I will say things have been slow, when in reality it is better described as "grinding to a halt". Life is cyclical, I am mostly water, the ebb and flow of this experience is undeniable. Which is why I say things have been slow. I have been feeling burnt out, drained, butter scraped over too much bread, which is concerning in only the fourth week of school. It is not the fault of the actual educational process, but a mismanagement of scheduling and a complete lack of sufficient fundalation that is the culprit.

I would say "when money is tight" but in reality it wasn't tight, it was gone. We weren't even pay check to paycheck. In times like this, I begin to experience life not as a series of moments or sensations or thoughts, but as a series of dollar signs. I keep an invisible ledger of every outgoing dime. Class ceases to be a communal experience of shared knowledge and the building of new neural pathways, but $5 a day. Food is no longer a means to sustain my life and nourish my body and mind, its $15 and even worse, now its gone, and I have to buy more. And the ledger grows and grows till its a mill stone. I can no longer hear my own heart beat above the cash registers mocking jingle.

“Something in me will save me from utter ruin no matter what comes.”
—
Tennessee Williams

And I forget that ever time. I am incredibly blessed, because I have always been saved. Providence with inevitably swoop in with exactly the amount that was needed. The Divine is never far way. The Universe is constantly conspiring in our best interest. Whether is a surprise check from school, or being fed mana from the ravens, I will always have what I need.

Why am I writing this? I guess I'm writing this to future me, next time I find myself in a bind; take a deep breath, and trust.

-A.H.

Tea meditation; thinking about the simple things.

Today has been lovely.

Saturday morning crept in under clouds and fog, barely announcing her sunlight. We woke late and barely got a chance to say good morning before Marcos rushed off to work. In spite of this harried start, my morning was slow and luscious. While the coffee brewed I rolled out my mat and did a few rounds of sun salutes to ring in the new day. It felt good to move and stretch. It felt, in a way, like meeting my body for the first time. Joints creaked who used to be silent, muscles that used to move, didn't. I thought, that this is the goal, to great my body every day anew, acknowledging it as an ever changing, growing thing.

Taking my mug and a blanket round my shoulders, I meditated. That sounds so stilted, "I meditated." Id rather say "I breathed." Up till now I've been consciousness of the mindfulness principles, and my focus has been on being present in all things. I try to apply this when I'm doing dishes, cleaning the litter box, driving in rushour on the I-5. I have come to the conclusion, however, that to attempt to integrate this practice without first setting aside time to really JUST practice is hard. Its hard to be mindful while scooping a stinky cat box. Its hard to be mindful when someone cuts you off. I need to set aside a time where I can just meditate; I need to reset my baseline.

I've been reluctant to do this. Mainly because it, also, is difficult. It involves waking up earlier. Which will probably mean that I, instead of my husband, will be the one to have to run downstairs and pay for parking in the morning. I've been reluctant because I'm lazy. I'm think I should, probably, I guess, challenge that. Today was my first day challenging that. It was great.

After all this I met up with a friend and we walked in the mist and drizzle to the Lan Su Gardens. We meandered through various covered walks and mahogany alcoves and oohed and aahed at interesting rock formations and Japanese maples without their leaves. We pondered at mystery water plants and, as textile fanatics, swooned over the patterns made with rocks and moss in the different courtyards.  Almost bewildered, we kept commenting on how everything was beautiful and new from every angle. The gardens were not sparse, they were spacious. There was breathing room. Every plant and stone had its moment in the spotlight, without any need to compete.

This one ^^ was called "Plum Blossoms on Cracked Ice.

I couldn't find the title for this courtyard, but it made me
feel like church, or sanctuary. Without the baggage.

We ordered tea without ceremonies, which I somewhat
regret at this point. I sipped a green tea who's aroma is rather
floral, and it is said that is thanks to the cimbidium orchids
that grow round the trees in the spring time. I've never felt fancier.
April ordered Frozen Summit. It was either that, or fire dragon, she
said. A few nights ago she dreamt of the word "fortitude" and he tea
options were fitting of this word, that dream, I think.

