5:30 a.m.

I have a good mind for procrastinating. Unfortunately, I have a good mind to get some shit done, and said mind has woken me up at 4:45 in the morning. I have five papers due in eight days. One is halfway done.

A few months ago, I didn't feel like going to school. The opportunity is the chance of a lifetime. Instead of not deciding, or waiting for determination to take hold, I just applied. Then I got in. Yet, I still didn't feel like it. I've learned one thing in my nearly 40 years on the planet--sometimes listening to your feelings isn't the only way to make a decision. Now, not only do I feel like it, but I'm for the most part enjoying it. The feeling of getting a decent if not excellent grade makes me look forward to the next assignment. The feeling of developing my critical thinking skills and putting them to task is better than I could have guessed. Spring semester is almost over, and luckily summer sessions are just around the corner. So going to school; not so bad. I had always hoped it would happen sooner than this, but if I do what I think I can do, I'll be done in five years.

I stumbled into a wonderful article about mental "illness," yesterday. It raised the question: why do doctors want to keep us sick? Ethically, they are a mess. Our country and its views about mental illness are a mess. We are capable of so much more than just "managing" our anxiety, our anger, our control issues, our trust issues...the list of our issues is never ending. The list of issues is human nature, declared an illness. It also made me question my approach, which right now is medication in (very) small doses. I haven't determined that it's a good idea not to have a little bit of synthetic, but effective help. I don't judge myself in that way. No one should. However, I don't want my emotional and probably biological glitches to become a life sentence. My life goals should not be to manage my anxiety. If that were the case, I would avoid stressful situations. I wouldn't strive to do well at work. I wouldn't go to school. I wouldn't have bought a house. But I also don't want to enjoy those things in the context of managing the stress they inflict. I need to enjoy them. This is required therapy.

I recently took a Mindfulness course, and I got more out of that than I could have imagined. The mindful way of living is better than the manageable way of living. I was already doing much of it. Practicing more made it that much better. Made me more present. I don't do the dishes on autopilot anymore. I feel the warm water, the soapy sponge, the clean of rinsing the soap off of the shiny smooth surfaces of our coffee cups. O.K., so maybe that sounds crazy. But it brings me into the present, into my life, rather than into the abyss of doing most of what I do every day while thinking about the rest of my life. It immerses me in the rest of my life, which is right now. After all, hearing my breath right now means I'm alive. When I don't hear it, I'm not sure where I'll be or what I'm doing. And then bam, there's the panic.

As of today, I have seven days to write four and a half papers. Half of one day is band practice. The remainder of that day is a birthday celebration (dinner) for my sister's birthday. The day after my papers are due is our housewarming party. Plus work. Plus six days of cooking dinner and yes, doing dishes. Yet, I'm not particularly anxious. Not that it matters if I were.

I still have better things to do than sit around and manage my anxiety.

gifted.

This week has been full of mixed emotion. It's amazing how much you can learn if you just be still and listen to people, to your own heart, to the cyclone that makes up your thoughts every minute of every day. To your gut.

I owe an apology of sorts to the insurance company. Seriously. What I thought was a nasty game to keep my father ill, is really a nasty game that my father's illness plays, and almost always and every day, wins. There were pieces of very important that he, that my own mother, left out. Why? Because I think they are both terrified of his sobriety. Generally, I'm able to put pieces together fairly quickly. However, if the pieces aren't all there, I jump to conclusions too quickly to consider that there may be something going on that I'm missing, or that doesn't present itself openly at first glance. And the pieces that were missing were the pieces that would have landed him in first, 30 days of rehab at a place for which he and my mother decided he was too good, and then six months in a sober house, which by default he--they and all of us--lost. So again we have lost him. 

Fortunately, I've learned how and when to set boundaries for myself. I had to. Years of therapy is proving its worth every minute of every day. Not only can I face my demons, the guilt, the sense of hopelessness, but shrink their ugly little heads at first glance like it's been my life's work and learning. I feel good about this. I only wish everyone knew how very much going to therapy and learning some new approaches can benefit them and everyone they encounter. It's not a sentence of permanent mental illness. It's freedom. It's self-awareness. It's hope. 

We are all perfectly flawed. I depend on this and our differences to keep me alive. I relish every connection and hang on every word. Some this week were more important than others. Forgiveness. Self-control. Understanding. Awareness. Friendship.

I had to speak in front of a group of coworkers this week. A feeling of dread overcame me.I did the only thing that could save me. I made a joke. They all laughed. And then I let loose. We were there to share, so I did. It may have been as uncomfortable for everyone else as it was for me. But I felt like a weight had lifted, and walked away with my back perfectly straight and my head held high past some of them without a word, beaming from the inside out. Mainly because I knew I'd given it my all both for me, but more importantly to them.

So I am thankful for the gift of communication this week. That when I had a message to give, it was received with gratitude. That connections, however small were made that I can cherish for a long time. This can only happen with courage and compassion. I'm thankful that my own messages can only be received because of the beautiful people that exemplify both. I knew you all had it in you, and for doubting this ever, I am sorry.