All The Lessons, All The Tools

I did an Instagram post the other night because I was frustrated and sad and wanted to express that without whining or being ungrateful, but needed a bit of a "vent session." I've been working diligently on being more apt to "roll with the punches." I most identify with the idea that I'm "Anxious Alison," and planning and changing planning can be seriously difficult for me. Sometimes I can thrive in the chaos and keep the steady hand, other times I'm one second away from just screaming into my pillowcase. It can be quite a ride.

Last year during some chaos where self care had fallen to the wayside, I was miserable and mentally collapsing, I decided to take control and use my favorite coping mechanism, working out, to it's fullest advantage. For the first time in 5 years I joined a gym and went back to Spin classes. When I started I was averaging 4 spin classes a week and 3 days of boot camp. Then as things at home became worse I was adding in more double workouts to try and keep myself steady and balanced in the mayhem.

This year, because of budgeting, adulting and the gym losing instructors and messing with schedules, I had to get rid of the gym membership. Sad day. Now plenty of friends have said, "Gyms are only like $10 a month just go here, there and so and so." Yeah I need my classes, I work best in that environment and, we have zero extra money so, gotta do what ya gotta do.

A neighbor friend had a membership at the same gym and wanted a buddy to keep her in spin so she said we could go every Tuesday. I was psyched. This was the pick me up I needed and it wouldn't kill me to be slightly social and get to know her better. Welp, this happened all of one week before things changed and that was no longer an option. So, back to relying on me, myself and I.

This morning I am happy to report that after texting hubby at 8PM last night that "I'm running tomorrow whether I want to or not," I got my butt outta bed and ran 2 miles, and I feel frigging amazing. No, this isn't just endorphins or some weird runners high.

I realized something. Everything always goes back to the lessons and tools I learned over a decade ago in my therapy. Little things are bigger things in the grand spectrum and I need to work on some little things. Last week I really sucked at self care; this week, it has been tantamount to my success and I shall explain.

Last week I stayed up too late for no reason. Texting, watching re-runs of the same shows I've been watching for years, stressing about all the things I needed to do and worrying about things I could never control. I was tossing and turning about fading friendships, reaching out, not reaching out, drawing boundaries, not drawing boundaries, and things that make me unsettled. Last week I was exhausted, I didn't eat right, and I was cranky.

Now, self care looks different for everyone. For me, it is early bedtimes and new, healthy routines. I've been WAY better at adjusting things with less mental stress and not allowing my routines to "manage" me. I've been very attentive to when I need to be more gentle with myself. This week I asked my husband to meal prep some things for me this week and he did. This week I have been asleep by 9 every night and up by 5 every morning. And last night I started something, a new hope-to-be habit, that is LONG over-due.

Last night, with a cup of Sleepy Time tea and a tucked in kiddo one room away, I read for twenty minutes before bed, and it was a book I've been trying to read since December, but keep getting distracted and taken away from it. Not only did it help me get sleepy, but I felt so awesome investing that small amount of time into myself, and something for just me and my tired brain.

On another note, and this will bring the point around here eventually, at Church they started this experimental biblical reflection-type thing and instead of being lackluster, lazy and scoffing, I said "yes" and jumped in head first. Again with rolling with the punches, quickly it didn't work out as planned and I was left with one mentor and ally, a favorite mom within the church in fact, as someone to kind of check in with from time to time, instead of a small group atmosphere as intended.

The first week was okay; I liked the general spirit (pun intended) of what the exercises exemplified but things got heavy, fast. Instead of exploration it became homework. I reached out to a couple people a few times but, this was clearly meant to be group discussion with personal reflection and notating. It wasn't making me happy, or more plainly, it was "not sparking joy," if we need to conform to pop culture references. So I took a step back and thought, "Okay, so I put my best foot forward and handled the fallout of plans really well, and I tried to maintain this solo with some individual outreach but I'm definitely not hitting the target so then why am I stressing about something that I'm getting nothing out of?" EXACTLY!

It all came back to self care, lessons, and tools from what felt like I learned forever ago. This isn't to say I'm done with "church stuff;" this isn't to say I'm done trying new things. But I'm definitely learning my boundaries of saying "yes and no." And this includes saying yes and no to myself, and to others.

You may be thinking, okay, the gym isn't exactly a luxury and who doesn't make time to read a damn book? ME! The gym IS a luxury for me and I've disclosed previously as a writer, I'm the worst reader ever. And it dawned on me as to why I revert to some coping mechanisms so easily and why shaking things up can be daunting, so here we go:

My dad was a routine-driven dude. At 7AM he'd be planning dinner and every night that was in the dining room at the table at 6PM. When my mom left, in all the craze and turmoil, my dad gave up the dining room table nonsense and we used to live it up, eating in the "TV Room." We'd watch the Simpsons together, Friends, Will and Grace, Mad About You, Ellen, Cheers re-runs, Seinfeld, X-Files, Full House, and so on and so forth, all while eating dinner together. This became my favorite thing ever because instead of wallowing in the changes, we would just enjoy each other's company and lose ourselves in the plot lines and worlds of the characters on a screen.

