Tag archives: facing fears
In preparation for the Mardi Gras celebration at my daughter’s
school, I found myself blowing up festive balloons in purple, green and gold
for a giant balloon drop. Who doesn’t love balloons, right?
Me, that’s who. In fact I hate them. It goes beyond hate. I’m
mildly terrified of them. Watching someone rub a balloon on their head and
stick it on the wall fills me with panic.
It’s an irrational fear that stems back to childhood when I watched
one of those giant punching balloons explode on my babysitter’s face as she
Today, I accepted a prescription for
anti-anxiety medication and made my first appointment with a psychotherapist. I
left the doctor’s office nauseous and wondering if my brain could physically
explode out the back of my head.
Plenty of my friends have extolled the virtues
of medication and therapy, particularly during transitional times of life. I’ve
You see, medications and therapy mean asking for
help. Not only do I have an aversion to asking for help, but I go blatantly out
of my way to avoid it.
Asking for help means being vulnerable. It would
be like ...
So it seems I may actually be a little bit crazy.
Many of you may be thinking “no shit, that’s why I read this blog. Your crazy
makes me feel better about my crazy.” (insert humor defense
Yesterday, I went to the doctor for mysterious,
prolonged pain and sensitivity in my back and under one arm. Plus, I wanted to
discuss why after four months of a slower-paced life, I still feel exhausted to
my bones and want to nap after a 30-minute run.
It turns out I have atypical shingles—the kind
that causes pain without the ...
Until I hit 39 nearly every decision (or lack of
decision) in my life had been directly or indirectly based on fear. Fear of
isolation, loneliness, success, emotions, instability. You name a fear and I
can probably tell you a decision I made based on it.
Last October as I approached my last year in my
30s, I finally said “fuck fear.” (Sorry for the profanity, but fear is powerful
and you need a strong word to combat it.) I deemed my 39th year “the year of no
In two days I turn 40 and as I look at ...
This month marks the one-year
anniversary of my blog. This milestone prompted me to revisit my very first blog post. It
isn’t the first entry on this website. It
is instead a piece I wrote 21 months before StillADancingQueen.com even
existed. Yet, it was without a doubt the beginning.
It is called “Faking
it,” and I wrote it at the end of the first staycation I had ever taken. Fresh
off a week at home with my husband and daughter, I sobbed in anguish the night before
I returned to a job that was sucking the life out ...