Random Thought Thursdays

It's been a while since I've done a random thought post.  So, here goes this week's installment...

ONE.  Anxiety.

Anxiety (and depression, too, for that matter) has been kicking my butt lately.  As in I've skipped out on hanging out with others everyday this week - mostly because I don't want people to see me when I'm feeling this low.  Sometimes, I wish anxiety/depression took a physical form so I could kick it's rear - because it's surely kicked my rear quite a bit here lately!

TWO.  Insomnia.

About as much as I'd like to kick anxiety/depression in the rear, I'd also like to do the same to insomnia.  I know I need sleep for my body to like me.  After all, not sleeping is a sure-fire trigger to getting a migraine (which I have gotten to experience here lately).  I wish I could convince my body that sleep is good, but it's sure dead set on maxing out at 3 hours of sleep per day.

THREE.  Neighbors.

With the move, I got new neighbors.  My one neighbor speaks zero English.  My other neighbor, who I've affectionately nicknamed "Girlfriend," wakes me up every morning at 4am (which is about the time I am finally able to fall asleep most nights).  Luckily, Girlfriend is moving soon.  Fingers crossed new neighbor will sleep till 6am.

I know this isn't a very optimistic post, but writing helps me make steps towards overcoming this depression/anxiety funk I'm currently in.  To echo last week's post, I'm trying...

A Powerful Life Moment

I am a pianist.

I've been playing piano for over 15 years now.

When I first started learning how to play piano, it was because I really wanted to play.  I had friends that played.  I loved sitting to watch them play.  There was something captivating I discovered with the piano.  I wasn't sure what it was, but it drew me in.  It was something I knew I needed to learn how to play.

As a kid, we had a recital every year.  And, every year, I dreaded it.  I hated playing the piano in front of others.  (Confession: I still hate playing the piano in front of others.)  I participated in the recital, though, because I honestly had no other choice.  I played my pieces I had practiced for months - all while visibly shaking in fright.  I never managed to get through any of my pieces without messing up.  But, I made my way through each piece, stood up, faked a smile, and quickly rushed back to my seat (hoping to crawl underneath it and hide) till the recital was finally over.

Very few people in my current life today know I play the piano.  One of my best friends, who I thought knew everything about my life, just recently found out I was a pianist.  It's not something I often talk about.  And it's something that usually shocks people when they find out.

I don't talk about it because, most people, when they find out you're a pianist, immediately ask you to play something for them.  I always refuse.  The most I'll play is a scale.  But that's it.

Last night, a friend of mine asked me how my week had been.  I told him I had been struggling with depression, and that I was trying to get back into writing to help with it.  He asked if he could read some of my writings.

So, here's the deal.  Yes, I have this blog.  Yes, I write blog posts on it (albeit not as often as I should).  But, my friends and family don't know I blog.  I've never shared this blog with them.  This blog has never come up in any conversation we've ever had.  While I have shared a few pictures of myself, I do my best to remain as anonymous as possible.

Why?  Because when I write, I find I am very honest and vulnerable.  The exact opposite of how I am in real life.  I write because that's how I feel emotions, that's how I figure out how I truly feel about events going on in my life.  I write for me.  That's it.  (See Goal #3)

After much hesitation, I decided to share my writings with him.  I sent him an email where I had copied and pasted a few of my most recent blog posts to him.  And then I waited for his response.  Minutes felt like hours.  And with each passing minute, I felt my anxiety level increase.  It increased to where I was visibly shaking.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.  I tried listening to music, but that didn't help calm me.  I knew why I was anxious; there was no need to sit there trying to understand my feelings.

Just when I thought I couldn't take the anxiety anymore, I got up and walked toward the piano.  I sat down and started playing.  The more I played, the more feeling I put into what I was playing, the more I kept my eyes closed and just felt the music, the less anxious I became.  When I finished, I let out a deep breath.  A breath it seemed I had been holding for hours.  And then I felt it.  It.  Peace.

As I went to stand up from the piano, it hit me.

The piano is my refuge because it's the one place where I can express my feelings.  I put my heart and soul into what I'm playing.  If I'm feeling happy and upbeat, that's reflected in what and how I play (upbeat, fast as my fingers can move, rag music).  If I'm feeling anxious, that, too, is reflected in what and how I play (slow, soft, flowy pedal pieces that I close my eyes and sway with as I play).

I don't play for others because my heart shows when I play.  If others see or hear me play, then they'll see my vulnerable side, a side I hide and keep to myself.  That is the exact reason why I get so anxious and nervous whenever I am forced to play for others.  And that is also the exact reason I avoid, at all costs, having to play for/in front of others.

I've been playing piano for over 15 years.  It has taken me over 15 years to realize that the peace I feel when I play comes not from the actual piano itself, but rather from me releasing my heart and my emotions as I play.

I stood up, and, all alone, in my quiet home, in the wee hours of the morning, I declared, "THAT was a powerful life moment!"

I am trying.

I haven't posted in months because I've been struggling to put the pieces of my life together.

Shortly after I made my last post, I was offered a job.  A good job, doing what I wanted to do.  Just not in the exact location I wanted to be in.  But it was too good of an offer to not accept it.

The job required me to move further South.  If I thought I had seen Southern hospitality before this move, I was mistaken.

But, the problem with this job is that it has taken my employer months to process my paperwork.  In the process, I've been told numerous different stories as to why it has taken so long.  Some of the stories even contradict other stories I was previously told.

I moved.  I gave up my familiar.  I gave up what I had made for my life.  I gave up what friends I had worked so hard to make (because I am the worst at making and keeping friends).  I gave up an amazing support system.  I gave up more than I've ever given up in life for a move.

And, in return, I got a whole lot of loneliness.  Loneliness and more rain than I've ever cared to see in my life.

I'm incredibly unhappy.  But, I'm trying.  I'm trying to remain optimistic that my employer will call me one of these weeks to tell me they're finally ready for me to start.  I'm trying to push my incredibly introverted self to be outgoing.  I'm trying to be friendly and force myself to smile, even when all I want to do is cry.  I'm trying to make friends, even though I can't seem to find people with similar ideals (and close in age) as me.  I'm trying.

There have been more bumps and bruises on this portion of my journey than I would have liked to experience.  But, I am trying.

I have to believe that if I keep pushing forward, one of these days, these pieces of my life will begin to fall into place.  I have to...

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