So. This is Eric.

So.  This week brought on a full-blown level-nine anxiety attack.  Too often in our society, we throw these terms like "panic attack" and "OCD" around like they're free candy samples at the grocery store.  But to those of us who have anxiety that will occasionally find itself too unwieldy to control, a legitimate episode occurs. There really isn't much more that scares me as much as these attacks.  Your heart races, your palms get intensely sweaty, you can't focus on any task.  Sitting still takes enormous effort, pacing doesn't take any less.  Your head spins, edges blur, and you relentlessly repeat patterns of thought, over and over, until you're pretty convinced you've lost your damn mind. Imagine that you know you're racing out of control and there is feels as if there is nothing to help you calm down, like an out-of-control car without brakes. I've reflected often on how I've dealt with this previously, because I've...

So.  I used to think that mindfulness was something relegated to the last segment of the Oprah show, you know on those episodes after she clearly had read too much Deepak Chopra.  "Remember your spirit!" was the constant mantra.  So I assumed that when my therapist charged me to be more mindful, I had to invest in a bevy of scented candles and stand near linen curtains gently flapping in from a breeze coming across a sunny meadow. But as I've now learned, mindfulness is much more akin to a label maker and storage bins from IKEA rather than a sandalwood-induced interpretive dance done to Tibetan mediation bowls. Mindfulness to me is about correct labeling and storage.  Being mindful means that you stop to recognize precisely what you're feeling or thinking rather than letting it spiral out of control and cause damage.  I wrote about this pretty extensively in my last post. So why do I bring it up again?  Well, it's because, as was inevitable, I went o...

So.  One of the things I was most looking forward to about doing therapy was the idea that I'd be working to surpass all of the negative emotions that intrude on an otherwise happy life.  After all finding the truth to yourself, regularly spilling your guts to a mental health professional, you'd be on track to lead a problem-free existence. I think you know where this is heading and I shan't be coy or pithy about it.  Going to therapy doesn't at all erase negative emotions. I mean there are times when talking things out with my therapist, or even puzzling them out publicly here, gives a relief to the building pressure of a backlog of unexpressed anxiety.  Many weeks I find myself anticipating therapy like a shopping trip to the mall in which I have actual money to spend.  I'll daydream that I'm in session as a means to plan out the profound philosophies I intend to share that week and by doing so, I can make myself feel better.  In other words, therapy ...

So.  Last week, as I walked to therapy, I knew I was prepared to receive a gold star and continue to solidify my place in the Cognitive Behavior Therapy Hall of Fame™.  Why?  Because, obviously, I had everything figured out.  Writing this blog, for example, helps me process ALL of my anxiety in a structured manner and allows me to objectively examine EVERY issue in my life with skill and ease. In short, I got this.  I'm cured. In session, after unpacking a few housekeeping therapy-related items, I proudly announced that I was again "on the market" for dating.  Why?  Because I am SELF AWARE and and ready to practice dating again.  I am IN CONTROL and prepared to undertake the emotional turmoil that I WILL NEVER repeat because of my astonishing progress. My therapist in her own, beautiful, quiet way, took all of this in.  And in one word, she summed up her thoughts on my revelation: BULLSHIT* *OK, she absolutely never, ever said this...

So.  I've decided to talk about the "vague news" I mentioned in a previous post, mostly because it's what I need to process right now and I know I can discuss this with an emphasis on myself, not on the other party.  Here goes: Last week my ex husband told me his boyfriend is moving in with him. It took a lot of guts for him to call and tell me that and still, to this moment, I respect the hell out of him for that.  He was patient as I verbally processed, from anger to sadness, to a loose sense of resignation.  A few days later he even let me talk through it all with him again with the same patience and understanding that he gave the first time.  So I want all of you to know, I still think he's an exceptional human being. And yet, I was gutted by this.  I think the thing I've learned about divorce, generally speaking of ending any long-term relationship, is that there is no single method to dispel all of the hurt in one fell swoop.  It comes and ...

So.  Riding the high of self-discovery I've made over the past few days, I decided yesterday to YOLO (or whatever you kids say) and restart online dating.  OK- I know what you're thinking: why?  You've made all of these proclamations about this being your time...blah blah blah...figuring out what you want next...blah blah blah...mooning over an ex..blah blah blah. Well, you're not wrong, but hear me out. See, one of things I've learned about myself is that I HATE dating.  Whenever I meet someone, I'm pretty much vetting whether or not we're going to get married within the next week.  If I can't picture it, he's out.  If I can kind of picture it, he's all the way in.  In other words, I'm bad at being casual, cool and collected, all of the things that make people good at dating.  I'm more of a sloppy, doe-eyed, and drooling type, clinging to whatever scrap of attention a decent guy will throw my way. I think this type of reaction to g...

So.  Several years ago Layne and I were eating at my favorite gastronomical destination these United States have to offer: Cracker Barrel.  Don't you dare judge my love of pecan pancakes.  Anyway, on this particular visit, already in deep salvation with anticipation of a carbo binge, our waitress came to take our order.  Now I have no memory of what was actually said, but I do remember my ex husband fell immediately in love with this woman.  Charmed.  Enchanted. Granted, she was very sweet and I liked her too.  All I really remember was that she was waitressing to support herself through nursing school.  Layne was so impressed that he left a $50 tip on our midday breakfast meal.  Turns out she had a flat tire that day coming into work and that $50 helped her a lot. But I digress. The point of sharing this story, other than my ex husband is a generous tipper, is that this particular waitress had a motto: Choose Happy.  She stressed ...

So.  I'm pissed off and I'm actually saying it out loud.  Of course many of my friends and colleagues this week may have already gleaned this information from the apparent scowl I wore on my already lined face this entire week.  Seriously though: I couldn't believe how many times I was told how tired I looked.  At one point I sighed in the hallway, without even realizing it, because I was looking for my keys and couldn't find them.  Another passing colleague said, "Grumpy today?" Yes.  I am grumpy. I typically try in earnest to not pass that kind of energy around, but I think my face often belies my intentions.  But yes, dammit, this week got to me.  Bad.  So much so that I heard the incessant complaining spewing forth from my mouth to whomever would sit still long enough to listen, willing or not.  Hearing myself whine makes me even more upset, thereby doing little to abate my pressing mood. I often feel targeted anytime I am less...

So.  I didn't have any intention of writing again so soon.  Not that there's anything wrong with writing whenever I damn well feel like it.  To be fair, the outpouring of steadfast support from anyone who read the first post was nothing short of remarkable.  In summation, if you read it and you felt a little less alone in your journey, then know you're in good company.  There are more of us out there on the self-discovery struggle bus than any might realize.  Maybe the real secret to being an adult is that we're all high-functioning balls of anxiety riddled with self-doubt. But, I digress. Tonight I got some news that shook me.  Now, I am going to be deliberately vague and not discuss the news itself, mostly because it isn't my news to tell and the critical part of this story is how I acted.  It's probably needless to say that this news brought a sudden focus to the very nature of what I have been struggling with: my own loneliness. What I d...