And last night I realized that when I feel so out of control, so tired and beaten down by life and schedules, anxiety and depression, and at odds with my world, I re-watch Friends for the thousandth time and absorb the drama. I re-watch the Office and can't believe how oblivious Michael Scott is. I stay up late laughing at Seinfeld and remembering how many times that show was so right on and ahead of it's time. Because that's my version of "comfort food."

And while I love books and can devour a good series with the best of them, it's just not my go to for trying times. But the change in routine yesterday, although ever so slight, was just what the doctor ordered. It allowed me to effectively wind down and was calm and quiet. It let me read WITHOUT distraction, and distraction is my seemingly my forte.

Between the read and the run, I'm looking forward to tonight and my morning runs from here on out. I'm happy I'm back to "normal" bed times and not stressing over schedules, projects and things I can't force myself into. I'm discovering new peace. I didn't realize how volatile things have been, until this peace feeling came over me, and I must say, I just love it, and am more and more grateful for it. 

All the lessons, all the tools, I know them and I have them at my disposal, ready to use. It's easy to embrace the lazy and not do all the things. It's far more rewarding to get off your butt and get things done! Or, so I feel it is lately!

Trigger Day -- Six Years Ago Sucked

Six years ago at this time I had a 3 week old. I've written about this a lot. My daughter was diagnosed with "Failure to Thrive." I think one of my first posts of this year's challenge was long winded in reference to this so, I'll get into why I'm revisiting it.

Every year on Facebook, the pictures and the posts come up and internally I just start to shrivel. It was really hard. That may even be an understatement. I had extra to deal with, bigger things than just baby, and in retrospect, if I could go back and tell myself to wake up a little more and pay better attention, that diagnosis may not haunt me and still bring me to tears as I type.

She recovered right? Healthiest kid on the planet, I have now! She just had her first sick day of the school year and didn't even have a fever. She was just covered in boogers!

So why does it bother me? I've attributed most of my problems to having a rough run coming into parenthood only to find out that's just the first layer of the onion on so much stuff. But when I think about that time, and extra stuff thrust upon me, other than just being a mom trying to breastfeed, oh man, talk about trauma.

I'm lucky that I was strong enough and had the support I did from moms, friends and my sister coming to make sure I could recover. I was lucky that I didn't just disintegrate into some kind of mental coma because a lot of those doctors were not nice. But, my daughter received excellent care and was just as strong then as she is now.

So this day, much like car accident day, just triggers me. Going to the doctor 6 years ago for a check up and being told she had to be hospitalized and then having to live at the hospital for 10 days and, 8 of those Luna and I were completely alone with only my best friend bringing me good coffee and occasional Chik-Fil-A, that was rough.

Recently I started revealing the whole truth about the experience to a friend and could barely hold back the tears. It actually shocked me how much it still affected me. I have a healthy, smart, awesome kid, but not being able to fully breastfeed her was devastating to me. A lot of the resentment and frustration with immediate family "helping" but not helping, is still there. I had to scrape myself off the metaphorical payment during that time and I realized it was just me and Luna. We were all we had, with the occasional awesome visitor.

When I got home I was so scared and it became even more-so about Luna. I live this every day for her. Even in the car accident, it was all about Luna; didn't matter my head was bleeding, if that guy would have harmed her beyond repair from his negligence, I may be writing my memoirs from a jail cell. 

I think it's important but still surprises me that I'm still recovering from something six years ago! That "Failure" in the title is hard to shake. I'd been so terrified to be a mom and everyone just promises you can do it, something like that three weeks in messes you up!

Now when I watch Luna I think I can't wait to tell her what a little badass she is. How she is just the strongest, fiercest redhead and I love watching her conquer everything on her plate. It's then I remind myself that I have a pretty big part in that, so I think that is all steps of my mental recovery on this taxing day.

So today is one of two pretty severe and annual trigger days. I may have a good cry. I'll definitely hug the little one a little harder, and I'll try and be more gentle on myself. I'm just a work in progress and I'm okay with that. Everything truly is one day at a time. That's all we can do, even on a Wednesday!

Drama Or Trauma? Is There A Fine Line?

Merriam Webster defines trauma as: 

1a: an injury (such as a wound) to living tissue caused by an extrinsic agent

b: a disordered psychic or behavioral state resulting from severe mental or emotional stress or physical injury

c: an emotional upset

2: an agent, force, or mechanism that causes trauma

Merriam Webster defines drama as: 

1aliterature : a composition in verse or prose intended to portray life or character or to tell a story usually involving conflicts and emotions through action and dialogue and typically designed for theatrical performance 

b: a movie or television production with characteristics (such as conflict) of a serious playbroadly : a play, movie, or television production with a serious tone or subject

2literature : dramatic art, literature, or affairs

3a: a state, situation, or series of events involving interesting or intense conflict of forces

b: dramatic state, effect, or quality

Interesting isn't it? So here we are, all educated and I'm going to reveal what may come out as some serious stupidity on my part: I had to be told that what I had been through was actually "trauma" and not just personal "drama."

