Wednesday, June 7, 2006

Panic, Poetry, and Piano

In some ways, I've already adjusted to post-school life. In other ways, it seems I still have a long way to go.

The seething rage is gone, replaced by a sort of numb resignation. I actually moved my last "school post" to my other blog. Those of you who are teachers (or not) and want to read my final thoughts can check them out. They're not particularly nice. In fact, they're pretty bitter, which is why I moved them.

So, I'm letting go, but my nervous system (would it be my nervous system?) is having some trouble with the process. I'm still having these awful night panics. They yank me rudely from the precipice of sleep, three or four times a night, and they prolong sleep for yet another 45 minutes to an hour. Yes. That means I'm still not sleeping.

Lying there in bed, I feel like a spectator, even though I'm in the thick of the attack. I can feel it when it starts to come on, and I know exactly what's happening. "Here we go again," I think, and I prepare to wait it out. The senstion starts in my stomach and rises up to my throat. On the way up, my whole body tenses, my heart seems to skip a beat as it starts to race, and my throat closes up, forcing me to gasp for air. It's only the physical aspect of me that seems to panic, though. Mentally, I'm just kind of removed from it after a second or two, thinking, "OK, just wait it out." Kind of like when you start watching a rerun you've seen before--for a minute, you're really involved, then you realize you've seen it already, so you stop paying attention. It's a strange feeling--to be in a blind panic on one hand, but to be calm and collected and patiently waiting on the other.

The triggers aren't even major thoughts. They can be things as minor as, "Did I plug my cell phone in?" or "I forgot to call my sister today." Frustrating! I long for the day when I can wake up feeling rested again. I'm hoping the hike will help with that.

On a happier note, I've started writing poetry again. No, you are not allowed to read it. I haven't written poetry in years, but little turns of phrases and forgotten observations seem to be stepping out from behind hidden doors in my brain, making themselves known again. And this time I'm writing them down.

I'm also spending a lot more time on piano. Not as much as I'd like (story of my life!), but at least an hour a day. Once I'm back from my hike and I can follow a more regular schedule, I'll get 1.5 to 2 hours of practicing in per day. This thrills me to no end.

The best news for today?

It's piano day! Hooray! Hooray!

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