Anxiety Support Group
Anxiety is a physical condition marked by intense and persistent feelings of distress, fear, angst or dread. General anxiety caused by routine day-to-day stresses usually passes quickly and is experienced by almost everyone at one time or another. However, such feelings that linger over time and are very difficult to cope with, and which lack a clear cause, may indicate...
Hate is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. ~Anon
Hate has two sides. There is the hatred we carry in our hearts and then there is the hatred given to us by others. Theraputing the hatred I carry in my heart was/is a key element in managing my own rage and anxiety issues. I have been working therapy tools on my own hatred for long enough that I can now spot and therapute the hate before it wreaks its havoc on my psyche and my life.
The hatred others project toward me is heavy on my mind this morning. The guilt I feel over other people's hatred is still problematic for me. This weekend marks the first anniversary of the traffic accident which killed my youngest son and his wife. I still miss my gentle son acutely and am letting the tears of grief flow freely.
My son's wife was a Facebook cliche in her hatred of her Monster-in-law. She had long been waltzing like an STBX when the accident happened. What's to miss? Still, her children miss her terribly and I watch my expressions of that conflict for their sakes.
Simultaneously, my estranged but still financially dependent 40 year old son is going through another round of his hateful psychopations which have landed him in ??? one institution or another. I have yet to speak to him during this round. I have remained estranged from his last several rounds but Hubby continues to coddle him through. My son's hateful expostulations from rounds gone by are still echoing in my head as if he expoused them yesterday.
Don't know what I am reaching for here, but the guilt trips of being hated by people I want to love are weighing heavily this morning.
Just venting? ? ? Sorting? ? ? Processing? ? ?
Praying. . . Prayer gives me something to do when there is nothing I can do.
-
I did the dumbest thing today. I charged my earbuds, unplugged the block and put the block in my little bag instead of the earbuds. I wasn't happy about that when I got to the gym. What a dummy!
-
Ever since I stopped doing therapy because of insurance, I've been feeling that old tense and irritable sense of anxiety and stress. I hate that. I was making so many strides and changes during therapy, my therapist would acknowledge all of my progress and accomplishments, and I miss that reassurance. Today I thought about it, and I made those changes! She would always tell me that I chose to...
You've figured out the balance in helping you find the inner calm to be able to be positive in prayer in releasing all those feelings, emotions, thoughts, and moments, and be the one the children are able to find hope when they need reassurance.
May this day be one to lift those wings and give you the happy moments to cherish and help the little ones remember the happy moments as well.
May your prayers give your tears soft drops gently.
You are so much stronger than you know,
Hearts and thoughts are with you in this challenging day of memory.
Hubby managed to pick up on that mysterious robo-call and it is as I guessed. Eldest Son is, indeed, in the same county lock-up he visited in his early 20's. He is sentenced to be there for 60 days. The good news is that this is one of the more humane prisons in the country. Their mental health outreach programs are better than quite allot of actual mental health facilities. At least they were in the 90's. Prayers in progress that they still are and ES picks a program and makes it work. Just praying. . . It remains his to sort and decide.
Aside from the anniversary cloud hanging over our heads, the weekend has been a delight here on our little ship of fools. I haven't mentioned the anniversary to the children because of their extreme youth but I believe they feel it, as well. Could the shared grief be tightening our bonds?