As women we are often painted as "dramatic" or "drama queens." We are told to "Save the drama for your mama." It's all a little ridiculous. Look at that definition - "a state, situation or series of events involving interesting or intense conflict of forces." What is trauma? "An emotional upset."

Is the difference simply all that pop culture conjecture that people "thrive on drama," or are "surrounded by drama" because it is "interesting, intense conflict," and that trauma is just "emotional?" 

See when I faced my "trauma," for me, I had just labeled it, "Yeah, I've seen some shit," or "Sometimes bad things just happen," but it was brought to my attention that my intense conflict of forces, if you will, had caused some emotional upset.

It would be easy to say there is a fine line; easy to act as though they coincide. Maybe in some ways they do, but here is what I want to share: my trauma is not drama to peak your interest.

The other day I said you have to "know your audience." Some people love gossip and they can't wait to hear about the trials of others. They will enjoy when you share hardships. Guess what? I've been there, when my drama was a facade for the trauma, that was me.

Also, focusing on the problems of others is a great way to ignore your own. More true cliches coming your way readers!

I'm still owning and confronting my traumas. Some are more palatable than others. The car accident? That is trauma people can get behind and the story is pure, grade A dramatic. When you start talking about marriage challenges, addiction, alcoholism, parenting, money, and family troubles, your audience shrinks and sometimes that is too much trauma and not enough drama. 

Sometimes I do feel completely dumb that I never saw the difference in the two. Sometimes I understand why I'd avoided it all this time because now I see everything is heavy and uncomfortable. 

I've found that now, when I try to explain my trauma, strange triggers come out or I lose control of my emotions trying to describe what situations were like. I remember telling a close friend something I found humiliating and being met with silence in response to what I had just revealed. Immediately, as if a reflex, I said "I'm sorry, this is stupid I shouldn't even talk about it." The retort? " It's not dumb, stop being so hard on yourself. I'm just listening."

What is that quote and cliche about we do not listen to hear, we listen waiting to respond? Something like that? Yeah, drama, trauma...listening and how we respond; the differences can be intense, right?

Confiding in ANYONE is so difficult. Confiding in someone you don't want to look "bad" in front of or you fear "judgment" from? If you're like me you've gotten used to just staying quiet. Why rock the boat?

Okay, enough on the soapbox right? Here is the point. We write things off as drama. How many things are we writing off that are a form of a cry for help? When I got called out as a hater a few years ago, I know understand it was just me getting angry at the world because my personal situation was spinning. Complaining and being snarky was my way of trying to ask for some support. Epic fail. 

When I've been told to be careful with the "struggling posts" and talking about what I'm going through? There is some merit to that but perhaps I'm just trying to let ANYONE else know that, guess what, your trauma is more than just drama, and you're not alone.

This isn't to say that you just sit there and let people dump their problems on you and listen when your friend is being irrational or even really insensitive. This is to say that in the midst of the drama, you take a moment to consider the trauma that may be behind that veil, no matter how thin. Let's let a friend vent and practice really listening. Because if you aren't equipped to take it ALL in, you can support that person to talk to a pastor, a counselor, therapist, etc., etc! But the difference between trauma and drama is quite a lot, don't get it twisted!

Please comment, DM me or email me if you'd like to talk more about this, I'd be happy to share some more personal experiences in an effort to help any reader!

The Commute

I put in a lot of effort to be less whiny and less of a complainer these days. Why? It serves no purpose. Plus, my six year old is all whine all the time so, you can see how it could get old, and fast.

Last summer my employer moved our office from Downtown Clearwater, land of Scientology, to Downtown St. Petersburg, land of Pride, and my drive went from about 11 miles at maybe 30 minutes to 23 miles each way at anywhere from 35 minutes to an hour, completely depending on traffic, daily. My WORST day was 2 hours there, almost 90 minutes of that stuck on a bridge and 90 minutes to get home. 

I love Downtown St. Pete so I wasn't about to complain but lately the commute has been taking it's toll. As a positive person, and someone fiercely working on her anxieties I remind myself daily, "You can't control the traffic, just how you deal with the traffic," and I listen to many a play list to get me through the mania. I also try to plan accordingly knowing full well, I could get home just before 6 or not until 6:30. 

Lately I've accepted some truths: when you spend two hours a day in your car, you really don't want to drive much in your "free time." This past weekend I did extra driving and yesterday I fell asleep 15 minutes after we got home from church because I needed to "lay down a minute." I couldn't handle all the car time. Sometimes you just need to stay close to home.

Living in Safety Harbor makes it super hard to leave it. We have amazing events. We have great parks and friends in walking distance. We have great restaurants and stores 5 minutes away. Why go further?

I will admit I miss weekend trips to Disney. Man, I miss and adventure involving characters and fun rides, but now I think we were meant to take time off from our passes because this Mommy is too tired to drive! Now, I have dear friends that practically drive for a living and sit in traffic to Orlando and Sarasota, St. Pete, Wesley Chapel and such. I have friends that have kiddos in sports that take them all over, but it's not an easy thing for me. It wipes me out sometimes, as ridiculous as that may seem.

