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There is a swarm of bees in there! Don’t open the door! If one gets out, you will be chasing it for days!
My past is a swarm of bees. Every single bad decision I have ever made. Every bad thing that has happened to me. Every single thing I wish I would have done differently. The swarm is buzzing full speed. Circling the space, looking for an exit. Waiting and waiting, buzzing and buzzing. Just building energy waiting to unleash. One slip up, one bad day, one bad moment and the next thing you know I keep opening the damn door. And an angry bee or two dashes out. Then I am chasing it, analyzing it, wondering where it’s going next and how do I get it back in that damn room? How can I get it back in there without opening the door? If I open it, I risk more bees slipping out. So I chase it. Should I just kill the bee? But I can’t kill it. I need it.
Just wanted to share a quick strategy I find helpful! This is my self care bag!
I have lotion, colored pencils, coloring pages with a clip board, two prompting journals, a blank journal, pen and calming oils in there. I have a few more things to add but the bulk of it is in there!
Being prepared to handle stress in a healthy way is the best way to help yourself.
Cheers and best wishes for mental health!
Hey there! My name is Sommer and it has been 16 days since my last post.
Because shit is gettin’ busy!
We finished off summer and kicked off the school year! We also started cheer and football. And it one week I will be back at it for another semester! Nothing says “no time for published writing” like two kids in school and activities while working full time and taking 3 classes. So….I’ve gone fishin’ for bit!
I hope you stick around for a come back!
Good luck and God speed!
Thank you Debbie for the invitation to share.
Today’s forgiving journal is sharing Sommer’s story.
I’ve recently been requesting for folks to share their story on forgiving. I came up with some questions that you can answer, or you can share in a way that works for you.
Well, a dear fellow blogger Sommer of The Green Glasses shared her forgiveness story in an email to me. It is beautiful.
Here’s a quote: “I imagine learning to forgive is like learning to love. One must love themselves before they can love another. One must be able to forgive themselves for them to forgive others.
I’m still working on the “forgive me” part of that equation.”
For the whole story, read on…..
I love you. So grateful for our journey together.
Every road has a beginning. I imagine some of you on this journey of forgiveness are at the very beginning, some are in the middle. This…
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My anxiety grew into a behemoth. Rendering me silent. Swelling like a tidal wave. Dropping off. Then swelling again. It’s electric. Intense alertness. I can feel it. In my chest, in my body. I’ve never been able to describe it well, it’s like a fuzzy feeling. It’s adrenaline. Misused adrenaline. Spent energy. Wasted energy. Then exhaustion. My body just shuts down.
It is all about perspective.
How are you looking at the world and do you think it owes you something? It doesn’t. The only person to bring you peace is yourself. And how you look at the world determines how much peace you will have. Do you have to do things or do you get to do things.
I try to remind myself that I get to do things. Getting to do things gives me a different perspective. Alleviates some anxieties.
I have anxiety. I believe we have established that. I’m not cool with it by any means but I am learning to let it be and acknowledge it. Pretending it isn’t there is toxic. Ignoring the racing thoughts and the heaviness is my chest is unhealthy and prolongs the episode. There are categories to my anxiety; legitimate panic because of shitty life things, unknown panic that comes out of nowhere, panic induced by false thoughts and then unnecessary panic that can be solved by completing a task weighing on my mind.
My house was causing me unnecessary anxiety. Unnecessary panic. As we approach the end of summer with sports starting up and back to school for the kids and myself I had to find a solution.
I bought a bike. With a basket. It’s periwinkle with muted lime rims. She is an old timey easy rider. Wide set handle bars. A white spring seat. Whitewall tires underneath glossy white fenders.
I’ve been wanting a bike for a few years now but I kept finding an excuse not to follow through. My daughter has a bike and I taught her how to ride it. My son has one and has been struggling without the training wheels. I didn’t put the pressure on because of his condition. I figured he would get it eventually. My husband has a bike that I’ve never seen him ride. Now that you know our bike inventory you are probably wondering where I am going with this. Honestly, I have no idea. This is how writing works with me. Enjoying the ride?
I love to sew. I love that I can take nothing and turn it in to something. It’s not the kind of hobby that produces results immediately. Most projects take time. Especially if a new skill is being exercised. I also don’t have a dedicated sewing space. I’m less inclined to pull everything out just to put it all away an hour later.
I also have another hobby; clothes. It would be great if I could just combine the two. But clothes take time and I still have not figured out how to attach sleeves.
I’m kidding. I have no idea if I’m doing it right. We are all just winging it, right? We are an amalgamation of influences; our own parents, our friends’, social, educational, environmental. We just sandwich all that shit together and hope for the best.
Part anxiety, part regular ol’ parenting; each night I rehash all of my parental instructions of the day. I question all of it. Did I give enough context? Did I give an example, was my tone too harsh? Did I come across bat-shit crazy?