The tea house was the tallest building in the gardens, full of windows
who's shutters were cut with elaborate twining vines and knots. It was not
quiet. It was rather full of people discussing their tea choices, of boisterous
children who, while being officially welcomed, had spent the whole morning
in a place not really organized for their little feet and big energies. But it
felt quiet. The room sounded well lit and like dark wood. It sounded slow.
Time got away from us, and halfway through tea April had to dash to work.
I finished her Oolong and ordered myself some cakes. I drank our tea slowly.
I breathed slowly. I chewed slowly. I was in the moment and no where else.

The walk home was brisk, in pace and temperature. My body felt good, lungs
and heart both capable. I felt space inside my body. That rarely happens.
This has been like the long stretch of blank highway, and suddenly coming
across the marker that you've been waiting for; you're on the right road, you didn't
take a wrong turn at the gas station.

Something touched me deeply here. Perhaps it was the simplicity and the ornateness, both occurring simultaneously without contradicting or overwhelming each other. Or maybe it was the spaciousness of the gardens, the luxury of breathing room afforded every tree and shrub and stone. Something felt familiar and distant. I am incoherent in explaining it, and yet there is no other way to explain it.

Walking home I repeated over and over "Peace is every step." I knew, without dwelling, that things had changed. I have too many things, and nothing can breathe, I knew. I've begun putting this in boxes. I've routed the way to shelters and worthy causes. I know I have been blessed beyond measure. I know I will always have what I need, so I don't need to hoard these blessings. I can let them come, then I can let them go. So I will let them go, like water into soil, like dandelion spores on the wind, with wild abandon.

-A.H.

(an aside, peace is every step is a reference to Thich Nhat Hanh's book with the same title.)

There are years that ask questions,

                                        and there are years that answer. -Zora Neale Hurston

                                            


What kind of year was 2014? Was it the question kind, or the answer kind?
If I said it was both would you call that cheating?

It was the answer kind. I can say that with an attitude that might mimic a form of confidence. Last year took my questions and cares into its arms and held them till they grew solid. It took time and repetition. In other words it took practice.

Practice is a word that has become so dynamic, the pairing of syllables and sounds hardly seems fitting for its meaning any longer.

Quantum Physics is mostly beyond me, but it is fascinating like women who wear three inch heels and mini skirts in the freezing night of new years even in Oregon; it is undeniably beautiful, heroic, and ever so gently saddening though you aren't quite sure why (its because it makes me sad to watch people shiver. Jesus multiplied fish and bread, but I couldn't multiply blankets and coats.) And though this school of thought tells us we make our own reality, and that we don't really know what happens to things when we aren't looking at them, because looking at them changes them ( i.e. magic) I would casually say that there are limits to the control we have over our lives, and I would remind us that there are systems of oppression and privilege that structure our day to day lives, and our inner selves.

That being said, there are some things I can control. I can control what I practice. I can practice fear, or peace. I can practice frustration, or compassion. Judgement, or love. I can practice tightness in my chest and muscles, or I can practice breathing and space. These are the things that are up to me. These are some of the answers 2014 gave me.

It is easier to practice in the face of adversity, because it is a tangible response to an urgent need. If I am dealing with an abusive co-worker, or a boss who wont pay me/is threatening my security, it became almost easy for me to remember to breathe and let go. It wasn't "easy", but after having practiced it for months, it was becoming my first response. My knee-jerk reaction had become peace and non-attachment.

Then life became peaceful in its own right. I now work for a wonderful woman in her beautiful home. My marriage is strong. School went smoothly. And in this absence of urgent need, I fell out of practice, and back into tension, judgement, rash thinking, and so much fear.