I grew up road tripping and I can be in the car for 8 hours and think nothing of it, but traffic is different than road trips and mentally can be taxing. Or maybe that's just for me.

The commute makes me feel lucky that I can listen to my music as loud as I like. I can rock inappropriate songs my daughter could never listen to. Or rock some Disney without her yelling at me to "Stop singing mom!" I can listen to a random playlist without my husband saying, "What are we listening to?" Or when he talks over the song I wanted to hear all day that finally comes on on Spotify!

But the commute is also stressful as my PTSD from the car accident is still very real and pops up randomly. I'm probably a terrible driver now with weird ways my husband would never point out because he fears I'll have a panic attack alone in the car and hit a pole or something. So sometimes it makes me super uncomfortable and paranoid.

It's all more exercises in balance and finding some peace within the chaos. I constantly remind myself, plenty of people have it worse and some days are better than others. I recite all the mantras I need to be calm and just drive on. Okay sometimes I honk and swear and call people names, but that's just part of driving!

So for this Monday, I plan on putting the good vibes out that I can arrive places on time and feel more grateful than hateful on my commute. Besides, Scientology was a scary area to walk around and I'm much more comfortable with the gay, lesbian, bisexual, trans, etc, that we celebrate and walk amongst down here. And the occasional homeless guys that say inappropriate compliments to me as referenced on my Instagram. Either way, I'm grateful and I just remembered I should update my playlist for the ride home...definitely. 

Sometimes You Just Need A Nap

I saw this meme that I'm promptly posted that said "I feel like I'm tired already tomorrow." This is me. Always.

Now I thought this was just a part of me as a person. Sleep is my favorite hobby. Alison needs her sleep. I also figured I lost enough sleep during infancy and working nights that now I was just trying to hoard it. Now we know I have thyroid type issues. Or so they surmise thus far. I blame that.

Being resilient doesn't come without waves of exhaustion. My post yesterday was in an exhausted stupor, which some of my faithful readers probably picked up on. And this morning was more "go go go."

Look, I haven't practiced "The Art Of Doing Nothing," since I became a mother. That luxury is not one afforded. And my abilities or even inabilities to relax come in waves. Sometimes my body literally is like, "Bitch you're going to slow down, watch."

This week was a shoulder injury, lots of fun, so heating pad time is a daily routine. I'm still nursing it. And then staying up too late every single night finally caught up to me. Last night I thought I was super clever. I took an Excedrin PM and was asleep by 9:30PM! But then from 11:30PM to about 4AM I was awakened every hour or so by child, dog or husband until I finally ended up on the couch until my 6:30AM alarm to rally the troops for church.

I had an Excedrin hangover haze. Not fun. And then I was so cold in church I was physically uncomfortable, also thyroid related. I was super miserable. When we came home I walked the dog, and decided to "warm up and lay down" for a bit. Apparently I passed out for a little over an hour and woke to my husband assuring me that the kid was content and he was off to work. I guess I needed it.

I'm that person who sees naps as something I need to book in advance, like a massage. Rarely do I get to just "Have one," so sneaking one today was inadvertently amazing.

Of course I woke up in cleaning mode in order to "earn my relaxation" later. I have since done the tubs and wiped down all surfaces while my faithful RoboVac picks up all the floor yuck. My daughter has been crafting and creating and I slowed down to blog it out.

Sometimes you DO just need a nap. More often than not, we DESERVE a darn nap. We work hard, we play hard. We spend too much time doing what we "should" instead of doing what is "good" for us and that's something I am the worst at. Why watch 3 hours of television when you could paint that shelf you've been meaning to? Oh well because sometimes we need a bit of lazy!

I think we are so hard on ourselves and it's hard not to be hard on ourselves as redundant as it seems. It's work, workout, family dinner, bed time routine, repeat in some way, shape or form. I know plenty of people who operate on like 4 hours of sleep and somehow keep kicking ass at life. I, for one, cannot even be kind of nice without my 8. I can function but I'm a mean, mean redhead.

I'm learning that self care is anything BUT selfish, or should be. I'm learning that sometimes YOU JUST NEED A NAP. And there's no shame in that! You're human! We're all humans! I'm learning that boundaries, either with friends, spouses, co-workers, and within yourself are necessary some times and that this is all part of adulting, whether we like it or not.

So I'm going to enjoy the rest of my Sunday even if it's covered in cleaning and laundry. I will binge-watch and relax because tomorrow is back to the grind! Take a nap if you haven't yet! I fully support it!

Saturday Slow Down

It's Saturday night. My husband switched shifts and is at work. My daughter is binge-watching My Little Pony on "the big TV," and I'm in my room with The Office on in the background, the heating pad on my back avoiding laundry, counting down to bed time for us both and toying with the idea of a long shower.

