Refresh and unwind, but now, replay

I wrote about it a few weeks back where I get this need to step back and just forget about everything, and, unfortunately, this blog included. I think often about updating the blog, posting something, but then I come to realize I just don’t want to face my problems, struggles and myself all the time.

My husband and I went on our delayed honeymoon to Jamaica a couple of weeks ago as sort of a first wedding anniversary, you could say. It was truly amazing, and honestly the best vacation I have ever been on in my life (sorry, family). I ate more food than I could explain, drank enough alcohol to supply a gas station liquor shelf, laughed, learned and met plenty of new people.

We didn’t take very many photos because we just enjoyed life. The soft crashing of the waves along the shore, the warm breeze dancing across our skin, the warmth from the sun: we just took it all in.

In more ways than we knew possible, we were both able to refresh and unwind.

Most importantly, though, Justin and I learned a lot about the people there. Jamaicans have this very free spirited way about them. They live each day with no worries, and they seem to genuinely care about others. One of the gentleman at the resort became a friend of mine, if you will, who regularly looked out for Justin and me. He made sure to greet us when he was working with a big smile, hug and questions about our day. He even saved us from a potentially bad situation when we didn’t realize we were sitting underneath a coconut tree.

It’s not to say that I don’t know people like that here, but it was such a different feeling. What I’ve learned about myself in recent months is that I have this overwhelming desire to help others, as did nearly every Jamaican we met. I also didn’t have to be me in Jamaica. I didn’t have this past that I find myself running away from. I wasn’t the beloved reporter and anchor.

I was just Anastasia.

We’ve been back in Nebraska now for about a few weeks. We told each other we’d take what we had learned from the Jamaican way of life and implement in into our daily lives. It’s a little harder than I imagined, but it’s a work in progress. I’m honestly really enjoying the challenge to see the positive in life, to not worry as much and to live a little more carefree.

The hard part, though, is that I was able to relax, refresh and unwind in Jamaica, but now, it’s all a replay.

There’s a gentleman at my gym who I frequently talk to. Our conversations are normally brief and random. Maybe a week ago, we had a different sort of conversation. He asked me about school since I miss a couple of days during the week. He asked what I was studying, when classes were, which school I was going to, all those sort of things.

I tend to stray away from telling people I used to work in the news. All too often, it rehashes all the self-doubt I am trying to bury at the moment. It makes me relive the moment I stepped away from it all.

He didn’t ask me anything about being in the news, though. He just asked why the drastic change, which is pretty typical. I explained it to him, and he understood. We talked about anxiety attacks, the fear, the help we’re getting, etc. He is an Air Force veteran, having served in Desert Storm/Desert Shield and living with PTSD. I explained some of what I experience, and he was able to relate, almost happy to be able to relate.

When I feel most people look straight through me, I could tell he was looking right at me and hearing me.

He told me I was brave for being able to talk to him about my anxiety attacks and meltdowns with a smile and a bit of a chuckle, but he also said he knew it was a cover up. I think he knew everything racing through my mind was a replay of everything I had been trying to forget.

My last therapy session was right as I got back from Jamaica. I told my therapist about my trip, my desires to live a little more like the Jamaicans we met. I was a bit all over the place talking about everything running through my head. It had been a month since our last session, so I had to update her on the excruciatingly long anxiety attack I had. I told her about some uncomfortable positions I put myself in, the vulnerability I showed others in order for me to grow.

She liked the being vulnerable part since she had previously recommended I listen to Brene Brown who talks about vulnerability. She encouraged me to do more of it.

The truth is, though, is I’m afraid.

I’ve recently been struggling with remembering things I’ve been working on forgetting or things I’ve worked on with my therapist. Justin and I watched a movie, and a few scenes took me back to stories I had once reported on. Shaking those memories are not easy. We’ve also been through different areas of town where a memory of a story flashes in front of my eyes like you see in the movies. The memories are like a DVD you stick into the player, and the buttons are now glued into place. I relive it all.

What I’m most afraid of, though, is the idea that I won’t really be able to move on, that I won’t be able to forget everything. I’ve tried really hard to forget that I was a journalist.

Why?

The way many remember me as a journalist isn’t the way I remember myself as a journalist.

“What do you mean the stories you were telling left you struggling?” someone said to me this weekend. “How could that even be possible?”

Police tape. Crushed cars. White sheets over bodies. Crying friends and families hugging. Fear. Anxiety. Worry. It’s all that comes to mind.

I’m afraid I won’t ever be able to get away from it, that I’ll always have someone who says something to make me remember it, that I’ll see something that reminds me of someone who is now just a memory I’m saving in my mind to prove to myself I deserve these struggles.

My friend at the gym, though, gives me hope. He still lives with PTSD, having anxiety attacks and feeling overwhelmed in crowds. Through it all, though, he’s like the Jamaicans I met. He offered to be there for me should I ever need it. In his own journey, he’s selfless. He wants to help.

Will I be surrounded by distant memories brought to the forefront? Sure, but I can handle it.

I’ve been doing it thus far, albeit with a few more emotions than I anticipated. But I’m stronger, and maybe one day, I can be like my new Jamaican friend Romario or my gym friend who exude strength, kindness, love and understanding.

Like Brene Brown said, being uncomfortable and vulnerable brings growth and, later, strength. It's a daily journey, but one I will push through. I'll keep living in the uncomfortable and being vulnerable until it's no longer uncomfortable.