So the word of this new year is Practice. What do I want to practice? Breathing. Coming home to my body. Herbology. I want to practice the concepts Masaru Emoto practiced in his water studies; I want to be aware that everything around me is mostly water, and I can make it crystalline and lovely with my gratitude and love. I want to practice gratitude and love.

I've been reading the books of Thich Nhat Hanh as though they were devotionals, asking what I need to think about today, then opening to a random page. On Christmas Even I opened to the story of the Buddha's mother, and how we all are carrying baby Buddha's inside us (very appropriate for the day, I thought). On New years even I opened it to the story of the confrontation between Mara and Siddhartha. Even thought Siddhartha was long practiced in meditation, Mara still came to him, time and again. The book says

"Mara sometimes appears as doubt, sometimes as anger, darkness, jealousy, craving, or despair. When we feel doubtful or skeptical, he is there. When we feel angr, irritated, or lacking in self confidence, that is Mara. Siddhartha had been visited by Mara many times before, and he knew that the best way to treat him was to be very gentle."-Touching Peace, Thich Nhat Hanh, pg 40

Raised in the dichotomy of good vs evil, this approach of "being gentle" with the darkness is very new to me, but it has been so healing. Everything exists together. If we all have a baby Buddha in us, then we also have Mara in us, perhaps even a baby Mara, and both need our compassion. I have compassion on my darkness, which for me arrives in the form of my eating disorder and phobias/anxieties. I picture myself when these mental formations came to me, as a small child, coping in the only way she could. I keep her close. Harmless Monster, with flowers in her hair. Its alright to recognize her. She deserves love and compassion, in spite of and because of her darkness.

"Mara continued, 'I know you have practiced, but have you practiced enough? Who will witness that you have practiced long and hard enough. Who will testify that you gained enlightenment?' Mara demanded that someone confirm that Siddhartha was going to become a fully awakened person. At that moment, Siddhartha touched the Earth with his right hand, very deeply, with all his mindfulness, and said "The Earth will testify for me." Suddenly the Earth trembled and appeared as a goddess, offering him flowers, leaves, fruits, and perfumes... and Mara just disappeared."-Touching Peace, Thich Nhat Hanh, pg 41.

Mara demanded a witness to Siddhartha's changes, but perhaps that was not so misguided. Is it unfair to ask someone's credentials? We all crave a witness to our lives, our triumphs as well as our struggles. This is what friendship and community is about; bearing witness is a powerful thing. So could it be said that there was wisdom in Mara's demand, both in the asking for credentials and the reminder that we are humans, even the Buddha, and we need a community to bear witness for us? I don't know. I'm a novice. This could be a form of Buddhist blasphemy.

What does it mean that the earth is our witness? I thought about this all night and all new years day. We went to the beach. We made it with only an hour of daylight to spare. It was not cold, I didn't need gloves. We walked till we found a short seat of driftwood. It was damp and there was enough for just the two of us to sit awhile. And we did. I took off my heavy backpack and closed my eyes to the warm sun on my face. The gulls were quiet, except for a few lilting cries inviting the flock to move to a new spot of sand. Behind us a group of beach combers built a fire; even at our distance the crackling flames warmed me. I thought of the Earth as our witness, and I was chilled and comforted at once; for us she gives flowers and fruits, every kind of beautiful thing.

"The Earth, our mother, has brought us to life many times, and each time she receives us back into her arms. She knows everything about us, and that is why the Buddha invoked her as a witness."

I thought of the garbage island in the pacific ocean, of the mountains and their unnatural crew cuts, of Orangutans. I thought of Mike Brown and Eric Garner. I thought of wars and false flags and everything for profit. If she knows everything about us, then she knows these things too. Thus invoking her as a witness seems serious. Does she see this, our darknesses, and still vouch for our good nature?

I sat with the idea of what it would mean to be a person the Earth herself could vouch for. What would that look like, how would I need to live. I felt tremendous gratitude, because even in the face our darkness, there are still fruits and flowers, and every good thing. There are still stars, guiding us home. We have not been kicked off yet.