This is my Saturday slow down. I don't know about other households, but for me, the weekends go way too fast and always have so much going on. Last night we switched things up and my husband took the kiddo to Daddy Daughter Date Night and I drove two hours to get "free" tickets to an upcoming concert as a birthday present to myself. We all went to bed at like 10PM. We are all exhausted and we have early church things tomorrow.

Saturday Slow down consists of popcorn, tea, and blogging apparently. I'm mentally trying to prioritize the rest of my evening while appreciating the little wins for today. 

The little wins were getting to horseback riding lessons early and being patient that they were running late. I got to catch up with two of my favorite people and hear how they were doing and talk about normal, wonderful mom things. And I'm more centered and focused on the now lately.

My struggles right now are definitely tribe-based. It's hard for me to sift through how to process certain exchanges and friendships. I have so many people in my corner, that's undeniable, but I definitely practice the "know your audience" rule about you can talk about certain things with certain people and how those certain people influence me in general.

This is something that I'm really in tune with right now. It ties into my perspective and mindfulness. But lately I've been so tired, it's tough to muster much energy to delve into it all, but I think I might find some new ways to better explore all of this. And I'm open to suggestions.

So for this Saturday night, while it is short and sweet, here's a little win from my room to you all that I actually completely the blog in the midst of exhaustion, confusion and chore avoidance. I hope you all have Saturdays that rock, Saturdays that are super fun and productive. I'm hoping Sunday will be that "day of rest" I've heard about. So here I go!

Six Year Old Shopping Spree

I can give credit where credit is due and I will tell you my mother has kept me well dressed with only a few exceptions. I could have lived with slightly less Laura Ashley floral prints, no Mother Daughter matching bathing suits and way less obsessive matching capabilities but I was in fashion.

My daughter? She lives in hand me downs and I have zero shame. When they are little everyone wants to dress them. If you know lots of moms with boys, they love buying for girls. If you know ANYONE who likes to shop, they will dress your child. Therefore, you have very little to deal with in actuality.

Luna got all the cute outfits and I've rarely had to buy anything. As mentioned before I was lucky enough to receive countless hand me downs from a friend with three girls so I'm set until Luna moves out. My mother also buys her way too much stuff, so she wants for nothing.

But we don't really take her shopping. I don't buy her shirts for every occasion. I don't buy "outfits." She still receives these as gifts so I need not go out of my way or out of my budget. Kids will also never pick what you like. They naturally go opposite.

Tonight, however, is a special and first occasion for us to really splurge. It's Daddy Daughter Date Night hosted by our town's recreational activity center. The past two times she has gone I've been able to dig out a dress she liked but we went through her closet and nothing was "Princessy" enough. I heard "Go to Kohls! Hit Target." I was in more of a Wal-Mart state of mind as I didn't want to spend $50 on something she'd never wear again.

So after a crazy evening getting home, off to Wal-Mart we went. There is some Nickelodeon phenomenon type thing of a JoJo person these days? We don't have cable. I've never watched. Apparently she has big bows that are fashiony. There are cups and accessories with her name plastered all over and I just found out yesterday she has fashions.

Now I found a cheap cute sequin skirt but Luna wanted the JoJo dress with little unicorn and weird icons on them and glittery stuff in the tulle and of course the matching bow.
It was so funny too because I said "Let's go pick out a dress and how would you like to maybe get a new bow?" "And shoes," Luna said. "Shoes mom."

So she got the dress and a bow because we couldn't find any crowns or tiaras. I wasn't going to buy her one anyway. And we hit the shoe section. I'm thinking okay, dress shoes and sandals she could wear to church or for home dress up. Something practical. What does she go for? White patent leather Easter-type close-toed heels with a white bow on the strap.
I'm pretty sure I got the exact same ones when I was 9. She's got 3 years on me at this point.

"Okay," I shrugged. This was it. Let's go pay. She was so excited.

We got home and was like "I need to hang up my dress! I can't wait to show daddy my bow! Can I wear my shoes!? I want to try them without the rope on them!"

I removed tags and cut the shoes loose and she put them on immediately. Without hesitation. She clomped and stomped. She let me video tape them and take pictures. She wore them with her school clothes to eat dinner.

When I told her it was time to put on pajamas, the shoes came off, the pajamas went on, the shoes went BACK on. This morning she had to show daddy and she couldn't wait to wear them to the date night. 

I realized that we did so well on the whole exchange. She listened. She was reasonable. We didn't fight. There was no struggle, which was the opposite with my mom so I figure I'm doing pretty well! It was a successful evening. Tonight is the big night so I will definitely have many pictures. I like seeing her excited though. She lives with us in a frugal world of practicality. She deserves a little "Treat Yo Self!"

JoJo Dress: $16 
Jojo Bow: $5
First pair of heels: $14
Great shopping experience with mommy even though she left without a crown: Priceless!

Hipster Coffee Spot Lunch Blogging

I changed it up this week. I've actually made many changes recently. Many. At work my days have been filled with steady work. Most often it is routinely more quiet. So I've got less time to blog from the company desktop and by the time I get home I'm usually just scrambling to get it together for things in general, let alone to take time to write. But I challenged myself to every day this year, here I am, almost 2 months strong!

