This is going to be an unusual blog for me, but I may feel better after sharing, and then I might come back and delete it for fear of anyone knowing the real me. I'm not poignant or well spoken in my blogs, I just write what gibberish is going on in my mind. I was the last of three kids for crying out loud. They did all the talking for me and had all the ideas before I could come up with my own. :-) I love my sisters in spite of their bossiness. xo

Anyway, back to my own thoughts here. I will try to write what I'm wanting to get across...

I have discovered that my mind tends to lean towards the way of anxiety. I ended up in the ER not so long ago (and thankful for my friend Joanna, who loves me in spite of my crazy self) because of a major anxiety attack. I could have sworn I was going to drop dead right there and then...with a smirk from the ER Doctor and a prescription for xanax they released me and told me to chill out. I will defend myself a little here. After having Ava, my hormones raged and have caused my heart to start skipping a beat and giving me major heart palpitations (which were all happening that day and caused me to think my heart was going to stop) and became iron deficient. NOW that I understand what's going on, I can at least deal with these new sensations without prescription medicine. It also means drinking my glass of wine at the end of the day is no longer an option either (dammit--alcohol makes my heart skip and palpitate even more). So how does one deal with all this new anxiety raging inside my head?

I'm not a religious person, but the older I get the more I tend to feel the need for something spiritual, not religious, there is a major difference. I was brought up Catholic and still feel like a Catholic, but one who never goes to church or believes in a major part of what the church does (or any church for that matter). I LOVE Mass, but hate everything else that comes along with it. So, I just don't go. Right or wrong I am trying to find my way.

I borrowed a book from a friend called "Cold Tangerines", it's a book celebrating the extraordinary nature of everyday life. Who wouldn't want to read that after having a major anxiety attack. It's not quit what I expected, but have found some chapters that seem to put into words what I feel...you know, because I am incapable of doing that on my own. ha In one chapter about prayer, the author expresses that "prayer heals all the muscles that I've been clenching for a long time, while I'm holding it together, gritting my teeth, waiting for impact. Prayer, like yoga, like singing, brings soft from hard, pliant to brittle, possible from impossible, warm from cold, breath from breathless. And no matter what gets you there, it is better to be there than not." I hate to admit that paragraph spoke to me.

What I have found is that prayer, yes prayer (this is were I start reveling myself), is something that faithfully makes me feel better on so many levels. Not prayer in church, prayer late at night when I can't sleep from a mind wondering all over the place. I admit, I say I pray more than I do, like when people are sick, in the hospital, or when someone dies, I'm not really praying all the time. Sorry. BUT, I do do it when I find nothing else works. When I pray, my freaked out confused mind finds a place to chill and eventually sleep soundlessly. This means something to me.

Prayer by no means has been a cure, my anxiety is still there on occasion. My days have been out of control for about 3 weeks now (a certain 2.5 year old is hard work at the moment), but at night when my day comes to an end and I lay there thinking of all the things that went wrong (which is not everyday, but seem more frequent lately) and my heart starts palpitating, I close my eyes and say a few simple prayers that bring me peace.

Maybe some day I will come to an understading of life and what my purpose is, but like everyone else, I will live life, work hard, be nice, honest, and try to give back. It's the best I can do right now and I am happy that prayer plays a small part.