Here’s the Rub…

This blog is killing two birds with one stone. In all of the hustle and bustle, I completely spaced New Music Thursdays! Not important in the grand scheme of things, but hearing Norah Jones through “new ears,” not once-but twice in one weekend initiated a foray into her unique, jazzy, vintage sound.

I had always linked this tune with roads untaken. As much as my addictions took years from my life-my social anxiety has robbed me of much, much more. I find it ironic that getting sober brought on a new list of phobias and nervous ticks – I pick at my skin when anxious, am completely incapable of dealing with any kind of stress, and would rather have a root canal than travel sans Jesse, my golden retriver. I am a germ phobe extraordinaire, a dog hypochondriac and feel uncomfortable (make that extremely uncomfortable) around people I do not know.

1450868_670242899675796_1120820745_n Jesse, to the left. Our beloved Dylan to the right of our son-may He await me at the Rainbow Bridge

What we regret in our lives is never as painful as chances, opportunities not taken. With Social Anxiety, you are forced to cancel plans depending upon just how strong you feel on that particular day. Interestingly enough, my nerves are their worst in the evening, which I attribute to the notion that I am not fully awake for the first four hours after rising. If you want to give me bad news, do so as the sun rises-with any luck? I won’t remember what you said by noon.

I was completely uninhibited as a child-thinking nothing of knocking on doors, asking the neighbors to bake me cookies. I had a sense of myself from very early on, and as a young girl, my father doted on my propensity to not take crap from any person, place or inanimate object. I learned quickly that pleasing dad meant everything. I yearned to make him proud, he was a nurturing father to me, despite many less than ideal situations; such as, my mother-who was pathologically jealous of our closeness. And herein lies the rub:

In your formative years, you have nothing but the reactions of others to mold and guide you in your very human quest to be loved, to fit in. When your own mother dislikes you? Well, let’s just say I was at an extreme disadvantage. Later in life, Satan’s Seed (aka, my sister)did not miss an opportunity to berate, humiliate or gaslight me-I sunk further into depression.

There is hope and I am here to say things are so much better on the other side of recovery from narcissistic abuse. You begin to see the very things the narc disliked about you (pure and total jealousy) are the very same things that others will love. I did my research, and once I felt I knew enough, I dug deep into the Word. A combination of incredible support from my husband and friends, a return to a creativity I thought had left me long before-and a deep faith in Jesus led me out of the muck and mire that is codependency.

I don’t care who you are, your opinion of me has much more to do with you than any other factor. I am no fence sitter-folks either love me or hate me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Be of good cheer, God is in control~

Hells Bells

Well,hey there, ho there!!! Haven’t been around for a day or two, and that’s because my concussion caused some pretty unpleasant side effects, such as- migraine, dizziness and extreme nausea. Not complaining, as I firmly believe that at the end of every valley is a rainbow so stunning, us puny humans can’t grasp the real significance. And so it was that I awoke this morning: stronger, less nauseous-a better person all around. 🙂

Today is my first New Music Thursday! I will be sharing music which is new to me, so, if you’re thought bubble reads-

This music isn’t new, I’m not smelling what she’s stepping in! Well, say something once, why say it again?

I love their haunting melodies. When it comes to the lyrics, I don’t relate as much as I usually like to: before I commit to the tune, I have to hear the words. In most cases, but not all-The Talking Heads, B52-s, St. Vincent? There music moves me so much that I could care less what they’re talking about.

Then we have Joni Mitchell, Patty Smith, Bob Dylan, Adele-those lyrics hit you where it hurts-and that’s precisely why you listen-it’s all a matter of mood, whether you want to cry in your beer, or dance until you hurt. I’m not telling you anything new.

It occurs to me that music has helped me heal in a myriad of ways: it gets me going in the morning-I seriously can’t wake up until I listen to something uplifting, or intense. Stop Making Sense comes to mind, or anything Depeche Mode, The Smiths. Joni Mitchell got me through my one week marriage, sobriety, and to this day? The occasional crying jag.

I take my depression and anxiety much more seriously as of late. I know when I’m in despair, and this past week has been a roller coaster of emotion. From this moment on, I intend to enjoy every moment of the holidays. I will throw back my noggin and laugh-even in the face of danger. 🙂