Although I miss my lunch walks, the coffee and sometimes muffin lunch is a wonderful pick me up. It's cliche and oh so very Oregonian of me to find all inspiration in a "coffee house" scene but here I am, typing among the customers.

Here's what I know. This week has resulted in some serious maturity strides for me. I'm more and more accepting of all of my mistakes, flaws, anxieties and difficulties and am feeling lighter. Maybe not when it comes to the fitness area, but there will always be time to lose weight. 

This week I was more honest with myself and it allowed me to be honest with the people I care most about. Some of this came in the form of deep, rough conversations. Some came from not bothering people even though I wanted to and some came from stopping anxiety in its tracks, or not feeding into conversations and activities that just made me feel not great.

I prayed more this week; mostly for the happiness and success of others. I put out all the positive vibes and sifted through any negativity to better have a grip on reality. Life is tough. It's annoying. There are hurdles and frustrations. Plans change. People can be abrasive, rude, unthinking and selfish. So what? I've been not so great too.

I'm embracing all the cliches. I do live "one day at a time." Bad moment? "This too shall pass."

A few weeks ago I was just wobbly, which I decided was  mostly stable but ready to fall. And then I cultivated some wonderful, wonderful moments and just took on the "power of now."

I've checked in with the people I lost track of. I've "let go" a little of the people I was imposing on a bit too much. I've cried a lot. I've accepted some new challenges, physical, and mental. I've been kinder to myself.

This isn't some "born again," "new year, new me" entry. But yesterday my growth and stability was celebrated. And I kind of want to bask in that a little bit.

I've been painted as controlling for most of my life. I've been drowned in disappointments and collapsed by changed plans and expectations. Bogged down by "the rules," I've had to let a lot of that go and it's been a positive experience. 

I'm less wobbly and more...floaty? Does that work? I'm sustaining. And that's more than I can say or have said about myself in a long time. I'm not even sure I'll last one more day or one more week feeling this...sustainable thing but I just want to try and enjoy it.

This week has been busy. Next week is more of the same. I've had a rough 2 and 3/4 years...if you want the real truth, I've had a rough 6 and a half years, which I'm just starting to talk about and come to terms with. So much of that is the beauty of life. We continue. We prevail.

I've been in my own way and caused myself extra hurt and turmoil and I don't want to do that anymore. I've made not great choices and countless mistakes. I want to make better choices and lower that mistake count. I don't want everything to hinge on other people, but sometimes we need to hold others accountable. I'm seeking the balances. I want to be a good friend as much as I want to be treated well by my friends.

I really just want everyone I care about, to be happy. Not Hallmark Card, Disney "happy," just...sustainable and copacetic I guess. Well, if they want to be Hallmark Card Disney happy, I'll support them but may be slightly skeptical. Will there be random bursts of song? 

I won't pretend that with this outlook and methodology there aren't casualties. I'm not as text-friendly lately. Social media stuff has taken a huge hit. I'm much more Instagram-friendly than Facebook anymore. I'm more private and selective when it comes to who knows what about certain aspects of my life. And I'm much less tolerable of mistreatment. If I don't like how you're treating me, I'll tell you, like it or not. I'm not always mean about it, but I'm working on being more assertive.

So here I am, another blog down, with a much better life attitude than I've had in awhile. I'm feeling lighter, sustainable and in tune with myself. Old habits die hard. I won't pretend slip-ups and bad days won't happen, but I can tell you I'm better equipped to let them affect me less. I hope someone reads this and feels better about their mental struggle. Feel free to reach out to me at any time! Happy Friday Eve you all!

Perspective Is Half The Battle

You know that really annoying saying that personal trainers use too often, "Mind over matter?" Or like, "It's all a mental battle," and overthinking and expectations are bad?

It's taken me two rough and therapeutic years to wrap my head around what should be a reasonable concept, that perspective is everything, but I'm closer than I've ever been before and here to write about it!

This is something I work on daily. It is very much another practice in mindfulness. I work hard to internally chose my attitude and react to things after some thought, instead of only first reactions. It's like typing an angry text, just never press send because there is no "unsend."

Sometimes I think I'm just too tired for the fight and the terror state anymore. I'd really like to think it has everything to do with growth and evolving as an adult, even though I think adulting is crap, but there are certainly some parts that are important. 

Here are a few examples: during an extremely dark phase where I was making less than awesome choices, I was angry, irrational and just so filled with every part of me being upset that I was losing control. I was consumed by my personal turmoil. This made me self-conscious, unhealthy, insecure, and very obnoxious at times. I started to adopt a "Forget you" attitude about people that weren't acting the way I wanted, and anyone who didn't support my mania.

None of it worked. I was miserable. One friend, who was also going through some shit, and I had a row because we were taking out the dysfunction on each other instead of lending support. Never again, we said after finally coming to peace. To this day I hate that we even hit that point. And I hate that I had a heavy hand in it. 

