snowball into a 30 minute panic for no good reason.

I don’t have panic attacks like I used to, thank God. But I still have them sometimes. My husband took the kids to park for a post Christmas dinner playtime. I was here alone and there it was. Staring me in the face like snarling bear.

These attacks always leave me feeling spent. Spent and lonely, and needy. Like I need to emotionally close with someone so I don’t feel so alone yet there is no one who can/will provide that type of closeness on a regular day let alone when I really need it. So I call the TBN prayer line. I do this nearly every time I have a panic attack. I feel that even though it is a stranger on the phone praying with me that just the voice of that person is soothing. The fact that they are there, even though they may rather not be. Tonight I am certain that was the case. I called and a fairly agitated woman was there. She did not have the usual gentle and friendly voice I usually hear. It was cold and sounded like the voice of a woman who likely had been forced to work on Christmas. Perhaps she was thinking of spending time with her family and there she was stuck praying for strangers. I tried ending the call when it became apparent that she was not happy to be answering the phone.

Normally they answer the phone with something like, “Thank you for calling TBN how may I pray for you today?” They ask your name, state, what channel you watch TBN on. Then they pray with what feels like sincerity and love.

Not. To. Day.

She sounded flat and impatient. “TBN…”

Me: “Ummmm…. is this the prayer line……?”

Her: (short and curt and a heavy sigh) “Yes. How can I help you.”

Me: “Well I’m calling for prayer….”

Her: (SIGH) OKAY. What for.

Me: (sensing her irritation and feeling like crap for bugging her while she was at work) “Oh… you know never mind. I think I’ll just hang up now.”

Her: “No! No, just tell me what ever it is.”

I tell her about the panic. she asks what caused it. I say I don’t know sometimes it just hits me. She insists there HAS to be a reason it doesn’t just happen for no reason. I am left stammering and stuttering trying to search for an explanation for my Christmas day panic that is now her problem. Then she laughed at me. And finally proceeded with about the most half hearted and irritated sounding prayer I have ever heard in all my days. As she prayed she said something about “what ever evil was touching me…. maybe witchcraft…” I nearly died. I really was so appalled at the prayer itself I could barely believe what I was hearing. At the end of the prayer there was no “Amen” or “Thank you Jesus” or anything. Just silence. It was like she decided she was done and saw no need to let me know. I remained silent for about 30 seconds and finally broke the quiet with an “Amen” of my own. She said,”Thank you for calling TBN and have a blessed evening.” I thanked her for working on Christmas and wished her a Merry Christmas and a blessed evening also. She hung up with nothing else.

I never have done this in history but when I got off the phone with the TBN prayer gal I prayed for her. Thoroughly.

It was very obvious she was in a state of agitation and I really felt like she must have been suffering in some way. Was it a headache? Was she sick? Tired? PMSing? Going through cancer? A divorce? Financial problems? It has to be something, And in addition to whatever it may be she is there hearing the fear, worry, concern etc.. of everyone on the other end of the phone. I can imagine it is difficult to keep a smiling voice at some point. It’s easy to forget that people who have the job of helping others, no matter how, are human also and maybe they need help sometimes. They are humans who also feel fear, anger, sadness, worry, concern, stress, anxiety, panic, confusion, hopelessness. Maybe she was feeling some combination of very human emotions and didn’t even realize how she came across. Maybe she realized afterward and felt really bad about it. And yeah. She should leave her baggage at the door when she comes to work, the fact that she didn’t or couldn’t speaks volumes. It must have been pretty bad that she not only brought it to work but allowed it to leak out into prayer with people.

Whatever it was or is I sincerely hope and pray for that woman. I don’t think she ever even gave me her name now that I think about it. So I don’t know her name but God certainly does. He also knows her need. I think I will continue lifting her up in prayer for a few days. I feel that she needs that. Peace and love be with her always.