I know I have to change the rate of activity here on my blog, but things just keep happening to prevent me from doing it. There is just too much distracting me, and too many things that aren’t what I’d like them to be.
As a result of the stress of house searching and a few hopefuls falling through, and now having another to wait on, I have been having regular panic attacks. Not to mention that these started during the week that my PC broke down and had to stay in the shop for about two weeks.
I laugh at the irony of humans once having been tough hunter gatherer animals to now depending desperately on keyboards, phones, and bright screens in front of them. Oh how far we’ve come. . .
Also helping the situation was a bout of vomiting, which both I and my sister have a phobia of. I know no one enjoys vomiting, but when you have a phobic fear of it, it’s even worse. So for the last few weeks I have been afraid to eat much, and only now am I getting better.
The panic attacks however are still with me. I have had a few that have probably been the worst I’ve experienced in a long time. I feel like I can’t breath, I’m nauseated, all the muscles in my body start to tense and shake uncontrollably, and I usually end up crying.
In the last 4 and a half years of my life, not much has been certain. I lost my father suddenly in 2008 just before my 24th birthday, and then my grandfather in 2009. My father died of complications from diabetes at age 54, and my grandfather died of renal failure at age 84. I was very close to both of them.
During the time after my father died, my mother and I had to find a place to rent once we filed bankruptcy on the property we had. We then moved back to Florida, rented an apartment one year, then a house for another year, and then an apartment for the last 3 years. We can’t afford the high rent anymore, so we have been looking for a house so we can just be “home.”
I’m not even covering half of what we’ve been through in the last 4 years. It’s just too much to type at this point. Maybe one day I’ll put it in a book, or my Mom will.
When I have these panic attacks, everything seems to flood back. All the grief not dealt with, wondering how the hell we ever got from there to here, and how will we go on. It really feels like the end of the world sometimes. I know it’s not, but these episodes can definitely fool you.
It just makes me realize how much I miss them, and how much it hurts that I can’t show them the things I do, or aspire to do. There’s so much I want to do, so much I’d like to write. If I’m ever lucky enough to get my work in print somewhere, I’d like to have a dedication page just for them. Completing a novel would be worth manifold if I would get the chance to do that.
I’m going to try and stay positive, and not to get so worked up about things I can’t control. I just hate all this uncertainty, seeing as I’ve had my fair dose of it.
I hope to have something new to post soon, maybe a rough draft of something for fun.
Thanks for reading.