The sun sunk lower against the horizon and a chill crept in my coat, not unwelcome. Under and above all, the sound of the ocean that most people call a roar, but today it was not a roar, it was a song, gentle and varied, lifted us. My first day of practice.

-A.H.

Farmers market

The concrete was slick with rain. Yellow leaves shimmered from underneath my sneakers; golden, treasure, everything precious. I walked along the length of the southern park blocks, not fast; very slow. Crows dipped into my path, settling like a heavy foreshadowing just ahead. One even walked a few feet with me, keeping time with my steps. The sea gulls have come inland for the winter. They cry over head and pick at trash with the pigeons. However, hey don't seem to be too friendly with the Crows, who keep their distance.

I like going to the market when its been raining, everything is bright and vibrant and there are less people, traveling with my growing bag is easier.

A few feet before the entrance is a man who plays the trumpet, a sparse lonely, andante and sad. He once played in a mariachi band and the absence of the other instruments hangs heavy in the wet trees. He only has nickles in his cup. 

By now the trees have switched from Birch to mostly Maple, and the flaming foliage covers the grounds like a carpet, magnificent and priceless in value. Red, red orange, red yellow, even one whose red was advancing from the inside out, chasing the yellow out to the still green tips. Autumnal rainbow. I would have collected them and come home with an armload but I was worried a dog might have peed on them. So, I let them be.

Precisely at the entrance is a man selling The Street Beat. He's always there, today wearing a knit hat with a pom pom ontop because its turned cold. "Yet another high pressure sales pitch!" He always says, except for today. "The Koch brothers would buy this paper! Don't be like them! Get one on your way out!" I bought one then and there. He has a poem printed on page two. "I wrote it on my honeymoon" he said regretfully. 

I stop at the same three booths I always stop at. No samples for me today, I try not to do that every week. I bought a coffee, which was a mistake because its hard to juggle pounds of produce and a hot beverage on your own, but I wanted it and I'm read The Awakening by Kate Chopin and it felt appropriate to give into a whim. 

"Its the Babushkas!" He said as he ducked behind the second register, bearing coffee for his booth partner. We had been chatting while she tallied my burdock and carrots, and stopped to quickly survey each other, a moments hesitation before we saw he was teasing us with our scarves wrapped around our heads. Turns out we'd both lost our favorite beanies and had to make do in the chill. I walked home, warmed with coffee and the idea of me as a Babushka bearing produce, wearing grandpa pants.

I took this picture of myself with my produce bag, but it doesn't do the weight of it justice. Zoey, trying to devise a way onto the new plant shelf. I haven't taken a picture of myself using the timer in some months, which I feel explains my headlessness.

My bag was bursting with radishes, carrots, butternut squash (mmm soup forever) onions and more. So much more. I've been buying so many different squashes my cupboards are beginning to overflow. I still have a sweet meat (hate the name) to try, as well as a mystery one I bought from Persephone's booth at the recommendation of the dude in the Davy Crocket hat.


(This feels silly to be writing like this. I'm mostly just trying to remember. Remember what I saw, remember how, exactly to write. If these seems trite, or vain, or tired, I apologize. Don't tell me. I'll get better with more frequent use.)

-A.H.

An Explanation

I was writing something else entirely, when it occurred to me that I never actually sat down and wrote about what *happened*. I realized I keep talking about this Anxiety Pit without really telling the story of how I got down there in the first place.

To tell you the truth, I was never really anywhere else.

I've struggled with depression and anxiety throughout my life, starting around age seven or eight. From then on it became a formidable obstacle to my every day life, boulders in the forms of phobias, depression, and panic blocked my path. It was difficult for me to leave the house, and almost impossible to nurture my relationships with my friends. Typical parts of highschool social life were denied me by my fears and forebodings; things sleepovers were almost impossible. I developed an Eating Disorder (anorexia, non-purging bulimia) as a means to cope with and manage my phobic, anxious, depressed feelings. This is basically the most brief overview of my mental health that I can give. My mental health story is one full of ups and downs, better times and worse times, and I wont go much more historically in depth here, though I'd be happy to answer questions.

