Brave Laughter

Sometimes, putting on a brave face is harder than whatever it is you're supposed to do after you've put the face on. But despite everything, I feel like even the smallest steps I take add something. They add a new soldier to my army. They add a breath the my lungs.

I've had a rough time crawling out of this particular hole, but I've chosen to believe that no matter how dark it looks right now, something good is coming. It's hard to believe that when I'm in the depths, but I chose to stop the dark thoughts, to believe that my life is not joke, and to trust in the ones who I know love me. The others I'll worry about later. I think sometimes that maybe the one happy sprinkle is meaningless in this giant chasm, but this weekend, I was given a few sprinkles, and I cherished them.

Sometimes you don't want to laugh, because it's a lie. To crack a smile would mean that you're letting that glimmer of light in, and that's a lie. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is to let yourself laugh. I'm thankful for those who helped me to be brave this weekend.

Inspirations of Anxiety

Any number of random things can trigger anxiety for me. The current state of circumstances leaves me afraid for what's next from the Czar and Queen. Clearly, they can't actually do anything to keep me from doing what I want, but they can certainly do some harm. From the moment I open my eyes, I fight anxiety. A thought, an image, a phone call, a question... anything can be a trigger.

Today, I'm having to make the conscious decision, over and over, to remember that no final choices need to be made today. No consequences must be met today. I can be ok today. It's a real sense of captivity and slavery you feel when every corner, every unknown poses a threat. I have to make a choice right now. And again. And again.

Who Need Drugs When I Have Denial?

I wonder every once in a while why I never dabbled in drugs, excessive drinking, or promiscuity. It would seem logical that someone who had been kept in a cage all her life would find herself imbalanced in a way that I often see exhibited in drug and alcohol abuse. I have a good friend who grew up very broken, even suffering near strangulation at her own father's hands. To me, she's a beautiful and wonderfully successful woman and someone who will always go to bat for me when she can. But I often see through the facade of the orderly appearance and see the shattered life inside. She grew up experimenting with more drugs than I can name, men often walk in and out of her life leaving behind scars of their own brokenness on her, and she currently takes antidepressants to help manage through the emotional struggles.

So why not me? Where's my drug of choice, alcohol-induced black outs, or one-night escapades? For some reason, I never found it appealing to try any drug or overdo the alcohol, which both probably have something to do with the lack of the third, but I'm starting to realize I didn't get out unscathed...I'm weak. I'm really fragile and easily broken.

All my life, I dreamed of the day when my prince would come and rescue me. He'd swoop in, shield me from the attacks, and whisk me away to the "happily ever after." But it turns out he's human. Just like me, he bleeds, bruises, and withers. This week, I think I caught my first glance of his battle wounds. I saw the blood dripping, and my initial reaction was anger. What the hell is this?... And yet a thought dawned on me. Doesn't love want to protect? Love is not selfish, and all this time I had been wanting to throw him between me and the barrel of the gun...

Romantic ideals and logic aside... at the end of the day, it's me and the boy against the Czar and the world. I don't want to fight with him about the tactics of how to fight this battle. However everyone else thinks the battle should be fought or how it can be won, no one can step into my shoes and fight it for me. So I choose to stand behind him and trust in his choices. This is NOT to say that I believe in the rightness or justifications of those choices. I am choosing him over those things. I believe that in the end, even if not now, he will arrive at the choices that are best for both of us. So if that means he must leave his post to forge new weapons or learn a new tool to win us the battle, then I must stand bravely and bleed myself.

You'll Be in Jail

During one conversation, the Czar told me to get a firm grasp on my husband-to-be. Until recently, I had the boy dress in his finest and polish his appearance each time he met the Czar and the Queen, as anyone would when they meet their beloved's parents. However, as the wedding draws near, I knew that they would need to be introduced to his quirks and eccentricities, that quite frankly, were exactly what attracted me to him. Yes, he has morning breath when he wakes up, he leaves his socks on the floor, he hates to dust, his dishes go unwashed, and *gasp* he does not always wear a suit with his hair combed to the side.