Another example is, how much time have I wasted being upset over something I just can't change? I can't make the result any different. I just can't. I can only react to what is in front of me, to the best of my ability. I can't force someone to text me back, no matter how much I want a response. I can't force someone to reach out to me, when I'm feeling tired of being "the friend who checks in." I can't make someone want to make time to be around me, I can only be enjoyable to them if they choose to make the time! Or so I can try.

None of this is simple. All of it is uncomfortable. All of it revolves around perspective. 

One time I got called out on being a hater. The person who brought this to me, wasn't wrong, but there was no tact in telling me, or possible understanding that I might be deflecting my own personal detriment onto the accomplishments of others. And it was some time after that I realized my perspective was just completely off.

It wasn't about what I didn't have and what others did. It was about my outlook. With that said, for a long time I was talking myself out of my ambitions and goals and into accepting what I thought was my status. This wasn't quite the best direction, unfortunately. It was a slight derail but I've made my rounds now. 

And it's at this point where I'm more peaceful than I have been for a long time, which often borders on ambivalence, but I'm taking it for what it is, less stress. I seem to have figured out my tribe and whom I can converse with about what. This is quite a science.

When I was being a self-destructive mess, I told everyone everything and got a lot of judgement and negative advice. You learn really quickly to be more selective about who you let in when you do that. When I started to better cultivate my feelings, I was able to express myself and what I needed much better. And people responded way better to the amendments, let me tell you.

I stopped planning things with the ideas that "this might work for them." I could be invited, I could do everything in my power to attend, if it happened, it happened, if not, more time at home or with my daughter or to myself. I started limiting the obligatory events, tasks and meet-ups and shamed myself less for self care. I stopped obsessing about the responses of others.

I wish I could have all those hours I lost obsessing over text messages that were never read, never responded to, or responded to in ways I didn't like, back. I wish I could have those hours back to use wisely. I would probably have a vacation out of it. I'm much less anxious about it. In fact I had one crazy slip in the last 6 months where I lost it over some mixed communications and I was like, 'Never again. You achieved nothing, you didn't feel better after the tantrum and you looked like a psycho. Nope. Done."

We try to decode what has no code. We read too much into a simple text, and we put too much emotion into stunted communication. How else do you think the emoji was born? Seriously!

It's all about how you approach things, how you look at things, and that ever-important reaction. It's easy to mis-read, especially in the world of text messages and broken communication. It's easy to overthink. I feel like I may be the single best over-thinker ever. But I've been more mindful to not do that...as much!

I got a text from a friend last week talking about being busy and texting inhibiting cell-phone work related functions. I could have let it crush me and tank my day. I mean who wouldn't want to talk to me!? But instead I just said some nice things and asked to be text sometime when not at work or interfering. I still haven't heard back, but there are so many extenuating circumstances in life. I refuse to think of myself as "not important enough" or "not a priority" for someone. I cannot force interaction or anyone's acceptance of the many ways of Alison. When it is meant to be significant, when we can make the time, it will happen, or so I've discovered recently. I leave the universe to it.

Maybe this sounds, a little too "hippie dippy" as my husband says from time to time. Maybe it sounds like too much mental maintenance. I will say this, I have seen many changes, especially in my anxiety, by exercising these coping mechanisms for upset. Because it can feel upsetting when you reach out and get no response or one you didn't really want. It can all feel so defeating and rejecting at times. But it's all about the perspective. If you adjust your perspective, however small, it can have pretty big effects.

This isn't an entry about doing it "my way" or to change your life. But as an anxious, depressive, overthinking mess of a woman who deals with a lot on a regular basis and is finally coming to terms with her trauma, if my journey can help ONE person. Then this blog is worth everything. It's just something to think about. Pursue different perspectives. I'd love to hear from you all! Feel free to reach out!

First Friends Are The Best Friends

I had just messaged my friend, the one who has known me the longest, since I was just 6 years old, and asked him if I could write a blog about us, and the next day at Publix I come across this cover on Life Magazine. And let me tell you, it could have been us.

I think of this tale as beyond epic so here we go. When I was in Kindergarten I went to some private prep school and met my best friend/ "first boyfriend," also known as Bradley. He was an older one, all of 7 and had red hair just like me. He once told me that when he was in like first grade, next to my picture he wrote that he would marry me some day but then scratched it out in older years. The universe had different plans anyway.

We may have made it a year or two together as inseparable. We had beach trips, sleep overs, camp outs, and endless play dates. We did lots of hand holding and kissing on the cheek, if memory serves. We watched E.T. together and I gave him my E.T. stuffed animal as a gift to my new "boyfriend." I should have dug out pictures of us from when we were beyond adorable.

When his family moved on from having him attend that school and living in that that area, my mom didn't stay in touch. We kind of just faded with nothing but pictures and memories of our childhood adventures. I didn't know if we'd ever speak again, let alone what would happen 17 years later.