What happened last year? I tried to live in San Francisco and it was there, through no fault of the City's, that things began to unravel. We left the bay in defeat when the person who was about to be our landlady attempted to make off with our money and leave us houseless. We returned home to the open arms of our two dearest friends who let us live in their backroom. It was the actual, most perfect living situation I've ever been in; full of laughter and empty of passive aggressive negativity. In spite of this positive beauty, I sensed an eerie change within the first few days. It was a nameless, shaky, shiftiness in my foundation.

It wasn't until we all went to Hollywood for a relaxing, outdoor concert that I was able to name it. It was there that I had a panic attack that left me in the fetal position in a parking garage. It felt like forever. Like whole days came and when while I was in that concrete, probably piss stained corner. In reality it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes, a half hour tops. I was embarrassed, and I felt so so ashamed. In the days and weeks that followed I found myself unable to go to work, and when I did, I found myself unable to stay for the full day scheduled. I can't fully wrap my brain around how fortunate I was to have a job that was understanding enough to make space for me in the place that I was in.

Before long, I was unable to leave the house at all. I has hardly able to leave my bed. I needed my husband to escort me to the bathroom and wait outside so I could pee. Bathing was even harder. Cooking or engaging in the household was impossible. Everything felt dim and dingy and desperate. Something needed to change.

And that's where these writings come in. I talk about my forays into medication here and here.
There isn't a whole lot on this blog, and what is here is sporadic and choppy. And now that I've written this post, I feel like everything is kind of out of order. Its bothering that this isn't a chronological story, but rather one full of flashbacks that disrupt the readers flow. Readers? I don't think there are any of those. And that's okay.

But if you are out there, and if you're reading this, thank you.
-A.H.

Amino-Acids; repairing neural pathways, building new ones, and finding the courage to step out my front door

Step one; I crawled out of bed, and got myself to the doctor to get some Xanax. If you've never had anxiety, it will be difficult to comprehend the super human strength that took. I could barely speak through my appointment, but the doctor was sweet and prescribed me meds and gave me thorough instructions on how to take them and what to expect.

I was petrified of taking them. I'm emetophobic. The side effect of "nausea or vomiting" sends me into a tailspin. I took only a quarter of a pill and I sobbed and sobbed in the fetal position, waiting. Just waiting. After some time, when it was obvious I'd passed the point of danger and could relax, I took some amino acids and ate some toast. What happened? Relief.

I only took the Xanax for a week. Seven days exactly. I still carry it with me. The two halves of a pre-cut pill still rattle in my backpack. I have my Lexapro prescription filled. Just in case. Its there if I need it. I never took the Lexapro because taking something long term made me uncomfortable, and I wanted to try things naturally. With the Xanax, I'd still be able to see through to how my body was responding to natural treatments; with the Lexapro, something I'd have to taper on and off of, it would be like a thick fog over everything. I wouldn't be able to see how my body responded. So I decided that I had the space to do an experiment. I was living with friends, working at a job that was being very understanding and open minded, I had a husband who worked enough to support us. Not everyone has this opportunity. I'm very lucky that I was able to take advantage of these things.

I want to say before I begin that I'm not anti medication. At all. Whatever makes you feel functional and safe, do that thing. Stay on your meds. Seriously. Taking medication does not make you weak; there is no shame. I'm so proud of you.

This is my journey of healing my brain through amino acids.

