Sunday Brunch Encore

Panick Stricken and Pissed Off

Today I woke up in overwhelm with a brain that is too full, by far. I have not done this before: Write a Sunday Brunch and have it ready early, to only then have a panic attack, the whole of Saturday night. It pulled everything I write, and experience into question. Here is an added reflection…

HOW TO LIVE

One of the “tricks” to live fully and unconditionally, something I have only half-mastered, is to receive everything and resist nothing. No judgement. That does not mean being void of boundaries, perceptions or preferences. It also does not mean all you receive always “sticks” or is “true” for you. It simply means acknowledging all that is, without drawing conclusions. Having worn myself down in resistence a lot lately, this has become a daily reminder to get back to myself, and my way.

I struggle to stay connected. Socialising has not been my forte lately (the kids in Reek would argue to opposite I am sure, but for those weeks I made an exception). All my uncles and aunts came over yesterday. My mother has many siblings and outside of our giant family reunions for the New year’s drinks and the summer bbq, they gather. I kind of crashed the party, but kept my distance, sitting second rank on the flower borders, petting my dogs. I feel like the observer, not the participant.

There was a lot of talk about houses and mortgages. Someone apparently gifted their grandchildren houses of 850.000 euros each. Others have just bought a house, or are renovating newly bought houses. I am currently homeless staying with my parents after my second attempt to renovate a house I bought in Transylvania failed (alcoholic dangerous neighbour drove me out).

I am 47, may or may not have cancer and am starting from scratch. Again. I have lost count of how many times I started over. I don’t know why the stop and start does not feel like a whole, like a life that is a continuation, ever evolving, lessons learned. Why does it at times feel so empty handed?

That conversation was confrontational and painful, especially in light of the rather vulnerable chat I had had with dad on Friday afternoon. It started with him asking what my plans are for the near future, as the current living arrangement “can’t continue indefinitely”.

I am aware of this, and would love nothing more than to swiftly regain my independence. It’s ironic to be a homeowner and yet be homeless at the same time. It’s beyond ironic having to rebuild from such a shaky premise: What if, what if the MRI does not show something stagnant or on its way out. What if it is growing?

It is weird listening to people talk about wealth and mortgages that stretch out for decades (if anyone wants to bring up the cliched… nobody knows how much time they still have left, do so knowing it is at your own peril…) when I can barely figure out what to do about selling the house or where to store my stuff.

I think about what my friend said when he got me out of Valea… keep moving Lee.. always keep moving forward…

As for the feeling of starting from scratch, it can feel overwhelming, especially when there is so much uncertainty. But what if starting from scratch doesn't have to be a bad thing? It might feel like a setback, but it could also be my chance to reevaluate, refocus, and ultimately build a life on my own terms.

I did that already once, from 2011 onwards, and even if I ended up taking a bumpy scenic route to an as yet unknown destination, it was one hell of a ride. It has to be more aligned with needs, desires, and values. I’ve survived and navigated a lot already. That is something to build on, when ready, but there is a fatigue fuelled fragility that makes me question what I am still capable of. How much can I hold?

MISMATCH

I can’t do it. Not now, not for a while. Partaking in “normal” life takes too much. It is bubble time, comfortably a little separate from it all. As most of my more confrontational disclosures are often met with silence, it can feel like the weight entirely falls back onto me. That is ok, but it is all I can carry for now.

I give myself permission to step away from any situation if it’s no longer serving me. Finding a space that feels safer and more supportive, even if that means creating a temporary physical distance, is crucial for my well-being.

I will temporarily retreat more. Meditating or watching TV in my room, taking the dogs for an extra walk. Hopefully, eventually I feel find my new natural rhythm again. The way I did “last time”. But for that, I need to be on my own. I am navigating an inner space odyssey, and it’s okay to take space to recalibrate, even from family and friends.

READY FOR THE NEXT ROUND

I believe in nonlinear reincarnation and a collective soul, and am not afraid of death. But it makes life seem too much work at times, especially when I think the afterlife may have less sharp edges. Sometimes I even feel I want to let my body go and be done with it. I get so tired of dealing with “people” and “life”.

Panic attacks make me break out in a cold sweat. My muscles contract, my mind unravels. Nothing makes sense. I get lost in a maze, no sense of orientation left. After a few hours of that I am drenched and drained. I am facing all my fears and questions about health, life, and the future, when they all come flooding back. The bleeding gums, the old signs that something might be wrong.

I know the only way I’ve survived these feelings in the past is by living in my own rhythm, being alone, and setting boundaries around my energy. But now, in the middle of a shared space, it feels suffocating. I’m in between wanting to isolate more and realising that I can’t shut myself off from the world forever. It’s that same “push-pull” I’ve always felt, but it’s harder this time.

Stop looking for the exit, the shaman said. The last thought before I finally fell asleep, exhausted.

THE ART OF EMBRACING UNCERTAINTY

Sometimes the most important thing is acknowledging that you don’t have all the answers and that’s okay. I don’t have any answers yet. Not about where I’ll live, about how to move forward with my work, about the balance between caring for myself and generating income.

I’m at a crossroads, and I don’t know which direction to take. It feels paralysing. But I’m trying to let go of the pressure and trust that life will unfold in its own way.

Surrender. Let go. Leave it up to the universe, or God, or whatever it is that guides us.

Like I wrote in All Day A Good Day, surrendering doesn’t mean giving up. It means letting go of the need to control every outcome, even when it scares me. I hope that by making peace with the unknown, I can slowly rebuild my sense of home and belonging. Not just in a physical place, but within myself. Maybe if for now, I just act on the pressing practical steps, the rest will become more clear along the way. As long as I keep moving forward.

Simple tasks seem insurmountable challenges, making a physiotherapy appointment, selling some stuff on Vinted, cleaning the cat litter box. I haven’t even properly unpacked since coming back last week. My body parts feel unbearably heavy. Like I am lugging around led.

When rebuilding my life starting from this shaky ground, darkness set in. Do I feel blocked to take my next steps because on some level I believe there won’t be any next steps needed because I may be closer to the end?

Am I rejecting the future the same way I used to push back boyfriends as a hurt teenager. Afraid life will break up with me first?

PS I have updated my Ko-Fi goal, so keep those triple espressos and double cafe lattes coming!