The aberrations presented were more than the Czar could stomach. What kind of parents would allow their children to dress outside the terms of Court guidelines? He wanted the boy to change his look, to abandon his individual "style" and to conform to his demands. There's a fundamental difference in belief that forms the foundation of the differences between me and the Czar. To him, it is my mission, given at birth, to realize the dream he had when he set sail for the New World. For me, it had always been my mission to find my own dream and make it my reality. In the New World, it is up to you make your own happiness. These two differing views are undoubtedly at odds with one another.

That's why it's no wonder that the Czar constantly speaks of "control." Clearly, the boy's parents had lost control of him. I had better learn to control him, to make him listen to my demands, which should coincide with their own, lest he control me... then, they say, I will be in jail. He actually said I would be in jail when I marry the boy. I am nearing my 30s, and I'm unable to share a meal with a friend without getting a lecture about how unnecessary friends are. I cannot buy a gift without hearing how it is not enough. I'm told that I don't spend enough money on the Czar and Queen. I'm told I should not marry the boy I have chosen. And when I leave this place is when I'll be in jail? Oh, the irony.

Dreams in a Fantasyland

Sometimes I imagine what my life would be like without anger threading through every part of it. I'm going to explore that on my anxiety vacation for the next 6 days. Of course it would be hard to imagine my life without a family at all or finding my own means of survival at a young age... but to be free of the expectation to carry the honor and value of an entire family, an extended family, and a long sequence of life choices...

Hi, there, freedom. Good to see you again. Let's hang for a while.

Imaginary Kingdoms

There is an irony in the Czar's title... if it walks like a duck... talks like a duck.... it's a duck, right? So yes, he barks orders, makes his own rules, utters the occasional "off with his head"... he is king of the castle...

But no one told him that beyond the walls of our house lies a whole world that operates on a different set of rules...on the value of the individual. As in every individual... not him... the individual. But when the Czar climbs into car, heads to work or the golf course, he believes his rules still apply. He's the Czar at work... he can do no wrong. He's the Czar amongst his friends... they can do no right.

Have you ever tried to grab a speck of something in a cup of water, only to have it go farther and farther each time you get close? A recent explosion of anger from the Queen resulted in an outburst from me. I told her that I had recently gone to the ER with abdominal pains, the result of an ulcer... which I had aptly named after her and the Czar. I had pain meds flowing through an IV and spent the better part of 2 weeks trying to recover. Did she know this?

I don't know what I expected. Some sort of epiphany on her part about how she and the Czar drive me to such head-splitting anxiety? There was no acknowledgment of my recent medical dramatics, and instead she lamented... what did she do to deserve such blame from me for things that are my own fault? Hmm... that IS a mystery.

Under Czar Rule

The thing about being under the rule of the Czar is that the rules don't have to make any logical sense. Laws are not "passed" by any majority rule, and they do not need to be for the sake of the people. If the Czar wants it, the Czar shall have it.

To be married to the Czar means that you have to buy into the crazy, at least a little bit. If you didn't, you wouldn't be married. If you could get out of the marriage, maybe you would indulge the little logic you have left, but alas... what would you do? Where would you go? The Queen is as much a prisoner as the people, but she has just a little more power. Her tantrums hold consequences for them.

In our house, the Czar is prone to fits of anger and verbal tirades, particularly when the life he imagined for himself and his family do not appear. Growing up, the Czar had dreamed he would have doting children who worshipped the ground he walked on, hung on every word he spoke, and jumped at the opportunity to please him. When he found his Queen, he made promises to her of the lavish life they would live together, far beyond the lifestyles of anyone they knew. He showed her his dream of the doting children. How perfect their life would be! But it would not be easy. To establish your kingdom in a new land is not a small feat, and it would take years of hard work, blood, sweat, tears... sacrifice. But they would do it together. For their dream.