I take Twinlab Amino Fuel Mass (not lean mass. I'm going for bulk lol) You can buy it in the body building section or online from websites like iHerb.com. Marcos is credited with finding it. In fact, he spends the time on line researching and finds a lot of the things which have helped me through this process. He came across someone reviewing this product, saying that it helped them through they're agoraphobia and hypochondria (two key issues for me) and that after a certain amount of time (i don't remember how long they said, but it doesn't matter, everyone is different) they were only taking a few doses a week for maintenance. After experiencing how great I felt the first of medication and amino acids, I was ready to get on a regimen and try this long term. So we bought a bottle and a calcium magnesium supplement to help with the absorption (tri-boron plus. AH mazing product) and began to rebuild.

I noticed a change right away. I felt, clearer. It was I'd been living in a basement with the windows shut and was finally out in the fresh air. It was the feeling of taking a deep gulp of air after holding your breath. I spread the dosage out to get an even amount throughout the day (it just made sense to me to do it this way). Things became a little more accessible to me, like going to the grocery store or staying my full shift at work, or talking to my friends or having them over for a bonfire and movies.

After that initial spike, the progress I saw slowed and changed to a gradual (very gradual, so so gradual like a snail's gradual) incline. Even though things were accessible, I still felt desperate, like I was clinging to a rope above a deep, dark well, like Penny being lowered into the cave on The Rescuers. And my arms were tired. And I was wet and cold. And I started to feel discouraged.

I've said it before, I'll say it again, and I'll probably mention it a bunch more; natural healing is a slow process, and it is sometimes easy to forget how far you've come because you have so far still to go. Its good to have people in your life who can give you an unbiased and accurate assessment of where your at, where you were, and how well you're doing. For me, these people were my husband and my mom. They were the little mice in my pocket, helping me, keeping my chin up, holding up my map and showing me how far I'd come, and keep up the good work.

Its been half a year, and I'm still seeing the improvements brought about by my amino acids. I still take the dosage in three parts throughout the day, but I don't carry it around with me like I did before. I'm okay if I take one tablespoon a little later than normal. I'm even okay if I miss the final tablespoon altogether. I still need it though, and while I test the waters to see how I feel without it, I know I can't stray too far from it, not yet anyways. I live in a new town, in a new state, working at a new job and learning a new bus system. I'm building so many new neural pathways, I  need that extra boost!

I take them on an empty stomach if I can (you don't have to, I've taken them with food too. It just helps the absorb if your tummy is empty. But also, taking stuff on an empty tummy doesn't bother me; if it bothers you, maybe have some crackers with it!) and I don't take them around the time when I do yoga. I want those proteins going to my brain, not my biceps.

I also take Acetyl L Carnitine and Phosphatidyl Serine to help give my brain that little extra push it needs.

I believe that it was Amino Acids that saved my brain and my life. They reinforced my foundation, giving me a firm footing, which would later allow me to address other issues and really pursue healing. I'm not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot, but at least now I can look up, touch a fern, watch a bird fly from branch to branch.

-A.

Struggles with Hypotension and paying attention to my Adrenals for the first time in a decade.

I worked for a green house cleaning company in San Francisco called Dirty Donnie's Green Cleaning. In their add on Craig's List they wore pin-up retro type dresses and aprons and wielded dusters and vacuums like they were weapons. They had tattoos and piercings and purple hair and I knew these were the people for me. In spite of being fifteen minutes late for the interview I got the job and grew close to the girls I worked with.

Dirty Donnie's gave me the opportunity to act out Non-Harming in a professional way; serving my community with biodegradable, non-toxic cleaning supplies. It also allowed me to get acquainted with the magical city by the bay. To this day, if you are lost in San Francisco, you go ahead and give me a call and I can get you at least within a few blocks of where you wanted to go (contrast that to my knowledge of the city I live in now, Portland... its rough  not knowing which was is true north). I got to meet new people and get familiar with the nooks and crannies of beautiful S.F. homes. It was great.

My blood pressure, however, did not think it was so great. In between climbing hills and flights of stairs carrying buckets of supplies and a vacuum, running every hour to move my car, and all the reaching up above my head and crouching down low, I was constantly seeing stars and feeling faint. I would lament to Marcos that there just weren't enough snacks and water in the world that could keep me from a low blood pressure crash. I kept at it, waiting for my body to adjust, pouring myself into an exhausted puddle upon my arrival home, turning down invites to parties and other fun things because I just couldn't lift my head. 