See, this was back in the day before Facebook, MySpace, and Google took over so you could find ANYONE. All you had was old mailing addresses or a phone book to track people down. I can't tell you how many times he crossed my mind but I never would have thought he'd remember me.

In about 2002ish, Bradley had tracked down my dad's phone number in Oregon but admitted he was too afraid and intimidated to call. Knowing my dad he would have been rude at first and then relieved it wasn't some 20 year old boyfriend looking for me, and instead an old friend.

In 2009, when my husband and I joined Facebook, in the MOST unlikely of ways, Bradley found me, and this happened as soon as we moved to Florida. Bradley had been searching for me under my maiden name, my dad's last name, and tracked down my niece on Facebook, because on Facebook I've always had hubby's name. My maiden name, Lodjic, was pretty darn rare. He messaged her asking if she knew of me at all and she responded saying, "That's my aunt, she just got married, here is her Facebook name."

And that was it, the boy who knew me the longest and had been looking for me, finally found me when I was just 24 years old, after not speaking since we were maybe, 7 and 8? It was completely astounding.

Bradley was kicking ass in the Airforce when we reconnected. We spoke via the magic of the internet A LOT. We did IM and Facebook, I called him as much as I could. We emailed. We stayed up hours talking about everything. He remembered my family before everything turned sour and he remembered things my trauma had blocked out. I knew him before his personal family stuff and there was a sense of home and familiarity that never left us.

My husband never seemed to be phased by the interaction but perhaps because there has always been an ocean between us. Bradley asked me all about my husband and what I was up to. He read all my poems and blogs. He told me all about his then ex-girlfriend, now wife, and how he knew she was the one. We left no stone unturned in conversation. We picked up immediately as best friends, like we'd never missed a day, let alone close to two decades. It was weird, but completely natural and normal all at the same time.

Ten years ago Bradley Facebooked his way back into my life, and I can honestly say, I couldn't have gotten through that decade without him. There is not a doubt in my mind that he found me because he was meant to be a true friend, a comfort and support that I needed. He is someone from my roots, to keep me rooted. Now, let me elaborate.

Bradley has heard me complain and cry about everything. He calls me out when I'm being unfair in my perspective with my personal relationships and totally has my back when it comes to parenthood and all the ways of me being all that is Alison. When he married his gorgeous wife, I thought he might fade away because you know, life, but we check in often and they happen have a beautiful daughter a year older than Luna. She and Luna are the same age difference as Bradley and I. I desperately want them to meet someday!

Okay back to some history. When I told Bradley why I disappeared from life and reconnecting and he told me about everything he'd gone through, there was no judgement, from either of us. It was the same little boy that held my hand when I got freaked out watching E.T. He was just an amazing friend. And still is.

In March of 2016 for an Airforce training something or other Bradley traveled to Melbourne, Florida. This is only 3 hours away from us. He wanted to meet us all. We hadn't seen each other in 25 years! And we were planning on reconnecting finally. 

My husband had to work so I packed up Luna and we went to Melbourne. We decided to hit the zoo. As a father missing his daughter, he immediately befriended Luna and what was both so strange and perfect, was how watching him with her made me remember more of our childhood together. He was silly and hilarious and all about her. He even got her to try her first snow cone. It was the perfect day, like in Tangled, "Best DAY EVER!"

I know that men and women aren't supposed to be friends. There will be people waiting for me to declare some kind of romantic love but it's the opposite. He's like my brother. He has talked me through some of my darkest moments. He has asked me to help him with some of his perspectives on parenting, marriage and life in general, and of course I harass him for the same. 

We've gone weeks without chatting much but we always check in and keep tabs on one another. When we got in the car accident he was living in Hawaii. When he saw the stuff on Facebook he messaged me in concern. I had just settled down at 11PM at night after an 8:30AM accident and worst day ever, and I just couldn't sleep. My husband was in a separate hospital and all I could do was lay my bloodied head down and try not to cry. 

I remember when he messaged me just mentally collapsing and Bradley calming me down over Facebook messenger because I told him I couldn't rest and was cold, and shaking, upset. I was sore, bruised, and uncomfortable while watching Luna sleep. He told me I was in shock and probably had some intense PTSD. He said that I should be in shock and needed to be gentle on myself. From thousands upon thousands of miles away, he calmed me down enough to get some rest.

These are the seemingly simple moments that confirm he's meant to be like an older brother to protect me from afar. I know this because when I've told him my worst attributes, my most regrettable acts, and all the bad with the good, he's never been mad at me or told me to go away. He's also kept me strong and fighting, never letting me give up on myself or my life.

Don't get me wrong, I have women friends who are my life blood, but there's something about the story of Bradley and I that is just too...stupendous to act like it doesn't bear meaning and purpose. He did give me permission to wax on about this and make this a big deal because...I mean look at that history. Nothing short of epic.

And maybe we won't be around each other in the way that we are now, forever, but I like to think that Luna and his daughter will meet and create the same kind of bond that will outlast our lifetimes. His daughter even inherited E.T! I'll have to report back on that chapter though. I better message him that I actually published this thing though...