A Trip to Nashville
Tuesday
night we headed to Nashville. Greg had a conference to go to and there was an
extra spot for me to stay in his room. Another perk to being married. I took a day
off work and was excited to get out of town for a couple of days.
At
the same time I was a little nervous. Being in unfamiliar places, especially
crowded places, is a major trigger for anxiety. And I would be on my own. Part
of this was exciting. When I’m in non-anxiety mode, it’s fun to explore on my
own. When I’m in anxiety mode, well not so much.
Guys,
let me be completely honest for a second. At times, I get sick and tired of
talking about the hard stuff. I get tired of struggling. And I get tired of
writing about depression and anxiety. I’m paranoid that I’m going to become the
person that no one ever wants to talk to, because I’m always negative. I just
get tired of it all. I get tired of this being part of my story. I want to
apologize for that, but I can’t. I shouldn’t be sorry for something that I have
no control of.
So
I made a plan. In my little Google Keep app, I planned out a few activities for
me for two days. I was intentional. I packed some indoor activities in case I
wasn’t able to venture out the first day. I brought some calligraphy supplies
and Christmas cards to sign for work. And I did some research on where I wanted
to go. I only picked 4 places. An ice cream place for me and Greg, a
restaurant, a coffee house, and the Country Music Hall of Fame because it was
right next to where Greg was going to be. I didn’t have to visit them all, but
it always helps for me to have a plan and some options.
Well
yesterday was awful. And all of my plans went out the window. The morning felt
okay. I got up with Greg and saw him off. I showered and was excited to find a
place to eat breakfast. And then something happened. I felt it settling slowly
at first and then all of a sudden. I was stuck. Trapped. It was pouring rain
outside and I heard a clap of thunder. I knew it was silly. I was an adult. I
could simply stand up, walk out the door, get in the car, and go wherever I
wanted.
But
I got caught up in the details. Driving in the city makes me anxious. I didn’t
have a GPS with me. We used Greg’s phone to get here. I couldn’t navigate on my
own. I didn’t know where to go. Parking is tricky. Parking garages freak me
out. It was pouring outside. I didn’t have an umbrella or a raincoat. The
thoughts kept piling up. And I knew what was happening. The longer I stayed in
that room the less likely it would be for me to leave. And eventually the anxiety
would consume all of me.
And
it did. And so I sat there. And I was miserable. Trapped. I watched TV for
hours. I felt numb. I wasn’t panicked, or desperate and for that I was majorly
thankful. But still I was disappointed in myself. I was frustrated. What was I
going to tell people when they asked how my trip was? Why was I so stupid to
even tell people I was going somewhere? I should have just been quiet. I should
keep my life to myself. It’s safer that way. Not so embarrassing and
vulnerable.
The
guys got back from the conference after 8:00pm sometime. My head was pounding
from not eating all day and I felt shaky. As soon as I saw my husband standing
the door way, I could tell from him face that he knew how bad it was. He had
brought me some food and laid it down on the bed. “Was it really bad?” My
original plan was to lie, because I get tired of feeling like a burden to him.
This conference was for him. I want to support him. Not make his trip
miserable. I don’t always want it to be about my struggles. I started to say
no, but then hid my face under the covers to hide the tears.
I
apologized for coming. I should have stayed home. Greg reassured me. I wasn’t
messing everything up. He was sorry I had a bad day. He told me about bits of
the conference. He got to talk to a few guys and that’s what he’s so awesome
at. Talking to just anyone. And always encouraging and making people feel loved
and listened to.
I
ate his leftovers and felt myself recovering. We went to bed and started a new
day this morning.
When
I woke up I felt the sun shining in through the cracks in the blinds covering
the window. And I heard the whisper. “His mercies are new every morning. It’s a
new day. It’s no longer yesterday. Today can be different. Today is different.”
And
I was a little surprised by my response. I resisted. I wasn’t quite ready to
start over. I have this weird tendency to want to continue in my suffering when
I’m in the middle of it. I feel like I don’t deserve to feel better. That it
can’t really be that easy. Man, grace is so hard to receive. It doesn’t feel
right. I want to earn things. I want it to be even and fair. Grace is not about
that.
I
prayed that my attitude would change. I’m trying to learn to enact my will. To
push through things that don’t feel right. They feel big and impassible at
first, but sometimes the extra grace makes it easy to break through. It just
takes a tiny effort. A tiny desire for things to change. A little bit of faith.
A tiny glimmer of hope.
When
we got up things felt a little better. Greg decided to skip the first morning
session and there was a three hour break after that. So he didn’t have to be
back until 1:15. So we slept in a little bit. We got up and got ready. We got
some gas and decided to have breakfast. I decided on a cool looking coffee shop
called the Frothy Monkey. (I mean how can you not visit a place called the
Frothy Monkey? If you are ever in Nashville check them out www.FrothyMonkey.com.)