Before long we moved back home to Fresno, my hypotension still unresolved.

It wasn't until my arrival in Portland, and my new job with a new green cleaning company, that these issues resurfaced and demanded some attention. 

It was my first day on the job, in fact I didn't even know I had the job yet, when it started again. I began to loose spacial relations, seeing stars and feeling sick and faint. I was sucking down protein bars and water like there was no tomorrow. Nothing helped. My anxiety is health triggered, so I knew living a life where I felt this way all the time was just not an option. A friend suggested that I might have Postural Orthostatic Hypotension Syndrome and after looking up the symptoms I'd say wow, I totally do (thanks to years of an eating disorder). I introduced more salt into my diet. I bought vitamin water. Ate smaller, more frequent meals and drank white tea (the least caffeinated tea, but still caffeinated enough) to carry me through the blood pressure slump that often follows meal time. It helped, but it was apparent that this was still an issue.

I talked to my mom, the knower of all things, and she (in the kindest, most loving way possible) firmly let me have it for not caring for my adrenals. And she was right; someone like me, with chronic anxiety issues, needs to spend some time lovingly repairing the damage done to those little guys. They've been working overtime my whole life, constantly fighting and flighting. When I think of them I think of Evinrude from The Rescuers, sputtering and coughing after flying so fast and so hard to deliver the message. My Mom encouraged me to not just accept that I had this Postural Orthostatic Hypotension Syndrome, but to find out why. And she suggested the first place I look was to my adrenals.

This was echoed at the supplement store by an employee who said he had major anxiety issues till he started taking care of his adrenals. Gaia, the brand he suggested, was just too much money, so I opted for the more affordable WomenSense Anti-Stress AdrenaSense Forumal. A few days taking the lower dosage showed little to no results so I upped myself to the maximum and saw a change the next day. It was a subtle change, but this type of healing is made up of subtle changes (little by little, a little becomes a lot) and it was the mere difference between standing up and not feeling faint, vs standing up and feeling faint. Soon I found myself making it through a day having cleaned two house, and still feeling capable of speaking. Nothing short of a miracle.

An interesting aside; Healing yourself natural through herbs and supplements is a trial and error type of a process. You must have patience and a willingness to keep trying, keep exploring. Talk to your supplement store; most will let you return something if it isn't working, or they can offer you a free trial pack of pills. When this WomenSense didn't appear to be working (this was before I upped my dosage) I switched to a new brand of pills, with completely different ingredients. I only took it for three days, and I just didn't feel as good as I had been feeling. I'd also been more anxious than I was previously, more on edge, much more phobic. It was my mom (the knower of all things, knower and noticer) that saw the connection between three days on a new medicine, and three days of higher anxiety. I switched back to WomenSense and all was well. So my urging to you is keep your ear tuned into your body, and be willing to be patient and explore the options. What works for one person might not work for you. That's okay.

Taking this medicine has not freed me up from the responsibility of nutrition and lifestyle. Far from it, I still have to take care of myself for these pills to be able to do their job. I typically drink two 1 quart jars of water a day. There was one day where I was working and for some reason I only had one. I was up all night on a cycle of having to get up and pee, and then being so thirsty that I gulped down two glasses of water. Then up to pee again, and more water. The next day I felt so weak; my blood pressure was on the floor, dragging behind me. All because I didn't give my body the water it needed.

So the moral of the story? As you move through your anxiety, as you began to repair and build new pathways, other areas that need attention will become apparent. That's okay. It's not that this process is never ending (though it can feel like that) it means its multi layered. It means our needs aren't always obvious. Once we deal with the tyranny of the urgent, we then have the space to address the more subtle urgencies, following it down to its source, to grasp it at the root.

-A.