You know that feeling you’re in a group waiting for your turn to speak and as that time gets closer – you go into a vacuum where you can feel your heartbeat and the blood rushing through your body? Yes? Good. Remember that feeling.

When I was in school, I always felt I didn’t “get“ it. I always assumed the meanings were deeper, the plot more complicated, the problem too complex. I didn’t offer my opinions out loud, but as everyone was talking, I had that feeling and stuck behind it was everything I wanted to say.

During my first serious relationship in college, I started raging when I got that feeling. I had finally found my voice but I scared the shit out of both of us. I was the crazy girlfriend, he was hiding under my skirt; he had an amazing tolerance but I finally drove him out.

As I worked on my career in my 20’s and 30’s, I found myself overwhelmed by stress, not saying what I wanted to say in meetings, experiencing that feeling over and over until it became too much and I left.   I never had a job lined up when I quit and I never had a problem getting a job when I was ready to go back.  I was good at everything I did, but I didn’t stick it out; no amount of money in the world would make that feeling worth it.

My husband and I have always bickered. When we first met, it was fun and sort of campy the way we would banter back and forth trying to land the perfect last word. After a few years of marriage (and a kid and a house), the issues got more serious and humor wasn’t finding it’s way in. I would get so overwhelmed by the volume of his voice, that feeling, and the buzz of our energies; I would yell, sometimes scream, sometimes charge. It was a quick end, albeit psychotic. After the explosion, I was exhausted, ashamed and questioning everything.

As my responsibilities mounted, I realized I had a huge problem. Why couldn’t I relax? It became very hard for me to watch TV or read a book. I loved to read, but it no longer held my attention. My mind was always buzzing with that feeling.  It was a nagging reminder that there was something I had to do.

In my 20’s, I predicted my own death; a brain aneurysm in my 30’s. Considering that feeling happened in my brain and it didn’t seem sustainable; it made perfect sense. When a holistic doctor suggested that perhaps my thyroid cancer was caused by me not speaking my truth, I was really pissed. But now I’m thinking there was some truth to that.

Anger and self-pity led me to get some counseling – turns out that feeling has subsided since being diagnosed and treated for ADHD. Is it ADHD or did I just lose my voice to the strong energies all around me that felt wrong all the time?  My empath nature never found it’s ground. It’s a brew.  The only time I get that feeling now is when I think back on my life and realize it didn’t have to be such a long journey to find my voice. I could ‘woulda, coulda, shoulda’ the hell out of my life knowing what I know now, but that doesn’t serve me. I’m here now.