Thankfully
Greg decided to drive. Normally I’m the driver and he’s the navigator. It’s a
good combination. We got in the crazy downtown traffic and I was so
overwhelmed. Even following the GPS felt like a challenge for me. We found a
parking garage and it was so tight and packed that I was quickly feeling
anxious again. It felt hard to breathe. And Greg was navigating it all like a
pro. Geez.
We
found a spot and started walking. I was like barely making it at this point. I
held Greg’s hand and followed him down the sidewalk. I felt like a little kid.
There was so much to take in and I’d easily get lost on my own. The streets
felt stressful. Like there were all of these like alleys that popped out of
nowhere and I felt like I was going to get hit by a car. And I was so
overstimulated. And didn’t want to go on. I was ready to go back home. It was
just too much. I was right to stay in bed all day. Then we went down this
little Arcade area or something. It was outdoors but had a roof covering. It
felt a little more calming. There weren’t any cars around and there were
several restaurants in there. The smell of food always brings me comfort. And
when we got to the other side, I saw our destination right across the street.
As
soon as I walked in it just felt like too much. I was in an unfamiliar place
and I wanted to leave. Greg asked me what I wanted. “Death,” was my quick
reply. (My dramatic side increases when I’m anxious. Who am I kidding? I guess
I’m always dramatic, to be honest.)
I
wanted to leave. I told Greg I couldn’t do it. Greg held my hand and grabbed a
menu. “I think we can do it. It’s a laid back place. There’s lots of tables.”
We saw an employee joke with a customer. “See, she looks nice.” Nice people
always get me. We grabbed a table and looked at the menu. At first I couldn’t
even hope to order food. I wasn’t even hungry any more. Only nauseous. Greg
asked me what I wanted. Again I stuck with my first answer. But I made an
effort. Pancakes. And they were listed as Bob. Whole wheat pancakes with syrup
and bacon. Greg went up to place our order.
I
sat and stared at my feet. I just wanted to leave. But again I endured and
slowly it slipped away. Greg came back. I decided I wanted coffee too. I got a
Turtle Latte. It was super tasty. I looked around and realized I loved the
atmosphere. It was laid back. There was good music at the right volume. There
was art on the brick walls. All of the staff was so nice.
I was glad we came.
I’m glad that I have my husband’s hand to hold. He never forces, but always
supports. I don't have to do this alone. There are times I’m on my own yes, and
I can’t depend on him to rescue me. He’s certainly not capable of that. He’s
human. But he loves me well. And for that I’m so thankful.
We
walked the streets and I was able to take in more of the sights. The
architecture was just beautiful. We certainly don’t have building like this in
Southern Illinois. There were cute shops and fancy banks. So much going on.
We
went to the Country Music Hall of Fame. Greg got to see an old recording mixing
board and got super excited.
I grew up on country so it’s fun to see a bit of
that history. Looking at the hand written pieces of song writing was my
favorite. I loved seeing the messy handwriting. My poor handwriting has only
gotten worse. Now that I’ve been typing so much, I’ve actually developed some
speed. So now my poor hands can no longer keep up with the pace of my brain and
I quickly get frustrated.
We
got tacos and nachos at a cute little place that I really enjoyed. Now that I
work at a pie shop I get really interested in how things work in restaurants.
It’s just so fun to see pieces of how they work behind the scenes.
And
now I’m sitting in the building while Greg is in his sessions. I found a spot
on the floor next to a Christmas tree.
I don’t know why, but I’m in love with
the carpet. There’s a wall of windows in front of me. The view is pretty great.
There’s this great art piece above me. It’s just perfect for some reason. And I
feel at peace.
And
the sweetest old man just stopped to talk to me. He mentioned my HP Stream
laptop and that he had one too. He really liked his. We talked about the
limited memory and the update to Windows 1o. I told him to have a good day and
he went on his way.
So
as usual things aren’t all bad. I don’t understand why they go the way they do.
I want to get frustrated with myself for wasting time in my life. For spending
days and days in bed. I go through phases of feeling guilty and disappointed. I
shouldn’t be this way. It’s not right. It’s not the way things are supposed to
be. But I guess that’s not really for me to decide.
I
feel like I write about the same things. At times it feels like every post is
the same old story. But it’s my life. It what I feel the desire to write about
right now. And unfortunately I can no longer fake it. I could chose to be quiet
and not share. To keep to myself. And a lot of time that’s what I would prefer.
But I feel a deeper desire to share. And I don’t really understand it. But I
guess sometimes we just have to go with our gut feeling. And so I am. And I’m
choosing to have faith that there is some purpose in me doing this.
Well
dear readers, thanks for sticking with me. Thanks for taking the time to read
my randomness and evidence of craziness.
I am glad you gained your strength back on that day...the sun shine, beautiful lookout view there certainly helped me as that did to you. And it's by the end of that afternoon, or a battle for you, I was once again being reminded that His great power is made perfect in my weakness...
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